Memories

In the movies, it probably makes more sense to show flashbacks in black and white, and the present time in colour. In the movie of my life however, the flashbacks are in colour, and the present is in black and white.

[Standing (L to R): Mom, Dad's elder brother's wife, Dad's elder brother, Dad's sister
Sitting (L to R): Dad, Uncle, Grandmother, Grandfather
On laps (L to R): Sister, Cousin, Me]

It's been half a year since my dad died, and a year and half since his younger brother died. It hasn't sunk in yet. I don't think it will. And I don't think I want it to.

I dreamt about the both of them just two nights ago. We were all watching an Amitabh Bachchan interview on TV. It was a wonderful dream.

I wonder what will be the irony that takes my life. My dad's a road-safety freak. He wears the seatbelt even if we're traveling at 10 kmph. He never crosses the speed limit. His motto about getting to any destination is "better late than never". So, it is ironic that he died in a car crash, a horrific one at that, where the driver remains unscathed, but my dad is killed on the spot. Interesting how that works out. My uncle's a health freak. He's a fit man for his age. He works out at the gym on a regular basis. So, it is definitely ironic that he died in the jacuzzi which he had stepped into just after one of his workout sessions. I think a really ironic way to die is in a case of mistaken identity. I wonder if there is anyone who looks like me who's been getting into major trouble.

I've never believed in god nor did I believe in any sort of higher power. But then, I look at the past 4 years of my life wherein I've lost 5 people dear to me. That's a lot of deaths to deal with for someone my age. And then, I think of my young cousin brothers who are now fatherless, one who still doesn't understand why daddy hasn't come home in so long. I think of my mom and my aunt who have lost their husbands, still have children to look after and have half their lives to live alone. I think of my sister who doesn't have a dad anymore. I think of my 97 year old granddad and my 89 year old grandmother who have lived that long only to lose two sons in the span of one year. How could both of them die on the same exact date, one year apart? The cruelty of it all makes me realize that it wasn't a mere coincidence. There definitely is a higher power. The devil exists.

In the case of untimely deaths, most people sympathize with the fact that the deceased died too early. I think it's worse for those who are left behind to deal with it; to deal with the guilt of being able to live and go on about your daily lives when someone dear to you is no more. To me, my life doesn't feel like a gift anymore; just a guilty burden I carry that I'm alive today while my dad and uncle are dead.

They were both great fans of Kishore Kumar. I think that comes from being brought up in Bombay. And also having great taste in music. My dad was my very own Kishore Kumar. Every KK song that I've ever heard, I've first heard my dad's rendition of it. He sings beautifully, by the way. Dare I say better than Kishore da! Here's a song that has been playing in my head, on and off, ever since that night, in my dad's voice, of course.

Jeevan ke safar mein raahi

(In the journey of life)

Milte hain bichchad jaane ko

(Travellers meet, only to part)

Aur de jaate hain yaaden

(And leave behind memories)

Tanhayee mein tadapaane ko

(To torture us in our loneliness)

So true.