The Observer- Episode 5

Understanding Death

It was 2006, and it was 8 July- my father's 47th birthday, and also the 19th birthday of a girl of whom I will have fond memories of for the rest of my life. That was the day when I really felt the virtue of of the departed. As if irony comes in a tapestry, I had been wondering for a few days now that we, among us friends, seemed to have drifted apart so convincingly from each other that maybe a sudden death will make everyone realize that we can't throw our lives away so soon. Yes, I felt it. And deep inside, I felt like it should, and would happen, something that would shake all of us, but I didn't want to choose anyone of them to be the departed because all of them need to live on. But as if the writing was on the wall, Nirmalan ringed me as I was walking in my balcony on that silent, boring night on July 8 and told me the news: 'Mano is dead'. Dead? Really? How? What? Which Mano are you talking about? Our Mano? Manohar Rao? When? What happened?- I asked a barrack of questions that he nodded at, which I knew he would nod at. His first sentence had already told me what I needed to know. Manohar Rao is history.

Remembering Mano.

It was somewhere in May 2005. It was a UEFA Champions League final and I went to my grandmother's house to sleep that night exclusively because I wanted to watch the match. I put up an alarm at 2.30 but woke up at 3, considering that the match was between Liverpool (Mano's favorite team) and the much-hated (by me) AC Milan. I opened the TV and the score was 2-0, to the Milanistas of course. Soon, it was 3-0. Game over. I was back in bed. Around half-an-hour later, the grandmother house's phone rang out aloud. I picked up, and it was Mano, sounding all excited. "Is your TV on? Are you watching?" he said. "No la, its over. Why?" I asked back. "Watch, go watch, just watch, go!" he urged. "Why?" I asked. "Its a penalty. Go!" he said. I wasted little time. I gave little consideration that I might wake up my grandma and I turned on the TV. Liverpool's Xabi Alonso took a penalty, and it was saved by the keeper, but he tucked in the rebound. I glanced on the top corner of my screen. 3-3. That was the score. I was gobsmacked. I was glued to the TV as Liverpool went on to win the epic match in penalties, which turned out of be one of the greatest final of all time and also one of the most epic comebacks in football history. I watched it thanks to Mano. On a night when the young man had such a huge grin on his face that his favorite club won the world's most coveted club football trophy. On that young man who remains a memory and nothing more.

He was the only man in our group who held a farewell dinner at his home right before he took off to study in Politeknik. Little did we know that it was to be a farewell to his time on earth.

I did not attend the funeral, I decided to stay back at my convenience and instead believe that sharp-faced partly self-conscious Telugu-speaking mate is still in Ipoh furthering his studies and has not contacted me and will not contact me anymore. But, there, I decided to believe rather that he existed. He is not gone. Probably because I didn't have the courage to believe in it that way.

Side Note: Manohar Rao passed away after his motorbike collided with the back of a lorry on July 8 2006. There was no blood stain. He died due to broken ribs, shortly after arriving at hospital he was pronounced dead. His father, who used to sell fish in housing areas, stopped selling fish after that and shifted to doing different works. He had no other sons.

Departed 2

It was late September in 2007. I heard through a faint voice that Umesh consumed something bad. People were talking. But, knowing the nutjob for who he is, I assumed he had mistakenly drank something bad and will recover soon. Then, Gopi told me its poison one morning in late September. But he had no idea what or how. I started going around asking people. First, I was told it was rat poison, then was told it was paraquat. I knew this could be much serious then how it appears. We decided to pay him a visit, but were unable to do so as he was having his kidney cleaned at the time. I went back to KL. There were classes to attend. I knew deep inside that this doesn't look good. October 2 2007, Gopi rang me and told me Umesh has passed away. Umesh has erased himself from existence.

Remembering Umesh

It was 2002, and it happened. I was attending Mrs. Nagappan's tuition for Science and Ramesh Sekhon urged that we go and play football games in the cybercafe. We cut the classes early and went on and put up a fight with each other for half-an-hour. We returned to the tuition and we found out that the classes were off much much earlier and my father has already come and went back looking for me. I was in a desperate situation, and stepped in Umesh. He cycled me all the way back to his home and borrowed an umbrella so that I could walk back in that rainy evening to my home (which is not far away). Somebody talked, and my father knew what I have been doing. After receiving my share of foils for my folly, I thought it was dead and buried, until I discovered that the Krishnasamy (Umesh's father) had hit Umesh suspecting him to have conspired with me in going to CC and cutting off tuition. The boy took a hit for my mistake. And his father wasn't a light punisher.

Earlier that year, I was still new to this new 'taman' in which we have this new house after the burglary in my old house. I and my cousin sister were lost as to where we were walking and had no idea about the directions. Then came Umesh. And taking time off his need to rush back home, he guided us home before leaving. The boy is a live-saviour.

This time, I went to the funeral. I had to face it. And I cried endlessly. That dead body of his haunted my memories for days, even months to come. And I regretted not saying farewell when I had the chance. Till today, in ocassional moments of silence where life likes to pull you down the memory lanes and nostalgia, I could find a couple of tears my eyes for the man who took his own life. I cried because I knew he was no more. I saw him being burned to ashes. I saw him being closed in his coffin with a pack of cigarattes accompanying him.

SideNote: Umeshwaran died on October 2 after more than a week bedridden after consuming paraquat poison. He was cremated on October 5. Exact reasons for his poison consuming motivations is still unknown as he hasn't revealed the reasons even at the brink of death. His then-girlfriend never attended the funeral.

My aunt

My aunt, who lived with my family and took care of me partially when I was young, began falling sick in late 2008. My mother had wanted to to keep both her (my mom's elder sister) and her daughter (my cousin) in our house, but a lie told in a sadistic letter written by the daughter in a moment of utter madness broke apart two families. During Christmas, her condition deteriorated and became completely bedridden and began having memory loss. When my mom asked me 'Do you want to come?' to go and see my aunt, I said an instant 'yes', weird for a guy who doesnt like to make such familial trips with the elderly people. I saw her suffer and struggle and I allowed everyone to exit the room when the time came to say goodbye. I moved over and said 'I shall leave'. She nodded and remembered me at least, and greeted me the same. Two weeks later, she passed away. I couldn't make it to the funeral due to work commitments in Singapore, but I had said a good goodbye to the woman.

And today, I have learned that life presents you many opportunities to say goodbye for the going-to-be departed, so to cherish each opportunity to the fullest is how we should heed life. And when one departs, we should also allow them to depart, by placing them on the sidenotes on your mind, never to forget who they were, but not to think they still are.

"The fear of death drives us to do greater things and achieve things in life. We need that"- Paulo Coelho.