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Journalism of Courage
Death is devastation, it is a disaster, it is a shock8230; for family members, especially if it is untimely. And the last journey is often clouded in despair and confusion. A few days back though, I realised and witnessed for the first time that death can be a fond farewell, a warm-hearted and soulful adieu to a beloved one. That in death dignity, poise, restraint and method can actually make the experience of parting spiritually enhancing. It can make you rise above your personal grief and make a connection with God. It can take you on a tour of the mysteries of the vast universe, where our existence is but a speck in the magnanimity of nature8217;s glory. And that the dust-to-dust philosophy is in fact a stark reality.
I had attended, for the first time, a Roman Catholic funeral of my friend8217;s daughter, all of only 21 years. The family of course was in utter shock and grief and we too did not know how to face our friend to pay condolences. I hesitated when a colleague recommended that we go to the cemetery and was further disturbed when she got lovely yellow roses for each one of us to carry along. Taking flowers for this solemn occasion? No, it didn8217;t quite gel with my perception of a funeral although I had seen thousands of them being showered after Princess Diana8217;s death.
For half an hour though, she was to be given the richest tribute any princess could have asked for. An announcement was made by the priest on the public address system about the arrival of the body. By then, each one of us had already lined up on both sides. Her near and dear ones walked in first, dressed neatly in black and white and carrying a variety of flowers. Roses, gladioli and rajnigandhas in various shades, in the form of wreaths, bouquets or just long stalks. Yes, flowers were in plentiful, their fragrance and vibrant colours endeavouring to camouflage the sadness.
And then, when the coffin passed by without the lid, it was the most pleasing sight I had ever seen. Adorned as she was in a pastel-coloured dress, there was soft make-up on her face, the hair combed and her petite hands entwined in pearls. For a minute, the air was rent with perfume. She looked so blissful8230; as if an angel was resting on a satin bed, oblivious to the turmoil that she had created around her.
Her family members rendered some beautiful hymns, the words of which were meant to bring solace to the aggrieved. Tears flowed quietly, intermittently. The strings of the guitar faded like the sun that was on its setting journey and the time came to bid the final adieu.
The black-coloured soil that surrounded looked so harsh8230; as if ready to engulf a youngster who had been as sprightly as a dancing fountain just 48 hours back. It seemed so cruel that she would finally be consigned to the earth, forever and ever.
When the black mud was mechanically levelled over, calamity seemed to last only for a few moments. Within the next few minutes, the face of this pit metamorphosed into a thing of gaiety, as wreaths and flowers adorned it. And amidst these fresh and dainty floors, every person present there lit candles, that were then tucked in between the flowers and around the pit.
All was over, as twilight lifted the curtain and pinned it with a star. For the family members, her memory will live forever, in their hearts. For me, her family8217;s last tribute to her, filled as it was with warmth and dignity, with haunt me for a long time to come.
