Wishes

Inked by the one who continue living…

He used to say we all meet the end of our lives at some point or the other, regardless of age. But this was how I felt. I was angry at him for leaving us. I was angry for the way he left us. I was angry at the sadness he caused my mother, the void he left behind in the room, his closet, the armchair, the dining table and in her heart. I was angry because it took her weeks to stop taking out two cups with the tray of tea every morning. I was angry because I could not alleviate her pain. I was angry because I could not throw away his things….the old magnifying glass, the push pins, the green ink pen, the writing pads, the journals….I could not. I was angry because death was never easy. I was angry because I was so hurt, because ma was so hurt.

“Why does tragedy exist? 
Because you are full of rage. 
Why are you full of rage? 
Because you are full of grief.”
Anne Carson

11 years and now I understand my anger was not anger in a violent and vindictive way. It was a mask for sadness. I was angry because I was so sad. 

Dad would always ask us to keep some part of him in the temple when he is no more. We used to laugh at times, get very angry at other times. Nobody took his words seriously. For obvious reasons. He was only 58. 
We brought back bit of his ashes after immersing the rest in Haridwar. He rests there now. It was a difficult day when I sprinkled the ashes in the structure that you see. It was heavy. I hope he is resting in peace, one with the soil he considered his home & heaven. One with his Sai. 

Dwarkamai, Byrnihut

His wish was obliged.