Death, by decade.

Dying in your thirties or forties?
“Tragic.”

Fifties?
“Such a shame.”

Sixties?
“Too soon.”

Seventies?
“A good run.”

Eighties?
“A life well lived.”

Nineties?
“Hell of a ride.”

Axe and Wags indulging in a bit of smart, cynical, light-hearted banter, probably mixed with a hint of gallows humour, while standing at Wags’ future burial spot – Billions S03E04

Mama

My grandmom. She passed away today.

She had 93 long years. She lived a happy childhood – second of 5 sisters and 1 brother in a happy household. She married happily, to a handsome man, in to a rich family. She lost almost everything in partition, turned into a nearly penniless refugee far away from home, her families split across states. She brought 5 children into the world, but lost her husband and the eldest to the country I live in. They needed to earn to get the rest of family up off their knees. She raised her kids, educated them, got them married, moved towns, made a new house, had grandchildren, saw them grow up, move out. She had her husband return home, to finally live with her, after 30 years. She, they, fell in love again. They lived a few happy decades, again. Then he cheated her again, dying in his sleep while she was terminally ill. She was always the stronger one. She survived, she strived, she smiled, and kept her huge family together. She’d been ill for over 8 years. She’d been first declared “about to die” 5 years ago. He’s been gone 7 years.
Her eldest left too, slipping away from her while in this cold land halfway across the world. She couldn’t see him, in death, like in much of her life. Yet, she lived on. She didn’t fight anything anymore, but she never understood giving up either.

Today, finally she left us. Long after most of her body had given up. Long after many of her senses had stopped working. Long, long after the doctors thought she would go. Long after we went from dreading her death, to celebrating her life.

They’ll be happy together, up there. Sharing jokes, scheming, gossiping, hugging when no one’s watching.

Thank you, Mama! For being the strongest person I’ve known. And for being that, living like that, with a beautiful smile and an unparalleled spirit. For saving me from dad’s beatings, and papaji’s scoldings. For spoiling me with your pinnis and paronthis. And for that ₹100 and mishri you quietly placed in my hand every time I left home.

Enjoy, wherever you go, Mama. And give papaji a kiss on the cheek from me.


Continue reading Mama

Morning notes…

Starting with the sad.

Pal passed away last night :'(
Smiley was old, and had done a long and loving stint making the world happy. Pal was just getting started. He was young, handsome, joyous, huge, and lovely. I’m sad. Can’t even fathom how Joanne and her family are coping.

I’m missing Pal :(
So, Chewie is getting extra hugs, treats and kisses today.

Continue reading Morning notes…

Money. Shame… Death?

Money may change everything, as Cyndi Lauper sang. But lack of money definitely ruins everything.

Financial impotence casts a pall of misery. It keeps you up at night and makes you not want to get up in the morning. It forces you to recede from the world. It eats at your sense of self-worth, your confidence, your energy, and, worst of all, your hope. It is ruinous to relationships, turning spouses against each other in tirades of calumny and recrimination, and even children against parents…

Financial insecurity is associated with depression, anxiety, and a loss of personal control that leads to marital difficulties…

My Secret Shame, in The New Yorker

Continue reading Money. Shame… Death?

Accept the good

Saw Things we lost in the fire tonight.

I’ve seen the movie before, and liked it. It’d been a long while since, so saw it again, and it was like new again.

One bit about the movie struck me – it’s very un-American.

The character who binds all other characters in the movie together, is shot dead for being a good samaritan.

Yet, nowhere in the movie is there coverage of the killer, the police (2 passing scenes), the courts, jail, etc. There is no reference to rage, anger, revenge, or justice – the cornerstones of American movies that involve murder of a key character.

Instead the focus is completely on healing, on getting lives back together, on loving, on supporting each other through the hard time, on recovering, on accepting the good.

Things we lost in the fire is very un-American.