The Death Chronicle: Building the Walls

Dinner with the family, sharing laughs and conversations, it is now a routine, thanks to COVID-19. Talking about how good or bad was the day, what fun my niece had in her online class, how good or bad are we at playing indoor games, discussing the sad news of someone’s death falling victim to the COVID, a new recipe experiment, and debating on whether it turned out to be a success or not, etc. is now a part of our daily chores.

No matter what we talk about or do, at this moment, we are together, and that is the most satisfying feeling. Unlike the PRE-COVID times where our life oscillated between the Office and Home. Where the Boss was like a God, and we ran behind him fulfilling his orders. There was never an “Out of office” feature. He is still around but just on the other end of the mobile. Phew! At least I don’t get to see his face.

Grandfather’ Death

Just came out for a walk after scrumptious dinner. It’s dark and silent. A cool breeze hitting across the face. I feel like closing my eyes and taking a deep breath of freshness. It has been raining for many days here. The rains of Mumbai. You just never know. 

This is my time. A haven where nobody is allowed to enter. It has always been like this. Reminds me of the depression that crawls inside of me every single day. Whenever I look above, I see no moon, no stars, just the thick covering of grey clouds. Maybe that is why there is no closure that I have been looking for from the past 19 years. 

It all started way back in 2001 when my life took a sharp turn. I still remember that fateful night. It was my grandfather. We both were having dinner at the dining table when he suddenly collapsed. It all happened so quickly that I was not able to comprehend anything. I felt numb and was taken aback by what had happened. Were my fears coming true? Will he leave me and embrace the heavenly abode? A flood of questions and conclusions were created in my head. Before I could take control of myself, he was rushed to the hospital. My heartbeat was racing. I wanted to speak and cry out loud but just couldn’t do anything.

I knew what death was and had a fear of losing him. He was everything to me. A brilliant personality. A teacher, a mentor, a father, a grandfather, and my best friend. I guess there was not a single day then when I did not pray for his well-being. A few days back from the incident he had assured me – “Don’t worry. I will be there at least till the time you pass class 12th”. But, I wanted him to be immortal. I could not think of a life without him. 

It was a brain hemorrhage and a case of paralysis. He was still critical. One day, with a heavy heart, I went to see him in the hospital, but my world came crashing down when I realized he was not able to recognize me. What will you do in such a case? The person you love the most is not able to recognize you and that too when everything seemed like an end. I remember going back home with my father clutching him tightly from behind on his scooter. Maybe I cried a bit too.

That was the last time I saw my Grandfather alive. Four days after being admitted, he lost the battle. My fear of death became a reality. But, he broke his promise too – I was in the 9^th standard then. There were cries all around the house, but, no words came out from my mouth. There were no tears in my eyes. Hard to swallow but I realized that he was lying cold on the floor and would never come back.

One moment I felt numb, another moment I was cursing him because of his broken promise. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so shaken by the situation, I didn’t even go to the cremation. The idea of seeing him turn into ashes was too black. Maybe there was a possibility that he will come back and tell me that it was a joke. Yeah, that level of insanity had filled my head.

His death changed a lot of things for me. I went into my shell. There was no one with whom I could share my thoughts and feelings. I lost my best friend and I can say that even after 19 years, he still reigns the throne. Maybe I never gave anyone a chance. I lost faith in God. When my grandfather was there, I used to pray a thousand times for his well-being. I used to recite Aartis, Mantras, and perform routine rituals. But, what was the result? He was gone, and so was my faith, torn apart. There was a void left inside my heart and is still there. 

End of an Era

Another person that greatly influenced my life was my grandmother. She was an epitome of graciousness. She just loved her grandchildren. Something was charming about her. She always wanted me to excel in studies because my grandfather had that faith in me. She wanted me to prove to the world that I can come out of the darkness of my grandfather’s death and do something. When I scored above 90% in my senior secondary, she was truly happy. 

I wanted to pursue Engineering post my school. That is why during the final year of senior secondary school, I also gave competitive exams. I scored I would say decent considering I was not at all prepared. Anyways, I was not getting the colleges of my choice, so I and my grandmother decided that I should drop a year and prepare for the competitive exams. When I was about to join a coaching institute, I got a call from my cousin and he suggested not to drop a year and rather join a college in Delhi for bachelor’s and maybe pursue MBA later. I was getting good colleges in Delhi University (one of the prestigious universities in India) based on the merit list. 

After a good thought, I decided to go with the option of Delhi to pursue my bachelor’s. I guess my grandmother did not want that. She wanted me to go to the best engineering college, but still, she backed my decision.

Without him (grandfather), there was no hope left. It seemed as if I had become cold and indifferent. Nothing bad really affected me. I was slowly becoming a recluse. I had this stubborn feeling that my time was over and I was living just for the sake of it. It was cool for me.

My last year of graduation, 2008, and I went home for Diwali vacations. My grandmother was not keeping well. The day I arrived, she was taken to the hospital. Reality struck again. I felt weak and helpless. The incident of 2001 started to rewind. I lost my senses again. I had an intuition that something bad will happen and that intuition turned into reality. A cardiac arrest and she was gone. The death walked down my street one more time. But, I had accepted the fate long before the incident.

That was the day when I started asking some questions to myself. What did I do to save my grandfather and grandmother? I just stood there as a spectator when they needed me. Did I turn out to be a good grandchild? What did I do for them when they were alive? There was an eerie feeling that had crept in. A feeling of guilt. Right or wrong, I don’t know. But these questions were eating me up underneath.

I was gradually moving away from who I used to be. Away from my family, my friends, and most importantly, myself. I had started to hate myself for the helplessness and the miserable life. 

Final Nail in the Coffin

The deaths of my grandfather and grandmother left me in shatters. People move on but I couldn’t. The bitter questions also didn’t do any good. By the end of 2009, I was living in almost complete isolation. I was in the hostel during post-graduation days and hardly used to call anyone at home. I never felt like. Heavy thoughts and pictures used to drown me. The same questions used to hurt me. It was like I was listening to the same thing over and over again.

My father, on the surface, came out as a strict and disciplined person, but he was equally emotional from the inside. My grandmother’s death had a huge effect on him. I still remember the day when he called from the hospital and broke the news that my grandmother was no more. He was crying over the phone. In December of 2009, I and my brother (who were living away from home due to college and job respectively), came to know that our father will have to be operated as his Psoriasis problem had worsened. Leg grafting was required. There was a risk of Gangrene.

We both decided that we will take some leaves and be there during his surgery. In January of 2010, when we arrived home, we were just shocked to see his condition. He had turned lean and was surviving on a wheelchair. He had lost all his strength. I and my brother had no clue about his condition. We were furious. My mother was speechless. He did not allow her to share his condition with us. Anyways, there was no point to look back. Near the end of January 2010, we decided to go for the surgery. The surgery was successful as per the doctors. But, fate just couldn’t leave us. 

A day after the surgery, I got a call from my brother from the hospital that the condition of my father has declined and he is in the I.C.U. In a day, we had to shift him to a major hospital as his condition was deteriorating. After shifting him to the hospital and running some tests, he was diagnosed with Gangrene. It had started to affect his vital organs. The infection had penetrated deep inside. 

He was in bad condition. He was not able to move, eat, or even get up on his own. Slowly and slowly all his organs started to shut down. In just a couple of days, he was put on a ventilator; artificial support. I knew what was about to come. I had that feeling from the day he was admitted to the hospital. Sometimes, you just know the criticality of the condition by looking at someone. Another curse was the hospital. I had this thing rolling over and over again in my head, anyone who gets admitted to the hospital from the family, he/she never comes back. Call it my superstition or anything else, it had happened before.

Seeing his condition deteriorate, we decided to shift him to another hospital, probably the last try. I can’t forget that evening when we were ready to shift him. I was standing out of the I.C.U. when a nurse came running down and asked me to come to the I.C.U. It was the end. The doctors told me there was no point dragging him. Even artificial support had lost. I immediately ran outside and called my brother. 

There were no tears in my eyes. Just an empty but familiar feeling. While everyone was devastated, I stood strong against my will. But, this time, I was completely broken from the inside. Death won one more time. “Bhagwan sab theek karega”, that God will take care of everything – the cliché dialogue that everybody was consoling with. I already lost faith in Him a long time back, so it did not matter.

It was another funeral, another arrow straight through the heart, and a final nail in the coffin. The people I loved had turned into ashes and lost somewhere in an unknown void. Everyone says that a few days after the death of someone, the heart starts to heal and people go back to their regular routine. But, why death was not able to set me free?

A couple of years back I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and the root cause of it was these incidents. I did not vent out my pain and misery during these incidents, and that was the major factor for depression. Just one or two tears here and there and that’s it. Years of sadness, misery, and pain had built up. The darkness was my savior. There was not a single day when the death scenes did not cross my mind. Everything was fresh and still is. 

Here I am now. It has been a decade since my father passed away, but I am still soaked in those dark thoughts and memories. There is no closure. I still have thousands of unanswered questions and I know that they will not be answered in this life. It is scary to think that you are living a life without any purpose and just for the sake of it. I have felt suicidal. I know what depression is and that it can be fatal. While I fight my inner demons, I wish no one goes through depression. It is important to vent your heart out in any situation. Keeping it inside is never a solution.

Image by Enrique Meseguer (user:darksouls1) from Pixabay