The lioness is down, the lioness is down! Gods finally hit below the belt . . .
How does one handle death of a dear one, its occurrence and the aftermath. Perhaps it is shock, disbelief, blame, pity and many other natural coping mechanisms that kick in. I also think the answer to this question lies in the experiences one has had in life.
Three people I loved dearly in my life — my grandmother (Mami), my nanaji (Bhaisahab) and my uncle (Kundan Papa). When they died, I was a young man but the real strength to deal with those losses came from my mother (Deemaa). Like in every situation, she always had something soothing to say that made me skip those terrible moment in time.
Deemaa, the sweet beautiful Habba Kadal girl, stole my Dads (Dadda) heart way back in the early 70’s. Dadda, a hippie skier and mountaineer was no ordinary man either. But Deemaa belonged to a conservative family, took the first bold step of marrying Dadda — a love marriage in Srinagar, in 70’s.
After marriage, life shifted to Gulmarg, Daddas karmabhumi. Gulmarg back then was not what it is today. Imagine the infrastructure — it was non existent at best. The huts lacked basic amenities including insulation. Life was very tough, but the step had been taken and people in love never shy away from hardships.
In Gulmarg, Deemaa and Dadda initially stayed in Siraj’s Hut, then Hut No 212, then a few months in the Hut of Shiv Mandir (Rani Temple) and finally Hut No 194. This cosy little hut with just two rooms, a small bathroom and a very small kitchen. Kitchen so small that two people in it would be a crowd.
This small kitchen cooked some of the best meals over years, meals that people swear by even today to this day. However, when she first cooked a meal, it was bottle gourd that she pressure cooked in a litre of water. Thankfully, it was in Gulmarg and with only dadda and her to laugh it loud. Knowing her, she must have taken this challenge as if life depended on it.
She mastered cooking in no time and till now, every meal that she cooked has been a magical combination of love and flavour. On days when the food lacked magic, I would catch her and she would confess that her heart was somewhere else.
As time progressed, Deemaa would be in Srinagar and Dadda in Gulmarg. He would come down every Friday and back to Gulmarg on Monday morning. We are in early 80’s now and the family has moved to Bemina, country side, 5–6 km from Lalchowk.
A home is made with great difficulty, it is a labour of love, brut honesty and total dedication. Deemaa is in control with me by her side. She takes great pride in running the affairs but at the same time has a bit of fear inside her. We live alone in the house as Dadda would be in Gulmarg. But next to our house is where my other two uncles live, a shout away.
Between Deemaa and Dadda, it has been a life made from scratch and absolutely on their own. To top it all, they made sure that they are available for every problem, every issue the larger family or friends faced. This trait continued to this date. Not only would they volunteer to take an issue head on they would do it at the cost of their own life, their own dreams. The force behind this was Deemaa. She would always tell dadda that we need to help, it does not matter what others think, if we don’t step up who will . . .
Hardships in life perhaps trained her for what was to come. In 2014, she was diagnosed with cancer. It was stage IV lymphoma. Her chemotherapy was an unbelievable ordeal for her. On her fourth chemo, she ran a fever of 107 F in the hospital. That day, like many instances before, we though we lost her. One of those days, I saw Kashvi murmuring something in Nandi’s ears at a temple in Apollo Hospital. It gave me hope, and perhaps the prayer was granted. After six excruciating chemotherapy sessions and a hospital stay of more than 30 days over months, Deemaa came home. Every month after that was a waiting game for the cancer to return. But years went by and we also became a bit comfortable as her health improved.
In 2019, the inevitable happened and her cancer returned in another form. This time around though, her cancer was manageable and she was able to tolerate her chemo better.
Deemaa loved life and would always look at the positive side. Nothing could bring her spirit down. When she got cancer for the first time, all it took her were a few months to be back at the drivers seat. During her relapse, she did not stop at all. So much so that in December she was still undergoing Chemo when we had friends over for a Kashmiri feast. She loved cooking and it made her tremendously happy to see people happy after a meal she cooked for them. In January 2020, her chemo was done and she had full remission. We were happy and thought that she fought cancer twice and overcame the obstacle. Personally as well, I somehow in my subconscious, felt victorious.
With Covid 19 lockdown, we did not even allow the outside air to enter home in fear for her health. More than 6 months of paranoia and absolute isolation took its toll but we were happy keeping her safe. However, in September 2020, we figured out something was wrong with her face and a quick check with the doc & a MRI revealed a brain stroke or so we thought. She again took the new illness in her stride but things continued to deteriorate. Within weeks she was clinically diagnosed with a rare terrible neurological illness (PML), a terminal disease with absolutely no cure.
In all her illnesses I had promised that I would never lie or hide anything from her. This time as well, I could not bring myself to lie. She never taught me how to & I failed to to tell the biggest lie. I failed to tell her that she will be okay, that she will make it out again.
In a matter of months, what started with some minor motor movements getting impacted, we saw the illness take away everything. First it was her right hand getting impacted and then the entire arm. Then her right leg gave way. This was followed by her speech slowing down and then completely going. In between we had a false positive COVID test that resulted in her isolation for 14 days. Disruption in eyesight finally lead to not being able to see at all. As if all this was not enough, her swallowing became a problem and she could not even take a sip of water. This was followed by her left side giving way completely. Eventually, we were left with a warm body that would shed a teardrop once in a while.
Gods had finally hit below the belt . . .
Early into her illness she knew what was coming and kept on telling Dadda — chonge anev. By the time she had lost her ability to speak, she would continue to hint that he has to bring the lamp that will be lit when she leaves.
With death staring at her, the only real grouse she had was that her right hand had stopped functioning because of which she could not work. She continued to smile throughout. I did not see her frown or complain even one single time. I am not sure where she got the courage or what drove her but it was extraordinary and beyond belief.
The burden we will carry for the rest of our lives is how she totally internalised her illness & inevitable death that she saw approach closer and closer each day without batting an eyelid.
True to her nature, the last conversation she initiated with signs and sounds was to ask me if I had transferred money to our domestic help (Hema aunty has been on paid leave since March, 2020).
When we got her back from the hospital, it seemed like a mini victory in a battle that was already lost. She came back because she wanted to finally leave from home, a makeshift home that is. Deemaa, we could not go back home! I know you desperately wanted to. We could not even get a home away from home. We tried really really hard but it just did not happen. I will regret this for the rest of my life.
However, here is what we do and I am sure we will succeed. When you are at a better place, you have a responsibility, of making a home for us one more time. It should be on a country side far from the hustle of cities. One should clearly be able to see snow peaked mountains. There should be fields all around and when the wind blows, the crops should begin to sing and dance. There should be a river nearby and a brook going past our home. We will use that water for our garden and catch an occasional fish. A kitchen garden is in order as well, it should have the best produce at all times. I will go out like before, steal a radish, wash it in the brook and just savour the moment.
During winter, the massive windows of our home should allow our eyes to constantly gaze at the falling snow flakes. When the spring and summer comes, foraging morels and strawberry should be our fav activity.
At one of the corners, we should have a beautiful temple where Mahadev resides. A beautiful stone set in the temple where milk and belpatre is offered in his devotion. A place where we bow our head and surrender when there is nothing left to fight for.
When the times comes, it comes for everyone, I will look for you Dee and we will meet again. We will then make fun of Kashmir, much like we made fun of every other hill station or mountain that we saw. Because the place you will make us our home will be the place to be!
Deemaa, knowing you, I am certain that you will not complain to the Gods on why they took you away from us. But I sure hope in hell that you drive them absolutely crazy with your magnanimity, cleanliness, discipline, and order.
In this boat called life, Dee you were the rudder and radar for us. While Dadda is the power, you were the one who steered us, gave us direction, navigated us through think and thin. With you not around, we are at high seas now.
But we will celebrate your teachings and your life Dee. We will do our best to be happy & continue to love life. We know you will keep a watch on us and take care of us even more. BTW, anyone having a meal at our place will continue to lick their fingers, I promise. You may not have given your cooking secrets but I watched you enough to cook in your name.
Dee, I know you wanted to live, you did not want to go. I know you fought three times and hung around till the last because you wanted to see Kashvi grow, you wanted to teach her the ways of the world. Dee, Kashvi is already you in her own way. You already taught her all these years, every single day. She will keep making you proud Deemaa!
Deemaa, Kashvi will never ever forget you. She is pained beyond words to see you like this. Her pain and mental agony knows no bounds. After 14 long years she finally cut her hair — “No one can do my hair but Dee. If she is not here, I don’t want it. I cannot even wash them without thinking about her. Also, when she goes I will send my hair with her”.
You will always shine like a star no matter where.
You will continue to be our True North.
There is no one like you Dee, no one.
We will see you one day, one day we must. Keep the saal ready.
Vaishne Bhawan Aasineye Dee. I will terribly miss your shade, your sunshine and our deep deep friendship!
Om Shanti 🪔
Love — Dadda, Kashvi, Khushi and Vinnie :-(
