A Wake in the Village

Since coming to India, I have been to a wedding, two birthday parties and a reception or two. Good fun and very colorful (and delicious!). Certainly I did not expect to experience a funeral. On Tuesday evening, one of our Vidya Vanam teachers lost her older brother. He has a wife who has been in the hospital on life support since the complicated birth of their son one year ago. Paying for never ending medical bills and two other children, the burden became too great for him and on Tuesday he got very drunk and took poison. His brother came to the school looking for money to pay the ambulance to take him to Coimbatore, which Pati gave, but it was too late. He died leaving his two children essentially parentless and his wife with little hope for recovery.

Wednesday was the funeral and all the Vidya Vanam teachers went to the wake that followed it. Not wanting to distinguish myself, I went along, completely unprepared for what I was about to be hit with. Walking along, I noticed that literally the entire village was on its way to the same place. About 3,000 people on the narrow road looked like a march on Washington. When we arrived we were ushered to the front of the line and taken to a back room, where all the women in the family were gathered. The second I walked in it felt like a wall had hit me in the face. The room was extremely hot, crowded with women sitting in groups on a filthy floor, wailing and crying like I have never heard. I sat down with everyone else, held hands with them and just watched. Many of the women laid down and cried into the floor. The phrase "I wanted to die..." came into my head - this family was so truly devestated they wanted to lay down and die. This went on for a long time and as it got hotter and smellier and darker and louder, I felt as if death was actually in the room with us. I thought about my own family's funerals - we might have cried publicly for a moment or two, but most of the adults were expected to keep their composure AND return to work Monday morning. Very different. This experience drained me and I really felt their sadness.

After we walked out and paid our respects to the men in the family, I walked back to school by myself. I had not even made it through the door before Pati had my shower turned on. Hindus leave funerals and bathe immediately - it is an absolute must (and it was the only thing I felt like doing). An hour later I felt normal again, but that dark room, full of grief and despair, is definitely something I will not soon forget.

[I promise to return to comedic writing after this]