Where are you now?

 

By Shevlin Sebastian

It was twilight. Walking near several trees, I could see them get darker. The cries of the birds were getting fainter. The sky was darkening. Another day was ending. Nature was shutting down for the night.

As I walked, a thought popped into my head: where is my father right now?

Is he thousands of kilometres or a million light-years away?

Where in the universe do souls go? Is there a particular spot where they all congregate?

It has been over one month since he passed away. Would he have met all the people he knows by now? His parents, grandparents, in-laws, relatives, and friends? How did they recognise each other without their bodies? How did they talk without tongues? What do they communicate with each other? Was it about life on earth, sharing memories and unforgettable events?

How old is my Dad’s soul? When he passed away, he was 94? Would his soul be that age? Or younger? Or ageless?

How does he pass the time? Are there movies to see, or music programmes to attend? Are there coffee shops where souls can hang around and shoot the breeze? Can they sit down without bodies?

Do these spirits ever sleep? Is the light on 24 hours a day? Do they ever feel tired? Do they have regrets they had died? Does a soul have a desire to eat? Or is food of no consequence?

When you meet a former flame, will you try to resume the relationship?

What about people who harmed you and yet reached the place where there is light? Will they ask for forgiveness?

Will those who suffered from mental ailments like schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s, become completely restored after their death?

Is the soul perfect in every way?

What about the dark people of earth: the murderers, killers and thieves? Do they go to a different place than the good people? Is it dark there? Do they feel remorse for their actions?

Can my Dad see me? Watch what I do on earth?

Can he extend help if I am in trouble? Some friends told me they do.

He must be shaking his head, so to say, at the massive ego people have, when he realises the earth is not even a dot in the Milky Way.

Has my Dad seen God yet?

If so, what conversation did he have?

Has he met the human representatives of God? Was he able to have a chat with Jesus, Prophet Muhammad, Guru Nanak, Lord Buddha and the great Hindu saint Ramakrishna Paramahansa?

Is there a possibility he could meet a member of that much-reviled group: a politician? Can they reach the place where there is light, despite their many misdeeds?

Will God assign souls any work? Or will they remain idle?

How do they pass the time?

Do they play sports like football, cricket, or table tennis?

Or are they in a constant state of nirvana?

So many questions.

Who will give the answers?

Nobody.

If they do, it is guesswork.

Nobody knows what happens after we die.

Although my Dad has left physically, he seems to be with me.

I think of him a lot.

Sometimes I cry.

I realised feelings are like an ocean within oneself. When things are okay, the waves are quiescent. But if a big event happens, the waves swirl about, as if a storm is approaching. After a while, the waves of sorrow buffet your body, and you use your willpower to suppress it. For some time, you succeed, but then it gets into a fearsome motion and crashes against your eyelids and the tears flow out in an uncontrollable rush.

Still trying to get used to the lack of the physical presence of my father.

Death is so permanent.

Death, an alien concept in one’s youth is becoming increasingly familiar.

My uncles and aunts have died. A cousin’s wife. Distant relatives. And you battle on, trying to look for the sunny side of life. But it is getting increasingly difficult.

As you age, you can see death grinning at you from the sidelines.

You realise people are dying all the time. You see or hear this when you browse through newspapers, online, on TV and on the radio. Calamities are happening everywhere: natural disasters, accidents, war and murders. One human being killing another. No member of any species kills another of their own with such alarming frequency.

It has become dark now.

I look up at the sky.

I can see a few stars.

The whine of mosquitoes can be heard.

‘Time to go back home’, I think as I dab my eyes with a handkerchief.