The Ordeal continued!!
We knew that for the next 12 days we wouldn't be eating any salt. I was ok as I thought its just 12 days, its just gonna fly away. Wishful thinking, I bet it was!! That evening just passed by eating lots of oranges, few apples and a couple of potatoes with sugar and black pepper. There were quite a few people who would stay there all night long giving us company.
Its a belief that the soul of the dead body strays around on earth for 13 days and hence the rituals (kiriya) for that many days. Only upon completion of the rituals, the soul heads for the heaven, so it is said. During these 13 days, the immediate family members who are in kiriya are considered impure and are supposed to be vulnerable to attacks by the straying soul. Hence, people giving us company or simply kurawas.
The next day began with the Brahmin waking us up early in the morning. We were to take a bath. Never in our (me and my brother) lives had we taken a bath early in the morning that too with cold water. We always take a shower mid-day. It definitely took us more than an effort to pour that first lota (brass vessel) of water on our head. Being in the terai really helped as the water pulled by the hand pumps are luke warm during the winters and cold during the summers. As I poured water on myself, I couldn't stop wondering how would people accomplish this in the hilly areas where the water is icy cold. We were not even allowed a towel to wipe ourselves dry or wrap onto so changing the clothes would be a task as we would be out in the open and there would be someone or the other keeping a watch on us.
It was my brother's duty to cook rice with milk which was to be rolled onto a ball (pinda) and offered by me (the eldest son) to the straying soul (aatma). Upon completing the ritual, we cooked rice and served dollops of it on 3 separate banana leaves for mom, brother and myself. The brahmin then dropped some sugar, cucumber, bits of roughly crushed ginger and a huge serving of ghee. That was our lunch. Bon appetit!! I could not swallow more than a mouthful and off it went to the dustbin as my relatives started shouting, yelling and some even pleading with me. I just waived off at them and walked away.
The evening was more eventful with people dropping by to play cards while I decided to make something eatable out of those peanuts, potatoes and various edible roots. I boiled those potatoes and deep fried them on ghee with the peanuts. It was definitely a treat to watch that smile on brother's and mom's face while they hungrily ate them. I too loved them, was delicious! How I missed some salt and hot chillies?
That was the routine for the next 11 days as I eagerly looked forward to the evening while I counted down every passing hour. After a couple of days I realized that every single part of the left side of my body was sore. It was so bad that even a slight touch would send me shivers of pain. The remaining days would be spent lying down on my right side or walking around bare feet as I wondered the meaning of salt in my life. How much I missed it, how much I missed the simple daal, bhaat, tarkari? It also made me realize how unfaithful we are to those little gifts of life that we so overlook unless we are faced with dire situations.
On the 10th day, there was a big feast where 12 brahmins were fed. I am not sure if any of them complained of an upset stomach later but I sure was drooling on their food. With the completion of the 13th day rituals, we were finally fed a good meal. It wasn't anything fancy, just simple daal, bhat, tarakari and aloo ko achar, I am sure it wouldn't even have met my attention any other day. But that day, it was a treat. I am sure I haven't eaten as much even on those occasions when I have been stoned. Someone looking at me eating that day would, I guess, surely have felt that I hadn't eaten all my life. I had shut all my remaining senses to relish the sense of taste.
After my lunch was over and as I sat in the chair, I realized that I was feeling drowsy. Was it due to the amount of food or just the amount of salt? I was in a state of high. A salt-induced high, I suppose. I had heard about it for the umpteenth time but was a first-hand experience. I felt content. I felt content that I was now able to tingle my taste buds again with the spices of life. A vacuum was created by dad's passing away and will not be filled, neither with time nor with any amount of mourning. It will not be healed with any amount of laments. However, a cliche it is, "life goes on." With this, I hope to put a period on my narration of those arduous moments but I can't promise.
Its a belief that the soul of the dead body strays around on earth for 13 days and hence the rituals (kiriya) for that many days. Only upon completion of the rituals, the soul heads for the heaven, so it is said. During these 13 days, the immediate family members who are in kiriya are considered impure and are supposed to be vulnerable to attacks by the straying soul. Hence, people giving us company or simply kurawas.
The next day began with the Brahmin waking us up early in the morning. We were to take a bath. Never in our (me and my brother) lives had we taken a bath early in the morning that too with cold water. We always take a shower mid-day. It definitely took us more than an effort to pour that first lota (brass vessel) of water on our head. Being in the terai really helped as the water pulled by the hand pumps are luke warm during the winters and cold during the summers. As I poured water on myself, I couldn't stop wondering how would people accomplish this in the hilly areas where the water is icy cold. We were not even allowed a towel to wipe ourselves dry or wrap onto so changing the clothes would be a task as we would be out in the open and there would be someone or the other keeping a watch on us.
It was my brother's duty to cook rice with milk which was to be rolled onto a ball (pinda) and offered by me (the eldest son) to the straying soul (aatma). Upon completing the ritual, we cooked rice and served dollops of it on 3 separate banana leaves for mom, brother and myself. The brahmin then dropped some sugar, cucumber, bits of roughly crushed ginger and a huge serving of ghee. That was our lunch. Bon appetit!! I could not swallow more than a mouthful and off it went to the dustbin as my relatives started shouting, yelling and some even pleading with me. I just waived off at them and walked away.
The evening was more eventful with people dropping by to play cards while I decided to make something eatable out of those peanuts, potatoes and various edible roots. I boiled those potatoes and deep fried them on ghee with the peanuts. It was definitely a treat to watch that smile on brother's and mom's face while they hungrily ate them. I too loved them, was delicious! How I missed some salt and hot chillies?
That was the routine for the next 11 days as I eagerly looked forward to the evening while I counted down every passing hour. After a couple of days I realized that every single part of the left side of my body was sore. It was so bad that even a slight touch would send me shivers of pain. The remaining days would be spent lying down on my right side or walking around bare feet as I wondered the meaning of salt in my life. How much I missed it, how much I missed the simple daal, bhaat, tarkari? It also made me realize how unfaithful we are to those little gifts of life that we so overlook unless we are faced with dire situations.
On the 10th day, there was a big feast where 12 brahmins were fed. I am not sure if any of them complained of an upset stomach later but I sure was drooling on their food. With the completion of the 13th day rituals, we were finally fed a good meal. It wasn't anything fancy, just simple daal, bhat, tarakari and aloo ko achar, I am sure it wouldn't even have met my attention any other day. But that day, it was a treat. I am sure I haven't eaten as much even on those occasions when I have been stoned. Someone looking at me eating that day would, I guess, surely have felt that I hadn't eaten all my life. I had shut all my remaining senses to relish the sense of taste.
After my lunch was over and as I sat in the chair, I realized that I was feeling drowsy. Was it due to the amount of food or just the amount of salt? I was in a state of high. A salt-induced high, I suppose. I had heard about it for the umpteenth time but was a first-hand experience. I felt content. I felt content that I was now able to tingle my taste buds again with the spices of life. A vacuum was created by dad's passing away and will not be filled, neither with time nor with any amount of mourning. It will not be healed with any amount of laments. However, a cliche it is, "life goes on." With this, I hope to put a period on my narration of those arduous moments but I can't promise.
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