Vella Kuuraan

It was at a very young age that I had first witnessed what an after death ceremony looks like. My grand mother had passed away while she was washing her face. She fell on my mother and ma tried desperately tried to wake here up. Dad was working in Dubai and had started from there along with his brothers when he heard the news. I still remember the blood shot eyes that my Dad had when he came in the big room where grand ma laid. He did not cry aloud like all the women did but the eyes told a lot.

The second time was when Dad's brother, Unni Krishnan Kunjachan, died. He had high blood pressure and tensions of his own when he passed away. I dont actually remember where I was when he passed away. The one thing I remember clearly was Prasanth walking around with the 'sheesham' tied around his waist. Dad was there taking over all the after death rituals and their setups.

The third time was shocking. It was my own Uncle's death. He was one of the best guys I had seen so strong with the english language. He had the capability of doing stuff of on his own. He would help you no matter what and you could trust your life with him. His life was full of desperation and loneliness. This might be the reason why he thought to go to God on his own. My youngest uncle had taken the phone and started crying on hearing this. Mom could you keep it to herself and started crying aloud. Everyone but me when to Chalakudy where the body was supposed to come. Dad had gone to take the hanging body from the hotel as the hotel authorities did not want to touch the body. I remember Murali Uncle, pretty drunk at that point of time, telling me that after seeing the half degraded body that he had to get drunk as he could he forget the scene.

This week witnessed yet another loss in the form of the loving Ganga uncle, Dad's 2nd brother. He was the silent type, who will not complain even if you hit him with a pole. The calm and down to earth person who would help even if he were sick. Dad had just undergone a minor operation and we needed to go to the hospital. As we did not have a vehicle, we called Uncle. He still came even though he had fever. It was by evening that we understood this and by night he had to be admitted in the hospital. It was by 5:30 the next morning that he passed away due to a heart failure. He was analyzed with pneumonia and it had spread very bad to his lungs and heart. I remember every time I used to visit him that he would come down the stairs and say hi and then say nothing at all unless I spoke to him. He used to stay with us when we were in Dubai and he used to make fun of this north Indian friend of mine who was very fair. HE used to call him 'VELLA KUURAAN'.