I realized today that of all conversations holding a condolence conversation is the most difficult and awkward. One may prepare a script trying to share the best moments with the family of the deceased person and appreciate his/her qualities, yet the family could receive, respond and behave differently that makes condolence conversation even more strange and leaving you feeling unprepared and embarrassed.
A mobile number was published in the obituary message and I decided to wait for a few weeks to share my condolences with the bereaved family. I messaged the number to confirm it was a member of the family with whom was going to speak to. I called up my sister's music teacher's family this morning; it has been a month after her passing away. It was the septuagenarian's daughter; she and I were batch mates during our school days and I met her many times whenever I went to drop/pick up my sister at the music class. We mostly discussed two subjects that brought us happiness and sorrow: upcoming school exams and inter-school cultural competitions. And today we were about to discuss to subjects that brought the same two emotions: her mother and death. Will the discussion go the same way as it did when we were in school?
It had been 21 years since we had met and when I called her I wasn't expecting her to remember me. So I introduced myself through my sister who trained under her mother for over a decade. More than 1000 trips to their house in 10 years; more than I have been to the local temple. Her house was a temple of music and students came at every hour and one could hear music all day long. As expected she didn't remember me and she even found difficult to recollect my sister.
While she was jogging her memory, I conveyed my memories of her mother and the chaste music she rendered. She didn't sound grim or depressed and that made the conversation flow easily. In fact she sounded very chirpy and upbeat and she even told me that I must be surprised to have such a happy conversation after her mother's demise. To be honest, I wasn't not prepared for this conversation and somewhere in between she mentioned that she had gulped down three Bloody Mary's that afternoon.
She asked me if I were on Facebook and I responded in negative. And when she asked me if I am good looking and when I didn't respond, she said she would assume that I were Prashant. I didn't know whom she was referring to and I found the conversation taking a strange turn. Is it the Bloody Mary speaking or the grief inside of her? This was a big surprise to me and she even justified by asking me what would one do on a Saturday afternoon rather than several rounds of Blood Mary? I took refuge under silence.
I remembered her as a young, beautiful, very outgoing and extremely friendly and I was wasn't expecting her to react this way and I wasn't sure if she was playing a prank on me. Don't know if she was trying to take control of the conversation, but her sadness put me in a spot. Before I could recover from the earlier volley of questions she came back asking if I had children. Tired of suppressing my silence, I spoke. I said that I had taken a path less travelled and I am single. This strange conversation made me wiggle; I was reminded of ocassions where I sat among hundreds of listeners struggling to decipher the unknown raga sung by a known musician. Why did she put me in a spot?
Given how the conversation was proceeding, I refrained from asking her any personal question. Since she hadn't recognized me (I was a stranger and she had named me Prashant) and the real purpose of my call was to express my condolence I didn't stray away from the objective. Thankfully the bad mobile signal ended our awkward conversation and I followed up with a text messaging thanking her for taking my call. But before it ended, she was courteous to enquire about my sister and said that she will pass on my regards and condolences to her father.
I thought this conversation was about her mother and my admiration for her and had prepared a different script, while the spotlight was put on me. It suddenly felt cold, creepy, more strange than death. Is this how people cope up with grief?
Honestly, I didn't know what to make out this conversation. Is it grief or it is Bloody Mary? Was she playing a joke on me? Is she depressed after her mother's passing away? Was there something more she trying to share by asking me if I had children? Why would she talk this way to a stranger? Is it easy to have strange conversations with a stranger?
I ended up with a volley of questions post the call, but nothing took away my old and fond memories of her mother. I let her in the company of Bloody Mary, while I turned on her mother's Surutti rendition followed by Kaanavendum of Arunachala Kaviraayar that praised qualities of Seetha.
Death is cruel to those who are left behind and awkward to those who have to have a conversation with their family members. None of us would survive if not for small mercies: Bloody Mary and heavenly music!
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