Last journeys

Buddies of the deceased I guess who have drowned their sorrows en route.

I occupy a vantage home on Charles Campbell road, Cox Town when it comes to viewing funeral processions heading towards the Kalpalli cemetery. I witness a fair number of interesting ‘goodbyes’ of ‘dear departed’ last journeys when I’m home, as these pass by my gate and I’m often strolling in the garden late morning or early afternoon. Most often, prime time for funerals.

The corteges range from sombre Christian ones in modern looking hearses with St Peter’s funeral services of Kamanahalli now having taken over the monopoly from the former Snaize Brothers of our young days, to as elegantly garlanded and decorated large vehicles with the corpse of another religion mounted high on a heap of elaborate floral offerings, and the sad mourners seated beside!

Others may be simple BBMP hearses with relatives of the deceased stuffed into capacity alongwith the dead person, but preceded with full honours by marching bands in smart colourful uniform playing ‘jolly’ tunes and accompanying ‘high spirited’ dancers (in mourning?)! Buddies of the deceased I guess who have more than drowned their sorrows en route. Firing crackers is also part of these rituals that often enough sends my afternoon doze into a spin! Can’t help wondering wickedly at times when I’ve woken up suddenly, whether these bombs have ever brought a corpse back to life on this last journey? Fortunately I’ve donated my body to medical research so don’t have such fears lingering within me.

This is then followed by a lengthy deliberation with my maids on funeral customs in each religion. We Christians get off lightly with a memorial service and brunch/tea but my poor Hindu maid feels obliged to keep up with the customs of gifting saris and shirt pieces to near and dear of the deceased, with a lunch thrown in, even if it means her being hocked to the money lender, read me -- for free, of course until ‘thy kingdom come’!

(Aunga yena ma cholrago?) What’ll they say about me if I don’t follow the customs? “You are so lucky amma”, says she, but questions “Will your brother go to heaven, if you don’t spend lots of money?” The other sensible one says, “Why should Christians even have this memorial ‘do’? Isn’t it enough to just pray and go back to their homes? Do your folks starve, that they need you to feed them?”

By this time the next funeral goes by and we are back to viewing it, arguments forgotten, and grieving with the bereaved family or just enjoying the tamasha according to the tone of the procession…