On death and dying

This morning, when I received the message that one of my friends, died of Leukemia couple of hours ago, the initial shock led way to sadness and tears. I was about to leave for work when I got this message.

As I drove, through the roads embanked by white of snow, bathed by bright sun, I kept on thinking of him. I had known him since my teenage years. Though the distance and time had grown in between, yet something had remained.

The traffic kept on moving, the world went on, oblivious to the precious life lost. I thought of his little daughter who will not be embraced by a dad’s hug anymore, his teenage son who will not have his father cheering him in his sports and his wife-no hand to hold.

With mist in the eyes I prayed and looked up towards Him. I saw 2 white birds, flying high in blue lit sky. Reminded me of the 2 birds on front cover of Mundakopanisad.

‘Two birds- ( Jivatma and Paramatma) bound to each other in close friendship ( because Jivatma is nothing but the image of Paramatma seen through the medium of mind) perched on the Self-same tree( body).’

Despite intellectualizing that his eternal journey is still going on, his timeline here had fulfilled its purpose, The pure consciousness still lives on, the bondage in this body is over; I still cried.

Knowing that Birth is the process from unmanifest to manifest and Death is the process of manifest to unmanifest (According to text on Tat tvam asi), yet I still cried.

Our loved ones, our family, our friends are loaned to us for certain time and when that time is over, they leave, as Vivekji had shared in VIR class 2 weeks ago. What is there to grieve?

Sthane

I thought of all the times years ago, when we were in Med school, he would come over to our home, asking for my college notes ( especially right before our semester exams); his love for bikes; how he had come over late one night to check whether my friends and I got home safely after a friend’s wedding; how he insisted that while I was visiting Bharat, he brought me to his home to meet his young family; and few years ago when he visited Cleveland, how he came over for dinner ( almost choked on stuffed habanero peppers as we all laughed) ….. so many memories, all fragmented moments- yet they live. They live in our hearts and thoughts. I celebrate them.

Reminded of verse In Nirvana shatkam-

na me mrtyu shanka na mejati bhedaha

pita naiva me naiva mataa na janmaha

na bandhur na mitram gurur naiva shishyaha

chidananda rupah shivo’ham shivo’ham

(I have no fear of death, no caste or creed,

I have no father, no mother, for I was never born,

I am not a relative, nor a friend, nor a teacher nor a student,

I am the form of consciousness and bliss,

I am the eternal Shiva…)

I celebrate The eternal soul as it continues it’s unmanifest journey.

I celebrate the life lived, short yet precious

Yet, why do I still have tears in my eyes?