The Last Watch

Eight bells tolled for her one last time on Octotber 12th,signalling the end of her watch, this time her final watch.  The whole of that day and night I sat with her near and dear giving solemn company to Death. Her son had arrived sometime ago from Abu Dhabi, all shocked and tearful. Her daughter was on her way from Canada.

The still figure lying in the freezer in the final repose that Death gives was one of seven siblings. The Old Reaper had already claimed two of them, choosing the first one and the sixth in a random manner in a sort of macabre game. Now, one from the middle lay awaiting her turn on the pyre. 

She was the youngest among the first four, a girl after three boys. She was a regular hellion, more boyish than the boys, a tomboy, if ever there was one. She could outrun, outclimb, outfight and outdo any of her elder brothers. She could even outshoot them with the air gun. Ironicaly, life also made her endure physical pains much too severe than any her brothers had to bear

She lay there quietly, all the hustle and bustle wrenched out of her, all the tumultuous passions and emotions subsided forever. Not for her any more the fretting and fuming when the Corporation water dried up  or the tinkering with the inverter and solar converter when the power went off . The house will never again  reverberate with her shouted queries and full throated swearing and cursing or her boisterous greetings or enquiries of quiet concern.

Her departure marks the beginning of the final break up of a once cohesive family which had held up through illnesses, deaths, pecuniary problems and sheer spatial distances. Just as her daughter is the last link of a matriarchal 'thavazhi', she was the last link that held it up together ever since mother's departure. 

She had to bear the rigor of a heart valvotomy when she was still very young. Her mitral valve was replaced by a Bjork & Shelly metal valve. Ever since she lived with her blood thinned artificially with an anti coagulant and the beating of her heart audible to anyone nearby. With a tinkered heart she bravely faced a hysterectomy, an appendectomy and finally a brain surgery and withstood it all by sheer will power. 

But she was tired. A lifetime of struggle had sapped her energy. Though she gave the appearance of having recovered fully from her brain surgery, the merciless assault on her body had left her with a much weakened heart. When the eight bells started tolling, she lay on a cold table of the casualty ward of the hospital not responding to the frantic efforts of the attending doctor to revive her. A peaceful end to a tumultuous life. Her lifeless body dissolved into the five elements on yet another funeral pyre at Ivor Madhom .Only memories remained, 

Not quite. She left behind among the ashes an almost unscathed Bjork& Shelly metal valve which she carried inside her heart for thirty nine odd years as a mark of her resilience and defiance. Even the elements acknowledged her brave fight  through a  mellow sunshine and a soothing wind that had a trace of moisture from a distant rain.

Goodbye Kunjumol.