Passing On: The Inevitable Reality And Its Unanswered Questions

When I was young, death was the furthest thing from my mind. It was something that happened to others, but it was far removed from my immediate life. I never thought too much about it, and I fooled myself into beliefs of immortality for myself and for those I loved, not necessarily because I believed we would go on forever, but because I just refused to think about the possibility of my inner circle not being intact - the mere thought of it was too painful, and it was so much easier to just be in denial.

I did experience a few deaths along the way, as grandmothers, a few uncles and aunts, some friends and several pets passed on during my childhood, teenage and younger days. My core unit, however, consisting of my immediate family, was intact. Then my father passed away after I turned 40, and that is when I was really jolted, because this so called safe, untouched, core unit of mine was no longer intact. It was also the first time that someone really really close to my life had left and the pain I felt was immense. That's when I finally started thinking about mortality. Others probably accepted this reality much earlier in life, but I had fooled myself by refusing to think that anything could happen to my core unit - that was my pact with God!

Recently, my mother passed away. This was an unparalleled set-back, because she was the closest person to me in my life. We humans are more resilient than we think, and life has a way of going on, but I live my life everyday with a heavy heart. I got back to my work and my basic family responsibilities within a couple of weeks of the incident, but I haven't smiled since that day, and I've lost interest in a lot of things that life has to offer. It will be a while before some degree of normalcy is restored, and I am not trying to rush myself and am allowing it to happen gradually, as I learn to cope with life with my new reality.

Death leaves more questions than answers:
What happens after someone dies?
Does the soul live on in some way, or is it like an eternal slumber?
Can souls communicate with other souls that have passed on?
Can souls observe what is happening in the world they have left behind?
Is there a way for "evolved" people to communicate with departed souls?
Is there reincarnation?

I don't know if any living person has answers to these and many other such questions. I don't know what to believe, but I do know what I would like to believe. I would like to believe that there is a conscious soul that lives on after we go. I would like to believe that there isn't nothingness after we pass on, because then it almost feels like everything we stood for eventually comes to nothing. I would like to believe that we don't forever lose the ones we love. I would like to believe that departed souls can reunite and communicate with one another in some way. I would like to believe that souls of those who have gone can observe what is happening in the lives of their loved ones who miss them. I would like to believe that souls can maintain some kind of passive connect with the world they have left behind. I don't know what I want to believe about reincarnation, because though it gives some kind of solace that the soul lives on, I say what good is that if in our new lives, there is no consciousness of what we were, and if we have lost our loved ones forever, as we start our new lives and adventures afresh?

So, death is around the corner unfortunately. We just don't know how far away that corner is, and we're in no hurry to get to it. We need to acknowledge it, and we can only hope that when it happens to us or our loved ones, it happens with minimal physical pain and suffering, and after we have lived long, happy lives. And though it is very difficult for us to believe in anything that we have no apparent way of verifying, I guess one thing that keeps us going is what we want to believe in about death, and that is something which could very well vary from person to person!

My Uncle, The Moulvi Ji And The Nawab

In July - August 2019, when my mother was very ill, my aunts would come practically every day to spend time with her. It was a very sad period in our lives, and we had extremely heavy hearts, but my aunts would try to cheer us all up with interesting stories from the past. My mother took her illness very bravely, and she would also chip in with old stories. We got to hear some lovely stories from the family archives. Here's one of them.

In pre partition times in Pakistan, my uncle was a very intelligent child. He was intellectually gifted, had got a couple of double promotions and was academically a few years ahead of others his age. He had shown an exceptional aptitude towards humanities and languages, and he was learning Persian. A Moulvi Ji used to come home to teach him. My uncle was a young boy back then, and he was in the habit of wearing shorts, which were rather loose for him. Other students who learned Persian under the Moulvi Ji were much older, and had graduated to wearing long trousers. The Moulvi Ji ticked off my uncle one day and said "Why are you wearing your mother's Ghagras?". Extremely sensitive as he was, my uncle told his mother he was not going to learn Persian any more!

He switched over to Biology and went on to study to become a doctor. He applied for admission in college. There again, he was a couple of years younger than other students who were applying for admission. During his interview, someone on the panel objected to my uncle's young age, despite his very high marks, and he sarcastically told my uncle "In the hostel, we don't have nurses to take care of  our students". My uncle took strong offence at the sarcasm, and he refused to join that college and he ended up joining elsewhere.

A few years later, my uncle applied to medical college in a sought after medical institution in Amritsar for his post doctorate. He had very high qualifications but he didn't get through because the college had reservations for local Punjabi students. My grandfather used to work for the Nawab of Bahawalpur, and he was a great favourite of the Nawab's. When the Nawab heard that my uncle was not getting admission because of the reservation issue, he used his tremendous influence, personally got in touch with the college, and secured a seat for my uncle. People around the Nawab said "If you have secured a seat, why give it to a Hindu boy? Why not give it to a Muslim boy from Bahawalpur?". But given the Nawab's very open minded, religiously tolerant and secular ways, plus his great fondness for my grandfather, he was very clear that he wanted the seat for no one else other than my uncle.

Through quirks of fate, including the roles played by the Moulvi Ji and the Nawab, my uncle went on to do very well in medical college. He joined the Indian Army as a doctor, and became a renowned plastic surgeon and had a very successful career. He could have very well been a Persian scholar instead, if the Moulvi Ji hadn't been said what he had said!!