Path of the Grimreaper

 "The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living."

Last night while dropping Indira mausi to her home, she was reminiscing about her youngest sister who died of breast cancer in her early 20s. This was around 5 decades ago. Vijay mausa was posted in Jammu then. She said that she never dreams, but the night Tunnu mausi passed away she got up with a start when she saw a sheet covered body lying on the floor in her dream. The next morning mausi got a call from Lucknow about the death of her sister the previous night. Till the time she hadn't seen Tunnu mausi in her dream she wasn't even aware that in Hindus they keep the dead on the floor, she said. My aunt had been sent back from Bombay to Lucknow after the doctors realised that the cancer had spread. Every 15 days she used to get medicines for her cancer from Tata Memorial Hospital. The time when she passed away the postal department had gone on strike and the medicines weren't delivered. There used to be no courier service in those days and Tunnu mausi passed away in KGMC as her medicine couldn't reach on time.
This news of yesteryears affected me  and made me think about all the other dramatic deaths and life events I had heard about from the maternal side of my family.
My maternal grandfather had a son from his first wife. She died during childbirth while delivering her second kid. A daughter. Her husband, my grandfather went into such a shock from her untimely death that he went straight to the cremation ground from the hospital, did her final rituals there and left the place. He never went back for the baby. All this he had told to my brother and I came to know this way after his death. He had always been a very upright officer and a gentleman, a self made man, an exemplary engineer,  a disciplinarian father (he had 3 sons and 4 daughters). The fact that I have an aunt, maybe first cousins, nieces and nephews around me who I have no clue of, haunts me to this day.
In my grandfathers defense all I could say is that death affects one in different ways. He had a rough, traumatic childhood and a close encounter with death. Once when he was very young he got high fever. It got worse over days and eventually he lost conscious. He had no clue for how long he had passed out. When he finally regained consciousness he realised that except for his father his whole family had been wiped away by the small pox epidemic. His mother, siblings, everyone. Everyone. One moment you have your whole family around you, you pass out, the next moment when you regain your senses,  they have gone forever. No final goodbyes, no closures.
The things we read about in textbooks of medicine and pathology, the images we see in movies of epidemics and disasters, the pathos which are described, he had been through them, and survived.
I had a bad night and woke up with a slight headache today. I even woke up at night, sat upright on my bed and was calling someone before going back to sleep. The dreams were emotive and impressionable, and there were two people in it, though I cant remember them in detail. If I am able to recollect I will describe them here.

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