The beloved Chacha Idrees died last night. He was the tea-maker in my department and a man admired for his hospitality and care by everyone. His death is real. His concrete life was invaded by death, the death came and planted explosives inside him, and one fateful second, a second which turned out to be more powerful ( and meaningful) than all the thousands seconds he spent among us, it pushed the button, and the explosion. Explosion and not a trace of his skin, he flesh, his nail, his hair, nothing left. Nothing left. No matter how i splash my arms and legs in the space he used to walk through, not a speck can i feel of him anymore. Death is real. Very real.
He wanted a mobile phone from me. Every time he would come and ask for it, there was this sense of "perpetuation" " permanence" , nothing felt ephemeral, nothing felt fleeting, Life felt real. Everything felt permanent. What if he knew he was going to die this early, had he asked for the phone? What is it? Now that i look back, all that, everything, mobile, everything we ever talked over, seems, all meaningless. What was the point? Years and Years long, we do things, we do alot of good things, but a second and its all dead.
They say dead ones should be remember in good words. But why? I will sit with my colleagues and over a cup of tea would exchange good words about him, but what difference would that make? Will he come back? Will he be able to sit among us, his hair greased with oil, and his stammer, will i be able to hear him stammering again? He has been consumed. Consumed by the force we know not of. He has gone away somewhere. Even if i go and dig his grave up now, inter him, will that be he? Will that be he? Where has he gone? Where do everyone go? Why do they go? Why do we come here and build up , this life, all hopes, desires, attachment, affection, love, relationships, everything, if we all have go to away somewhere? Forever and ever.
Chacha Idrees, Your death has cast a spell of meaninglessness on me. You should not have died. The more i try to love life, sooner i keep losing all the people i have loved. This keep happening. Death keep coming and keep telling, that behind all the colors of life, all the noise, uproar, cheers, there exist a power, a power with a capacity to destroy in a second whatever the we construct all along our lives. This is the reality of our life. Death is that dark ocean we sail our life boat for a while, till the storm comes, and drown us to the depths from where no prayers, nothing of this world can help, to rediscover the wreckage.
Good Bye Chacha Idrees