By Shevlin Sebastian
Five years ago, when Rita Thomas died, at the age of 82, it was
her daughter-in-law, Liza who rushed about ensuring that there was a scarf on
the head, the saree was white and crisp, and the socks were placed properly on
the feet. She also ensured that her mother-in-law clasped a small wooden
crucifix in her gloved hands.
The body was placed in an air-conditioned coffin at their home
at Kochi. People trooped into the living room. Prayers were said; a few shed
tears; there was the singing of a hymn. Later, a priest, wearing a white
cassock, said a prayer in a sombre voice. A widow, Rita had seven children:
three boys and four girls. Now they had all married and the family had grown
large. But Rita lived with her son James, Liza and their two children.
On January 20, this year, another body was placed in the living
room. This time, to the shock of many, it was Liza who was in the coffin. A
victim of cancer, her last few months had been painful and hard. Now, at 58,
God had taken her. Her two children, a boy and a girl, both married, were
bereft. Liza’s eight-year-old granddaughter, Anna was deeply affected. To
console her, James said, “Ammama is sleeping.” Anna shook her head and said,
“No, she is gone.” James nodded and said, “Permanently.” And the word hung in
the air.
As Liza was lowered into the grave, one could not help but
wonder: where do the dead go? How far away is the place where spirits reside?
Could it be ten or 100 million kilometres away? How long does it take to reach
there? Is it in the blink of an eye? And without a body, are the dead like
morning mist? Will they be able to recognise their relatives, friends and...why
not… enemies? How do they talk without a tongue?
And how do they pass the time, without the preoccupations of
work, books, films, music, art, and stimulating conversations with friends in
coffee shops? Without a body, how can a man appreciate the beauty of a woman?
Does flirting take place? And what about the bad people of history like the
dictators Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin? Can the good see the bad? Or do they
go to a different place, like, maybe, a black hole?
All these questions swirled around in the mind, as the coffin
containing Liza was laid to rest in the six-feet deep hole. Soon, two
gravediggers, using spades, began shovelling mud onto the coffin…
(Published as a middle in New Indian Express, South Indian
editions)