Mother

Mother died. On the seventeenth of the last month that is July 08. I was next to her when she was declared dead by the doctor. All those young nurses were really upset. I was not. I even told them to carry on with what they are supposed to do. There was a young doctor. I told him one of the stories from the series that I translated long ago for Swati Monthly.
I was almost waiting for mother's death. She was suffering. Had she lived further, she would have suffered a lot more. May be, people think that I am worse than the hero in Albert Camus' novel where the fellow is not even aware when his mother died. I am a realist, if there is something like that. I see reality in it's stark naked form. I wanted mother to pass away as dignified as possible. She was a very egoistic person. Never liked to be served by anyone. She has served all without asking questions. She never wanted to be dependent on anyone. She refused to come to any of my brothers till she realised it was almost impossible to be alone. For the last one year she was with me.
I have not really done anything particularly for her. Anyway, my family accomodated her without any complaints. After a few days or months mother realised that she had to live like that. She was very accomodative too. Never too demanding. But as her health started deteriorating, she became fussy and uncomfortable. That is when I wrote that article about death without trouble. It is there on my website.
I am, in a way obsessed with death. I have written and thought about death so much. The stories I have translated were printed in the monthly for 10 months. All those days I was always thinking about death. I discontinued writing them all on my own, even though teh magazine wanted me to continue. Even when I was in the University, I remember reading the encyclopedia on death in detail. It is a three part tome. I remember buying the Tibetan Book of Death.
As a child, I was once caught reading Garuda Puranam. Father as is his style, simply told me not to touch that book again. Why? I did not have the guts to ask. It was connected to death. It describes what happens to the soul after death.
Vakati was another person who would discuss death without getting tired. He even wrote about the topic. He died a little earlier than usual.
Mother's death did not really upset me.
The doctor in ICU who was really next to the mother when she breathed her last, was making the death certificate. That made me think that someone is certifying that mother is dead. Though mentally I was ready for her departure, I was stuck by that certificate. Like the lady in one of the stories by Pirandello, I realised that mother is really dead. I told the same to the doctor. He perahps thought that I am a wierd man.
That was again a moments feelig. I recovered and started calling all the people who must come.
So, mother died. When I told this to a profeassional friend, he asked what I am doing on the occassion. I wrote the customary Charama slokam for teh mother. It is rather unusual. People must have noted it. I neither know Sanskrit so very much and nor am a poet. But, I wrote a Slokam. it may contain soem mistakes. It did not matter. If something has to happen at a particular time, it has to happen. So, I did it. Death does not wait for people to get ready for it. That is the ultimate truth. Death is the ultimate truth. This topic engaged me for ever. It would do so for ever.
I will share my ideas with people like this.