Life is an enigma, a conundrum that
is full of vicissitudes, triumphs and tragedies. This is not a philosophical blabbering but a self-experienced fact. There are certain things and events,
which remain etched life-long on the minds. I have seen the death of my father
when I was still an infant but when my mother died, I was a proud father of two children-Vinay
aka Babbu and Utkarsh aka Shibbu. I am intending to write a book on my parents but the
biggest handicap is that I do not possess any photograph of my father although there
is one black and white photograph of my mother, that too, because of the preserving habit of my
wife Nirmala.
In fact, this morning when I got up from the bed my mind was agitated
for inexplicable reasons. The face of my brother-in-law the late Ram Preet
Mishra swam across my mind and made me think that life is really as transient a bubble.
His death was not sudden. It came bit by bit. It was more sad and painful to
those who were around him. Perhaps this is the reason that it is inscribed on my
mind like a permanent scar.
It hardly needs to be said that the death of
any near and dear is a jolting experience. The death of my younger brother-in-law
Dhirendra Mishra two years ago was the bolt from the blue. He passed away all
of a sudden at the Gorakhpur Railway station in the March 2012 in the prime of his life. He was perfectly
hale and hearty, ever smiling, caring and sharing with no symptoms of any disease.
When the news of his death was broken to me on the telephone, I could not believe
to my ears as it fell like a ton of bricks. More than two years have elapsed but
most of us have yet not reconciled to it.
However, in less than a year another tragedy
has overtaken in the death of my elder brother-in-law, Prof. R. P. Mishra.
He was a gentle person incarnate, a very reticent, not very socially amiable person,
mostly confined to himself but at the same time a family person. He was not only
the scholar of Indian Philosophy but a deeply religious person also. Strange it
may appear but he observed the religious regimen until the last day of his
life. He had no such habits as can be described badly by any social norms.
Nobody remembers him of playing any mischief or truant with anybody throughout
his life. Very austere in living, parsimonious to the extent being irritating,
he had no expensive hobbies. Simple dress, simple food, he was strictly
vegetarian, teetotaler, a non-smoker. For the last six-seven years, he was
inflicted with diabetes but keeping it under control by rigorous discipline in life.
At the beginning of May 2012 when I met
him at Gorakhpur, he was down with mild temperature.We all thought that it was
a temporary one like fevers and would be perfectly all right after taking the necessary
medicines. We never knew that the temperature would prove to be fatal for his
life. When his temperature did not come down for nearly a month, it rang the
alarm bell for his family members. They started consulting one doctor after
another but all their medicines were ineffective. Instead of improving his health,
it got further deteriorated. Jyon jyon
dawa ki marj badhata gaya. His family members ran from pillar to post but surprisingly even doctors, who claim to have been trained in diagnosing the
ailments through modern machines could not detect the disease. This amply shows
the inadequacy of medical training. Anyway, after months of the febrile body, he became
extremely weak. It was a mere skeleton without flesh; almost no blood, only the
bones. It was a frightening and scary sight to find him in his skin and bones.
However, after a great deal of persuasion and
pressures, particularly from his cousin Virendra he moved to Delhi in August
2013 and was diagnosed for dreaded lever cancer. Even after learning about the life-consuming disease he remained the embodiment of fortitude, never betrayed the
helplessness. It was an upsetting revelation. Anybody could guess the inevitable.
His days were numbered. I am now left with admiration for all his family
members for the courage, which they showed during the difficult times, and it
included my father-in-law Dr Sabhajit Mishra, my younger son Utkarsh, my wife
Nirmala, my younger brother-in-law Virendra and his wife Sadhna but two persons have left an indelible impact on
me. They are Dr Mishra’s wife (She is so self-effacing that I do not know her name even)
and his son Sachin. Both of them proved to be strong pillars of strength.
Sachin always remained admiringly calm and composed. While others had broken down
by the shattering news, he shouldered all responsibilities on himself from Rail
reservation to consultation with doctors. I am amazed by the virtue of his
courage. Dr Mishra was administered many shots of chemotherapy but by and by
he was losing the battle against life.
I specially
got attached to him because he lived in his last days, at my very
small house in Delhi without even a murmur of any inconvenience. There was hardly
any space for the privacy for him but he had no complaints. He never demanded
anything. His wife is, to say the least, an epitome of selfless service. Her
devotion to her husband was matchless. I have yet to see any woman who is so untiring in her works and so caring for others. Nobody knew as to when she was sleeping as she got attuned herself with a cycle of her husband. Nevertheless, at the same time, she was sharing most of the works in the kitchen and attending to other members
of the family. I cannot but salute to her devotion and dedication.
I have seen him dying him slowly and I can say
that perhaps this is the reason that it has become an unforgettable tragedy of
my life. Such instances make a man /woman to believe in destiny. Nobody
knows how long one will live in this world and when in what circumstance he or
she will disappear from the scene of the world because life is unpredictable. I have come to the conclusion that if somebody makes any prediction s/he is either a fool or a knave or a cheat.
But for now, I must pray for his soul to rest in peace.
