Its been 10 days since he passed away. We're struggling still to come in terms with what has happened. The 16th day prayers will be held on the 28th and 29th of december. Preparations have been made. There are still quite a few people to be invited personally. The adverts in the local dailies have been booked and will appear next Monday.

The day of his cremation brought a huge crowd to our place. Yet another overwhelming experience. So many faces. And one doesnt know how to explain what has happened. Quite a number of wreaths were received from friends. When the final prayers were being held, Dhivijah was participating. I guess she didnt understand what was happening. That that was the last time she was going to see her grandad's physical body. Kirtisha was sleeping in her mum's embrace.

The coffin was overflowing with cloths and garlands from friends and relatives. It had started to drizzle while we were in the tent, getting ready to leave. It was a blessing cos when the moment came to lift his remains into the hearse, the drizzle had stopped. A drizzle that didnt even last 5 minutes. It was sunny. A fitting farewell to a good man.

Theres still many other things to sort out now. One by one it will be tackled. Tears flow while i type this. Its something i was to do. And hope to read again and again in the years to come. Perhaps my daughters will get to read this one day, and understand what had happened. I deeply regret not asking him to write his memoirs. So many stories from the 40s to 70s. Things that we had taken for granted. Its all a memory now.

I broke down there and then. It was overwhelming. The thought of losing someone when you least expect. He had been perfectly fine up to end of november. I called up brother and told him briefly what had happened, and to bring mum and the kids here. Started phoning up and SMSing everyone i knew to inform them what was happening. By noon, visitors were flocking and crowding around the bed. Just like during his surgery in August, there were lots of people.

His blood pressure was still on the low side, eventhough he was given high doses of medication. By 3 pm though, his pressure had risen to almost normal. Hopes were rekindled. We were praying for the best. Quite a number of outstation friends and relatives had arrived. The guard had a tough time asking everyone to leave at the end of the visiting hours. By 8 though, his pressure was dropping and beginning to be volatile. My siblings, cousins, aunt and mum as well as quite a number of close friends were staying back. We were very anxious. Praying hard. Trying to stay positive.

By 10.30pm or thereabout, his heart failed again. The doctors and nurses curtained off his bed and tried to revive him. They tried. Tears were flowing. The lady doctor came out and just simply said.... "we tried our best but we couldnt". Or something like that, and she went away. Kneeled before mum and told her what had happened. She broke down. Eldest sister fainted. Tears were flowing everywhere. Its a feeling I had never experienced all my life. Reality sunk in. We lost our anchor. The person who had struggled almost his entire life to provide for his family. To provide for a better tomorrow. A person who had selflessly given and did anything he could to help others. Who had worked diligently and hard right from his teen years during the Second World War here. And at the end of his service with the government was given a watch and a clock. No medals, no grants. Minimum promotions. Just a statistic.


Arrangements were made the same night to bring his remains back to his place. Some very close friends and the cousins assisted. I accompanied his remains to the mortuary where the burial certificate was issued. By 1am we were back home. Everyone else had arrived earlier. The house was cleaned up. Photos removed, prayer altar covered. A mattress was laid in the hall and he was laid there. All wrapped up in white sheets. I was asked to open up the sheets. My hands trembled and tears flowed. I just couldnt control myself. Friends helped to arrange his remains properly. Just then, I noticed that Dad was smiling. In passing, he left with a smile to us. It was overwhelming to sit in the hall. Most times I would be out helping out to make arrangements for his cremation later in the afternoon, Wednesday.

Things had happened too swiftly. One moment on monday morning he was vomitting. By Tuesday night he had passed away. That break on tuesday morning to night, gave most of us some time to understand the situation. I was told to expect the worst. On one hand we were consoled he passed away with minimum suffering at the end. But on the other hand, we regretted he had embarked on the chemotheraphy. If only he hadnt. So many if onlys. He could have been living for many months or years. If only. If only.

That morning, on the 13th of December, i got both my kids ready early in the morning and brought them to dad's place by 9 or thereabout. Dad had started to vomit anything that he was drinking or eating. He was very weak but was able to talk and move. I did some carrot and pear juices and gave him a bit. By 11 i told mum i would go to office to sort some things, and come back. And by 3 plus when i did get back, i was shaken. He had lost control of himself and was very very weak. Mum had struggled a lot to take care of him. My two daughters helped her a lot, according to Mum. Dad's blood pressure had dropped a lot. Something in the region of 70s - 30s. I called up Dr Ravi, a close family friend whom Dad considered as a son, and a brother to me. He said to drive to the hospital immediately. We cleaned him up and got all his things ready. By 5, my brother and i carried Dad to my car and we were off.

By 6pm we were there. Dr Ravi was there too. Dad was very weak. He had a chest infection and was badly dehydrated. He was able to talk still. They admitted him in and my brother stayed overnight. Took mum back home to get the easy chair for brother to lie down in, and a blanket. We reached there again around 9pm. And dad mentioned to mum, why she had to come at that hour. Those were to be his last words to her.

That night, he didnt sleep much, am told. By 8plus in the morning i was there to take over from my brother. Dad looked so very weak. At that time, he requested for 100plus (a drink). Brother said, nurses had said no drinks. Dad mentioned doctors said it was ok to drink. I compromised and told him to gargle and spit. Dad took a sip with the straw and just drank it. I was later to know that he had asked my brother for a drink earlier. And he was not given. Theres this cultural significance where the dying person normally asks for a sip of water and thereafter goes peacefully away. None of us understood then that, or whether this was the moment he was supposed to leave.

Within an hour, by 10 or thereabout, his lips was dry. I took a towel, wet it and wiped his lips. Asked him to bite the towel and sip the water. He did. Then he started slurring a bit. The chest infection was very bad. Could not understand what he was saying. His drip line on the chest was giving way and the doctors and nurses were about to change it. I was asked to move a way. As they were starting, they started to tap his hands, call out to him.. setting the torch to his eyes. I was bewildered. Shaken. Soon enough they were doing the cpr.. chest compressions to revive him. His heart had failed.

I phoned up Dr Ravi, and he rushed from his O&G clinic. Within minutes he was there and was trying frantically with the rest to revive dad. They had curtained off the bed. That only allowed me to see glimpses. Glimpses most wouldnt want to see. They revived the heart and put Dad on the ventilator. They were putting him on the maximum level of drugs to keep the body going and hope the infection subsided.

Dr came out and told me to be strong. It was best to inform everyone, family and friends. Dad was in a critical state. No one knew how long his body could take it.

Grief. Finally. It came a-calling. That one emotion which I must admit I had never experienced came a few days back. 14th December will forever now be a day to mark grief. The day i started to tremble and cry out of grief. And it has been going on since. But more in private moments, alone, where no one else notices.

How does one cope. If time was a healer, well i wish time good luck. This was one void in our lives which can never been filled.

Dad was almost perfectly fine by late november. He was gaining weight, and his hemoglobin levels were much much higher. Surprisingly even higher then my brother's. And unfortunately, on hindsight, he finally agreed with what most doctors suggested. That he undergo chemotheraphy to reduce the risk of future infection. He had all along told that he was positive he would be fine and refused to consider such treatment. I told him, it was all up to him. And he was even told he could stop the treatment at any time he felt uncomfortable.

29th November till 4th December were the dates. Earlier, 11th December was Kirtisha's 2nd birthday, and we had a great time at his place. Lots of photos. He had a nice time with my two little ones and my brother's two sons. And in early December, my brother's son celebrated his 4th birthday. By then, he was a bit weak. But he enjoyed the evening.

When he got back from chemo, within a few days, he had constipation followed later with diarhorea. Then he developed light mouth ulcers. His taste buds were failing him a bit. Everyone we knew, told us these were the common symptoms. By the 12th December, he accepted an invitation by some close family friends to attend a prayer session at their place. We were to leave at 630pm that sunday. As usual, i was late to pick him up, arriving around 645pm. For once, that was for the better. His frail cousin sister from singapore, whom we had not met for years, had come to visit him with her daughters and a son-in-law. They spent a good half hour reminiscing the old days.

By the time we arrived at the prayer place, prayers had started. But that presented him with a nice seat, just outside of the house. It allowed him a full view through the windows of the prayer alter and the proceedings within. For a full 2 hours plus, he sat.. and enjoyed each moment. By 10pm plus, prayers had ended. He was happy. He had a meal, and started feeling very cold. The people there tried hard to keep him warm. We rushed him back home and mum made sure he had a hot drink and ate a bit before he retired to bed that night.

It was 13th december the next day. The day none of us, doctors included perhaps, had ever expected to happen that soon.