Dancing With Death

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Introduction Growing up in the serene and silent atmosphere of a village, and spending my childhood and most of my teenage years there, proved to be a blessing in disguise. The mornings and evenings provided one with a most panoramic and enthralling view of nature blooming flowers, lush green paddy fields, cool breezes, chirping birds, a clear blue sky, or sometimes a cloudy one, the sound of rain, the majestic sun in the sky announcing the beginning and end of the day with a masterpiece, and above all, the changing seasons, each one accompanied by different celebrations and festivals. It was so enjoyable to observe and take part in community life: to feel each other's feelings, to stand near others at their time of crisis or sorrow, and to be able to join with others in moments of happiness.

Living in that close-knit, little village gave us all the feeling of being in a big family, and although people of different classes and castes lived together, all were closely linked with a bond of love and sharing life at its core. It was impossible to be an isolated and lonely person there because each member of the community was ready to take care of others during their times of need. As a result, there was a strong flow of oneness and amity despite all sorts of diversity. Whenever a child was born, there were murmurs of joy on everyone's lips, and when someone was sick, one could hear the readiness of helping hands. Babies were surrounded by many caring hearts, the youth had joyful friends, and the elderly had loving fellowship, leaving them no time to sink into a dark melancholic state. Indeed, this simple, precious village life of about half a century ago in India has left an indelible mark on my memory.

While living in the village, I was able to closely observe life, as well as death at every step. Observing nature, I saw the germination of seeds in the garden, the birds laying and hatching eggs, a mother cow giving birth to a calf, and a dog having puppies; somewhere there was always a celebration of life going on. On the other hand, death was also in sight. Fishermen caught fish, cats preyed upon rats, snakes devoured frogs, and occasionally there were road accidents that killed stray dogs. Sometimes even old domestic cattle died. Undoubtedly, such incidents impressed one with the notion of death. Moreover, whenever a cow died, it was ceremonially taken to a nearby bush forest, and wild animals like jackals, hyenas, stray dogs, vultures, and crows were provided with a sumptuous meal as they devoured its carcass in no time. Observing such things initially gave me a strange experience of death and the ultimate fate of the body.

I was about seven years of age when, for the first time, I experienced the death of a human. The individual was an old member of our brahmin community. Everyone knew that the elderly man was going to leave his body at any time, so we were all told to go and bow down to him and pay our respects, which we did. However, since I was a curious and inquisitive boy, I waited in a quiet place and observed his emaciated body and his struggle to breathe. Then I saw how he left his body, and how it became motionless and still. Simultaneously, an uproar of mourning and crying could be heard from his immediate family members. The news of the old man's death spread like wildfire in the village, and all his relatives from nearby villages were informed. Next, the village priest, the village barber, and the washerman were called to participate in the death ceremony.

We had a special cremation ground for the brahmins of the village. It was a wooded area with tall trees and many bushes. The dead body was tied in a special way and, while chanting the names of the Divine, the people carried the body to this area. Only male adults were officially allowed to join the team. Because I was not allowed to join them, I hid behind a bush and observed all the elaborate rituals. It was an interesting observance. The dead body was propped upright against a tree. Some of the men were seated in a circle around him, chanting and praying while the priest was chanting mantras. The barber shaved the deceased man's face, and a ceremonial bath followed. Then the dead body was covered with new clothes. The eldest son of the deceased man cooked food. which was then offered to the dead body. Everything was done as if the brahmin was still alive. I remember thinking that the priest's mantras were nice, but they were beyond my understanding during those days.

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