My mother's last journey

by Jasvinder Sharma
November 20, 2011

http://www.weeklyblitz.net/1950/my-mother-last-journey

We had hired a taxi for Hardwar. We started early in the morning. My near and dear ones had accompanied me in this difficult time. It was Diwali when my mother had expired due to heart attack. My only brother who was in Merchant Navy could not come since he was sailing in high seas. I was carrying the holy urn containing ashes of my mother.

On the way to Hardwar, a phone call came from my brother. I could not control my tears when he said that he wanted to talk to mother. I put my mobile on the ashes so that my brother could say final goodbye to mother. My wife and other ladies sitting in the car were sobbing inconsolably.

We had kept a vacant seat in the taxi since our elders believed that mom whose ashes were to be taken to Hardwar accompanies us too in her last journey to the holy river Ganga. We reached Hardwar around 2 p.m. for the religious rites. After mutual discussions all my relatives told me that Madhav Pandit was our family Purohit. At Asthi Ghat I lifted the earthen pot which contained the holy ashes of Mom for immersion in the eternal flowing currents of Ganga. We walked briskly towards the ghat where the Purohit was camping.

There was a large crowd of beggars – men, women, children, lepers, handicapped with sullen eyes, and rugged dirty clothes. There were scantly clad Sadhus following us all the way imploring pathetically to give them money. When my uncle gave them a few coins they were swelling in numbers.

It was a customary practice at the banks of this holy river – feeding the poor and giving them alms in cash for the benediction and peace of the departed soul.

At the Asthi Ghat Madhav Pandit – our Purohit since generations was already informed about the arrival of a Jajman that is we people. He was waiting for us. The Pandits at Hardwar have a fast network of communal bonding and reciprocal cooperation. They keep a keen eye on each other and do not permit a Purohit to perform the last rites in respect of a person who does not come in his jurisdiction.

Madhav Pandit took charge of the immersion rites. Taking holy water in his hands, he chanted mantras from the scriptures, invoked certain Gods, made me recall my ancestors and named my Gotra and helped me immerse the ashes of my mother in accordance with Vedic principles. When the ashes were finally offered in the Ganga, tears rolled down my eyes and a few drops mixed in the flowing water.

Then we moved towards Madhav Pandit's Khokha where he had kept old and heavy rolls of Ledgers. It was customary for the jajman to make an entry there. Madhav Pandit showed me such entries made by my father, my grandfather and his forefathers who had visited Hardwar in the past to immerse the ashes of their deceased relatives. Madhav Pandit had a record of signatures of my elders for more than 300 years. I made a note of their names and thought of compiling my family tree.

With heavy heart we came back to home late in the evening. We were all witness to the last journey of my mother to the holy Ganga.

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