Tugging tightly at dad’s hand, Soham was frightfully delighted as he lit the funeral pyre. His only regret being that he had to give away his hair for the procedure. After questioning several aspects of the Hindu religion, he reluctantly gave in to the ustara.“But why my hair?” asked the twinkling eyes. His father smirked and said, “Well because you lit the pyre and the one who lights the pyre has to give away his hair. That’s the tradition”, beamed dad, for the rehearsed knowledge he place forth unto his son. Soham was not satisfied. He kept thinking and after a lot of thought came another question. “But dad, I was the youngest of all of you. Why was I given this duty? I felt good as I was asked, but why me?” Painfully his dad answered again, “Well because you are my son, and the only grandson to this family!” Soham shrunk at the thought and pat came another question! “So why was Didi not allowed to come, she too is your only daughter and the only granddaughter to the family?” “Well, its a little complicated Soham,” stated Dad. “I’ll see if I can make it easier for you. You see according to Hindu scriptures, the son is the sole heir that leads generations. He may marry again if need be; if he cannot have children from his wife, but only if that is necessary. Like your mother belonged to another family before she got married to me; she and I became one when we got married. When didi was born, she was a girl born to us! So it is mandatory for us to welcome another being in this world, a son. And you arrived shortly after that!”
Looking at Soham’s confused face, dad prodded on. “Look son that is how tradition has taught us and that is how it needs to be followed!” Soham thought of another question in the meanwhile trying to break the monotony of the topic. “Thank you for that answer papa”, cried he. “I have another question though!” Dad was happy that at least one question was answered to satisfaction; he was eager to hear the next one. “Sure son, go ahead and ask!” “Tell me papa, why do we burn our dead?” Now this was an answer that Dad already knew, so he victoriously smiled and explained. “We are Hindus Soham. And Hindus always burn their dead.” While the 6 year old was thinking hard, dad continued with his rehearsed gyaan. “The Bhagwad Gita tells us that we are all made of dust, and dust is what will be of this body towards the end of life. Never forget that! Do you still have something that’s bothering your little mind?” Soham shook his head. He tried hard but could not understand the reason behind his grandpa; whom he loved so much being reduced to dust.
The thought of a burnt hand brought several shivers down his spine. He wasn’t sure if he needed to prod on but something did not feel right. That evening he came home to a dreadful silence. There was a movie going on and a scene of burial ensued with the Islamic community carefully carrying out the last rites. “They are not burning the dead?” he almost shouted. “Hush Soham”, silenced Ma. “this is a movie going on,” she remarked. Soham’s mind was a fluster at that moment. In hushed tones he asked her, “but why aren’t they burning him?” Mom grabbed his puffed up arm and dragged him to her side. “Because my dear they are Muslims. They pray to Allah and we pray to Lord Ganesha”, she answered. “That’s all right Ma, but why aren’t they burning the dead?” asked he. “Because they are Muslims my dear! They belong to another community. This is their way of paying their last respects,” claimed Ma. I think I’ll wait for Dad, ma’s simply giving me emotional ideas, thought Soham. That evening a tired look at Dad as he returned from office and Soham wondered whether he should ask Dad this all important question. But a question was a question. He got him a glass of water, walking slowly to avoid spilling. Dad smiled and thanked him. “Oh no Dad, don’t thank me. But do answer my question,” said he. “You’re becoming some diplomat these days, little fellow!” smiled Dad. “Ok, go ahead and ask me”, said he. (continued in the next part)
