Saturday, the 14th of March
It was my maternal grandmother’s Antim Ardaas/Bhog a few days ago at the Namdhari Dharamshala. It’s very similar to memorial services. Everybody related to her, those who loved her and even those who perhaps only knew her; people from near and from far, all had come together to think of her and to pray for her to rest in peace. The man named Nishan Singh that we call Jathedaar was chosen to address the congregation. He presented a beautiful session talking about my Nani’s life, her virtues, her family and other important moral values. The one value that he particularly emphasised on was Sewa, i.e., the act of performing selfless duty. One thing I explicitly remember him sharing is this idea that doing Sewa is nothing but just another connotation of loving. The relationship between selfless duty and love is pretty innate. What basically he tried to convey was that these two co-exist. Without love, there can be no selflessness; and where there’s love – selfless duty towards the other becomes obvious. It can be of any form though.
It was a nice and memorable time. Listening to whatever he had to say about the circle of life and death, considering we had just lost the eldest member of our family, was kind of consoling and also, proved to be of a great deal of support to all of us. Listening to the customary hymns sung at memorials, headed towards to the wrapping up of it all, I realised it starting raining. Well, eventually came the time of sitting together for the meal. A few hundred people sat together to eat. Some decided to serve others before eating themselves. Some very young kids, maybe still learning to recite alphabets without missing any, too, wanted to help those who were serving. I find them very cute and I make sure I always ask their names and thank them. It was in the very last, after most of the people had already left, that those who were first serving were now being served. It had not stopped raining. It was, in fact, heavier now.
Some time passed and the clouds started to move away. After about an hour or so, it was only the immediate families who were left at the Dharamshala. The elders decided to sit together and have a chat, a few young adults like myself thought it to be a great time to nap and reenergise, whereas the little ones continued to make noises and run [uselessly].
I was rubbing my eyes post that quick blissful nap when I saw a fairly old man trying to fold the sheets and get the chairs together. I didn’t know him. I had never seen him before. He clearly didn’t look like someone who’d find it easy to do what he was doing. His body looked fragile but confident. He was doing his thing. I stood up. I noticed nobody had seen him and that was probably the reason nobody was there around him. It was a huge hall actually. I was standing. Waiting for him to look at me for me to be able to ask him if I may lend a hand. He almost completed what he was doing. And now was moving towards the outside open area. The rains had gone.
I followed him meekly. I was staring at him and smiling. I saw him as he opened that big black garbage bag in which he started putting all the plastic bottles. He got hold of a cousin of mine who was now emptying all the water bottles as instructed by that man. I went ahead, folded my dupatta, put aside those big trash bins and simply volunteered with the two-man team.
It didn’t take the three of us too long to put aside those segregated garbage bags filled with emptied plastic water bottles and disposable plates and stuff. I greeted him and asked him his name. Quick introductions were exchanged and he turned out to my mother’s distant uncle. Kind of a grandfather to me. I was happy to meet him. Almost a heroic figure to me now.
I was able to get hold of his side of our extended family tree that my mother says I’m brilliant at from childhood and as soon as I realised this, I told him I had met his father a few years ago at the same place and I also said to him that I was ecstatic to meet him. It was right before he left that he told me that he lived very near to where we were and that I was welcome anytime. He put his hand on my head, smiled, and started walking the other way (towards his home).
Well, I fail to understand how it is that we tend to like some people and dislike some people at first sights. I also don’t know how instant connections work. I just feel a lot of those.
Seeing S. Sulakhan Singh ji outdoing his aged body to clean up the hall and collect the trash which most of us didn’t even realise we were leaving behind for others to take care of was too impactful a sight for me. He doesn’t have a Facebook page, he didn’t ask anybody to click a photo of him with those trash bags. (Which every organisation or every group I’ve ever volunteered with for cleaning drives has done without a fail)
He did say though that “it is the most difficult thing”.
To which I dedicatedly added “the most important, too, right.”
I think I’ve found someone to call Bapuji .. again!
~ Nihal Kaur
March 19, 2020
0240hours
ਨਿਹਾਲ ਕੌਰ nihal kaur 