Human Bondages And The Feeling Of Void

How difficult is it to understand the uncertainty and ambiguity that life poses in front of you every now and then? How intangible is the love we see, feel and exists around us? How strange is it to experience the feeling of void- especially when you are in a situation with which your mind and body are not aligned to 100 %?

Attachment, bonding and relationships keep me from experiencing the feeling of void- which in a positive sense could be very much related to my personal space. It is because of the less frequent experience of the void or the personal space, that when faced with it in an incomprehensible situation, I run away from it.

The human bondages reflect in most of the activities I engage myself in. Being engrossed in activities or rather the daily chores, I rarely encounter situations which are beyond my capacity of comprehension. Acknowledging the existence of the void (which I presume, is experienced by almost everyone at some point in time) is what often becomes a challenge. The situations in which one is normally expected to experience it is most commonly felt on the death of a near relative. I experienced it- not by choice.

Unexpectedly, ma called me at 1 in the afternoon. With a voice heavy, impatient and extremely harrowed, she asked me to rush back home. Without doubting the emergency of situation, I rushed down the otherwise busy road in my hometown. On reaching home, I see grandma sitting on her bed, leaning towards her right shoulder, appearing disturbed, exhausted and hopeless. Ma was aimlessly trying to console her, helping her sip some water drop by drop with a spoon.

In frantic search of the ambulance that had been called, I ran mindlessly across the streets. As the ambulance roared its way to my home, I guided the driver to take the mobile van right in front of the gate. Her frail and fragile body was gently carried to the van in a stretcher and I stood at the doorstep, wondering what was happening to someone who was just about fine a couple of hours back.

While doctors ran in and out of the room, papa stood quietly observing the situation and grandpa sat in the corner of the room, silently observing the overt hyperactivity around the Intensive Care Unit room. I sat in a corner, at the junction of two sofas, with my legs folded, and knees drawn close to my body, eyes steadily gazing at the hospital logo pasted on a wall in front of me. I seldom thought of anything else but the morning tea I shared with grandma every single day. Thoughts of skepticism made me question myself if I at all wanted to be there, being witnesses to someone surrender before her mortal self. The past experiences of grandma's ill health, maternal grand parent's demise and skeptical futuristic thoughts made me wonder if this was how it always ended, if suffering was given by choice or whether it came along as one tread the path of life.

The intensity of the situation was once more brought to notice when we realized the helplessness of the doctors. At that point in time, papa being a doctor, I wondered how helpless he would have felt and how difficult would it have been for him to play the role of a doctor and a son- a very devoted son. Despite knowing the person lying unconsciously in front of him, he chose to not respond and interfere with the work that the doctors in-charge were doing.

Indeed, the human body is the most unpredictable with 100% vulnerability to immobility, paralysis and a state of vegetative living. That was exactly what we all feared and were sure of no desire to encounter any of those as far as grandma’s health was concerned.

Off went the ventilator and we grew familiar with the terminal stage of life that grandma was closely living with There is a difference in knowing and accepting. And the latter part of the situation is what forced the existence of the void to surface even more strongly than it had earlier.

Bouts of scattered thoughts, uncontrolled tears, hours of silence, broken sleep, worries pertaining to a crucial interview on the same day and complete non-acceptance of the situation had kept me busy all through the night. I woke up before the alarm could shake me out of the bed and on concluding the interview, I knew I had to rush back to the ICU only to share a cup of tea with grandma- probably for the one last time. She did not have tea that day.

A few moments of semi conscious conversations, and I realized that she had failed to recognize most of us. The non-cooperative behaviour was an indicator of distress she was experiencing as she faced her own death. All she wanted was to return back home and have the churan. Her unsettled gaze probably wanted to see papa, ma and grandpa for one last time. She surrendered before they could arrive.

In less than twenty four hours of being admitted to the hospital, we got her back home though in a different state than what we all, except papa and grandpa, had imagined. They knew it all, from the time she was admitted to the time the ventilator was put off. A few hundred had people walked in to seek blessings and everybody had different ways of consoling us. All I wanted to do then was to sit silently, next to grandma for one last time. Ma, didi and I sat for a long time in reverence of her mortal body and immortal presence, which would be with us as far as we continue to live our lives with dignity and peace.

 One of the first pictures with mummiji and dadaji

It’s been a few months since grandma passed away. Even today, I remember the hospital bed that took care of her fragile body. I still remember the room, the day, the time and the place where she lay at peace in the place she called home. I can smell the air surrounding the time of her death even today. I was not at best help to her all the time but I know I was her dear granddaughter. She loved me immensely. She looked forward to see me every weekend while I was working in Mumbai. She was in denial of my decision of working in Bangalore. She was eager to see to me happily settled, even if that meant going to the USA for a Masters program, which was much against her wish (I am glad her wish is being fulfilled now). Today, I just sit back gazing at one of our last photographs together and thank God for her peaceful and resistance-less death.

I wonder if that marked the end of my relationship with her. Time has elapsed, but questions still remain floating in my mind, somewhere making me live in disbelief of grandma’s death.

The feeling of void, apprehension and ambiguity related to death and loss of someone you love is still hovering over my thought process and it surfaces every time I think of going back home and not finding grandma around, sitting in that chair, peeping through the door into the kitchen. It would never be the same going back home. It would never be the same feeling when I visit her room.I know I'll miss her, just the way I still miss Aaji ba-Aaja bapa.

How often do we start 'relating' to people only when they are living at the brink of life and death? How often do the human emotions tend to turn into gratifying actions only when one's physical presence is realized to be at stake?

"It was at this gesture that I felt I bonded for the first time in my life with someone at a level which was not superficial, but one which was built on human emotions" I guess this sentence and the preceding text from the article, Crossing the Line,states something similar.

Article source: What's Happ

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