Save the Best for the Last

My grandmother told me that seeing a dead body is a sin. Guess what, I believed her! She told me, “Whenever you see something like this, just close your eyes”. When I was 23, my grandfather died. The situation was unavoidable. I still remember that night. He was watching a cricket match alone in the room. Around 2 am, I suddenly woke up hearing a lot of noise around.

I saw the chaos around – Grandfather was quietly sitting on a chair with his eyes closed but he was in tremendous pain, which I could vividly feel. He was surrounded by neighbours and family.

Before anybody could comprehend the situation, he died due to a heart attack. I watched everything in great shock from a distance, thinking, this is impossible. What was even more shocking was that everyone got engaged in other matters – calling distant relatives, arranging food, and being more concerned about getting the rituals done in a certain order.

“What is this?” I thought.

In that state of mind, I looked for a lonely corner in my home, wanting to be alone with my internal turmoil.

Many questions arose – grandfather was here a few hours ago and now his whole existence has evaporated. How can anyone just disappear like this and we cannot do anything about it? Where is he now?

We know how to make big buildings, airports, rockets, etc. Yet nobody knows what happens after death. He must be somewhere!

Suddenly money and all materialistic things seemed worthless.

These questions were there in my mind ever since that day. I had no idea where these questions would lead me in the future. I was in that state of mind for many years. Grandfather used to come in my dreams as if he was alive and I would ask him; “Why are you hiding from us, where have you been all these years?”

Six years later, God answered my questions.  It was painful, but eventually, everything becomes an experience and now I can share it with you:

At the time of my pregnancy, I was walking quietly in the corridor of my building. My due date was over but there were no signs of labor pain. I was very anxious about the process.

Two days later, I went to the hospital, where my husband was working. A maternity ward in a government hospital was a living hell. I was shocked by what I saw. Many women were in the same big room, suffering from different degrees of pain.

Suddenly, I heard a terrible voice, coming from a smaller adjoining room, where the babies were born. My husband was also terrified and tried to console me, “You will be able to tolerate this pain once you are in it”. It was not so consoling but I thought that there was no way to run and hide.

I got a bed in the big hall with many other women. The whole night I watched them crying and howling in pain. The resident doctors yelled back at them. I wondered if the doctors would behave in the same way with me. In such a stressful condition, nothing happened that night.

One after another, all the ladies got shifted from that big room to the small room to deliver the babies. The new batch came to the big room. I was the only one left from the night batch.

The next day, around 2 p.m. doctors decided to induce labor artificially. The medicine soon showed its effect. That was the beginning of my pain but by now I wanted to get it over and done.

Soon I realized how bad it could be. Gradually it became intolerable. I was surprised to discover my reaction to pain. I became quiet – no complaint, no crying, no discomfort on my face. It was the same as what was on my grandfather’s face before he died.

I never thought I would behave in such a way. I was so much inside myself that I could not hear any noise around me, nor could I feel anyone’s presence in the crowded room.

It was just me…. As if I knew that from this point, things were beyond human control.

I was chanting with every breath. As the pain built up more, my chanting intensified. After five hours of intense pain, a doctor whispered in my ear and asked, “Do you want an epidural,” to which I said “Yes”.

After epidural, a cool breeze passed through me. Each cell of my body became relaxed. 15 minutes later the doctor decided that I needed an urgent operation. They took me back to the Operation Theatre.

I closed my eyes but was conscious of my surroundings. The doctor made a cut in my lower abdomen and the baby came out. I had no courage to open my eyes to watch myself stained in blood. I heard my baby’s voice and a doctor said, “What a healthy baby!”

Suddenly, I shouted: “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe”. I was thrashing my limbs. I removed the oxygen mask so that I could get fresh air but I was unable to breathe. To think of that still suffocates me.

After much struggle – I don’t know how and when – I got into a deep dark tunnel, which had no light. Hitting on the walls of it, helplessly, I was rolling down into it.

The tunnel had no end. I was crying and screaming, “Take me back, take me back!” No one seemed to take pity on me. I felt that the tunnel would never end. How to describe that pain? It was incomparable to anything I ever felt. It appeared to me as if many years had passed rolling in it without any hope of getting out of it.

Suddenly, everything settled down. I was no more restless.  Which place is this? No darkness but no light either. More like a blankness, an emptiness, and I was calm in it. I don’t know how everything was changing; like cut, copy, paste.

A movie flashed in front of me in a fast-forward mode and it took me a little while to identify that it was about my own life. Some parts were very strange, few events and people were unidentifiable. I could not recognize that this had ever happened in my life. This “movie” reminded me of some incidents that made me proud. I silently watched the “movie”.

After the movie finished, I heard a firm and clear male voice. He asked me, “Do you regret anything?” I spontaneously said, “Once I broke the heart of a boy”. “Anything else?”, to which I replied “No”. The questions and answers were so direct and straight. No thinking, no confusion, even no explanation whatsoever.

A long silence after that; I felt as if many years had passed. I was on hold but peaceful. It was a different time dimension. Unexpectedly the deep silence was broken and I heard the same voice again, “Do you want to go back?”

I did not feel any desire or longing. From there it all looked so meaningless. I replied, “No”. I was at peace, but the voice said, “You have to go back”.

I saw a vision of myself working in my kitchen towards the end of the ninth month of my pregnancy. After pondering over it for 10 years, now I feel that it indicated the importance of a single conscious moment.

God gave me many clues in that experience. How wonderfully he projected the whole scenario, it was amazing. He presented everything according to my present understanding and gave hints for my future level of consciousness. What a masterpiece!

It needs lots of contemplation to explore the hidden truth behind these events. Many small details are still unexplored.

Finally, I experienced something which I call a return gift from God before leaving His home.

I saw the splendor of light everywhere. There was no sun yet there was unlimited space filled with light as if thousands of suns were shining together. I can never forget what I saw.

I thought everyone deserves to see that and be there. At that point, I realized how was I experiencing everything without my physical body? How do I remember all this? This experience of infinite light lasted for a short time and I never wanted to leave that place.

Why did God ask for my opinion when my decision did not matter? Why did he send me back?

These questions still bother me but I feel there is something good in it. I feel there are many levels of consciousness too.

The next moment, I found myself on the bed in the ICU ward of the hospital, full of wires and tubes all over my body, unable to move and talk. I was very weak and had lost a lot of blood. It was midnight.

A resident doctor was on duty. Despite my condition, I eagerly tried my best to tell him about my visit to God with all possible words. Listen to me, talk to me, I am here now. He could not hear me properly and went back to his seat.

The next day, I was moved to a private ward; that 15 days in the hospital were difficult. I lost interest in food, talking, and life. The only thing that made me happy was my child. I realized that what could be a better job and ambition than to raise a child. I got myself engrossed in bringing up, Vrinda.

Poem

Someone in me waiting for long,

His pain is immense but will is strong,

He patiently watches me all the time,

He guides me, trains me for tougher times,

How close yet so far,

Hope my failures do count,

I cannot go back, cannot stop,

I cross the ocean, impossible,

He tells me, you can.