I died yesterday………………In my daughter’s Dream

For the past fortnight, I have been heavily weighed down by a variety of official engagements, which inevitably produced more stress and fatigue on my body and mind. I didn’t miss the golden opportunity to translate that stress into poetic prose. There was no time to stand and stare at beauty or just remain quiet. The only relaxation was seeing Gautham’s Tamil movie “Will you come across the sky?” starring Shimbu and Trisha in a piecemeal way in the cable T.V.

Every individual has his own story of love and death. In the face of heavy pressure of work I could not even visit JIPMER hospital today for getting a medical opinion on the report taken last year. What purpose that would serve now, I don’t know. I must go for a second checkup.

Tanduri Chicken and Biryani bought at a good restaurant recently opened in Puducherry was relished by all, especially the youngest one, in the company of my second grand daughter. Both of them have a good appetite for junk food which is tasty but not trustworthy from health point of view.

While eating and enjoying, I was feeling tired and I could not help telling my youngest daughter that there was some mild discomfort but I did not stop eating. Perhaps her concern about my health must have unconsciously sent signal to the molecules of her brain and made me die in her dream. It was just jolt for her to realize that I was no more and undertaking a journey to outer planets in some solar system without seeing her settled in life. She was thoroughly shaken in her dream and cried profusely, giving company to her mother, who had always told she would never cry when I die and remain bold.

What was the positive fallout of the dream? I got Dosa and Coffee, preparedly nicely by the youngest one, who usually shuns the kitchen. The kind of care that she bestowed upon me today, especially the day after my death in the dream I cannot forget in my life. Nor can I capture them in words. I know, for a longer time I have been harsh with her but there has been always a hidden love, an inexplicable concern and a tremendous anxiety towards her, especially in dreaming about the right kind of boy, given her assertive and dominat personality with all wild dreams and some societal concern..

I missed the University bus. While waiting for the private bus I allowed my imagination to wander and ruminate more on death. There was a time when I felt that I should not die and at some other times, soaked and fully drenched by sorrow and pain , I prayed for quick and graceful exit. I think all of us must have gone through this kind of phases in life .

Once the game is over, both the King and Pawn go to the same box. Where shall we go in the spirit form, I don’t know. But I am sure death will put an end to all our suffering and yet we don’t want to die, thinking that death will be more painful and there is complete uncertainity of Keynesian variety , what is in store after death.

All of us have come here for a purpose. The arrival time and the departure time are already structured in the computer driven and information networked cosmos. But there is always an innate desire to live little longer- strech out living time a little far ahead . But is it in our hands ? Can we postpone death by worrying ? How will we feel when the death comes and knock at the door ?

There is a belief and faith that if one dies in the dream, one will live for a longer time. I consoled my daughter that I may live for some more time .Indeed like others I also feel that whatever I have accumulated and what I will read in future, I should document for posterity in my own way because we are not telling anything new . Only narration is different. The force with which we argue for the voiceless is different and God will not take away until the job is over.

The important question to be asked is, “Have you lived a decent good life, helping the fellow human while rendering work ethics?” If the answer is “ Yes”, then that is the true legacy we leave behind.

Besides being good and honest, if we are also hard working and enterprising to leave a mark in our area of work, that will be simply incredible . At 60 plus, I feel as if I have joined my job only now and I have an insatiable thirst for reading and writing. But any discerning reader of my blog would notice that I have been all the time lamenting, virtually crying that I am not able to study and that I am not able to write more.

So long as this underlying spirit to do good and honest work is enveloping me , I will live and I cannot die . But if that ideal academic ambience does not clothe me I don’t want to live. A mere existence is a burden. It is too late to realize. It is not that I had wasted my time but I had not prioritized and invested my time for more writing in life. I should pat on my own shoulder to get some strength that for four decades I could not only teach but also enjoy teaching to different classes of audience in different parts of the country inclusive of the wonderful romantic city of Paris, which breathes the air of love , romance and wine, thereby giving legitimacy and credibility to my place of work. .

I never thought this piece , dealing with musings on life and death would evolve this way. But I am happy about its structure although nothing was contemplated this way. There are many more scribblings hidden in my debris and when they will come to this net, I don’t know. I sincerely pray that they don’t go just like that and dissolve in thin air like the affectionate letters I wrote to my wife in my younger days. I still feel that they were the distilled essence of my love even at the very immature age to a village girl , who was not only beautiful but also more hardworking, more understanding and more matured than me.