I was lying on the sofa, reading a book called Death by Sadhguru. Nancy, my five-year-old sister, was doing her homework on the floor. She was looking back and forth between the book on my hand and her book. All of a sudden, she asked me what death was. I was stunned by her question. I recalled my childhood and mulled over how I perceived death when I was a kid. Every kid has a different perception about death, which is highly influenced by the environment they grow up in and what they consume on TV and the internet.
Nancy was a very playful child. Since she was the youngest in the house, everyone loved her. She always asked her grandmother to recite stories for her. Grandmother used to tell stories about all sorts of things: kings and queens, fairies, wild animals, birds and butterflies.
One night, grandma told Nancy the story of Yamaraj.
Nancy was slightly frightened after grandmother finished her story. Perplexed, she fell on her grandmother's lap and went to sleep. Grandmother took her to bed and pulled a thin blanket over her body.
Grandmother used to get up early in the morning, burn incense and chant mantras in her sharp, beautiful voice. But that morning, there was no incense in its usual place. When Nancy went to her grandmother's room, she found her grandmother in deep sleep. Her face was calm. Nancy tried to wake her up, but despite several attempts, she couldn't.
Nancy ran towards my mother to tell her grandmother wouldn't wake up. After hearing this, my mother rushed to my grandmother's room. Mother nudged her and called out her name once, twice until she discovered the worst had happened.
Everyone started weeping.
Tears welled up in Nancy's eyes also. After a while, people from the neighbourhood gathered to take grandmother to the ghat.
Nancy asked me what had happened to grandmother. At that moment, she was told that grandmother was sick and had been taken to hospital.
Until that point, she knew nothing about death. She had no idea that after a person dies, s/he is either buried or burned.
Little did she know about the differences between life and death. She didn't know how she should be acting upon someone's death.
All the members in my family had convinced Nancy that grandmother had been taken to hospital for treatment. I was not happy with how she was kept in illusion, so I decided to tell her the truth. I called her and explained that every human has to die someday and those who die never return.
The realisation of not being able to talk to grandmother anymore shook her to the core. Tears rolled down her eyes, and she couldn't help but cry like a kid whose balloon had burst.
A version of this article appears in the print on July 27, 2022, of The Himalayan Times.