The Ordeal Begins...
As my dad's body lay sitting cross-legged on the wall, me and my brother sat in either flanks. With the rooster's call, the new day dawned on us and my head was filled with turbulent thoughts. I approached dad's eldest brother and informed him about my decision of not doing the rituals. Within minutes my decision was ridiculed upon, and I was branded an outcast. I was given a choice that I could either choose to leave, not being allowed to carry the family name any further or just carry on with the rituals. Of course, they gave me half an hour to make my decision. Honestly speaking I could have just got up, carried my bag and walked away. I didnt give a rat's ass to what people thought about me. I wouldn't let anyone dictate the terms of life to me. I decided giving a last glance towards mom before I walked away. I could see her still red-eyes full of tears just looking at me intently as if to say, "please, don't go away." Then sister came to me and whispered, "With dad's passing away, a chapter in our life has ended. Please do not start a new chapter. You do not care about the society and we all love and respect you for what you've done till date. You will walk away and leave. You might never even return back. But what about us? We can't walk away from this society. We have to live here among all these people and we need them. Most of all we need you at this hour." My little sister had indeed grown up and I guess outsmarted me.
As I poured water over my head, I felt numb. I sat there as a cousin started off with his barber skills. I could not even feel those rough strokes of the razor on my scalp. As the first lock dropped to my feet, I felt choked, it was a surreal feeling as if I wasn't even there. Then in an instant the reality seeped in, the dread got blurred and I couldn't hold back a tear drop. 7 years of patience and rebelliousness had such a forceful and unfortunate ending. One by one the locks dropped until the count reached 32. I then realized I had lost them, lost all of them for good. I could definitely wait for another 7 years but the lost ones aren't going to be back. So there I was, from a Rastafarian to a Monk in a jiffy.
The body was place in a cross-legged sitting position in the special bamboo stretcher which also had a back rest that supported to the body. The body was then taken to our farmland which has a special burial land where the deceased bodies of the family members are buried in close proximity to each other. By the time we reached, a burial spot had been selected and a roughly five-feet cube had already been dug out. We went around the spot 3 times with the bamboo stretcher on our shoulders after which the body was laid at the bottom of the pit. A lot of stuffs was then thrown into the pit as the brahmin was reading out sanskrit verses of some purana, the last of which were a set of mom's churas 'glass bangles'. We then threw in a handful of salt and walked away while the mason was set on sealing the pit.
Me and my brother were then asked to pour a bucket of water on ourselves with the clothes on. We were handed out pieces of white clothes of varied sizes. A small but long piece of cloth was rolled to be made like a thick string (kandani) that was supposed to be tied around the waist to hold the loin cloth. Another piece of white cloth was a makeshift loin cloth (kachchha). We were also given a piece of white cloth to be tied on our bald head, another to be put around our neck and the last piece of cloth was a fairly larger and used to wrap our waist extending upto the knees. These would be our garb for 13 days. It took me a moment to realize we somehow had become untouchables. We were to cook our own food. Anything we asked for (if we could have it) were rolled on or thrown to us. We were to sleep on a makeshift bed made of a couple of layers of straw and a blanket woven of very rough fibres (radi). We were not even allowed to sit on benches or chairs. As I was creeping about it, I heard someone say, "You call this unfair. Wait and watch." And so I did..
As I poured water over my head, I felt numb. I sat there as a cousin started off with his barber skills. I could not even feel those rough strokes of the razor on my scalp. As the first lock dropped to my feet, I felt choked, it was a surreal feeling as if I wasn't even there. Then in an instant the reality seeped in, the dread got blurred and I couldn't hold back a tear drop. 7 years of patience and rebelliousness had such a forceful and unfortunate ending. One by one the locks dropped until the count reached 32. I then realized I had lost them, lost all of them for good. I could definitely wait for another 7 years but the lost ones aren't going to be back. So there I was, from a Rastafarian to a Monk in a jiffy.
The body was place in a cross-legged sitting position in the special bamboo stretcher which also had a back rest that supported to the body. The body was then taken to our farmland which has a special burial land where the deceased bodies of the family members are buried in close proximity to each other. By the time we reached, a burial spot had been selected and a roughly five-feet cube had already been dug out. We went around the spot 3 times with the bamboo stretcher on our shoulders after which the body was laid at the bottom of the pit. A lot of stuffs was then thrown into the pit as the brahmin was reading out sanskrit verses of some purana, the last of which were a set of mom's churas 'glass bangles'. We then threw in a handful of salt and walked away while the mason was set on sealing the pit.
Me and my brother were then asked to pour a bucket of water on ourselves with the clothes on. We were handed out pieces of white clothes of varied sizes. A small but long piece of cloth was rolled to be made like a thick string (kandani) that was supposed to be tied around the waist to hold the loin cloth. Another piece of white cloth was a makeshift loin cloth (kachchha). We were also given a piece of white cloth to be tied on our bald head, another to be put around our neck and the last piece of cloth was a fairly larger and used to wrap our waist extending upto the knees. These would be our garb for 13 days. It took me a moment to realize we somehow had become untouchables. We were to cook our own food. Anything we asked for (if we could have it) were rolled on or thrown to us. We were to sleep on a makeshift bed made of a couple of layers of straw and a blanket woven of very rough fibres (radi). We were not even allowed to sit on benches or chairs. As I was creeping about it, I heard someone say, "You call this unfair. Wait and watch." And so I did..
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