The last Will of a faceless woman
by Reeta Sharma

SHE was a faceless woman but has left a treasure trove of unique wisdom for her countrymen. As long as she lived, her world revolved only around members of her family, relatives, few neighbours and friends. But each one of them had instinctively sensed that there was something extraordinary about her.

Her life story reads thus: born in a middle-class family; passed her matriculation from Gujjranwala, now in Pakistan; suffered a refugee status; got married into a rich family of Mirzapur, near Kanpur; read Hindi and Urdu newspapers and magazines; gave birth to three sons; lost her husband in 1984, survived pelting of stones in mob violence in 1984; led a contented life with her grandchildren and families of her sons; and, finally, passed away in December 2002. By the way, her other identification was that she was a Sikh woman.

She brought up her three sons by sheer motherly instinct and as per the traditions of her ancestors. That is because she had no access to books, giving dos and don’ts about rearing children. No wonder, while bringing up her three sons, she laid stress on lessons such as "united we stand, divided we fall" instead of teaching them niceties like table manners or bowing and kneeling before elders, etc. She inculcated in them respect for elders, and made them realise the worth of kindness, hard work and dignity of labour.

With each passing year of her life, she consciously minimised her needs. So, when her husband’s life insurance money was delivered to her, she gave it away to her sons to share. When the sons insisted that she keep the money with her, she said, "I have no more needs. You all are facing the world. Hence, you need this money more than I do. Use it judiciously and fairly." That was the end of her claim on that money. Thereafter, she never asked her sons what they did with that money. This could happen because she did not interfere in anybody’s life. She was non-interfering but not indifferent. No wonder, she could build a bond with her three daughters-in-law.

There is lot of difference between intelligence and wisdom. One who is intelligent may not be wise. There are ways and means with which our intelligence can be honed. But the source of wisdom remains a mystery even today. This faceless heroine of my column was without any doubt a wise woman.

Imagine a woman of her era dictating a ‘will’. Although, lakhs write a ‘will’ but the one written by her has a face that is deep like the sea and vast like the sky. The wrinkles on this face are nothing but pathways directing fellow human beings about the hidden pearls of wisdom. Try to decode the will to unearth the promised treasure. The will reads as follows:

"I, so and so, wife of so and so, hereby, write this ‘will’ in my proper frame of mind without any pressure from anyone, whosoever. The following are my heartfelt desires that I expect my sons to fulfil on my death. Since I shall have no control over my ‘body’ after my death, I hope my sons will try their level best to execute this ‘will’ to the best of their intentions:

a. Donate my eyes and kidneys, so that some hapless fellow human being may be able to use them.

b. Death is the final destination of every human being. It is the only certain thing in our lives. So it will fall in my share too. I have lived well and feel fulfilled, as compared to crores of my countrymen. So when death comes calling at my door, I am sure it would be the most natural happening for an old woman like me. Hence, my sons, I do not want you to make any desperate distress calls to all our relations and friends residing far away. I do not want you to add hassles and harassment in their lives by expecting them to come rushing to my funeral. Just inform them after four or five days on a postcard stating that my time of honour of dwelling on this universe along with them has been over.

c. My sons, do not bathe or change the clothes on my ‘body’. I wonder why we human beings indulge in such rituals! All my life I have kept my body covered, as a matter of honour. On my death, I wish that my body should not be exposed and dishonoured.

d. Do not waste any woollen shawls on my ‘body’. Human body, my sons, is made of air, water, ether, earth and fire. And this is why it merges with earth at the end. Woollen shawls are required by living human beings and not by the dead. Just spare one white washed sheet to wrap my body with.

e. You must not burn my body with forest wood. Just cremate it in the electric crematorium. My sons, it is a sin to waste forest wood on the body of a dead person. I had read in a magazine that it takes 4 quintals of wood to cremate an average body. But a heavy body would require an additional 1 quintal of wood. I was further shocked to learn that only a 20-year-old tree can provide 4 quintals of wood. Thus, each time we cremate a body with wood, we sacrifice the life of a 20-year-old tree. I have taken a vow that I shall never take the life of a tree just to dispose of my body. I wish this vow to be fulfilled by you, my sons.

f. I also read from time to time that the holy Ganga has been polluted solely because of our ill-conceived traditions, myths and religious practices of immersing ashes of the dead at places like Kiratpur or Haridwar. But my sons, I forbid you to immerse my ashes at any of these places. Just spread them on mother earth.

g. My sons, one follows a religion or prays for fulfilling one’s faith in God. Hence, for the sake of keeping a face in front of relations and friends, I do not wish you to hold any religious rituals after my death. For remembrance, just a silent prayer at home would do.

h. My sons do not allow your lives to stop moving after my death. Return to your work at the earliest. Accept no lunch or dinner from any relative, friend or neighbour, as part of yet another ritual. I wonder why some body’s death should cause disturbance in someone else’s home! There should be no exchange of money in the name of tradition because these are no touching or empathising practices.

i. My sons I want you to do away with yet another ill-conceived practice of a chautha, daswan, tehrvan. You also do not need to indulge in rasam-pagri, as I was told it is held to pass on the responsibility to the eldest in the family. I, personally, would wish you all three to share the responsibilities together and equally.

Sd/ Harbhajan Kaur, Wife of Sardar Gurbachan Singh.