MY PILGRIMAGE

It was after six in the evening on Monday, March 26, 2007 when I read the second comprehensive e-mail from my niece. She had just described the chain of events at the hospital where the doctors had been observing my father since Saturday, March 24, 2007. Meanwhile, my sister told me over the phone that my dad appeared to be getting better during the day but his condition usually worsened by nightfall. Following this, the doctor wanted to keep him on a 48 hour watch.

            My mother's health and well-being too was deteriorating with the selfless, yet constant, care and love that she had been giving my dad over the past four months, when he started nursing an injury on his left toe. When I called and spoke to her on the night of Monday, March 26, she could barely hold her composure beyond a couple of sentences. She handed the phone over to my dad and I could hardly hear him speak, leave alone speak coherently. In just a few days, despite receiving the best care at the hospital, my dad's condition was rapidly deteriorating. From 15,000 miles across the world, even without any airline reservation in my hands, all I could tell him was to hang in there and that I'd see him within the next 48 hours.

            Despite hearing comforting words from my wife, I could not sleep that night. There were a myriad thoughts and chain of events racing through my mind. Tossing and turning in bed past midnight, Mountain Time in the United States, I turned to the Web for solace. I logged on to www.siddhivinayak.org and started a personal conversation with Sri Siddhi Vinayak by accessing him through the "Live Web Casting" link (Camera 1). This camera affords everyone an opportunity to converse with Lord Siddhi Vinayak from anywhere in the world. As one might expect, this amazing temple was packed with people even at that hour. The priests were incredibly busy offering and removing garlands to and from the ever benevolent Lord Siddhi Vinayak.

            After darshan (seeing) for a few minutes, I noticed one of the priests using his pinky and thumb of his left hand to pick up two green apples that were beside the Lord and place it on the top left hand corner of Sri Siddhi Vinayak's vahanam (home). While the garland offering and removal to and from the Lord continued unabated for several minutes after the priest left the two green apples on the top, I wondered, was the Lord telling me something here? Feeling comforted in any case, I went to bed to try and catch some sleep that night.

            The  next morning, thanks to my capable travel agent, the earliest connecting flight I could get to reach Madras was Denver → New York (La Guardia) → New York (JFK) → Dubai → Madras (Chennai). This would get me to Madras by 3:00 AM, Indian Standard Time (IST) on Thursday, March 29, 2007 if I left home in Lafayette immediately to the airport with my e-Ticket.

Once seated in the plane, without access to Sri Siddhi Vinayak or someone else to talk to, I had to face the myriad thoughts again, again alone this time. The questions included the usual ones: Why me? Why was my dad suffering so much despite being such a good man? Why was my mother, despite being the near perfect Karma Yogi that she was, having to go through all this? Did I in any way contribute to this situation? Did I inadvertently grudge the jolly life of my dad? Would I get to see him alive? And so on. With all these thoughts in my mind, I was sobbing uncontrollably for half the journey to New York.

            At any rate, after traveling the next 30 hours, I reached my sister's house at 4:00 AM on Thursday. I was happy to see her as much as she was happy to see me. Reading her demeanor, I gained some strength (because I knew she wouldn't be so calm if something untoward had happened to my dad in the intervening period). These past six days, my eldest brother from Bombay (Mumbai); sister, niece and nephew (Madras); elder brother (from Vijayawada) and his wife had been taking turns to try and be by my father's side at the hospital, although my mother alone remained the constant companion for my ailing dad. Initially I thought I would go to the hospital with my sister later that morning carrying the breakfast for my dad, mom and elder brother.

            However, when my sister called and spoke to my mother, she said that my dad had been asking her if I had arrived; he had been doing so since 1:00 AM (IST) that morning. Clearly, I had to leave immediately. My nephew and I went to meet with my parents and brother around 5:00 AM that morning. It was painful to see my dad suffering and breathing with his mouth. Nevertheless, I also noticed a sense of relief in all around me because I had reached Madras and could meet with my dad.

            I spent the next seven hours at the hospital with my dad, by his bedside, talking to my mom and elder brother who had been helping them during the previous few nights. The doctor examined my dad around 10:00 AM, Thursday, March 29 and found that he was recovering well, seemed to be getting better, and his eating had improved significantly that morning. He even talked about the possibility of having my dad discharged the next day, Friday, March 30 in the evening. While there is nothing unusual about this story thus far, an examination of the last ten minutes of my dad's life–11:55 AM to 12:05 PM–which I describe below will forever transform my life and this visit. Consequently, I view this visit, not as a trip to visit with family as much as a pilgrimage of all pilgrimages for me.

            Around 11:40 AM, my mother and I noticed that my dad was distinctly having difficulty breathing. The attending nurse and doctor examined him and gave him a couple of injections to help him get better, as they had done on Monday night when he had the same symptoms. Around 11:55 AM, my dad gave me a big "won't you help me" look and I knew the end (or should I say beginning) was fast approaching.

My spontaneous reaction was to look at him in his eyes from that moment on and I said: "You are the best and greatest in the whole wide world, pa." I then asked him to recite the Gayatri Mantra (verse), the verse that Lord Krishna has referred to as the mantra of all mantras in The Bhagavad Gita, and found that he couldn't recite it aloud although his left hand was communicating his intent to recite it. Earlier that morning, too, when I asked him to recite the Gayatri Mantra, he said it mentally and counted them using his left hand despite the pain his body was clearly experiencing.

            Noticing his difficulty counting and saying the Gayatri Mantra aloud, I spontaneously started saying the Aditya Hridayam, the sloka (hymn) invoking the Sun God for strength to vanquish any enemy.  Until that moment, my dad's breathing continued to be difficult, loud and abrupt. However, on hearing the Aditya Hridayam, suddenly his breathing became easy, quiet and graceful – like a fish breathing effortlessly in water – both breathing with their mouths incidentally.

            Continuing to look at him in his eyes, I continued with the Aditya Hridayam. Initially, I was choking a little when I noticed the distinct change in his breathing rhythm and prayed that he remain alive at least until he finished listening to the entire hymn. Composing myself quickly, I continued reciting the Aditya Hridayam aloud.

            My dad listened to the entire Aditya Hridayam and I again started to choke as I concluded the hymn by praising the Sun God, because he kept himself alive to listen to the entire hymn. Seeing him continue this graceful breathing through his mouth, I invoked Sri Hanumanji and recited the mantra (verse) "Buddhir Balam Yaso Dhairyam Nirbhayatvam Aragota/ Ajadyam Vak Patutvam Cha Hanumat Smaranat Bhavet." This verse helps one overcome fear and obtain numerous other blessings from Sri Hanumanji: improving one's intellect, gain strength, courage, fearlessness, good reputation, enjoy freedom from ailments, pray for the absence of physical decay and foster pleasant speech. Hearing this powerful verse, my dad continued with his graceful breathing, suggesting that he wanted to hear more.

            Invoking Lord Rama next, I recited "Namostu Ramaya Sa Lakshmanaya/ Devyai-cha Tasyai Janakatmajayai/ Namostu Rudrendra Yamanilebyhoh/ Namostu Chandrarka Marud Ganebhyah." This verse from the Sundara Kanda in The Ramayana is known to bring success in all undertakings. My dad listened to this, too, and seemed to want more. Invoking Sri Siddhi Vinayak finally, I recited "Vakra Tunda Maha Kaya Surya Koti Sama Prabha/ Nirvignam Kuru Me Deva Sarva Kaaryeshu Sarvada." After hearing "Sarva Kaaryeshu Sarvada" in this verse to remove all obstacles from all actions, my dad passed away peacefully. Even as I continued experiencing peace, tranquility and kept looking at my dad in the eye, the nurse walked in, checked his pulse, and declared my dad dead.

Blessed with this surreal and spiritual experience during the last 10 minutes with my parent, I don't grieve my father's demise, though knowing fully well that one's parents are irreplaceable. However, this experience of squarely looking my dad in the eye even as Lord Yama Dharma Raja–the Lord of Death–patiently waited to take away my dad's soul, reminds me of the story of Nachiketa. Nachiketa was the brave little boy who, when he persistently questioned his dad's miserly practices, was told he would be given away to Lord Yama Dharma Raja. Taking this literally, Nachiketa without hesitation left home alone immediately to meet with and converse with Lord Yama Dharma Raja.  

Describing these final moments of my dad has helped me look upon death without any fear. Surely, this experience was only possible because I had my two greatest teachers–my dad in front and my mom behind me–guiding me and protecting me. I pray to the Almighty that all of us will have the necessary strength and determination to fulfill our responsibilities in this life ably, always work to the best of our abilities, and will leave the world a better place for our children, grandchildren and subsequent generations.