I shared my ATM password with my trusted neighbour
Sita Ram Ji. He is happier in social services. I told him that my ATM card is
in the hip pocket of my trousers. I also requested him that once I bid goodbye
to this world and put an end to the annexure ‘Migrant’ with my name, he may
manage disposal of the mortal frame without waiting for my people from distant
places. Every morning after my usual pooja I pray for welfare of all my kith
and kin. I include my name too in the long list of the benefactors of my
blessings. Then I pray for peace to the departed souls of my dead. My name
exists among the dead benefactors too. As such there is no need to perform any
ritual like tenth or other days after my death.
My father left for the heavenly abode on 1st
March 1974. As per my calculation he had completed 69 years on the day of his
departure. Besides father, he was more than a friend to us. Our mother had left
us in 1948. He performed the role of our mother too. For any street quarrel he
used to join us as the fifth player. In view of his association as a single
parent, we became orphan on 1st March 1974. We missed him badly. We
did not agree with Shuba Wati, our neighbour that he was so old that a non
vegetarian feast was due to celebrate
his departure as per the prevalent tradition.
Death is inevitable. At right time, it is a divine gift. We are born with a death warrant.
I claim that I am a boy of 75. As per the standard of
Shuba Wati, I am older. Breaking of tradition should not become a precedence. Friends are requested to drink-dine
and dance to celebrate the day by debit to my debit card. I am told that my worn-out
organs, bones, wrinkled face and the entire chassis will be replaced by my God free
for another trial. So why to mourn death. May be the rebirth will not take at the place that is disputed for some. May be I may escape repeated exodus. In case of rebirth, process to grow from the cradle will start afresh.
My soul shall be at peace and happier if my daughters
and grand children are not disturbed. Let all continue in normal course at
their respective places. No utul-putul.
I shudder when I recall my school days. In my school
age I suffered the worst. I was hardly 3 plus when I was subjected to corporal
punishment. My teacher at Mission School
Habbakadal used to beat me mercilessly with a nailed bat to give impression of
his care for me to my parents. Around National High School ,
bushes of nettle (soie-bichue buti) that caused blisters were available
in abundance. Life afresh will give me the pleasure of a life without any
bruises, especially when today’s child is in know of the law that prohibits
physical punishment.
September 2012 to October, 2013 I was at Mumbai.
Father of the husband of my daughter was my chief host.
One day the chief host was on fast in honour of his
father’s death anniversary. He used to call his father by the name Bobuji and
in response he used to address his son as Bairaj.
Strangely at lunch hour, my voice took the voice of
Bobuji in me. I called:
"Bairaja, you know I like non vegetarian food. I
used to send you to Rajab Puej to fetch one pav of meat @ eight annas a pav.
Why did you prepare cheese preparation and '*demaluv' contrary to my taste for
different varieties of meat? Besides,you prepared 'kheer' and that too without
any dry fruit. Is it not cheating with the dead?"
Bairaj realized his mistake and said
humbly:"Bobu Ji, pardon me. I apologize. This mistake shall not be
repeated. I never knew that food offered to our guest reaches to our dead. I
reiterate that the mistake shall not be repeated."
Soon I regained my voice and I came to my form and
addressed my chief host as Baba, the name his infant grand children have given
to him. “Aeth mahra venan Mordhuen
hundhie navie zindhuen sugh( In the name of the dead, people alive are served). Peace be to his soul. Tasty cheese, Dhumalove
and kheer gave the feel of a ‘buda khana”.
Since 6th February 2014, I am at Dubai . 2nd May,
2014 the wanderer is booked for back to Ind ia .
By the middle of May, 2014, I intend to be in the valley to escape the hostile
sun. ATM card along with password will be very much in my hip pocket.
Bríjû dàss te Girdass chhú vanàn låsív tû båsív.
B K Dass
A wanderer in exile at 75
Deprived of his Cremation Ground
by the Farooq Abdullah Government with acquiescence by the Rajiv Government at the Centre.
“Mezareabal tanie chi hazar tufaan
Vujarea gachi gachi kabaer ti ravem”(Dolwal)
From Dubai contact No: Landline 0097144515306; Mobile No:00971563244965
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