It came as no surprise. Jyoti Basu, the erstwhile Chief Minister of West Bengal (and the longest serving Chief Minister ever in India) had been ailing for some time. He was 95 going on 96 and had led a full life – by the accounts of friends and foes alike. Over the last few weeks, one had been reading reports of fluid in the lungs, in the brain etc…. which invariably point to one thing.
My purpose is not to dissect Jyoti Basu’s political career nor try to understand his personality. My mild interest in politics stems from being curious about life in general. I have much stronger views about incidents and policies rather than parties. As I landed in Kolkata on 17th Jan after a long and irritable journey thanks to the foggy conditions, the buzz went around “Jyoti Babu is no more” and one could distinctly hear the muted sigh going around – rather like the “sigh” one hears in a sitcom when the hero and heroine finally meet!
I shrugged and inched my way up to the head of the taxi queue. I knew, of course, that this diminutive man in life had been taller than Goliath in Bengal politics and his death would take the jyoti (light) out of many lives. But Kolkata had seen stalwarts depart and had its stories of mourning to share. We had grown up on tales of the funeral processions for freedom fighter Deshbandhu Chittaranjan Das or Rabindranath Tagore. In the latter’s case, people tried to snatch hair from the Nobel Laureate’s beard and head to keep as a memento!
As a teenager, I remember vividly the dramatic impact that the death of the matinee idol, Uttam Kumar, had on women – young and old alike. People gave up eating and mourned in their own peculiar ways. As the funeral procession moved to the cremation grounds, people fell from terraces and trees in their enthusiasm to have a last look at the great man. Women beat their chests amd tore their hair. Many married women broke their red and white bangles and removed the vermillion from their heads. In Bengal, this is usually a symbol of a woman losing her husband!
I thought I had seen it all and didn’t expect any new emotions to surface on Jyoti Babu’s last journey. Of course, the crowds turned up in untold numbers – young, old, men, women, able, blind, physically and mentally challenged – you name it and they were there. But what was fascinating was the impact he had even on those who did not step out of the house.
My aunts (aged 70 and 75) refused to eat all day, despite past incidents of hypoglycaemia! My mother snapped at me with a “Are you nuts? How will I watch the TV then?” when I dared remind her that she was in great pain and was scheduled to meet the dentist that day! My sceptic husband – who had so far laughed at me whenever I had mentioned that after I am gone, my body be given to the medical colleges for students to dissect – actually looked at me with something that resembled respect!
He wasn’t the only one! Within a day or two, the number of people in Kolkata who willed their bodies for such “scientific research” (as the media kept referring to Jyoti Babu’s last wish) swelled to more than 300 when for years few had thought of it! The icing on the cake came from my grand aunt. At 90, she is as sharp as a whistle with all her faculties intact! I was visiting her and giving her details of Jyoti Basu’s funeral procession. I updated her on how he had not only donated his eyes but his entire body without a thought for superstition.
“How exactly do they use the eye?” she asked me. “After all, if I am dead, even my eye is dead, right?”
I patiently explained to her the process of eye donation – the consent, the forms and how the family had to abide by the wishes of the deceased. I added that it wasn’t the full eye that was removed but only a small part and the process did not disfigure the eye. And there was a time limit. It had to happen within a window of four hours of the donor dying.
Grand aunt looked philosophical and her eyes misted up. “That’s fair,” she said. “If I am anyway going to die, then does it matter if somebody removes my eyes four hours before and puts it to some good use?! … Hey! What’s happening to you, my child? Hey! Why are you sliding down? Are you feeling unwell?”
Posted by nilupaul 
