Goodbye,Dear Father.(Last Part)

“jo ik waari mar ke jeewe fer unaan ki marna hu
duniya uto jis din bhaawen us din parda karna hu”

He who, after death, once more lives, what fear has he of death then – He!
from the world, the day he chooses his mortal frame he can quit – He!

-Sultan Bahu (c.1628-1691)

He was reborn, many a times. Everytime he had to do it all from the start. In college he used to be a sportsmen. A brief illness and a visit to a doctor revealed that he had some problem in his heart, due which he will not be able to do any heavy exercise all his life. He left sports,but what he also left, was thinking of the future. He lived as if there was only present. It was visible in the way he lead life, aloof, maximizing every minute’s yield, going wherever his heart wished and not doing any financial planning. He also left going to the doctor after that. The fear of death was difficult to fathom but he lived every moment forgetting what lies ahead. I don’t know, how much he actually wanted to marry, but in those times, such arguments were not something to be listened to.

Arvind Datey's Family, Shivpuri, 1987-88

His idea of life literally worked for him. There were no medical treatments available in that time to cure him, so he decided to forget the illness and do whatever he wanted to do. His incessant coughing, sleeplessness worried my mother a lot as it started increasing day by day. His next visit to doctor was in 1996 when it was finally revealed that he had a hole in his heart. The fact he was aware, but not in great detail. His heart coped that up, by beating irregularly and blood developed thickening tendency. His heart enlarged in size, completely compressing his lungs leaving no space for proper respiration to function. A complete overhaul in his habits was suggested. He was a typical old Gwalior born male, who consumed enormous amounts of Tobacco, Supari and Paan every month. He was the only person whom I have seen buying Supari and Tobacco in kilogram values. I still remember by heart his Paan reciepe specifications containing 10No. Tobacco (Probably it was some grade of sharpness of Tobacco) and 120 peppermint (Some brand or grade of peppermint). He loved liquor, and consumed it occasionally too.

All these habits became an old story for him. He left them completely (some occasional quantity while social gatherings was allowed!!). He had power to leave a habit abruptly. After that day I didn’t see him eating tobacco or supari everyday. That exercise of cutting supari using a Sarota (Beetlenut Cutter) was no longer performed and those innumerable green plastic bottles of Choona (Lime) were thrown out of the house. I didn’t see him drinking after that too. This rebirth was slightly less in enjoyment, but he coped up and started living again, silently popping many pills, brightly coloured and emitting strange odours. His daily checkups also continued. The fear of death returned, which turned him to philosophy. Osho’s deliberations inspired him. A stall in Gwalior mela used to sell Osho Commune’s literature. In those days, he started listening to a cassette called “Death” which had Osho’s speech on death. He listened to it everyday, for a month or so. He listened to it so many times, that probably he knew every word of it. Every evening, that strange nasal voice filled indoors of our house, giving it a pagoda like quality. Strange discourses on death travelled to our minds, creating uneven waves of thoughts. 

" The basic fear is the fear of death. All other fears are just reflections of the basic fear. All other fears can be reduced to one fear: the fear of death, the fear that, “One day I may have to disappear, one day I may have to die. I am, and the day is coming when I will not be” — that frightens, that is the fear. "

- Osho, Quotes on Death and Dying

After an year someone suggested that a post of Senior District Magistrate (SDM) is vacant in Datia, and he got himself transferred from Gwalior. Why? God knows or he knows, probably looking at our faces daily became too boring for him to handle. Even during living alone, he didn’t leave the discipline he started. He lived in a huge three bedroom bungalow, and kept its two bedrooms locked. A servant cooked food and cleaned the house everyday. That house, looked like an isolated abode, minimum furniture, (Two more bookshelves added!!) and a silent courtyard. That house was so lifeless, that whenever I remember that place, I shiver by even thought of staying there alone. Even after all this, his decisions remained erratic. A sudden decision of buying an old black contessa car from one of his neighbours, was one of them. This idea was discarded by my mother, who declared that she will never sit in a second-hand petrol galloping black elephant. What happened next, is even more amusing. Just in the time when financial planning was going on for my sister’s marriage, we got news that he has bought a Maruti 800, on 50% loan. My mother was left aghast. He had no plan, how the loan would be paid back, but buying a car was most important and urgent necessity.

Extended family (Datey+Thatte), Dalhousie, 2007

Those nine years of living with paralysis were interesting in many ways. He came close to his wife, as his dependency on her increased. He realized in many ways that her dedication is out of the world. She did everything to keep him comfortable, his every wish was her command. Her ever smiling face made every problem little, while he remained busy cursing his faith, making faces and touching forehead. I was not there to see it everyday, but they lived an existence in which there was no space for anyone, not even for me. Everything was about them, and I loved it, because probably after more than 30 years of their marriage they were living as a couple. Everyday he prepared his own tea, by efficiently using his one working hand, she came back in the evening from office and then they had another cup of tea, which she prepared. They went to the Physiotherapist in the evening, or just roamed around in the car, till the small "Chaupal Sagar" superstore. Our little garden in Dewas residence bloomed with full of flowers. I mostly lived outside their life, visiting occasionally, studying, running towards a career. Their chemistry grew to such an extent, that just a hand movement, a little sound, an eye expression was sufficient for them to understand each other. I was moving away from him, not understanding his new language, but she had made a script out of it, which was complete and expressive enough to understand everything. Their life despite many aberrations, was nothing less than perfect. 

I was in final year masters of planning, running for data, writing my thesis and making frequent trips to Bhopal. He fell ill, and had to be hospitalized. His condition deteriorated fast, making him even unable to walk, which he confidently did for all these years, an improvement recognized by Physiotherapy and constant exercises. We took him to AIIMS, in New Delhi. His condition further deteriorated in a month. He selected the day of my final thesis jury, and passed away just after it was over. He knew the date, as it was discussed many a times in front of him. Here, in Ahmedabad I gave the best jury of my life with full confidence over the content and arguments, and there in Delhi he passed away after a struggle to be reborn again.

Today, I completely believe that he had power and ability to chose the day of his passage to the next world. Till his last day he gave us whatever he could up to the fullest. He passed away peacefully, I didn’t see any expression on his face, but just calm and peace, an expression of satisfaction. He finally surrendered himself to the death. Where will he be born next? is a question none of us could answer. I hope he gets reborn in an era of opportunities where his multi talents will be well understood and rewarded. 

I have portrayed you my father, colouring it with many memories, like an artist who sees his own philosophy in his own piece of art. I have conserved your existence forever, using all the precious gifts you gave me. Somewhere I have taken liberty to write something, which may not be appropriate, but remember, it was you who believed in penning down the truth. With this last part I bid you farewell. Goodbye, Dear Father, you will always be remembered for the life you led & the way you have made all of us feel proud. You led a good, truthful and fulfilling life, bravely stood in front of the death, and calmly withered away. Who needs anything else in a life?