Ya 2013, Hop in. Happy New Year.

For the past 1 week or above there had been these questions that constantly lingered in my head, “What should I do on the new year?What should I be doing when the clock ticks 12 on 31st December? How should I welcome 2013?” I could not get a proper answer. It was not that I always welcomed new year with a bash and a kiss as the clock bangs to 12 with fireworks lighting up the sky. In fact, I can recollect very clearly how I have spent my earlier ‘New Year’s Eve midnights’ or at least of the past 4-5 years. Let me see,

Dec 31st 2008: I was in my living room, with my table lamp and television on. I remember watching some media coverage of a discotheque. Full of hot girls and dance moves, it was too hot to be played with volume.

Dec 31st 2009: I guess I was in a relationship this time. I remember talking on the phone the entire night. So basically I welcomed the 2010 by burning my brains with my phone’s radiation.

Dec 31st 2010: I was no more in a relationship. Having went through a break up just 3 months back I spent my entire time with my desktop and codes.

Dec 31st 2011: Having swore to my life that I will never fall in love again, I was still working. I remember myself sitting on the bed with a laptop as I could see people howling outside at the tick of 12.

Well, I tried to make various plans for tonight. Beach parties, pubs, discotheques or even just a huge hotel where I can find a good attractive crowd of the opposite sex. Anything from those would do, and I was totally excited to go for it. However on the morning of the last day of 2012 I was pretty sure that nothing huge was going to work out. So I just gave a middle finger to life and planned to sit down and work some extra hours. As I was leaving from the office, my friend called me up and said that some of them are outside my company waiting for me to join them for a spontaneously planned dining party.

Even though my plans were definitely huge than a dining party but c’mon a dinner with friends is better than sitting inside my room with my laptop. So I went for it. After a pathetic sweet corn soup and an over-colored dish, we started having fun with the usual jokes, sarcasms and more jokes.
Earlier that day when my ex-manager wished me for the new year as she was leaving office today, she also asked me what my plans were for tonight. When I said nothing she just said “Do anything but coding. At least for tonight.” God I must have such a nerdy impression on everybody. But, hey, fuck it.

So here I was away from my laptop and the blue screen, with my friends having dinner. On my way to room my roommates told me to get chicken. As we got home we prepared chicken and soon enough we were eating chicken, having fun, and some of them even getting themselves a bit drunk.
Before it was 12, I knew I was thinking about 1 person the most. No matter how hard I try to not think of that, there is always this one person lurking in your head. But at the tick of 12, all of us huddled together and started hopping around with loud asynchronous shouts of Happy New Year. That bit of craziness totally flushed out the lurking person from my head. As we sat down and started devouring whatever was in front of us, I tried recollecting all my past new years. The last 5 years or above I spent my New Year’s mid night with TV, or a Phone, or a desktop, a laptop, basically anything but humans.
Of course this time there were no disco lights, DJs, hot girls, a crazy crowd, but still considering my past track record of new year celebrations, this was better. And oh yes, New Years Resolution. I thought about it, and like all previous new years I am not going to fall for that stupidity.

So as an ending note … (though this is rather ironic to be an ending note), Happy New Year everybody.


Good Bye Grandma

I don’t know if it was unexpected. My response when my mom told me that Grandma is no more, was first blank which later turned into shock and finally settled into the realization that inside I knew it was going to happen soon. From there to the next 2 hours everything was planned and arranged really soon. I got a leave for 10 days from my company, dad booked an air ticket for 3 and I set out for Mumbai, from where we were to aboard the flight to Kerela the very next morning.
As our airplane landed Trivandrum, I was unsure of the emotions that I was supposed to have. Dad was blank the whole time. He tried very hard to look composed though occasionally I could see that he was depressed, which was expected and obvious as it was his mother who was no more among the living. Mom was rather relaxed though I knew very well that she had finished her share of tears way before I had reached Mumbai. I was confused, and was thinking hard of what I should feel. Occasionally I would feel blank but I would then resume to my normal mood.
Two of my relatives had come with a car to pick us up. My town – Mavellikara – is a good 4 hours ride from Trivandrum provided we meet no traffic jams. One of the two men was my dad’s brother and the other I guessed was my cousin sister’s husband though I did not get much time to confirm the relations. My assumed cousin sister’s husband drove real fast through the notoriously dangerous roads of Kerela. His turns and cuts were made so comfortably that I almost felt I was playing one of the computer games in the car in which you drive so precariously knowing that you wont be dead for real.
We reached our native house, and I could see a large crowd. I could not help but keep observing dad’s face. I wanted to see for some reason how his expressions were changing. His face was pale, emotionless. As we neared one of the homes of our family where Grandma’s corpse lied covered in ash and and a white blanket, the sounds of cries were getting clearer. The house was filled with deafening cries of ladies, and my dad there stood for only about 1 minute. He looked at grandma and soon walked outside the house. I could see a tear drop lingering on the border of his eye lashes, waiting to drop down at the slightest unbalanced move. He walked hastily towards another home, apparently to change and get dressed for the rituals. I saw him slipping and tripping, I ran and helped him balance himself. We soon emerged out of that home semi naked with only a thin white towel tied around our waist, covering our legs till a few inches below the knees. The ritual demanded that we bathe ourselves in this outfit by pouring water over our body a couple of times. I was a bit uncomfortable to the idea of getting wet with a thin cloth that would be almost transparent when it gets wet and sticks to my body, however I had to do what the ritual commanded and I did, along with many other men. I do not exactly know how many more men like me and dad were there, wet and ready for the rituals, but there were at least 10-20 people from a range of ages.
Dad initiated the ritual, being the eldest son. After many formalities that had to be followed, which I was unsure of whether was present since the Vedic ages or were added very recently we finally moved Grandma’s body to the place where she would be lit to a funeral pyre. Again dad initiated the rituals here, and all of us followed in descending order of age. As part of one of the rituals, I had to touch Grandma’s feet and pray. I found it hard to find her feet within the layers of sheet covering her body and when I did I held it loosely and bowed down. I knew I trembled, and I chanted some ‘Aum’s and had let go off her feet. I wished I had cried. I felt void of emotions.
I vaguely remembered the time when Granddad had expired. I was barely 7years old. Back then with a financial status way poor that what we have today we still came by flight and reached on time for the rituals. I remember I had sat near Grandma who was weeping furiously and I too had cried. I remember how I cried back then and today I felt disappointed on myself that my eyes were not even wet. What has changed me so much? Have I become so stoic that even the death of a closed one cannot stir me? I watched as three men covered her corpse with layers of cow dung cakes, camphor, and many such things. As they were scattering the dung cakes I saw a cockroach who escaped from the bag full of dung cakes. It lacked the brown color that these bugs have and with its pale exoskeleton it looked more disgusting. It ran towards the heap of carefully placed dung cakes on Grandma’s corpse. Its entry was secured by more dung cakes. How foolish of this creature to escape from a bag to a pyre. As I wondered how it was going to be a funeral for two living things, I was disturbed by a man who directed dad to start the pyre.
I felt stupid for being lost in the thoughts of a cockroach and such stupid things when I should be feeling sad or at least something for my Grandma who lay lifeless before me. My dad started the fire, and we were told that except my dad who still had some more rituals to complete, everyone else who were part of the ritual could go, bathe and change. I was relieved to get back to some comfortable clothes but I did not show the enthusiasm. As I walked towards the bathroom, I walked slow. I wanted to take as much time as possible to think about me, about the person who just left us all, and about how emotionally indifferent I have become. As I started walking away I turned back to see my dad looking at the pyre. I was standing beside him the entire day, holding him or talking to him whenever his wall of faked calmness was about to crumble.
I walked towards him and stood besides him. He was still looking at the pyre. I held him to break his flow of thoughts which I successfully did. He looked fine and composed. He was no more faking it. I wondered if some how the burning pyre also allowed him to accept what happened with comfort, inside somewhere a part of me started making a theory of what could be the average time for a person to feel fine after some one close dies. I shooed away my stray thoughts and looked at the pyre. There was my Grandma’s body, now almost burnt to ashes. A fate which we all share though the way the body disposes off differs. A fate which we all accept. And surrounded by the pyre I see men, who believed that by this pyre they would make her life after death easier and better. I was never sure of how effective these rituals were, but I did not want to be a rebel on this. Within some hours the pyre was now just tired smokes trying to escape through the ashes. The aura around was no more melodramatic. I was talking with my cousins and they were laughing and joking about things. My dad and some elders were discussing about other coffee table discussion topics. Some were in the kitchen preparing dinner. I smiled and looked at my dad who was by now very engrossed in some deep topic about Indian customs. I looked at the pyre and then some urge made me to look above at the night sky. “Good bye Grandma” I whispered.