Sudden death is upon our public consciousness again with the bomb blasts in Mumbai. And sudden bereavement is among the hardest losses to cope with as there are both, an air of suddenness and a sense of finality to it. One accepts fate more easily if an aged relative who has been ailing for long has passed away.
Death is inevitable and expected in such cases. But it is infinitely more difficult when the sequence of life and living is upturned; when a father carries his son to the pyre or grave, instead of the other way around.
When death comes, it is very difficult to console the near and dear ones. Words are meaningless and can only offer some solace, but not beyond a point. Ultimately, the journey is one of loss and aloneness for the ones who are bereaved. Only a wife can understand the loss of her spouse who has left her widowed, suddenly. Only a mother can understand the anguish of losing her first born, however imperfect s/he may have been in life.
There are many responses which I have encountered to sudden deaths. Some are too numbed to react. Others react with a quiet dignity. Yet others break down inconsolably. There are no hard and fast rules, just as there is nothing which is correct or incorrect in grief. There are similarly many ways of coping with grief. Many people do not wish to be disturbed, many others go into depression.
Perhaps the finest example of coping with the grief of sudden death which I have seen concerns the family of the Mahajans near Pune who lost their son Maitreyi in a tragic motorbike accident some years ago, when he was barely 22. Maitreyi always wanted to become a biker and was an sketch-artist of some merit. His scrapbook was full of messages like ‘I Love to Ride’, with sketches of bikes on wings. Ironically, he had also worked on a colourful graphic, ‘Riders Don’t Die’. Predictably, the Mahajans were shattered with his death. But Maitreyi’s parents, Vidhur and Aparna, have slowly picked up the pieces of their tragedy and have now transcended it. I saw a calm resolve in them when I visited them recently. Vidhur has written a book in Marathi on his son and the tragedy titled Maitrey Jivachi, which translates as Friends for Life, to help him, and the family, overcome the loss.
I feel a kinship with such sudden death cases as my first memorable role was that of a retired school master B.B. Pradhan in Saraansh; a man who helps his wife cope with the death of their only child in the US. To me, the only way out when the feeling of loss subsides, is to understand and appreciate that the Maitreyis’ of this world did live life fully for 22 years. For his parents and friends, it was a wonderful opportunity to have lived with him during that time. And that opportunity is infinitely better, than if he had not been with them at all.
The writer is a renowned film and theatre actor