Osmotic happiness

My father in law left his body last year in June. He was 81 years old and had completed all his worldly duties. He was diagnosed as being in the last stage of a terminal illness in March, a few days before his 50th marriage anniversary, and left us 3 months later in June. He left a void which was felt like an acute pain when Ninad's Class 10 board results were announced today. He would have been ecstatic. Ninad got along with him very well and it was a delight to see the two of them discussing all possible earthly issues and then laughing and smirking at their coordinated witticisms. He was proud of Ninad and we were devastated when he died. He was getting the latest medications available which had increased the longevity of other people with the same illness by 3-5 years. I wanted him to at least see his grandchild getting through the Class 12 boards.

I miss him. He was a quiet man. I know he loved me. I was the only person he wanted to talk to when he was in pain. We were mutually empathetic even though we talked only when absolutely necessary. I often sense his presence around me. It reassures me and makes me happy. I only wish he could be physically present; just to see the expression on his face when he is informed of his only grandson's achievement.

One of my husband's cousins got married in August last year. It was a lavish wedding, much anticipated. Barely had her post marital glow subsided, that she developed the glow of being in the family way. Her husband was a lovely person, friendly, considerate and easy to get along with. She was a meticulous person and I always thought how lucky her husband would be. He was kidnapped by terrorists?/goons? just inside the Meghalaya border and a ransom demand was made. His bike was found lying on the road which led to Shillong.

A few days later the police informed that his dead body had been found in the jungles bordering Meghalaya. I don't think the aftermath of shock and grief needs to be described. The story itself is enough.

A boy was born to the cousin last month. A baby that looked a lot like the father. While I, a long distance away, was overjoyed at the news, I was informed by my husband that there was more of mourning at the hospital when the nurse gave the information of a boy being born. I was stunned for a fraction of a second, and then wondered at my own lack of understanding. The father of the boy was killed in a gruesome manner two months back. A widowed mother was born. The child would have to be raised without his father.

But, and such is the irony of life, the child brought joy and life to the house whose last baby was 7 years old. The cousin would say things like 'doesn't he look like his father, bou?' or 'he sleeps just like his father' when I phone and tell her I saw the baby's pictures on Facebook or call her to just find out how things are. She talks naturally and without a trace of grief. I do not know how to react.  She had taken a lot of care of baby Ninad in the joint family of my post marital life. I should take care of her baby now. I hope I can do justice.

Tragedy and happiness intermingled in the last one year in the family. Was is a little more than a fair share? It does seem like it. But everything was as if cosmically intended. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent the tragedies.

Ninad left for Guwahati the day before yesterday. I wept when I heard his result. It was a mother's tears of joy at his achievement, and sadness at the distance between us. But the lesson learnt is that every situation has a silver lining. There cannot be grief without happiness. It is happiness that has stronger energy and grief that is the weaker one. Happiness enters osmotically whether you want it to enter or not. Sadness comes because one chooses to consciously dwell on the tragic.