The 15 feet fall to heaven

I woke up. "The bus will stop for 15 mins" yelled the conductor. We had stopped at Hasanur for tea. I got down, it was gloomy here compared to the scorching heat of Coimbatore. I had a cup of tea and a questionable samosa. I stretched a bit and got back into the bus. It had been a 3 hour drive from Coimbatore to here. The guy who sat next to me at the aisle was snoring with his mouth wide open all this way. I had to wake him up to get down. He was awake now when I got back.

The road was better now and the driver picked up speed. Darkness set in and rain started pouring. I pushed my seat back and settled down. Water descended from the sky like scores of arrows in a battlefield. Drops of water hit my window screen so fiercely that I thought they were actually going to break it down. The bus raced forward as my thoughts raced backwards. They raced backwards to exactly a week ago, to the same day...

My phone 'ting'ed, it was my sister on whatsapp. "Heard the latest news about Natraj appa?"

I was watching the football match between Manchester United and Tottenham. I typed a short reply, "What?"

"He fell off our terrace. Low BP"

"He fell off our what?" I couldn't actually believe what she had just said

"He fell from the terrace to our backyard. They took him to Mettuplayam. Not enough facilities there apparently, they are on their way now to Coimbatore"

It was sinking in now. I called her. I don't remember what happened to the football match.

"How bad is he hurt?" I asked

"I don't know, they didn't give me details. Call mom, she is with aunt and the others"

In the back of my mind, I knew how bad a fall from my terrace to the floor could be but I still wanted to believe it was nothing serious. Probably a fracture to his leg or something. Nothing bad will happen.

I called my mother. "Ha Dharshan", her voice was shaky. You could always assess the gravity of a situation from the trembling in your mother's voice.

"How is Natraj appa" I asked, trying to sound as un-flustered as possible.

"They have taken him inside. He didn't regain consciousness since he fell. It doesn't look good" she replied, trying hard to hold herself together.

“How did it happen?”

“He had been washing the car and he sat on the compound wall. They say he might have had low BP and lost control and fell over”, my mother was trembling

I remained speechless.

“I will call you when I know more”

In 10 minutes, my mother called me back and she was weeping. I knew it was all over. My uncle had just died. My dad’s younger brother just succumbed to skull fractures and internal hemorrhage. Not a drop of blood was shed.

I tried to hold back tears and called my sister. “He’s gone” I said, “it’s over”. She started crying uncontrollably. She had just returned to Chennai after a week’s break at home between jobs. I tried to console her and asked her to book a bus immediately and come home. She lives in Chennai.

My cousin Tara, Natraj appa’s younger daughter was messaging me meanwhile on whatsapp asking me what was going on. People had begun gathering at home already. I couldn’t break the news to her on the phone. I called her and said there was nothing to worry, everything was fine. “Okay anna” she said, “I’m scared”.

I put the phone down, knowing that I would break down if I spoke one more word with her.

I booked my bus ticket. The earliest I could manage was at 2.30 that night. It was 3.30 by the time the bus reached Bangalore, on its way from Hyderabad to Coimbatore. I reached Coimbatore by 9 the next morning. My sister was already there with my other cousin Sonia, who studies in Coimbatore. It was another 2 hour drive from Coimbatore to our house in Kotagiri.

We reached home. My mom and Sonia’s mom, with swollen eyes, were there with Kousalya, Natraj appa’s elder daughter. Kousalya is due to deliver her first baby in a month. Her husband is in Spain right now. Tears came streaming down their cheeks the moment they saw us.

I walked straight to Kousalya and held her hand. I had no words to say to her. She spoke instead.

“Look anna, my father made you come home soon. You said you wouldn’t come until I had my baby”

My resolve broke at those words. I looked away so that she wouldn’t see my cry and held her hands tight. She was lying down.

They had taken the corpse to the common ground in the village where people to gather to pay their last respects. Kousalya apparently wasn’t allowed to go there since she is pregnant.

It was 12 in the afternoon already. We went straight to the ground. Hundreds of people were already gathered there. My uncle’s body was laid in a cot right in the middle of the ground. A few ladies along with my aunt, his wife, sat by the cot. My aunt had no more energy left to cry or speak.

I walked to Tara who was screaming her lungs out. I held her with all the strength I could muster and sat with her.

In another hour, it was time for burial. About 8 of us, fathers and brothers and sons carried my uncle’s body to the cemetery. It was about a kilometer from the village. The rest of the people followed.

I stood there watching as men carried Natraj appa and put him inside the 6x3ft grave which was dug and ready. As we threw mud over his body, I couldn’t help but wonder, what would have been his last flashes of thoughts as he fell from the terrace to the ground? Was he even conscious or was he already unconscious when he fell over? If he was conscious, what were his last thoughts?

They say a person’s entire life flashes by during the last moments before their last breath. I doubt that. A person’s life is too big to flash by in a few seconds. Or is it possible? How would I know, I haven’t been dead before.

But still, I tried to imagine what his thoughts would have been…

“Oh my god, will I not be able to see my grandson or granddaughter”

“Have I been a good father to my two daughters? I love them so much, maybe I should have told them that more often”

“My wife is going to be alone when I die. Is she going to be able to manage life all by herself? No I don’t want to die”

“My son-in-law is so far away right now. I hope he was here to give strength to my daughter as she mourns my death”

“Could I have been a better father? A better husband? I did everything I could. I hope that was enough”

“Tara, I love you so much. Kousy, I love you so much. Prema…”

I snapped back to reality when there was a loud roar as they covered his corpse with mud.

A little more than 2 years back, I stood at the exact same place watching probably these same men, bury my kid brother Amrith. He was my dad’s third brother’s son. He was 22 when he died. It was a road accident. He was coming back to hostel after dinner one night with his friend in a bike. His friend was riding as my brother sat behind. They were just about to enter the college gate when a truck knocked them over from behind.

His friend fell to the left along with the bike and my poor little brother fell to the right. By the time the truck driver hit the brakes, it was too late. The truck, weighing about a ton, ran right over my brother’s chest crushing his ribs like a piece of paper. I don’t think he even had the time to experience the pain. I hope to God, he didn’t. Again, not a drop of blood. He was declared dead when they took him to the hospital.

When you bury a loved one into the ground, you get perspective.

“Saar”

Death reminds you of the fickle nature of life. You realize what’s important and what’s not.

“Saar”

Death is inevitable. But it doesn’t mean you stop living and wait to die. Life has so much more to offer. We carry memories and move forward. Like I am, right now, or at least I’m trying to.

“Saar, hello”

Natraj appa, we never spoke too much with each other. Hell, you never spoke much with anybody. But we all knew the gem of a person you were. We will always remember the jokes. We will always remember the rants. We will always remember grandpa’s stories about you. However few they are, we only have happy memories with you. May your soul rest in peace.

Tara, I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now. But make no mistake, your father loved you more than anything else in this world. You guys may not have been the best of friends but he did the best he could to be a good father. Don’t you feel guilty that you didn’t tell him you loved him before he died. He knows. He knows you love him. He will watch over you for the rest of your life.

“Saar, get up. Bangalore last stop. Saar…” the bus conductor shook me by my shoulder. I had reached Bangalore.

I got down and took a ric to my house. It was 12.30 in the night. Tomorrow, I will wake up and go back to work. Life will go on.

Natraj appa’s left shoe still lies on our terrace…