Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts

Sunday, 8 August 2021

Of family politics...

Ramprasad Ki Tehrvi (Ramprasad's Final Rites, Hindi; 2019)
Written and Directed by Seema Pahwa

All families will have their own internal politics. Over property, money or ego, family members may squabble and refuse to descend from their high horses. They refuse to see common ground. Nature sometimes play games to remind everybody of how fragile each of us is and tries to put us in our respective place. The easiest way Nature does this is to invoke death within the family. 

The scurrying of family members gives an opportune time to meant fences. The warring factions may rescind, albeit for a short time, only to return to their old ways once the mourning period is over. 

Human relationships are so fragile. More often than not, we do not say what we mean and mean what we say. Everything is sugarcoated to maintain harmony on the surface, but beneath it all, resentment brews. Everyone is concerned with their own survival. Family dynamics have evolved over the generations, and the extended family concept is so yesterday. Migration to towns and immersion in post-Industrial revolution age type of pigeon-holed urban housing makes nuclear families the norm. Filial piety takes a backseat after marriage, and afterwards, honouring the elders is only confined to weddings and funerals.
The film tells about the death of an elderly music teacher, Ramprasad. His children and close relatives congregate in his house to pacify and fulfil the final rites (Tehrvi). Soon, the family politics come out one by one. The sisters-in-law bitch about the youngest of them, who is an actor. The sons complain about their father. Old wounds start festering. It reached a crescendo when it is discovered that the deceased has a big unpaid mortgage on their family property. Nobody is in a position to chip in to save it. In fact, the father had taken loans to finance each and one of the offspring.

The grieving mother sees the family members like they are there for an extended vacation, catching up on all stories, snapping photographs and the sons having drinking sessions most nights. Nobody seems to be grieving. She thinks that maybe she and her husband had failed in their duties to instil hardship on their children. By just shielding them from life challenges and pad them at every fall, maybe they had made them weak. She also realises that all her kids had their own challenges to meet within their family.

The mandatory thirteen days of mourning ends. The children return to their own lives, letting the mother alone to fend for herself. Life moves on. She continues the music school for children.  

A slow-moving movie that peels the layers of unsaid and unspoken politics in every typical Indian family.

(P.S. The story and settings of this film almost parallel that of another of Netflix's offerings, Pagglait. It is also about family politics and funeral, but from the POV of a grieving widow.)

Saturday, 3 April 2021

The need to fit in

The Stranger (Novella by Albert Camus, 1942)
Feature Film (Italian; 1967)
Director: Marcello Mastroianni

The last few years of his existence were not particularly pleasant. It started with diabetes which progressively affected his night vision. His occasional falls off his motorcycle, and a fracture shook his confidence. Progressively, the Penang roads appeared too hostile to his liking. He lost his independence when his children did not allow him to renew his driving and bike licences.

From then on, things only went south. Two episodes of strokes later and a urinary bladder's tumour afterwards with the ensuing therapy made life more miserable. If that was not enough, the accidental falls, lacerations and worsening eyesight added to his misery and the people living around him. Many unsavoury words were hurled out of frustrations. 

So, when the day of reckoning finally came, it was a relief of sorts. At least, that is how I looked at it. Released from the distresses of the mortal life, he could be free in the netherworld, free of aches and pangs.

Albert Camus
1957 Nobel Prize in Literature
But, came the funeral; the very people who were frustrated with his demands were the first to have no qualms in displaying their emotive expressions of sorrow. They were shameless with their verbose exhibition of grief. Weepers behaved as if they were young orphans who were left in a quandary of losing a sole remaining parent. And I had the queasy feeling that they expected the same of me.

I wondered what they thought of me as I went on to do the final rites. I, too, was asking myself whether I had psychopathic tendencies for not sharing their same sentiments. I was relieved that he was free of his miseries and could take a long sleep, knowing very well that he did not have to wake up to another day, endure its uncertainties and drag through another 24 hours of pain. He was free from any encumbrances. 

I did not think mourners shared my viewpoints. In their minds, certain conduct is expected of a member in a particular community, barring which he is scorned upon. He would be labelled as deviant, not right in his head, not fit to be one of them.

The same sentiments must have been felt by the protagonist of Camus' 1942 novella 'The Stranger'. Arthur Mersault, a free thinker, is informed of his mother's death in a retirement home. Mersault never had a cordial relationship with his mother but, looking at it as his filial duty, he attends to the final rites. He merely whisks through the rituals without much attachment to his loss. He even declines the offer to see his mother's body for the last time before the coffin is nailed. 

The weekend following the funeral saw Mersault go for a swim, a movie with his girlfriend and an outing by a beach. He also helps his acquaintance, an unsavoury character, who is rumoured to be a pimp, to pen a threatening letter to his two-timing girlfriend. 

When Mersault is finally charged in the second half of the story for the murder of the brother of the pimp's girlfriend, his character is implied from his earlier behaviours. The clearly conservative legal system finds Mersault guilty as he is deemed a person of low morals and without a guiding stand in life because of his irreligiosity. In the 'righteous' jury mind, a person who is so nonchalant about the demise of the person who gave him life would not provide an iota of hesitation and remorse to gun down a defenceless Arab boy.

That is how it is. We are left to stay afloat on this journey of life without its purpose and try to find answers as we go on. We are doubtful about our perception, but we still convince ourselves that we have all answers. We try to reassure ourselves by spreading and forcing our beliefs on others. The more a lie is repeated, it eventually becomes the truth. We become more cocksure by the numbers. Any revolt against this status quo creates cognitive dissonance, the mental discomfort and frustrations about all the time and effort wasted upon a dogma. And we would fight it with tooth and nail.



Wednesday, 31 March 2021

On paternal love...

Aelay (ஏலே! Hey You! Tamil; 2021)

We always complain that our fathers are not expressive enough, that they are not touchy enough. We allege that they are relatively economical with their display of affection. We despise their approach to solving problems. We say they are too laid back, sometimes also detached.  In our minds, our fathers exhibit all the traits of how a father should not be. We resolve to be just the opposite of what they were.

We spend a great deal of our adulthood not seeing eye-to-eye with our fathers. We tell ourselves we will not be like him when we grow older. Slowly, with the lessons learnt from the School of Hard Knock and Life, we soon realise that he managed, with and despite his knowledge and experience, to hold the fort for others to prosper. In the traditional sense, he looked at himself as a material provider. As for their deeds and misdeeds that he has under his belt, they cannot be held against as he did with his family's best interest at heart. As for vices, he is, after all, human. It is for him to err and for us to forgive.

We should not forget that our parents have to fulfil a particular personal obligation to merit their existence. They also may have likes, desires and sometimes guilty pleasures. Their sole purpose of being is not just to procreate and nurture their progeny. 

Parthi returns home to fulfil his filial duties at his father's funeral. He never a good relationship with his father. His father, a widower, brought him and his sister up working as an ice cream vendor. He was quite a character in his younger days, dodging moneylender and conning people of their monies to earn some extra cash. Parthi grew up hating covering up his father's antic, and he thought his father was quite an embarrassment.

At the funeral, Parthi realised that he had no tears for his father's demise. Unbeknownst to everyone, the father is just up to one of his tricks again - faking his own death to claim insurance! Amidst all this mayhem, Parthi's hears that his childhood is getting married. Parthi's father, meanwhile, is puzzled why his son feels no sorrow. 

Their backstory is told in flashbacks, and the ongoing story describes how Parthi tries to appreciate his father's struggles. The father's foolhardy comes to light, but only to die for real—an entertaining movie without much of the mainstream cinema's glitz performed by new actors. 


Wednesday, 24 March 2021

It is a zoo out there!

Oh, dear, oh, dear!
First, there were the vultures, perched high up on the branch waiting patiently for their preys to fall. Their spirits rise with every heaving of the chest, hoping that that would be the last. Is the soul protected by the soaring eagles seen way up in the skies? Even as the body is failing, the spirit is clinging and refuses to go.

Even as the remains remain warm, White Rabbit is already scurrying around, muttering, "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm late for an important date!" peeking at the watch ever so often. The Mad Hatter is not needed, but he likes to think that he is indispensable.

Are the hyenas' scream decibels too loud for comfort? Mourners want a time of peace to reflect, not hear noises that evoke madness.

Minesweeper
Then came the owls with their eyes opened so vast that they scrutinise every shortcoming and scrouge source material for their next gossip session. With stereoscopic vision and 360° movement of the cervical region, they manage to recce every nook and corner like a minesweeper.

Also present are the almost unnoticeable storks that stand quietly by the corner in a deep thinker's pose. They seem invisible, practically camouflaged with the background, unflinching and disappearing as quietly as they moved in.

Buridan's Ass
The ostriches would not want to see any of these. They are content with burying their heads in the sand, convincing themselves that everything will pass. Like an albatross, the guilt of the whole preceding events is wrapped around some people's necks.

Almost forgotten are the philosopher asses who are quick to whip out philosophical pearls of wisdom. They peruse the exhibited cadaver and highlight the futility of life. They remind that the departed remain a pale shadow of her flamboyant self with all the juices of life sapped dry. They lecture on how we, the living, scream for recognition, pride and inflate our egos with hedonistic desires. 

Seeing with complex eyes?
Like a student of Camus or Nietsche, they paint a nihilistic purpose of life and plead for humility and simplicity. Even before the listeners can digest the gist of the speech, these same mules start arguing that they are right and throwing the weights around to show who is the boss! So much for walking the talk.

I just rest idly like a fly on the wall. I fancy looking at myself like a mysterious lizard who play dead and listen intently to the conversations. Sometimes I think it is quietly mocking the speakers by periodically clicking at the end of the sentences. And the humans respond as if they had received a divine nod of approval.

Tuesday, 15 December 2020

A grim look at life and death...

Ee.Ma.Yau (Malayalam: ഈ.മ.യൗ, R.I.P.; 2018)
Director: Lijo Jose Pellisery.

Parents always think that children are dumb; that there are unaware of the 'adult' kind of stuff that happens around them. Our parents thought so too. Sometimes, they would talk in codes and other times they would say in our absence. We were not living in a mansion for the void to absorb all the vibrations of their speeches; hence, we pretty much heard everything.

During one of these instances, we heard of the death of a respected man in the community. He was a pleasant Tamil school teacher who was generous with his smile and was often consulted to aid in dealings with the local authority. Naturally, the community was shocked one day when news spread of his suicide. He had apparently decided to jump off the balcony of his 13th floor flat.

Everyone was there at his funeral. Some came to show their last respect, others probably came to catch a glimpse of how a mangled body of a jumper would look like. The flat dwellers had an awkward moment of amazement and amusement when from nowhere, a lady barged in at the heights of the funeral ritual, thumping her chest and wailing, claiming to be the deceased second wife. I guess the mourners had more than what they had bargained for. In their entertainment deprived day to day living, this incident was a talking point for the next few weeks. Along the way, housewives started adding more masala about the dearly departed and his double life.

This movie reminded me so much of the eavesdropping of the conversation between my mother and our busybody neighbour. It was beyond my control - our living space was small.

I am starting to like this director, Lijo Jose Pellisary. Making films with plenty of commotion while telling a simple story must be striking a chord with many Indians. His movies are even reviewed by Westerners too - maybe they are just there for the Indians to hit the 'Like' button to monetise their Youtube channel.

The story takes place by the sea amongst a close-knitted fishing community. Everyone in the village is Christian. Maybe that is what the Hindus are complaining. Most fishermen and their families have all been converted by the evangelist. The de facto leader of the village is a priest. Basically, he pretty much runs the whole show. The police listen to him. The village doctor takes his advice, and the priest decides who can be buried in the village cemetery.

An elderly man, a retired mason, Vavachan, returns home with a live duck to an angry wife. The wife is crossed with him for disappearing without a trace for some time. He has an adult son who has two daughters. The wife cooks the duck while he chit-chats with his son, Essy and enjoys drinks together. As the son answers a call, Vavachan collapses and dies from an apparent cardiac event. A commotion starts as the neighbour go scurrying to arrange for his funeral. The pastor is summoned. Somewhere along the way, somebody mentions foul play in Vavachan's death. The pastor, who enjoys crime novels, is implanted with the idea. The doctor and police are summoned, but both seem to drag their feet as it is the dead of night.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to the family, Vavachan's second wife and her children appear. They scream murder and demand justice. Essy gets angry with the pastor for even suggesting unnatural death. He slaps the Vicar, who then denies Vavachan a burial space. An amok Essy digs a grave right in front of his house to bury his father. End.

I get a sense that the storyteller has a bone to pick with the clergy. Portraying the Vicar as a grumpy, pompous and egoistic man, he does not display an image of piety. It is also suggested that that the church may be the playmaker in many societal decisions. People generally conforms to the rules set by the clergy to appease everyone. They think peaceful living with fellow kind protects each other's interest. It appears now that the set of rules set out for the people are more inhibitive and meant only to serve a select few. 

They say that Man is a social animal who needs to be in the company of others. From the time of the cavemen, we moved in groups to look out for one another. We found strength in numbers. Perhaps in modern times, we find annoyance in crowds. Life has become too comfortable that people try to create problems when there are none. Maybe we are moving into an era where every man is an island by himself. He may find peace in solitude.

(P.S. Ee. Ma. Yau. is a contraction for Eesho Mariyam Yauseppu or Jesus Mary Joseph. It is often used as an exclamation, much like OMG.)

Sunday, 10 December 2017

While we wait...

Wiki: Markandeya, a boy born of worship of Shiva,
was given the boon of profound wisdom but a short life.
Markandeya, himself a devout Shiva devotee, could not
be taken at the time of his supposed death.
He was in deep prayer in front of Shivalinga.
Yama's noose trapped the Shivalinga, incurring Siva's wrath.
A war ensued. Yama was defeated. People reached
immortality and were acting with impunity without the fear
of death. Yama was reinstated but, Markandeya was
bestowed to stay forever young.
This is what my father must be feeling right now. Completing his eighth decade of existence on Earth, he would be soon entering his ninth. By now, he must have got used to seeing his friends falling down like flies, one after another. Until about a few years ago, my contemporaries and I were only used to seeing pictures of relatives donning the obituary columns. Pretty soon, like him, we would start seeing more familiar faces of friends, buddies and soul mates. That, my friend, is the double-edged phenomenon called 'Time'. It grows us, nurtures to face the challenges of the time to a future which will lead to our senescence, senility, infirmity and subsequent demise. That is, if we are destined or fortunate enough to experience the whole red carpet laid for appreciation.

Just the other day, one of my close friends was called back by his Maker.  Even though he had been quite regular with his medical check-ups, came out with flying colours in the mandatory tests and tried to maintain a healthy lifestyle, Grimm Reaper apparently had other plans.

So at the wake, the main topic of discussion was the sudden nature of some deaths and the absence of farewell. The merits and demerits of having a forewarning before the curtain call. The unfortunate thing about forewarning is that the preceding event could be a painful one for both the sufferer and family alike. Sudden death could be swift but traumatic at the moment. In time, after closure, we remember him only as happy, regal and healthy. That is the memory of him that would stay with us.

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

I win again!


You called me cheat and hurled me names,
That I am self-centred, to fill my coffers,
Surrounded by sycophants to blow my horn,
Our race was epic, spicier than the Vedas.


We raised our game to make Kurushetra a child's play,
You took my dignity, I took your sanity, 
tit for tat, this for that, we took politics to dizzying heights,
I was in chains, you were behind bars.


We were neck to neck, shoulder to shoulder,
My swan song so sweet,
To put on a pedestal, to the petals showered by the plebians,
Sweet victory keeps on coming, 
when you bow in humility to my lifeless cadaver,
my soul sees you as asking forgiveness.


I will clean the slate, 
Now that I am a saint,
I will set a duel,
When I see you, in no time I will!
Guess, I'll win again!

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Serviceman laid to rest

Friday February 10, 2012
By ANDREA FILMER
Photos by ASRI ABDUL GHANI

LONG-SERVING soldier William David Dass (pic) was given a fitting farewell at his funeral at the St George’s Church in Penang.
He was acknowledged with military honours at the funeral service where his casket was led by bag-pipers from the 8th Royal Regiment based in the Terendak Army Camp, Malacca.
Solemn affair: The casket of the late William leaving St George's Church in Penang.
The retired Warrant Officer II, who died at the age of 77 on Sunday, was later cremated at Batu Gantong. He had served 29 years with the Malaysian Armed Forces and participated in several high profile military operations.
William, who was also named a Universal Peace Federation ambassador of peace, is survived by his wife Sundari Gopal Iyer, five children and seven grandchildren. His eldest son, Kapt Christopher Ravindran, described his father as an active celebrant of life and a man who was a “true believer in the value of comradeships.”
“Dad lived a soldier’s life and breathed his last like a soldier,” Kapt Christopher said during the eulogy at the packed church yesterday.
He said his father had first put on a uniform at the age of 16 when he joined the Police Volunteer Service in 1950.
We'll miss him: Sundari with her sons, Kapt Christopher (left)
and Kol Dr Alexander leaving the church after the funeral service.
William went on to enlist in the army and was one of the soldiers despatched as security personnel during the Baling Talks in 1955.
Aside from being one of 15 pioneers of the Junior Civil Liaison Officers who played an important part during the Malaysia-Indonesia Emergency period, William was also a member of the Malaysian Armed Forces United Nation’s Peace Mission to Congo in 1962 where he served eight months.
After his retirement in 1980, William lent his services to various organisations including the Penang Veteran’s Association, Malaysian Armed Forces Ex-Services Association and The National Association for the Prevention of Drugs (Pemadam).
He was also an active member of St George’s Church where he married Sundari in 1958.
Grand service: Many joining the procession led by the hearse.
Kapt Christopher said both he and his brother Kol Dr Alexander Amarandran had followed in their father’s footsteps to don the uniform. Kapt Christopher previously served in the Royal Malaysian Navy and is currently with the Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency while Kol Dr Alexander is an army dental surgeon based in Malacca.

Monday, 19 September 2011

Departures (おくりびとOkuribito)

It is one of those Arty movies that I picked up (DVD) while waiting to go in to watch another film in the cinema (Bodyguard, Hindi). Boy! I am sure watching more movies than I should. Actually, I was only a bodyguard to my daughter to watch the film 'Bodyguard' (starring Salman Khan with his senseless ala Matrix kind of unimaginable stunts only to be bettered by Vijaykanth!) which is not worth mentioning in this posting!

I have departed from my narration of Departures, a full-length Japanese movie, subtitled in English, about the departed. Departed? Departures? Confused? That is how our hero, Kobayashi, got entangled in this mess in the first place. Kobayashi, a cellist in a symphony orchestra, returns to his hometown when the orchestra winds down due to bad business.

A good movie to watch to appreciate the sheer pleasing picturesque view of the interior colder parts of Japan. And I have definitely fallen in love with the finesse and the mild-mannered natured trait of the Japanese culture. I cannot imagine such a civilization went on a rampage and terrorized the Chinese and the South-East Asian nations.

I digress...

I have departed from my narration of Departures, a full-length Japanese movie, subtitled in English, about the departed. Departed? Departures? Confused? That is how our hero, Kobayashi, got entangled in this mess in the first place. Kobayashi, a cellist in a symphony orchestra, returns to his hometown when the orchestra winds down the business. He ends up in a job which he thought has something to do with the tourist industry - helping in departures, little knowing that it is helping the departed- dressing up the dead for the undertakers. He found the job an offer too lucrative to resist and decided to keep mum about the nature of his job from his wife.

Along the way, we are told of the various trials and tribulations of his work - of how people look down on his vocation and how they accuse him and his boss of living of the dead! Some of the awkward moments in his work include an instant when he discovers that a lady corpse is a cross-dresser! At another function, a family feud arises amongst the grieving members accusing each other as being the cause of the demise of the deceased. Kobayashi soon discovers how in the course of his work he helps the grieved in bereavement. Along the way, his wife discovers his fraudulent activity and walks out on him. After a little soul searching, Kobayashi finds solace in himself and his wife returns to tell him about her pregnancy and stays back.

The film also discusses other subplots -His boss' issue with his wife's death; his colleague's pathetic life and Kobayashi's unresolved anger with his father's walking out on his and his mother's life in his early childhood, eloping with a waitress.

There was a poignant moment when the boss compares the dead body to the carcass of meat that he was eating. If the meat were alive, it would be no use to us! Another plus point was the directors' take of the Kobayashis' intimate moments. It is tastefully taken with just enough exposure without showing too much flesh!

The father's character appears at the end of the movie when the news arrives that he is dead as an orphan. He and his wife come to see how badly the funeral parlours treats the dead. He takes over the care of his father's remain and finds peace with his father's misdeed. His wife appreciates his work as a professional and everybody is happy!

This movie grabbed the 2009 Oscar for the Best Foreign Language Film category.

“Be afraid. Be very afraid.”*