I do not
want to conclude the blogs on Life’s Best Lessons concerning my late Ma, Mrs.
Bina Devi Bhattacharyya. I want the memories of my mother to be kept tucked in
the recess of my heart forever and ever and ever. I want to cling on to those
memories for remembering my roots, for perpetually bettering myself in the
attempt of being a good human being, for helping those who hold the promise of
growing as one. And yes, when the time comes for me to take leave of this wonderful
world, I want Ma to come down from wherever she happens to be at that time to
hold my hand to lead me through to afterlife.
I have
already tried to write about the lessons I learnt from my mother. I started
with the unshakable faith, her indomitable spirit, love for all, especially her children
and grandchildren, honesty and sacrificing mentality and concluded the
last blog by writing about what in my opinion, defines my Ma best, her divine
sense of forgiveness.
Ma, in life,
was my first and best teacher. Surprisingly, her death was a lesson in itself
as well. I have already written about
the time in late July in 2006, when I received an urgent call from Jaya, my
wife, informing about Ma’s deteriorating condition and subsequent
hospitalization. The same day, mainly thanks to the consent of Mr. Y.B.Ghalley,
the Principal of my school at that time, I hurried home in a resless frenzy.
I reached
Zero Point at around 5 or 5.30 in the evening. I did not have to wait for long
at the turning, as I hitch-hiked the first vehicle that came along. While I was
trying to stretch my limbs in the back seat of the car, a maddening fragrance
of an assortment of flowers lingered in the air. I was dropped off near the BoD
at Gedu as the car was not going any further. I spent the next half hour or so
desperately trying and praying for a vehicle going down to the border town of
Phuentsholing. By 8-8.30, having given up any hope of getting a lift down, I
helplessly knocked on the door of my friend Mr. Thukten, the BoD Manager. He
was pleasantly surprised to find me at that odd hour, but we spent the rest of
the time chatting, watching TV over a cup of steaming coffee and later on
driving around the sleepy Gedu town. He must have done all that in order to
distract my mind from the thought of my Ma. I must have retired to bed quite
late in the night. A nightmarish dream was trying to drive away the sleep from
my weary eyes, when I found myself being vehemently shaken by Thukten. A quick
look at the watch told me that it was 6 in the morning. He informed me that a
truck was going down to Phuentsholing and whether I would like to go by the
truck. All my sleepiness was gone instantanously as I told him I would. The
wife of my ever smiling and helpful friend made some quick breakfast and off to
Phuentsholing I was in a truck, in a flash.
I reached
Kolkata the day after (they say, Kolkata is quite near to Chhukha though). My
wife, tension writ large on her face, was waiting anxiously for me. After
gobbling down some mouthfuls, we left for the hospital. Ma was in the ICU (Intensive
Care Unit) of what is undoubtedly the most expensive hospital in Kolkata now.
In a coma. Due to the initiative and some kind of street- smartness of the part
of my youngest sister, Mrs Tapasi Ghosh, from among all the waiting visitors, I
was let in the room. I have already blogged about that experience under the title; I love You in the ICU and as a
result, do not want to relive the same experience right now.
Strange as
it might sound, a couple of days after my arrival in Kolkata, Ma miraculously
recovered from her deathbed, to the utter surprise and disbelief of all and
sundry, and was therefore, shifted to a general bed on the second floor.
Surrounded by a host of her close relatives, the fighter in Ma could also sit
up in the bed for some time. I even remember joking with her if she could
recognise me or not. She did! But soon afterwards she had what the doctors told
us afterward, another seizure and had to be shifted back to the ICU once again.
I had no idea at that time that I had already talked with her for the last
time.
I also
remember Dr. Ajay Sarkar; expressing his desire to have Ma on the life-support
system for one more try. While doing that he was looking at me intently, trying
to find some encouragement or positive signs. I kept my head down all along. An
enquiry earlier at the Reception had made it known to me that the bills for
Ma’s treatment at the hospital till that day amounted to something like 1, 80,
000/-
Thanks to my
elder brother and the other siblings, money was not going to be an issue. But the
truth that I had very little to do with her treatment, at least financially,
let me keep my otherwise blabbering mouth shut. Later on all I could do was to
wait impatiently outside for the inevitable to happen.
At around
11-11.30 in the morning of 11th August, the junior doctor called me
to the consulting room and informed me that they were trying their best, but
most of Ma’s organs were defunct as she had a multiple organ failure. He came
back to the door again soon afterwards and asked me to be prepared mentally. He
also advised us to offer her the last holy water as per the Hindu custom! The
life of the lady I have always loved the most was slowly ebbing away. And there
was nothing I could do. I have never been very religious. Nor have I ever
bothered about mustering the slokas
from The Gita or The Upanishads. I do not believe in race,
caste or creed. How could I offer a spoonful of the holy water to someone,
who, to my knowledge and belief, was the most pious lady I have ever seen in my
life? I found myself oscillating between the pricks
of conscience and a strong sense of duty. At that moment, sitting on one of
those chairs outside the ICU, I had an inexpressible urge to do something
extraordinary for her, to let her know that I was not going to be a failure in
life, that I would always try to do something to make her proud of me.
Good God has always the solutions or answers to the most difficult of problems. Precisely
then one of my nephews turned up. He must have earned a lot of merits by being
the first one to offer a spoonful of the holy water to his thakurma (grandma). Jaya and I followed next. Then the wind, the air became still and
silent. Ma was gone.
Later on
draped in a white cloth, her still body was carried in a glass case, via
Eastern Bypass, along Park Circus Maidan to our ancestral home at 41, Deblane, where
she had entered as a newly-wed bride many many moons ago. Her immobile body covered with wreaths of flower garlands, was
laid out in the courtyard for people to pay their last homage. Amidst all the
heart-wrenching wailings and sorrow, the fragrance of the incense sticks
permeated the sombre atmosphere. Overcome with a multitude of emotions, I
stepped forward and held her feet for the last time, before her final journey. I
begged her forgiveness, if I had hurt her feelings unknowingly ever and sent up
a silent prayer:
If there is Life after
death, I would like to be born as your son once again, Ma.
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