An ode to death
Merely a week back, I presume it was a moody Saturday evening.
The routine evening round table conference of 4–5 family members dipping biscuits in chai to the background of a typical June drizzle. Amongst the random conversation topics, popped up the case of a minor who had attempted suicide due to certain regards with her education.
I had seen the news flood channels. I had seen it on social media and I had been a spectator to the debates around me. All of it mostly aligned to the same thesis that my family had laid out — Why would a child do something so immature and horrendous for something so flimsy? Has she given a thought about the pain her parents and family members will have to suffer due to her passing? Why are children these days so impulsive?
And this wasn’t the first time suicide as a topic had popped in. The viewpoint remained the same nevertheless.
It surprised me how people seldom wanted to enquire about the emotional state of the student. The only thing that mattered was the loss incurred due to her, not to her.
I tried to draw an analogy, and it may sound insensitive to a few. This is my personal viewpoint, so feel free to criticize.
In Kerala, especially in a lot of Christian households, funeral rites are a dramatic stretch of hypocrisy. Hear me out.
People who have barely checked in on a person throughout their lifetime peep in to ensure their position in the family. There is often an unsaid competition between the attendees to prove as to whom the person mattered the most, despite the irony of to how handful they did. Furthermore, there are bragging rights on who spent more for hosting the funeral, there are dress codes and there is more criticism on people who can’t care enough to cry for the loss.
Why do we really cry at a funeral anyway?
Is it for the loss of the ones who passed,or rather, over our own loss?
The drizzle had slowly picked it’s pace.
We miss the person, their role in our lives, and the memories they’ve blessed us with. We move on till we stumble upon a memory that we shared with them. We cry over Our loss.
Have we ever fathomed the extend of their personal battles?
“ He never said a word, he used to be happy. God knows what came over him ”
I thought to myself — How easy is it to criticize someone over a struggle we have no role in, just because it makes us feel as if we’ve done our part as judges?
I dipped my biscuit in the tea that had now lost its warmth. I watched helplessly as a tiny soaked piece broke off to be engulfed in a sea of disappearance due to my ignorance.
…
