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Kamala Das

Of Divinity and Death

I have not written anything for the past six weeks. I was tried of sharing my thoughts with strangers who liked to read my columns but did not like me. There were a few who liked me. They were young and enthusiastic. They sent me letters filled with kindness. The old ones did not like my kind of writing.

Coming back to writing is like going to school on Monday after a lazy weekend. There is a reluctance. If I have not been missed by my readers, why should I confront them again? Why should I raise the ire of elderly people? Rest was joy. On the large rosewood bed under a quilt made out of blue silk with painted roses, with the hum of the Voltas air conditioner, I have been blissful these past days, these past nights.

Feigning illness, I lay ensconced in absolute luxury -- not answering the phone, not answering the doorbell, oblivious to reality. I was like a fruit lying in deep freeze. It did not bother me that Diana was dead in a car crash and Mother Teresa of a heart attack. Death stood outside my bedroom door. Inside, life was humming.

I rested till my cook told me that the kitchen cupboards were bare. I do not have a guardian to pay for my groceries. I have lived as an independent woman; a professional writer, able to take care of herself. I wrote stories, poems and newspaper columns in two languages to be able to feed myself and my servants.

People asked me why I had to have a driver and three maid servants. Why would a middle class woman keep so many retainers? If I sack them, who would feed them and protect them? In India everyone should keep as many servants as she can afford to feed and clothe. It is not a luxury, but a social obligation.

I ought to add a few words of praise to the babel of voices raving over poor Diana.

I ought to praise Mother Teresa.

Diana is lucky to have died young and pretty. Nobody really mourns the death of wrinkled, old women.

Mother Teresa baptised the destitute and helped them to die peacefully.

What happens to those who die unbaptised?

Animals are God's creation. They live, breathe, eat, copulate, rear their young ones and die. Where do their souls go?

Animals are never baptised. Animals, birds and reptiles have no religion. They do not chant the divine names of Christ, Krishna or Allah.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier