Funeral Blues

Clip from the movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral. John Hannah, playing Matthew, reads WH Auden's poem "Funeral Blues." The poem was first published by Auden in 1936 and became famous after it was featured in this film.

On the wings of poesy....

What with having been disabled for so long after my accident and still in pain after a full day's work, the pain of Aditya's anniversary seems more acute than it should be. It's been a depressing few months and heaven alone knows how long it's going to be before I walk normally again. I've tried to stay positive, but it's taking too long and my patience is wearing thin.

It sounds selfish, but I've missed him a lot more these past few months than I had begun to these past few years. I find I think of him more when I am sick and / or in pain. I took heart when Ma told me that she felt terrible when she missed my brother more when she was sick! I was able to see then and tell her that was perfectly natural and okay...

It's been fourteen years. Images of him at age 14 keep popping into my head. I can't figure out why this is happening. Yet, somewhat depravedly, some would think, I am thoroughly enjoying reliving those days in Kankroli. He had joined us there in 1985, after leaving Narendrapur (which I always think of as Narakpur, or Death's Place, for reasons I might disclose some day). He had been miserable there, mostly, I suspect, because he missed Mini so much! But there were other very valid reasons too and he was so thrilled to be back home. He bloomed into this talented, confident young lad. I could go on for ever about him and I daresay my reverie would at times seem exaggerated and I would see him in a better light than he actually deserved.

No, he was no saint either, but rarely does a mother really dwell on the darker side of her child. Do they even have one in her eyes?!! But he was my sun and Mini was my moon. They are the joy of my life, the light of my light.

Not being in much of a mood to write a lot today, no, hang on! having started, I find I actually am in the mood! But methinks me shall stick to the original plan for today. I hadn't really felt like coming here to write anything this time, but thought it somehow diminished Mini's initiative in starting this blog. I know she wouldn't have minded at all and would have understood. Still, I wanted to honour her effort. So I thought I'd just pop in and put up a few of the poems I wrote after Aditya left us. These are not exactly works of art, but they do reflect some of my feelings at different stages, and I thought it a good way to share my feelings with any of you that might be interested.

THE VIEW

We have walked down this road before,
Yet I know not what lies in store;
Our feet were swift, our eyes were blind,
Unheedful of what we’d left behind.
The only views are within my head,
The things I fear and the things I dread;
This view of fear and this view of pain
Sits like amber within my brain -
My dreams won’t let me be,
My ears can’t hear,
My eyes can’t see.

There are views outside my head, I know,
I can no longer see them though -
Yes, I know you walk, you walk by me,
What you look like I can’t see!
The wind is cold, the path is steep,
My body aches but I cannot sleep;
I move forward to empty skies,
Searching for the view to open my eyes:
A room with a view, they call it -
I call it an empty one!

We’re both together - and it’s true -
But I must walk on until I see the View.

[Written by Aditya, March, 1994, about 2 months before he died...]

MY CACTUS FLOWER

(30th November, 1994)

You are as rare as a cactus flower!
You are as fair as a cactus flower!
Who looked on you was enamoured of you,
Who knew you - knew but One of you;
In the bloom of your youth you fill my world
With such happiness and peace, I feel I’m blessed
In a way no mother has been before -
My Aditya, my son, you’re twenty one today!

Well do I remember bringing you home,
A bundle of joy in your father’s arm -
We strutted proudly as we walked along,
Our lips smiling, our hearts full of song;
The fruit of our love, the love of our lives,
We vowed to protect you - we thought us so wise!-
We dreamed of your youth, and here is this day -
My Aditya, my son, you’re twenty one today.

From baby to child, from child to boy,
I watched you grow with increasing joy;
I watched over you, I nurtured you -
So many things I taught you to do;
You learned to read, you learned to write,
People said you were so bright -
And brilliant you are, As bright as the sun -
My Aditya, my sun, you’re twenty one today.

I remember the day you came running to me,
Your first prize at six - held aloft for me to see;
A little book you showed me with such glowing pride-
“Second in his class,” it said inside.
I hugged you and returned it, and said, “Well done!
I’m proud of you, my darling, my precious son!”
“But Ma,” you said in your sweet child’s voice,
“I got it for you, it’s for you - it’s yours!”

That one little book is still cherished and dear,
As are all the prizes you brought me each year;
Be it singing or painting or a story to tell,
Whatever you do you do so well;
You composed music and on the wings of poesy
You soar to such heights, - it makes me dizzy!
What brought you into my life?
My Aditya, my son, you’re twenty one today.

Mini would say, ”Ma, your tense is all wrong,
For Dada is now ‘most six months gone;”
Cruel, but practical, for ‘tis true;
In your twenty first year we mourn for you.
Yet you are here, I know you are -
How can anyone so dear go away so far?
Your creations are here, your dreams, your songs,
So are you here - you’re not gone for long.

My Aditya, my love, you’re twenty one today;
In the bloom of your youth, like a sunflower you sway;
Does the sun ever fade? Does the moon ever wane?
Do the stars ever loose their lustrous shine?
Even so are you here in the sands of time;
The birds and the flowers tell me you’re still mine;
In the rush of the wind, in the splash of the waves,
I can hear you talking, comforting always.

Alas, poor heart! You delude yourself!
He’s gone, you’ve lost him - accept it well;
But what else can you do, a mother forlorn -
Alive in this world while your baby is gone?
Blessed is she who never Motherhood knows,
Cursed is she whose grown son goes:
Yes, cursed I am, or why else this pain,
That grows each day in a cancerous chain?

You were as rare, as fair as a cactus flower,
And you did grow fairer by the hour;
I watched over you, I nurtured you,
How precious you were, I hope you knew;
The beautiful flower that we all did love
Was also loved by the gods above;
We needed it here, but They wanted it there
And they took you from me - you’re in their care.

We walked together, yes, that’s true -
But you rushed ahead - did you find the view?

WILL I BE WHOLE AGAIN?

Well nigh three years have passed us by
It’s difficult still to say
If it happened such long ages back
Or only yesterday;
The days go by, the nights stay on
I scream into the dark ­­­­­-
When will I be whole again?
Till in death I do depart?

I care not what I look like now,
My mirror I still do shun;
The reminder shrieks at every step -
You have outlived your son!
What right have I to be alive?
Yet must I remain;
But will I never be whole again?
Will it never end, this pain?

I try my best, - God knows I try, -
To get on with my life;
I succeed a little bit by bit,
But most of the time I lie.
I fool the world, even fool myself -
Unannounced the tears do come:
When will I be whole again?
When will my grief be done?

Dear God, if I must keep going on
In life’s now meaningless toil,
Give unto me some glimmer of hope,
Not this shining foil -
This camouflage of a smiling face,
These easy ways, this strife;
Make me whole, My Lord, I beg,
Give me back my life.

My son, my sun, my Aditya,
Brighter than a thousand stars,
My wretched heart won’t let me see
You’ve gone away so far;
I look around, I miss something -
I know ‘tis there somewhere;
I will be whole once more, I will,
Once I know it’s there.

But when! - When will I be whole again?
I ask of Thee once more:
Will this broken heart mend itself?
Will my family again be four?
If four we’ll never be again,
How can I be whole?

Only death will make me whole again -
Till then this life I hold.
This life that Thou hast given me
Must I hold as dear as that
Which Thou hadst given unto my care
Till Thou hadst need of it;

Thus shall I live on on earth,
As true to Thy name as I can;
Yet the longing still does linger on,-
Make me whole, My Lord, if you can!
(17.02.97)

LONGING

These empty arms
These aching eyes
Pierce the dawn
As it bursts through the skies,
Longing. ……

The years stretch out
Into the millennium
No succour in sight
But to be with you,
Longing. ……

The darkness lingers
The puzzle unresolved
The puzzle of your life
The puzzle of your death -
Longing. ……

The dawn is here
Where is the light,
Though my lamp I tend
Burning so bright,
Longing. ……?

Aditya, you are
Brilliant as the sun
Why don’t I see you
As the new day dawns
Longing. ……..?

My hope is my death:
Nay I fear it not;
This life’s a farce
And I know it not.
Longing. ……..

(22nd March, 2004)

I carry your heart with me

It has been a while since my last post... and this time it wasn't just my innate laziness that kept me from writing. I recently came to a couple of realizations in quick succession, followed by decisions which, while ultimately sensible, left me feeling quite lost and questioning my sanity as well as my ability to be happy. This, for someone who for the most part is perfectly comfortable (without being complacent, or so one hopes!) with who she is and the way her life has turned out, was unsettling to say the least.

Yes, very cryptic and dramatic, I know. But therapy is too expensive and unreliable, so expressing myself on this blog is the preferable alternative, hence the drama. (Ma, you can relax, that was strictly tongue-in-cheek!) On the other hand, this is not the forum for discussing the details of my follies (hence the veiled remarks), so without going into boring detail, the upshot is that I am now single again after almost 2 years. In case I wasn't clear before, it was my decision to end it. The irony is that it was by far the best, most uncomplicated relationship that I have had (and I have had quite a few) and he is a genuinely good guy, one of the best, as well as my best friend (yes, lots of "best's" I know :) but they fit).

Anyway, all things considered, it turned out quite well... the break-up, that is; thanks to how close we are, and the fact that we still want to be in each others lives. It will take some getting used to, naturally, but it seems the worst is over, and the good thing is that we helped each other through it. So today, as I write this, I am still questioning my sanity, but not so much my ability to be happy. The point being, I have made my peace with my inner demons, for now anyway.

What does all/any of this have to do with my brother, you may well ask. Well nothing directly, I suppose, but as with any major event in my life, whether it is a happy or a sad one, I think of him and wonder what he would have made of all this. I know he would have liked Craig, of course, but I also like to believe he would have understood without my having to justify myself, why I did what I did. He was, after all, the most non-judgemental person I have ever known, at least as far I was concerned. I have tried, in turn, to be that person to the people I care about and hope I have succeeded to some extent.

My parents (who met him in December last year and needless to say, loved him) have also been a pillar of support through all this, by giving me my space while letting me know that they were there if I needed to talk. So Baba-Ma, here is a poem by E. E. Cummings that I came across in a movie called " In her shoes", which made me think of you, of Dada, and others I miss:

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)