The art of dying must be an extension of art of living. I have been privileged to have lived a life of comfort, but it is the unwalled joys that have been the most rewarding. Every facet of my life has shone with contentment, and indeed, a tranquillity brought on by a sense of accomplishment. I have never had to yearn for anything. The only lack has been that of unhappiness. If that lack, or luck, or something more profound? It doesn’t matter.
Of course, like all mortal beings, there have been several occasions and reasons for feeling dissatisfied. But, on each such occasion, I asked myself, “is there any need to punish oneself with unhappiness?” The answer has always swiftly banished such negative thoughts. This is why I am certain that, as with the sojourn, the departure from life too will be amidst the surround-sound of pleasure, and more so, excitement.
All these years, I have always been restless for new experiences. Now, to tell you the truth, this life has become jaded. One has had the privilege to have been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. Now, as for an adventure traveller, the last frontier beckons, demanding to be experienced. Of this, I am certain: the never-before destination, the great unknown will not disappoint. Everyone has talked of its mystery: us paar na jaane kya hoga, us paar jaroor kucch naya hoga. I can’t wait to explore it.
Having said all this, I would want to go aaram se. Tell death, very sweetly of course, to wait a bit while I adjust my pillow just so and snuggle into my quilt for the right degree of warmth. I am not worried about settling matters of this world. Material bonds are already being untied as I gravitate towards my last halt before the final destination. NO, not Banaras, this will be some tranquil ashram away from worldly cares and cries.
My friends are being prepared for my departure. Those close to me, and really know me, don’t need these consolatory noises. They know that I will embrace death with the same uninhibited celebration with which I have hugged life. In this aware club are my gurus who have nurtured and pampered me. Sometimes, I have a quiet laugh when thinking of those who will mourn for me. Poor things. They are the ones in need of a comforting pat because they don’t know what a lot of fun I intend having out there.
If there is a last wish, It is this. No one should be informed of my departure. No one needs to ask “where is Indu?” Because, wherever there is laughter, they will find her there. The body’s soulless shell can be cremated in whichever way the ashramites feel best – my guru will surely wing to my side from wherever he is. Then, I will fly, flirting with the fire, land, water, air and space in a long-awaited meeting-mating milan.
Always me in you.