Rest in Peace

My maid Kanta, for the third time in the last two months, asked for leave. I was surprised, because she is a live-in , with all comforts provided and basically, she is one of the rare types, who does not take leave without reason. So I asked her the reason. She sobbed and said “Amma, you know that girl died (referring to her granddaughter).  Wretched girl, she died without enjoying anything.  My son was to fix her marriage and now this has happened. The dead are gone but we have to perform the monthly obsequies and feed our relations. Otherwise, the poor girl’s soul will not rest in peace”. ‘Amma”, she continued. “ I need a small loan; my son is not able to bear the monthly expenses. let me do my bit and don’t worry, I’ll pay it back”. She  would keep her word and so I gave her the money. A little later, the entire brood (she lived in our outhouse) dressed in their Sunday best, marched out amidst gaiety and laughter to perform the “Obsequies”. Mind you, this was the third occasion and there would be quite a few more till my servant and her son decided to leave the dead in peace.

That set me thinking. Kanta, my servant and her son had not been on speaking terms though they lived in the same city. He never visited her  nor did she ever speak about him. There had been some misunderstanding; she had asked him some money which he had refused and that had brought about an abrupt end to their relationship.His marriage had also been a matter of disapproval. “ What  kind of a son is this, who doesn’t look after his mother,” she would say in tones of disgust. Personally I did not think he was too bad because he  had made an offer of money which the wily woman had declined, saying it was too little. “Let him be”, she would say .” I do not want charity. A mother deserves some respect. It is as if I do not have a son”.   Yet now, she was now performing monthly obsequies for a grand-daughter, whom she had not even seen for many years.

There had been some genuine grief on the occasion,for the girl was grown up and died suddenly of a mysterious illness. Grief at the sudden loss of a family member accompanied by rituals for the departed  was in order. But the subsequent monthly obsequies consisting mainly of feasting was a farce and I tried to reason with her. “ After all, the poor girl is dead and gone. How does your ritualistic feasting help her?” ‘ Blasphemy, Amma”, she recoiled, as if struck. If we fail to observe these obsequies, the girl’s spirit will be wandering restlessly, in search of food”. And  she went on with a touch of pride, “My son wants only me to cook the Feast. As Grandmother, it is my traditional honour which nobody can deprive me of. Not only that,our “ Close relatives” will have to be fed or else we will be socially ostracised as not having done our duty properly”.

I let go.  I was totally baffled.  It seemed that the  untimely death of the girl  under tragic circumstances had thrown up a lot of latent issues on human relationships and philosophy. Mother and son were going at it hammer and tongs till the girl’s death. Now however,  a truce had been reached ( God knows for how long ) and Kanta was proud to cook the feast for the Dead. A very simple philosophy emerged-  the dead depart, leaving their near and  dear  to carry on life as usual and not grieve. Kanta was  being very practical about the whole thing- grief had now given place to  Family Honour. It was now all right to feed and clothe well- all part of preserving the Family Honour.

One day, Kanta showed me a saree. “ Amma, my son presented this saree to me for cooking the Feast every month for the past one year”. “However”, she paused. “ He could have at least given me a silk saree for all my efforts”.

I knew then that for Kanta at least, life was back to usual.