Inspirations

March is far away in the horizon and the year end is almost knocking at our doors. Yes it has been that long since I wrote something. Why I did not write? It could be because of lack of self discipline. But on introspection I realized that it was the lack of inspiration. Lack of the need to sit up and type furiously till all that was clogging my mind has been expressed. Why did I feel the need to be inspired? Because without inspiration I feel one is dead! Like the famous saying goes existing is not enough but has to live, breath and take the best life can give. So to the next question. What did ultimately inspire me? The answer lies in death and a friend!

One morning a bunch of naively adventurous nearly adults set out to explore the cemeteries of Bangalore. I happened to be a part of them.  The cemeteries had graves which is expected. But what was different is how all the graves had a story to tell. The graves without tombstones told you that the individual buried had no money to shell for a fancy tombstone. The grave was decorated with flowers which was almost a consolation. The family may use that money to feed the living than care about the dead. The ones with tombstones clearly flaunted of affluence. One grave that particularly stood out was a big black grave and every individual in the graveyard knew that it belonged to the founder of Sagar Hospital.

One of the rituals that caught my fancy was mass burning. So if you are poor and cannot afford to burn the body and fulfill the last rites, what you do is find someone who is equally poor and in the same condition as you are. Then the cost of cremation is shared by all who cannot afford to individually burn the dead. Then mass burning takes place. Hard to believe, right?

All these stories were told to us by a worker in the graveyard who was reeking of alcohol. Most of us were drawn by the stories he had to tell and repulsed at the same time due to the unbearable stench of alcohol. But the reality of their lives is so deathly that remaining intoxicated is the only means of survival. The cemetery is a parallel world and it is hard to believe that is situated right opposite one of the busiest bus stops of Bangalore. So many people come and leave the bus stop everyday to get on with their lives not having a second to stare at place where time stands still because the graves have nowhere to go, but to lie still in the peace that death has to offer.

This became one of the inspirations. This was followed by another inspiration. This time it was the living. A friend, who has a brilliant sense of humour, good insight of human beings and a capability to inspire people around even from a considerable distance, like another city. Come to think of it a good dash of life and death can do wonders.