Was this it. I had a feeling it was something to do with Papa Ji[3]. Every other day I had gone to visit him in the hospital. I never said anything except from hello and that I was really missing him at home

Sharan Punny

Lower 5 alpha

Was this it?

My Nani Ji looked really peaceful that day of her funeral, like everybody does I suppose. At the Gurdwara everyone had sung Shabads, really nice ones too. I was sitting there listening to the chitter-chatter in the background. We were all still grieving for Papa Ji as it had only been just two days since his funeral. He went so suddenly I can’t even fully recall it.

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Sitting downstairs, we were all huddled up on the couches together; six of us to each one. All in all there were twelve of us cousins together. We were enjoying the last of “Sabrina the Teenage Witch”, wondering whether Sabrina would turn Libby back into a person since she was a pineapple now. The episode finally finished. Arising to our feet, we all went rushing to the kitchen to grab a snack. We, then, attacked the fridge. Harmeet placed all the little multi-coloured cups on the table seeming as we weren’t allowed to use the grown-up glasses. Jasmeet got the juice out. Kirath, the biscuits. I went upstairs to my room to go and find something to read. Then, I heard that ringing sound again from downstairs… it was the phone.

The monotonous ringing of the phone never really bothered me before but today something was different. Like it wasn’t ringing that same “hello” you get on the other side. I couldn’t figure it out. The parents, while we were in the living room, seemed to be really busy. They seemed all up and about making phone calls and writing letters. When things were like this, I knew for certain not to do anything, let alone say anything. My tooth had fallen out but this time but this time I did I wake up to find a shiny coin under the pillow? No. I had got full marks in my test at school but did was anyone there to say “Well done Sharan”? No.

I had a feeling it was something to do with Papa Ji. Every other day I had gone to visit him in the hospital. I never said anything except from hello and that I was really missing him at home and of course the usual “how are you?” … he replied and said he was fine and missing all of us kids. I gave him a big hug then looked at Mum who often indicated for me to leave the room and go to the waiting room. They would talk about something called Cancer when I used to eavesdrop. I didn’t know what it was but I knew something. I liked it at the hospital: I saw Papa ji and I got a chocolate and a drink.

Anyhow, I was coming down the stairs carrying my book “The Star that fell”. It was one of my most valued possessions, one of which I loved dearly. At the very bottom of the stairs, my eyes met my Thiy ji’s (aunty) who’s seemed to be drowned in tears. I ran down as quickly as my little feet would allow me to and asked her what the matter was. She didn’t talk at first but then I looked at her again and she told me. That day, she told me something that would change my life forever.

“Thiy ...

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“Thiy ji, Thiy ji what happened? What’s wrong?” I questioned anxiously. She replied through all her tears simply: “Papa ji’s…. Pap ji’s… He’s gone”.

Anguish gripped me as the words rushed through my head and then I experienced the most sickening feeling, I felt my body go limp and fragile, as if another shock would shatter me to pieces. I found my voice again. “When did Papa Ji go? Why?” and she just cried my answer. Everyone was rushing to the hospital.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. All the girls and boys, all my family, were sitting down on the sofas just as before but just this time crying their hearts out. I cried and I cried and I cried. I realised I would never see Papa Ji again. Parmjit Aunty from next door came then to look after us. She said something about looking. I couldn’t see anything but it made sense to me after a while. “Look kids, don’t think this is a bad thing. Papa Ji has gone to a better place.” I just cried even more in spite of everyone who was sitting there trying to calm me down. Then she said something that really made me think. “Would Papa Ji like it if he saw you crying like this? Well? Think of the good times you had with him. At least he isn’t suffering anymore, isn’t it?”

I supposed it was true what Aunty was saying. I gazed around and saw everyone and I stared at the small fruit fly securing his little spot on the wall and buzzing away. Is this what Cancer did to you?

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Just then it occurred to me that my Nani Ji had it too. She was in a hospice. Mummy told me it was a kind of hospital for special people. I had gone to see Nani Ji in the hospice in Eastbourne quite a few times but not that often. I remember the last time I had gone to St. Wilfred’s Hospice. When my little eyes met hers my heart leapt up and I felt the light inside me shine. I sat with Nani Ji for a little while and then my brother, my sister and myself went out to play in the tranquil gardens of the hospice. We used to make daisy chains and collect ants on a leaves. About an hour later I said my goodbyes with all my love. Then, I sat in the car on the way home looking out for the Long Man of Wilmington.

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I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and just then I realised that…that I should just accept it. We were all thinking about the good times we had had together. That evening, I went up to my bed and for the first time in a long time, the night seemed endless.

As the light from outside peeped in through the little gap at the top of the curtains, I had concluded it was time for school. I dreaded going back after the weekend. I put on a brave face and I went downstairs, all dressed up, and looked around. My mum and Dad weren’t at home. They had gone to Eastbourne. My Thiya ji and Thiy Ji were downstairs with my Chacha ji and Chachi ji in the kitchen and all my cousins were seated at the table eating breakfast. I took out a bowl and the Weetabix and made my breakfast. Usually that was Mummy’s job. The house was eerily silent I noticed. Usually, I would have gone straight to the living room and said good morning to my Papa ji but the usual seat, an armchair, was empty. While eating, my cousins and I were all having a conversation about who would sit in the car to school and who wanted to walk. In conclusion we all ended up walking.

Over the next few days at school and home things were tiring. As someone passes away, we often hold prayers in the house to wish the Soul well. All week the house was busy. Relatives and friends from all over the country came to pass on their condolences. We, as kids, knew all we could do was help by maybe putting food and drinks out for the guests but it was best that we stayed upstairs or in the small living room. With lots of people coming and going the pressure within the family was on high.

At school, the next day, the strangest thing happened. The Deputy Headmistress had called me into her office. She was inquiring whether I was okay about the recent events that had passed through the family. I said I was fine but then…

“Sharan, you do know that we are here if you ever need anything and you don’t ever have to bottle things up…” She seemed to understand me… “Something like this happened within my family when I was about your age, maybe older. You should always remember it was for the best… for everyone.” It was really strange. She seemed to be having this lady-to-lady talk with as if I was like her: a grown up.

My heart ached at hearing what she was telling me but as Daddy told me once the truth does hurts.

The preparation for the funerals became more intense and soon it was all happening. I was just recently told not only had Papa Ji passed away but so had Nani Ji. Two of the most special people in the world were going and leaving us but it was for the better. We were all awaiting the arrival of my Papa ji’s brother, who lives in Kenya, and for the rest of the family in Africa.

On Monday, it came. I was in the Gurdwara and I was placing a red rose on My Dear Papa ji’s body in the coffin. We were all singing Shabads as the deep mahogany coffin was being carried through to the car. In the windows the flowers read: DAD. All six siblings including my dad were stood extremely upset along with all his cousins. At the funeral I couldn’t control my crying but everyone was there just like me. I just thought, now Papa ji would be sitting in Heaven and he had attained Salvation with God.

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I returned to my senses and saw everyone was leaving to go outside. I rose to my feet and went outside to see before me whole rows of flowers so beautiful even the rose couldn’t match up. There were bright red geraniums and carnations all arranged to spell out the word: MUM…and SISTER and GRANDMA. It began to drizzle. I moved towards the coffin to say my last goodbyes… then I went home.

The days passed by. I left my parents alone so they could recover and I, myself, concentrated in school knowing that it was the one thing that would make my Papa ji and Nani ji proud. My Mama Ji she was by far the bravest during that period and even now her prospect of life is still that of an optimist’.

The “it”…. in the end I found out to be, was something called Death, just another small phase in life.

My mum’s mum

Traditional Hymns sung by the People of the Gurdwara

Dad’s Dad

Dad’s older brother

Dad’s older brother’s wife

Dad’s younger brother

Dad’s younger brother’s wife

Dad’s mum