(so the blog won't let me carry on even though i, or rather my grandpa wasn't done yet. so i have to split it into parts. don't worry, they're not all this long)
Abiding trust in a benign Providence
was the sheet-anchor of her faith,
had been her polestar to guide and steer
her storm-tossed boat through turbulent sea of life:
a self-sacrificing, self effacing, all-forgiving Mother
a vivacious, vibrant lady, warm-hearted devoted wife
hitched the wagon of her family life
to that beacon of hope and promise
But the valiant lady was star-crossed
the hounds of Fate chased her to the last
as in the case of all noble, pious souls
emancipators-redeemers of mankind
who bear the cross for suffering human kind
A strange fatality kept dogging her foot-steps
and at long last
extinguished the spark
that had been burning by fits and starts
within the sanctum of her brave heart;
But who could read the scroll of Fate?
Who could decipher the writing on the wall?
I rue the day
When by quirk of fate
or intrigue of circumstances
She was uprooted, as if by a strong gale
from her native place
and transplanted at this critical stage
and thrown into that heartless asphalt city (my dad took her to chandigarh, the capital of punjab, during her last days. ironic because it's considered one of the cleanest, advanced and most beautiful cities in india. my grandpa, obviously grew a great distaste for it.)
Where she kept languishing and lingering
crying and shrieking, wailing and writhing
with most agonizing unbearable pain (i witnessed a couple of them as i've mentioned before, it was scary as hell and they lasted a lot longer during her last days. glad i wasn't there.)
on that blasphemous asphyxiating atmosphere
where the very air
was permeated with dark apprehensions
gripping fears
and life was out of joint-out of gear
and this fighting angel, so full of valour
had her rendezvous with Death.
The mourners could see
the flames of funeral pyre burning and blazing
cracking and hissing, spiralling and billowing
higher and higher into the azure deep void above
but they didn't have the insight.
to imagine and see malevolent flames
sparking off the diabolic fire
issuing out of simmering, seething
Volcano within that mortal frame
that had been singeing, scorching and consuming
her body and soul
moment by moment day by day
for the last two decades.
A day before her final departure
I heard death rattling in her lungs
knocking at her cancer-eaten ribs;
I prayed and prayed and prayed
earnestly, fervently, silently
in sheer desperation for her redemption
in the same way i had prayed
half a century ago
for the salvation of another pious lady
a frail, sensitive, noble soul
my prayers were heard
and her soul took flight
out of the skeletal
earthly tabernacle.
Thus my fair lady's tortured, tormented body
gave up the gruesome fight.
succumbed to final dissolution
to eternal silence - to oblivion
to the inexorable law of Nature
That we the humans, however, high and mighty
ultimately have to bow before the will of the Almighty.
How could she, poor wounded soul, escapes her date with Destiny.
She left at last
with a thousand yearnings unfulfilled
veiling beneath that fair form
lying tucked away in the depths of
her bruised, battered and broken heart
and death came as a release from that
state of long-drawn-out agony-called Death-in-life.
On her face no shroud of ghastly pallor
but there hung a faint flicker of a smile instead.
She opened her eyes, a while they say,
whose darling child she was.... that
her tear-bedimmed eyes glistened with liquid of sympathy breathed a hushed utterance
cast about her last lingering look
what message to convey? what secret to whisper?
Thus she bid adieu never to return
to this earthly home
hurling me deep down in the abyss of despair,
to suffer acute pangs of utter loneliness
aching void, a wilderness of stifling woe to stare
me in the face - sans hope - sans tender mercies
sans loving care.
In a bewildered, stunned and shell-shocked state
while contemplating on the tragic fate
that befell me, I heard soft whispers of a Celestial Voice
'Why faintest thou?
............. She cannot fade.
though thou hast not thy bliss
forever wilt thou love and she be fair.'
-these lines are from John Keats' Ode to a Grecian Urn
(A dedication to love through a poor man's pen as great as the taj mahal.)
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