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Sanjiv: The Lifegiver

It was one of the most innocuous rings on my mobile but proved to be the dreaded phone call which we had all come to expect. My mother-in-law who had been ailing for over five years had collapsed informed my brother in-law’s voice at the other end of the phone. Could I please inform my wife about this and make arrangements for tickets to Bangalore?

The next few hours were a whirl as I tried to get through to my house, secure permission for leave, and book tickets to Bangalore from Mumbai on a late night flight. After frantic efforts we were aboard, me, my wife and son. Throughout the flight my wife put up a brave front and managed to look after my 11 month old son. As soon as the flight landed and she saw her brother, the grief which she had managed to hide beneath a brave façade gave way. Brother embraced sister and the tears flowed.

A half an hour ride back home and then there were more expressions of grief as she saw her mother lying dead in the living room of my brother in law’s home. My wife’s sister’s eyes as well as that of the wife of my brother-in-law revealed that the tears had flowed freely but the dam hadn’t really burst. This was to burst not as a river in spate but in short bursts over the next few days. My father-in-law looked stunned and there were a few others milling around. The talk centered around the tough life my mother-in-law had spent undergoing dialysis in the last few years of her life and how it was really a miracle that she had managed to live so long despite her ailment which necessitated three trips a week to the hospital for dialysis.

John Donne's famous poem ‘Death be not Proud’ clearly held no meaning at a time like this. In the midst of all this my son suddenly decided to give expression to his feelings. Child that he was, not for him the profound sadness of such occasions. Suddenly he was laughing and moving around even as his grandmother's dead body lay only a few inches away from him. The very same persons who only a few moments had been seized by grief. were now responding to this spontaneous expression of joy which could come from only a child on such an occasion. He was being gathered in the arms of people and they too were sharing in the laughter. Not one person thought here was anything incongruous in this. After all he was a child. Even as one life had come to an end another had taken shape. It was almost as though everyone was being reminded of a truism as old as time itself --No matter what, life must go on.

Today, when I look back , I cannot help thinking that Sanjiv, that is my son had been named with a purpose. He had been named after the life giving plant Sanjivani which finds mention in the Ramayana, a part of Indian mythology.ets of life: facets of life: Facets of Life