The Passing of the Patriarch

It was a usual day for me back then, yet I remember it so vividly. It was a day filled with adrenaline, I was 22 years young, living the hostel life. With no care in the world, I liked this restaurant in the outskirts of the town, I remember I was on the highway at night time with my friends, we were on bikes, swimming through the ocean of vehicles. I really liked the chai there, hence the whole trip. But I really loved the trip upto the restaurant as well, it was equally pleasing. Good times I tell you.

The minute I reached the cafe and was preparing to get seated, I got a call from my father, he greeted me quite unusually and asked me where I was, and told me that he has a piece of unexpected news so I should sit down to listen.

He told me my maternal uncle had passed away. He said it so callously I had to affirm myself that he would never lie, nor would he ever be not sure. I took a good minute and asked him how did it happen. And he said he had been sick for a while, and the doctors were losing hope. I asked him how mom was doing, and while we both knew she was devasted, he went on to say that she is holding up. He told me to come home.

I sat down, went silent for a bit, my friends were looking at me, asking what had happened. I told them about the passing, and that I am still processing it because I couldn't believe it. They wanted to rush back and get me the ticket to go back home because it would take me 7 hours to reach home.

I continued sitting there, and the next thing I knew was me sitting on the bus on my way to my hometown. I couldn't rest my eyes, I felt numb and disconnected.

As the bus pierced through the vehicles, different lights kept bothering me, sitting in the frontmost seat is almost never a good thing specially at night. I covered my face and went into this rabit hole of thoughts.

The things that rushed through my head were primarily how the family would carry on living now that the patriarch has passed away. A sense of pity, liberation, and worry engulfed my mind.

He left behind a wife, four elder daughters, and three younger sons. The eldermost son being younger than the youngest daughter.

I contemplated how the family will be affected by the absense of an alpha male. All of these thoughts remained in mind until the very end of the procession.

I reached my home in my hometown, I recall never liking it here, there was a certain alienation in the wind. I took a rikshaw home because everyone was busy, no one could come to pick me up.

I entered into an almost empty home, I was not used to entering my home and not seeing my mom the first thing, I put an effort to hide the sadness, missing my mom perhaps affected my musculinity so I pretended not to care.

I took a nap, woke up to my brother asking me if I wanted to go to uncle’s house, it was time. I got up, got changed and left the house with him. I have never been a big fan of desi funerals, neither am I a big fan of meeting strangers and pretending, lets be honest. Thats what the desi funerals seem to me, alot of small talk, little pretend and some casual conversations.

As I reached my uncle’s house, I went to meet my uncles and cousins already sitting outside the house, on the funeral area arranged for men, with the halls filled with people I didnt know. I made my way into the house, the house was filled with cries of the women, some crying and some consoling, some still not being able to believe. My heart came out of my chest at the sight of all this, I understood the gravity of all of this in this instant. I saw him laying in the middle of the hall.

I remember seeing him, kissing him on the forehead while all the cries faded into the background. I remember pouring soil in his grave as the sun went down later that day.

After the patriarch had been buried, the post-burial processions began. The son was asked to sit on a chair surrounded by all men. While the elder men in the family including my father started tying the “pag” (turban) on his head while he mustered the courage to remain emotionless and held a brave facade. Because thats what men represent, empty bravery. Because one way or the other, all of us have internalized what the society expects of us.

After the completion of this ceremonious crowning, the close relatives took the son into the house where the crying womenfolk were presented with the new patriarch of the family, the younger siblings touched his feet and the elder sisters presented their heads to be touched by the new patriarch’s hand for the blessings.

The funeral is now over.

An eldermost son, younger than the youngest daughter will decide familial maters and control the mobility of the elder woman of the family.