An Eulogy for my Uncle

After all those months of reading books on spirituality and trying to understand the link between life and death, I thought I had finally figured out a way to accept farewells as a normal course of human existence, but nothing can prepare you for the finality of it all until death itself decides to knock on your door. 

Today my Uncle passed away after spending some twenty one years, half paralyzed in my village in North Sikkim. He was a talented thanka artist who got into wrong company. Instead of trying a shot at greatness, which he was very well capable of, he spent his time whiling away, drunk in the company of his good-for-nothing friends. Then there was a fall from a building and his entire left side of the body was paralyzed. Those friends disappeared into thin air. His talent became stagnant. He was moved back to stay in the village with my grandparents. Every time the elders commented that he had brought this on to himself, I argued that even the greatest of dictators or most evil of humans had only suffered briefly. Who knows about the after life?! In this lifetime, Hitler paid for his sins with a suicidal gun shot. Azang Maila had spent some twenty one long years repenting his actions. His mobility, over the years, improved just about enough to allow him to spend his summer days basking in the field and retiring to his room by night time. As his nephews and nieces, our gifts for him (during our half yearly or, at times, annual visits) included old newspapers, magazines, toothpaste, toothbrush, soaps etc. Azang liked to read even though he mostly caught up on stale news. He used to call me Dimpyla with so much love. I think deep down inside he was starving for company because whenever we sat down for a chat, he would have this hard to miss grin on his face. Today all his suffering has come to an end and as much as I imagined myself to take the news of his death with a happy heart because it would free him from this worldly existence, I have tears trickling down my cheeks.

These tears are a symbol of attachment. I read this somewhere that when people die, we cry not because we feel sad for them. Instead we lament because we are scared of a world without them. Each individual has a place in our world and when a person is no more with us, we don't know how to fill the void. This is what I'm experiencing today. In the past few years, I have lost quite a few loved ones. Each time I face such a situation, I realize that my life is constantly changing. What was can never be. Relationships gets redefined all the time and it would be wrong to expect the same to duplicate from a generation to the next. Yet again, I am staring death in the face and I've never been good with goodbyes. In many ways I am happy for you. You are free now Azang. Each of us will keep your spirit alive in our hearts. R.I.P.

We'll miss you Azang.