In the sweltering heat of summer even at 6 a.m. the family set off to the nearest crematorium, appropriately called ,Antim Niwas—the final address—to collect the mortal remains of my brother-in-law. A handful of bones and ashes is all that remained of a healthy army man felled by the emperor of maladies — the invidious cancer that steals upon a body to conduct a secret warfare to attack it and render it lifeless.
As a rite of passage to the other world, Shantanu,the young Pujari , consecrated the Asthi with chanting of mantras . The ashes were collected with an admixture of rose petals ,dry fruit and milk and placed in an earthen pot.His daughter and only child Anjali, was here from London to offer her Shraddhanjali to her beloved father.
The millennial connection with the holy Ganga persists uninterrupted in our cultural and religious traditions . The immersion of ashes in the waters of River Ganges is symbolic of merging with this life-giving force. Ganga Ma, revered as a mother, takes the body back into her lap cleansing it of all its sins. This final submersion in water also brings full-circle the five elements that form our bodies. The body is consigned to the flames on the earth, when your breath becomes air, immersed in the waters of the holy river and it goes on to become part of the ether.
True to this tradition we set off in a car to the nearest spot from our area where Ganga flows ,though in reduced majesty. Garh Ganga in Uttar Pradesh is a bustling town, about 150 kilometres from Noida , with a well organised and bustling death-industry.
There seems to be fierce competition amongst the service providers to claim the ashes. Just short of reaching the place , you find you are being tailed by young mobike riding boys who want to hustle you into their motorised boat for the last ride for the deceased. Before the immersion yet another priest negotiates the charges to do a mini-puja. Clutching the earthen pot with the ashes we sit in the boat and go to the middle of the river . Finally there is a sense of calm and the contents are poured in and the clay pot is also lowered into the bosom of the holy river. Each of us confronts this personal encounter with mortality with a huge sense of loss.
Before going back another ritual of feeding the hungry on the Ghat is to be completed. In no time you have a gaggle of urchins,old women , men and sadhus materialise in front of the Halwai shop .Each one is given piping hot puris topped with two laddoos. The urchins have fisticuffs grabbing the food and the money given as dakshina and still follow you to the car demanding more! Some of those being fed surreptitiously throw the puris into the garbage. Since there is a constant flow of people coming to the Ghat, this is no surprise.
Since life and death walk hand in hand, the National Highway is studded with food points. Shiva Dhaba is the preferred name since Lord Shiva caught the Ganges in his tresses. Having satiated the soul of the departed, the families stop at the highway dhabas to satiate their own hunger. And quietly flows the Ganga seeing this eternal cycle of life and death!