The title is a bit scary isn’t it? Well, before anyone jumps to any conclusion, let me make things clear that this is not a story about encounters with the unknown. But, it does have something to do with dead people, and again I’ll emphasize, “No, I don’t see dead people”. Actually something happened last week that got me thinking, thinking quite a lot to be frank.
Coming from a family of mixed religions, my father being a Hindu, my mom a Christian but not a staunch one, she follows my dad mostly and my elder brother converting to Islam around 5 years ago, I’m always exposed to different religious rituals and cultures. Last Sunday was such a day. It started at 5.30am in the morning; my cousin from my mother’s side was getting married. My cousin was marrying a Hindu lad; hence the wedding was scheduled in the nearby Sivan Temple during the Brahma Muhurta.
Rising early at 5.30am, my mom and I were at the temple by 6.00am. Though I’ve almost never spoken to my cousin before, I’m not close to my relatives, friends before relatives is how I roll; it was quite a happy moment to see two people being joined together in holy matrimony. It’s a moment when separate journeys of two people joins, intertwines and becomes one single adventure. It’s a new beginning for them; everything starts anew from here onwards. More important than that, marriage is the gate that would bring about new life to this world; cries of babies marking a new beginning, life reaching out and creating newer life. It’s a magical thing isn’t it; something so beautiful that it tires me to think of words that best describes it.
Well the wedding was not what got me thinking. After the wedding I didn’t give much thought about it, I went, attended, realized how beautiful it was, and then came back home. I’m sure my mom went on thinking about the wedding as she always wonders one thing each time she goes to a wedding, “when will Venoo get married”. It’s a question that always plays in my mom’s mind each time she attends a wedding. For the time being, she has to keep on wondering as even I don’t know the answer to that question; no one does. Coming back to the topic at hand, it was a totally different celebration that got me thinking, if you can even call it a celebration. It is more like a commemoration. To keep things clear and short, it was “All Souls Day”.
“All Souls Day” is a day of prayer for the dead which is related to western Christianity. “All Souls Day’ has different origin, meaning and rituals in respect to Eastern Orthodox, Catholic Church, Anglican, Protestants and many others. I will not be dwelling on the differences in history and practices as I’m not writing an article on Theology. As I explained easily in the first sentence of this paragraph, ‘All Souls Day” is a day of prayer for the dead. I’m going to narrow the practice down to what I have seen and learned from my surrounding alone. “All Souls Day” falls on 2nd November of each year. During this day, people visit the cemetery of their relatives and loved ones; they would clean the tomb stone and burial ground, leave fresh flowers, light candles and say prayers. It’s a nice way to remember those who have passed on.
As last Sunday was 2nd November, which means it was ‘All Souls Day”, my mom and I made our way to the cemetery where my grandmother was buried right after getting back from the early morning wedding. It’s quite a ride by motorcycle to the cemetery, and my slow riding just adds to the time even more. Upon reaching, my aunt and some of my cousins were already there. I was meeting the cousins for the first time, as I said, friends before relatives. Our neighbour had helped us clean my grandmother’s burial ground as they were there the day before. We went on to place flowers and light up some candle. I was never the praying type so I went looking for other tomb stones that we need to put flowers and light candles, 4 more to be exact; my uncle, neighbour aunty, neighbour grandmother and a relative of the neighbours. All 4 were buried here. Quite the detective I am, I manage to find the tombstones quickly. Rituals were repeated at each burial. That’s when I took my time to look around and that’s when my brain started ticking.
I didn’t actually count the tombstones, but I can estimate that there were at least around 150 tombstones there; in different types, colours and sizes. There were really grand ones made fully with marble stones, some were made with stones and cement, some can’t afford to do much and only had headstones or crosses with the name of the deceased on it. Well, the amount of money spent on a tombstone doesn’t actually make any difference. If you have the money, you can go on to build it as grand as you want it. Looking at all these different types of tombstones, I started realizing a few things; some similarities and some differences. Things that made me wonder how insignificant our lives can become throughout time.
You see, it was “All Souls Day”, means all relatives would come to visit the tombstones of their loved ones, there should be flowers and candles everywhere, but that was not the case. There were more tombstones that didn’t have any flowers or candles on them compared to those which did. So I wandered around even more, comparing the tombstones, slightly taking into account the conditions of the tombstones. Some of the tombstones that didn’t have flowers on them were still well kept. There were dead flowers and traces of burnt out candles on these tombstones. It looked around one or two weeks old, means these tombstones are still being visited. Their relatives will probably visit the tombstones later in the day. What seemed worrying was the rest of the other tombstones.
The rest had an eerie aura about them. No traces of flowers or candles on them. It seems they have not been visited for quite a long time. Some of the tombstones were huge and built well; their relatives must have spent a lot of money building it. But it too had worn out altogether. There were cracks, they were broken at the edges, damp molds covered them, the picture placed on the tombstone had already faded out, and the names were already wearing out. Any identification left on the tombstones will probably disappear altogether within a few more years. Well at least the differently designed tombstones will serve as some form of identification. Those that only had headstones and crosses were in the worst possible conditions. The land had already started to flatten out, showing no trace that someone was buried there. The headstones were in a very bad condition. The wooden crosses had started to rot. Some were even totally broken. The worst ones were the ones that didn’t have any identification on them; it had become flat ground and was already being used as a walkway. These tombstones have been left to be forgotten; to disappear in the sands of time.
I started to wonder who these people were. What they did when they were alive. Did they die old or young? Did they die of illness, accidents, or murdered maybe? Were they teachers, doctors, policemen, labourers, criminals, homeless people, or maybe just school going students? Death does not care who you are or what your age is. Well, I may not know who these people were when they were alive, but I’m sure most of them had families when they were alive; parents, siblings, husband or wife, children, grandchildren or any other relation for that matter. I’m sure majority of the relation would have been present during the funeral. But now they lay forgotten. Maybe the relatives had visited the burial ground during the early years after the funeral. As time goes on, memories start to fade away, and those who were closes to the deceased would have moved on mentally, emotionally, physically or maybe moved on for good. The next generation would not have had a close connection with the buried one, and the visits will seem to cease.
I don’t blame anyone. That’s how things are. Even though I brought my mom to visit my grandmother’s burial, the only reason I was there is because my mom insisted that we do so. We would probably still come every year, but for how long more I’m not sure. As long as my mom wants to come, I will bring her there but it’s undeniable that one day my mom will not be able to come anymore. What happens then, would I still come? I don’t think so. My “All Souls Day” visit will stop and that will probably be the same case with my cousins too. So my grandmother’s tombstones would also be left unattended; for nature to devour it slowly as time goes on. This is what probably happened to all the unvisited tombstones; forgotten little by little by the existing relatives. It’s a sad thing isn’t it?
I don’t know how I felt when all this went through my mind. I can understand and fathom that this is natural, that this is how the world works. Eventually all the deceased will be forgotten. Everyone has to move on. But to see time eat away these tombstones is a depressing sight. Makes us realize that when it comes to the bigger picture, we are small. We are insignificant went compared to the vastness of time. Time swallows us whole and whatever we thought will survive as specks of memories in the minds of others would also disappear, eventually. It makes us think and re-evaluate what is important and what is not. How sometimes we stress over things that are not even worth the time worrying about. “All Souls Day” made me think a lot.
Whatever I saw today is not something that can be changed. Being forgotten will happen to all. It is sad, but it is the reality. Everyone should come to this realization, so that they can decide for themselves which are the things that are worthwhile doing and thinking about in their life. Well, enough with this depressive thought.
Actually, it was not totally a negative thought; all these thinking about being forgotten after death gave me a good idea for a new story. In my mind it seems like an original story as I have not come across it anywhere else. But in a population of 7 billion, it’s very hard to call my idea unique. I’m sure others might have thought about it too. That won’t stop me from writing though. I hope I can turn it into an excellent story.
