Death And Dying

Death is inevitable. But God, at least make dying pretty or brave, and please let it be dignified!

Gene Hackman’s death brought a couple of things to the fore — a) having a spouse or children or pets is no guarantee against dying a lonely death (it is good to have them but…) b) it is VERY important to have a social circle who will miss you (from your maid and iron wali to your friends and family). (Read

Priya Ramani

for the details)

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At 45 one tends to have witnessed quite a few deaths. And after two COVID years, the concept of death has very rapidly moved from the ‘not me, not yet’ category to the ‘it could be me, it could be now’ category. It has made death ‘even more’ inevitable. Or is it just me?

It could just be me. I am paranoid (at times)—It is not so much death as it is the run up to the dying, the actual dying and the aftermath (on others) of dying.

Run up to dying

Since we don't have kids, as it is the question ‘tumhare budhape mein tumhara khyaal kaun rakhega’¹ already plays on a loop in my head but to add to that it also feels like parents of the world, just like Amitabh, are asking us (while playing the tambourines in our faces) — ‘aap ka kya hoga janaab-e-aali’². But since the decision to go child-free was entirely ours, I also feel like Ghayal’s Sunny Deol in an open car waving my arms to ‘Sochna kya, jo bhi hoga dekha jayega’³!

Coming back to the ‘humara budhapa…’ question, the truth is I don’t want too much budhapa, either for me or for Udit. I can only wish and as Shah Rukh said in Om Shanti Om “Agar kisi cheez ko dil se chaho … toh puri kainaat usse…etc etc”⁴.

I don’t want to die of old age—sick and immobile; I can’t imagine Udit too old, after all how much more old, senile and forgetful can he get. And kainaat— I am not challenging you here, non s'il vous plaît!

But in case kainaat misses this dil-se-chah, I also have my version of my old age.

On good days, I imagine myself like Miss Marple (Geraldine McEwan) or Lady Grantham (Maggie Smith) or Elizabeth and Joyce of the Thursday Murder Club. Doing my thing with my sense of humour and dignity intact, and with friends.

On bad days, I imagine I will be old, frail, forgotten only to be discovered when the putrid smell from my house will raise suspicions and the door will be broken down only to find my rotting corpse, unidentifiable. It is at this point I go all

Richard Osman

and think what if the corpse isn’t me and I have left to lead a new rocking spy life.

Please note that Udit sometimes makes an active appearance in these feature films (that go on in my head) but on occasions that he doesn’t, I think he is there somewhere close by, watching it all play out.

In our life, kids have been replaced with friends (and their kids). And I think most of them are taking very good care of themselves and are definitely going to outlive both of us. So that is sorted.

I just need to keep throwing parties for them—as

Roshni

says “fear of dying alone is a great fertiliser for friendships"—and naming them in my will!

Dying

Death is inevitable. But God, can it be pretty or brave and at least dignified?

I don’t have a long list of how I definitely don’t want to die or be found dead, but there are a few, I dare say, non-negotiable such as (a) in the loo on the pot, butt naked b) in the bathroom, naked c) having raunchy sex (well, also naked⁵…) and d) under a mountain of garbage (this I saw as a real possibility when I went on a reporting assignment to the Bhalswa landfill).

When the moment comes hopefully I will not know what hit me. But then I don’t want to JUST die. Like it should be brave, valiant, saving lives kind of a thing. But since I am not an inherently daring person, it seems unlikely. So I should at least look pretty. But this is a tall ask considering I don’t even look pretty sleeping—mouth wide open, drivelling, a little purring, a little farting and the double chin doubling up and sliding into my cheeks to make me look like a pig with button nose. I look pretty dead asleep.

The aftermath of (my) dying

Ever since the paranoia of death has set in, I always leave home like I am never coming back. There are so many stupid, reckless drivers who drive four wheelers either like bikes or planes. Anyway I say my ‘goodbyes’ and ‘take cares’, just in case, to my rooms, curtains, furniture, red and yellow floors, lamps, and the string lights. I leave the house in tip top condition, everything in their respective places, with a lamp on and the string lights always on—just in case someone comes home when I am not around, they should fall in love with my house.

No, I am not all dark and macabre. I slip in a ‘see you soon’ before I lock the door.

And Yes, I am a tad crazy to be thinking about the floor while I prepare for the inevitable.

I also think I should frame my will and hang it right in front of the door. I think it should read “That you are here, I am probably dead. Divide the books. Find the new diaries. Wear my sarees. Keep the house. And don’t create a mess or else my ghost will haunt you.” This is for whoever who comes first after they hear of my departure. WHOEVER!

Light at the end of the tunnel and all that

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But I don’t quite understand my paranoia. After all an astrologer did predict my long life.

So this astrologer came home when I was younger. And about my health, he said to my parents and my brother (nine years younger to me), “…she is going to be fine. she won’t have any health issues. only when she turns 99 she will have some stomach issues...” A sigh of relief passed our lips. Finally. But he wasn’t done, he was offering me immortality. “पेट के लिए आप बस महामृत्युंजय जाप करवा दीजियेगा. सब ठीक हो जायेगा…”⁶ ⁷

Wait. He also predicted my kids.

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Since you are here, you can quickly check out The Rhythm of Our Stories by

Natasha Badhwar

Raju Tai

&

Vimal Chitra

. The next sessions are in April and May.

1. “Who will take care of you in your old age?”

2. “What will come of you, sir?” Song from the film Amitabh Bachchan film Lawaaris.

3. The gist is — No point thinking, we will see how things unfold.

4. “If you really wish for something, the universe gets it done” (something to that effect)

5. Thanatophobia: This is an extreme fear of death or the dying process, which can manifest in various ways, including the fear of being naked or vulnerable at the time of death. WOW! It is a thing. And I have this thing.

6. “For the stomach, you just need to do the Mahamrityunjaya path and you will be just fine”.

7. The Mahamrityunjaya mantra is chanted for its powerful healing, protective, and spiritual benefits, including longevity, overcoming fear of death, and connecting with the divine, particularly Lord Shiva.