Cartagena, Colombia - 19 November 2019
Cartagena, Colombia - 19 November 2019
खुदा में कोई शक हो तो हो (You may or may not doubt the
existence of God)
मौत में नहीं है कोई शक / (you can’t doubt the certainty of death).
My friend
on Facebook, Pramila Maheshwari, writes on
Saturday, 3rd December 2011.
I
appreciate it till today.
She
rewrites an excerpt from Khushwant Singh:
"The
Low-Down on Life, Death, and Most Things in-between."
According
to my thinking, all elderly people think the same.
Excerpt
from Absolute Khushwant Singh: The Low-Down on Life, Death & Most Things
In-Between
Death is rarely spoken about in our homes. I wonder why. Especially when
each one of us knows that death has to come, has to strike. It’s inevitable.
This line from Yas Yagana Changezi says it best:
Khuda mein shak ho to ho,
maut mein nahin koi shak
खुदा में शक हो तो हो,
मौत में नहीं कोई शक //
And one must prepare oneself to face it.
At 95, I do
think of death. I think of death very often, but I don’t lose sleep over it. I
think of those gone; I keep wondering where they are. Where have they gone?
Where will they be? I don’t know the answers: where you go, what happens next.
To quote Omar Khayyam,
“Into
this Universe, and Why not knowing Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly
flowing...”
and,
“There was
a Door to which I found no Key
There was a
Veil through which I could not see
Some little
Talk awhile of Me and Thee
There
seemed—and then no more of Thee and Me.”
I once
asked the Dalai Lama how one should face death, and he had advised meditation.
I’m not scared of death; I do not fear it. Death is inevitable. While I have
thought about it a lot, I don’t brood about it. I’m prepared for it. As
Asadullah Khan Ghalib has so aptly put it,
“Rau mein
hai raksh-e-umar kahaan dekhiye thhamey
Nai haath
baag par hai na pa hai rakaab mein
(रौ में है रक्शे उम्र, कहां देखिये थमे /
ना तो हाथ बाग़ पर हैं, ना है पाँव रकाब में //)
(Age
travels at a galloping pace; who knows where it will stop
We do not
have the reins in our hands nor our feet in the stirrups).”
All
my contemporaries—whether here or in England or in Pakistan—they’re all gone. I
don’t know where I’ll be in a year or two. I don’t fear death. What I dread is
the day I go blind or am incapacitated because of old age—that’s what I fear—I’d
rather die than live in that condition. I’m a burden enough on my daughter Mala
and don’t want to be an extra burden on her.
All
that I hope for is that when death comes to me, it comes swiftly, without much
pain, like fading away in sound slumber. Till then, I’ll keep working and
living each day as it comes.
There’s so
much left to do. I have to content myself by saying these lines of Iqbal:
“Baagh-e-bahisht
se mujhe hukm-e-safar diya tha kyon?
Kaar-e-Jahaan
daraaz hai, ab mera intezaar kar
बाग ए बहिश्त से मुझे हुक्म ऐ सफर दिया था क्यों
क़ार ऐ जहां दराज़ है, अब मेरा इंतजार कर //
(Why did
you order me out of the garden of paradise?
I
have a lot left to do; now you wait for me).”
So I
often tell Bade Mian, as I refer to him, from time to time, that he’s got to
wait for me as I still have work to complete.
I believe
in these lines of Tennyson:
“Sunset and
evening star,
And one clear
call for me
And may
there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put
out to sea...
Twilight
and evening bell,
And after
that, the dark!
And may
there be no sadness or farewell,
When I
embark.”
I
believe in the Jain philosophy that death ought to be celebrated. Earlier,
whenever I was upset or low, I used to go to the cremation grounds. It has a
cleansing effect and worked as a therapy for me. In fact, I’d written my own
epitaph years ago:
“Here lies
one who spared neither man nor God
Waste not
your tears on him; he was a sod
Writing
nasty things he regarded as great fun
Thank the
Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.”
I
hope that when death comes to me, it comes swiftly, without much pain, like
fading away in sound slumber.
I had even
written my own obit in 1943 when I was still in my twenties. It later appeared
in a collection of short stories titled ‘Posthumous.’ In the piece, I had
imagined The Tribune announcing the news of my death on its
front page with a small photograph. The headline would read: ‘Sardar Khushwant
Singh Dead.’ And then, in somewhat smaller print:
‘We regret
to announce the sudden death of Sardar Khushwant Singh at 6 pm last evening. He
leaves behind a young widow, two infant children, and many friends and
admirers. Amongst those who called at the late Sardar's residence were the PA
to the chief justice, several ministers, and judges of the high court.’
I had to
cope with death when I lost my wife. Being an agnostic, I could not find solace
in religious rituals. Being essentially a loner, I discouraged friends and
relatives from coming to condole with me. I spent the first night alone,
sitting in my chair in the dark. At times, I broke down but soon recovered my
composure. A couple of days later, I resumed my usual routine, working from
dawn to dusk. That took my mind off the stark reality of having to live alone
in an empty home for the rest of my days. When friends persisted in calling and
upsetting my equilibrium, I packed myself off to Goa to be by myself.
I used to
be keen on a burial because you give back to the earth what you have taken with
a burial. Now, it will be the electric crematorium. I had requested the
management of the Bahai faith if I could be buried. Initially, they had agreed,
but then they came up with all sorts of conditions and rules. I had wanted to
be buried in one corner with just a peepal tree next to my grave. After okaying
this, the management later said that that wouldn’t be possible and that my
grave would be in the middle of a row and not in a corner. I wasn’t okay with
that—even though I know that once you are dead, it makes no difference. But I
was keen to be buried in one corner. They also told me later that they would
chant some prayers, which again I couldn’t agree with, because I don’t believe
in religion or in religious rituals of any kind.
The
main lines start here.
Though I’m
quite fit, I know I don’t have much time left. So I’m coming to terms with
death, preparing myself. And since I have no faith in God, nor in the day of
judgment, nor in the theory of reincarnation, I have to come to terms with the
complete full stop. I have been criticized for not sparing even the dead, but
then death does not sanctify a person, and if I find the person had been
corrupt, I write about it even when he’s gone.
I
don’t believe in rebirth or reincarnation, in the day of judgment, or in heaven
or hell. I accept the finality of death. We do not know what happens to us
after we die, but one should help a person go in peace with himself and with
the world.
I’ve lived
a reasonably contented life. I’ve often thought about what makes people
happy—what one has to do to achieve happiness.
First and
foremost is good health. If you do not enjoy good health, you can never be
happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct something from your happiness.
Second, a healthy
bank balance. It need not run into crores, but it should be enough to provide
for comforts, and there should be something to spare for recreation—eating out,
going to the movies, travel, and holidays in the hills or by the sea. Shortage
of money can be demoralizing. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and
lowers one in one’s own eyes.
Third, your own
home. Rented places can never give you the comfort or security of a home that
is yours for keeps. If it has garden space, all the better. Plant your own
trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, and cultivate a sense of kinship
with them.
Fourth, an
understanding companion, be it your spouse or a friend. If you have too many
misunderstandings, it robs you of your peace of mind. It is better to be
divorced than to be quarreling all the time.
Fifth, stop
envying those who have done better than you in life—risen higher, made more
money, or earned more fame. Envy can be corroding; avoid comparing yourself with
others.
Sixth, do not
allow people to descend on you for gup-shup. By the time you get rid of them,
you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering.
Since I
have no faith in God, nor in the day of judgment, nor in reincarnation, I have
to come to terms with the complete full stop.
Seventh, cultivate
a hobby or two that will fulfill you—gardening, reading, writing, painting,
playing, or listening to music. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks,
or to meet celebrities, is a criminal waste of time. Instead, it’s important to
concentrate on something that keeps you occupied meaningfully. For example, I
have family members and friends who spend their entire day caring for stray
dogs, giving them food and medicines. Others run mobile clinics, treating sick
people and animals free of charge.
Eighth, every
morning and evening, devote 15 minutes to introspection. In the mornings, 10
minutes should be spent keeping the mind absolutely still, and five minutes
listing the things you have to do that day. In the evenings, five minutes
should be set aside to keep the mind still and 10 minutes to go over the tasks
you had intended to do.
Ninth, don’t
lose your temper. Try not to be short-tempered or vengeful. Even when a friend
has been rude, just move on.
Above all, when the
time comes to go, one should go like a man without regret or grievance against
anyone. Iqbal said it beautifully in a couplet in Persian:
“You ask me about the signs of a man of faith? When death comes to him,
he has a smile on his lips.”
No comments:
Post a Comment