A Resting place for her

A few days back a colleague of mine lost his 8 years old daughter in a freak accident on a swing.  But the following blog is not about the pain that this father went through, because I think I will never be able to see through his eyes what he saw and what he felt.  But the following blog is about the apathy of the system that came to fore in the subsequent hours of her death being declared. 

This was the first time I came to know that children below a certain age are buried in Hinduism and not burnt in the funeral pyre.  We took her body from hospital in a vehicle, all covered in white sheet and with her father and uncle occupying space next to her feet.  As we turned towards the cremation ground next to Yamuna, a series of permanent structure came up on our left.  They were the dedications made by family members of the departed souls, small four pillar shades with inscriptions remembering memories of their loved ones. 

We stopped near one such structure and two workers were called for to carryout digging.  I could not find myself standing next to the silent father, so I decided to go out in search of a suitable location where we were to bury the child.  We followed a narrow path between these pillar structures to a small stream behind them.  It was not a stream actually, it was a drain.  About 10 feet across discontinued with bricks and tiles was a drainage bringing city’s filth to the river.

We crossed the drain to come to what appeared to be the banks of river Yamuna.  There was loose sand everywhere.  But it was hard to find our path across there as whole place was marred with Babool and other thorny shrubs.  There were also torn pieces of clothes everywhere and big pieces of red sand stones.  The sand itself was dug up at certain places making inconsistent pot holes every few feets.  I was told this is where we will have to find a suitable place to bury the young girl. 

And then I realized I was in the middle of the dead.  All the shrubs and stones and inconsistent pot holes had bodies of loved ones inside.  As I started to make a left turn, the curator asked me not to turn towards that side as a body had recently been cremated there and it will not be a good sight for me.  As we took a right turn, we unknowingly or forcibly stepped over some graves.  We found a comparatively less crowded place and directed to workers to dig.

As they went about their job, we decided to find another route to bring the body of the departed soul and the father.  We cut the shrubs and made a small path parallel to the drain to create a more respectable route.  Once the workers had dug deep enough, we went back across the drain, and carried the body, wrapped in a coir mattress down the road.  For the first time I realized how light she was.  All of eight years kid, although I had never seen her, her smile must have made her parents hearts melt I am sure. 

Her father was also there with us, as we tried to balance ourselves and the body over the bricks and tiles across the drain.  We chanted the “Ram naam” as we moved through the alternate route and brought her next to her last resting place.  We all had removed our shoes in respect despite the thorny shrubs.  We slowly lowered her into the pit and as the priest said the prayers, I saw the father peaking below the sheet to have a last look of his daughter.  He positioned her favorite possessions along with her in the pit.

On the priest’s instructions we started to put sand over the body.  Half way through, the workers stopped us and brought big red sand stones and filled up the half filled pit with them.  Another layer of sand followed before topping it up with more stones and shrubs.  I was told this was the precaution taken against dogs, who had already started to gather around us.  We shooed them away for now and conducted a last prayer.  All prayed for the soul to rest in peace. 

As we started to move back, the father attempted to look back at the site, but the priest stopped him midway as it was considered inauspicious.  He was asked to come back again after three days for some more rituals.  Although I wondered how will he be able to locate the same spot again?  As we came back across the drainage to the main road, the haggling with the workers over the fee for their services started.  We escorted the father to the transport and settled issue with the workers who left unsatisfied.  But the elders next to the pillar structure still brought out that we were cheated and had paid a lot more.  

When everybody left, I continued a little ahead on the same road to see the place where last rites were being performed over adults in the Hindu traditional way that I was aware of, burning.  Maybe it was a bit of a relief after seeing the unceremonious burial.  I had a vision of how burials were done because of what I saw in movies and serials, but that image was definitely shattered today.  We cannot see souls with our eyes, but know them only from their physical manifestation in this world i.e. our body.  But somehow we have failed to respect them as living and in dead.  Bottom-line if we plan to continue with Hindu tradition of burying our young ones we need to find better ways of doing it.