#21Days

Day 19

1.30 pm

The condolence meet will be beginning in another two hours. I've washed, starched, and ironed a set of white kurta pyjama for Rohit and another white salwar kameez for myself. I know we're going to be on Zoom but nevertheless I feel Rohit and I should be dressed in mourning attire.

Rohit didn't go to the hospital today, again. Dr. Dimpy was gracious enough to cover his shift, but I'm sincerely hoping that Rohit snaps out of this state soon. With the number of COVID cases increasing on a daily basis, we need him back at the hospital, treating patients, saving lives. A small part of my heart goes out to him. He doesn't even have the luxury to mourn in peace.

I peek into the bedroom and find him asleep. I momentarily think about waking him up for lunch, and then decide against it. I gently close the door. He is tired, both physically and emotionally. As I once again sit down to eat lunch by myself, I pick up the phone, to check on Ma one more time. She sounds like she's made peace with the truth.

I finish lunch and then begin tidying up the living room, moving the dining table and the sofa to one side, sweeping and mopping the room, setting up a small table with plastic decorative flowers, replacing our wedding photo in the frame with that of Badi Ma from our photo albums and placing that framed picture of Badi Ma right in the middle of those photos. I then proceed to light a few incense sticks in front of her photo. There might be no priest and no religious rituals but I still want to do my best to pay respect to her departed soul.

I glance at the clock. In another hour, the online condolence meet will begin. I make my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

When I step out of the shower, I notice that Rohit is already awake. He takes a look at me, clad in a white salwar kameez, and averts his eyes.

I walk up to him and coax him to go for a shower. Without saying anything, he grabs a towel from a nearby chair and makes his way into the bathroom. I hear the sound of water running in the bathroom. I smile while continuing to towel my hair.

*****

5.30 pm

I've laid a white sheet on the floor, in front of Badi Ma's picture. Rohit and I are sitting on it, with the laptop in front of us, waiting for Ajit to admit us into the Condolence Meet. I take a quick peek at Rohit sitting next to me. He's worn the white kurta pyjama I laid out for him. But he's still looking lost. His hands are locked into each other, loosely placed on his lap. I place my hand on it, just as we're admitted into the room.

I can see there are at least another 100 participants who're already present at the meet.

The camera is on at the Sippy Mansion. A life-size framed photo of Badi Ma stands tall in the middle of where the camera is focusing. The photo has an equally large garland around it. I look at the small altar I've created for her. Despite his state of mind, Rohit senses the direction my thoughts are heading towards. He unclasps his fingers and gently places his hand on mine. I understand what he's trying to say. It's the thought that counts.

The meet begins with Ajit greeting everyone who's joined the family during these extremely emotional times. His introduction is followed by a small speech from Papa and then Ma. Finally, Ajit invites Rohit to speak. I glance at Rohit, unsure of whether he is in the right frame of mind to pay tribute to his grandmother. As I'm about to text Ajit to move on to the next person, Rohit surprises me by moving the laptop so the camera focuses exclusively on him. 

He then clears his throat and gently begins.

"Today, we're all gathered here to mourn the death of Sukhmani Sippy. Many of us called her Badi Ma, because that's who she was - a maternal figure who guided us and believed in us, sometimes when we didn't believe in ourselves. Everyone who went before me spoke about how Badi Ma impacted their lives. We all know she was amazing. But I want to share an incident that proved that Badi Ma sometimes understood me better than I understood myself.