HOW TO LIVE & DIE - KHUSHWANT SINGH

[This is a rare piece I have posted on my diary -www.TheGhousediary.com,  usually my own writings, are posted but this one and monday humor are others writing, the first part of this page is my writing]

HOW TO LIVE AND DIE - KHUSHWANT SINGH

Thanks to Dr. Pervaz Rahman for sharing the following piece by Khushwant Singh, one of my favorite writers from my college years. Shariff my friend and I waited for his magazine “the illustrated weekly” every Friday.  I talk about death fairly casually and my kids do not want to hear, nor my wife Yasmeeen wants to hear it. But die, I will some day. 

 One of the best ways to leave the world is to leave in peace. About ten years ago, my Mother passed away in one of the most beautiful manners one could embark on the eternal journey; a clean slate with no loose ends. The Jain tradition calls it Michami Dukadam.  That was one of the most beautiful lessons of my life, she tied every loose end in her last week, there was no anxiety, no wishes that had to be fulfilled, and she forgave and asked to be forgiven and had a clean slate to go on with her eternal journey. I was blessed to repeat that process with my late wife and she left the world with a smile on her face. There was peace to everyone in the process and there was an incredible release and freedom to the goers and the stayers.

Reading Khushwant Sing was refreshing; I do so much of it myself.  I have written my own obituary and it is in my bank box, my kids know what goes on the headstone that reminds me to tell that to Yasmeeen, “With prejudice towards none”. I have written the will, lists of everything that needs to be done, very few things float on my mind, everything is on paper. When I die, I hope it will be in peace, with no wishes that had to be fulfilled, no anxieties on my face. I want to go smiling and want my family and friends to smile for living a fulfilling life.  

There is a beautiful Indian song in Urdu/Hindi language that talks about living the life with contentment;

Live the life like everything is yours;

And when you die, die as if nothing is yours.

Jiyo to aise jiyo jaise sob  tumhara hai,

Maro to aise ke jaise tumhara kuch bhi nahin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVDHTeRr8LQ

Enjoy the article by Khushwant Singh

How To Live & Die

Death is rarely spoken about in our homes. I wonder why. Especially when each one of us knows that death has to come, has to strike. It’s inevitable. This line from Yas Yagana Changezi says it best: Khuda mein shak ho to ho, maut mein nahin koi shak (You may or may not doubt the existence of God, you can’t doubt the certainty of death). And one must prepare oneself to face it. 

At 95, I do think of death. I think of death very often but I don’t lose sleep over it. I think of those gone; keep wondering where they are. Where have they gone? Where will they be? I don’t know the answers: where you go, what happens next. To quote Omar Khayyam,  

“Into this Universe, and Why not knowing
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing...”

and,

“There was a Door to which I found no Key
There was a Veil through which I could not see
Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee
There seemed—and then no more of Thee and Me.” 

I once asked the Dalai Lama how one should face death and he had advised meditation. I’m not scared of death; I do not fear it. Death is inevitable. While I have thought about it a lot, I don’t brood about it. I’m prepared for it. As Asadullah Khan Ghalib has so aptly put it,  

“Rau mein hai raksh-e-umar kahaan dekhiye thhamey
Nai haath baag par hai na pa hai rakaab mein  

(Age travels at galloping pace; who knows where it will stop
We do not have the reins in our hands nor our feet in the stirrups).” 

All my contemporaries—whether here or in England or in Pakistan—they’re all gone. I don’t know where I’ll be in a year or two. I don’t fear death. What I dread is the day I go blind or am incapacitated because of old age—that’s what I fear—I’d rather die than live in that condition. I’m a burden enough on my daughter Mala and don’t want to be an extra burden on her. 

All that I hope for is that when death comes to me, it comes swiftly, without much pain, like fading away in sound slumber. Till then I’ll keep working and living each day as it comes. There’s so much left to do. I have to content myself by saying these lines of Iqbal:  

“Baagh-e-bahisht se mujhe hukm-e-safar diya tha kyon?
Kaar-e-Jahaan daraaz hai, ab mera intezaar kar  

(Why did you order me out of the garden of paradise? I have a lot left to do; now you wait for me).” 

So I often tell Bade Mian, as I refer to him, from time to time, that he’s got to wait for me as I still have work to complete.

I believe in these lines of Tennyson:

“Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea...
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell,
When I embark.”

I believe in the Jain philosophy that death ought to be celebrated. Earlier, whenever I was upset or low, I used to go to the cremation grounds. It has a cleansing effect, and worked like a therapy for me. In fact, I’d written my own epitaph years ago:

"Here lies one who spared neither man nor God
Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod
Writing nasty things he regarded as great fun
Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.”

I hope that when death comes to me, it comes swiftly, without much pain, like fading away in sound slumber.

I had even written my own obit in 1943 when I was still in my twenties. It later appeared in a collection of short stories, titled ‘Posthumous’. In the piece, I had imagined The Tribune announcing the news of my death on its front page with a small photograph. The headline would read: ‘Sardar Khushwant Singh Dead’. And then, in somewhat smaller print:  

‘We regret to announce the sudden death of Sardar Khushwant Singh at 6 pm last evening. He leaves behind a young widow, two infant children and a large number of friends and admirers. Amongst those who called at the late sardar’s residence were the PA to the chief justice, several ministers, and judges of the high court.’ 

I had to cope with death when I lost my wife. Being an agnostic, I could not find solace in religious rituals. Being essentially a loner, I discouraged friends and relatives from coming to condole with me. I spent the first night alone sitting in my chair in the dark. At times, I broke down, but soon recovered my composure. A couple of days later, I resumed my usual routine, working from dawn to dusk. That took my mind off the stark reality of having to live alone in an empty home for the rest of my days. When friends persisted in calling and upsetting my equilibrium, I packed myself off to Goa to be by myself.

I used to be keen on a burial because with a burial you give back to the earth what you have taken. Now, it will be the electric crematorium. I had requested the management of the Bahai faith if I could be buried. Initially, they had agreed, but then they came up with all sorts of conditions and rules. I had wanted to be buried in one corner with just a peepal tree next to my grave. After okaying this, the management later said that that wouldn’t be possible and that my grave would be in the middle of a row and not in a corner. I wasn’t okay with that—even though I know that once you are dead it makes no difference. But I was keen to be buried in one corner. They also told me later that they would chant some prayers, which again I couldn’t agree with, because I don’t believe in religion or in religious rituals of any kind. 

Though I’m quite fit, I know I don’t have much time left. I’m coming to terms with death, preparing myself. And since I have no faith in God, nor in the day of judgement, nor in the theory of reincarnation, I have to come to terms with the complete full stop. I have been criticised for not sparing even the dead, but then death does not sanctify a person, and if I find the person had been corrupt, I write about it even when he’s gone.

I don’t believe in rebirth or in reincarnation, in the day of judgement or in heaven or hell. I accept the finality of death. We do not know what happens to us after we die but one should help a person go in peace—at peace with himself and with the world.

I’ve lived a reasonably contented life. I’ve often thought about what it is that makes people happy—what one has to do in order to achieve happiness. 

First and foremost is good health. If you do not enjoy good health, you can never be happy. Any ailment, however trivial, will deduct something from your happiness.

Second, a healthy bank balance. It need not run into crores, but it should be enough to provide for comforts, and there should be something to spare for recreation—eating out, going to the movies, travel and holidays in the hills or by the sea. Shortage of money can be demoralising. Living on credit or borrowing is demeaning and lowers one in one’s own eyes. 

Third, your own home. Rented places can never give you the comfort or security of a home that is yours for keeps. If it has garden space, all the better. Plant your own trees and flowers, see them grow and blossom, and cultivate a sense of kinship with them.

Fourth, an understanding companion, be it your spouse or a friend. If you have too many misunderstandings, it robs you of your peace of mind. It is better to be divorced than to be quarrelling all the time. 

Fifth, stop envying those who have done better than you in life—risen higher, made more money, or earned more fame. Envy can be corroding; avoid comparing yourself with others. 

Sixth, do not allow people to descend on you for gup-shup. By the time you get rid of them, you will feel exhausted and poisoned by their gossip-mongering.

Since I have no faith in God, nor in the day of judgement, nor in reincarnation, I have to come to terms with the complete full stop.

Seventh, cultivate a hobby or two that will fulfil you—gardening, reading, writing, painting, playing or listening to music. Going to clubs or parties to get free drinks, or to meet celebrities, is a criminal waste of time. It’s important to concentrate on something that keeps you occupied meaningfully. I have family members and friends who spend their entire day caring for stray dogs, giving them food and medicines. There are others who run mobile clinics, treating sick people and animals free of charge.  

Eighth, every morning and evening devote 15 minutes to introspection. In the mornings, 10 minutes should be spent in keeping the mind absolutely still, and five listing the things you have to do that day. In the evenings, five minutes should be set aside to keep the mind still and 10 to go over the tasks you had intended to do. 

Ninth, don’t lose your temper. Try not to be short-tempered, or vengeful. Even when a friend has been rude, just move on. 

Above all, when the time comes to go, one should go like a man without any regret or grievance against anyone. Iqbal said it beautifully in a couplet in Persian: “You ask me about the signs of a man of faith? When death comes to him, he has a smile on his lips.”
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(Excerpted from the forthcoming Absolute Khushwant: The Low-Down on Life, Death & Most Things In-Between (Penguin). The book will be launched on August 16.)

What are you? A Chameleon, Ping pong?

A non-literary poem
Ping Pong, Chameleon or what?

Who are you, asked a wise woman,
I am me, answered the woman;

Really?
Which one of you is you?
What do you mean which one?
I am me, all the ones

Really?
When your boss wrongs you, you get angry;
you go into hiding, you feel insecure,
you hold the grudges
you want to get even

 

So What?
Well when your beloved praises you,
you beam up, you walk on the air,
you exude confidence
you seem to have it together

That's me alright!
Nope's, you are a ping pong!

How so?
When your boss pings you, you are off
When your beloved pongs you, you are on
When the bad news hits you, you are off
When the good news dawns, you are on

A Chameleon?
What are you really?
you are on now, off next, on and off;
you are on the switch of others, on and off;
you act and react to what others say or do
what it is that is you?

Let life not become the game of ping pong
idhar say udhar, udhar say idhar
here to there, there to here

Let no words have the power to turn you upside down
Let no one have the power to ruffle you,
Let everything happen around you and touch you
But let you remain yourselves
resist being a chameleon, or ping ponged

Ultimately all of us have to live for ourselves
If we have a firm footing, no wind can shake us
When we are ourselves, we can be there for others.

There is joy in being oneself.
Be yourselves!

Mike Ghouse,
www.MikeGhouse.net 

Happy Fathers day, a tribute to my pluralist father Abdul Rahman

Published at Huffngton Post http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mike-ghouse/pluralist-father_b_879528.html
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Life is all about expressions and completing transactions. Every emotion, thought, action or a change creates a new debt or a favor that needs to be re-balanced. Obviously we cannot reciprocate the favors in full, but we have been able to do that with a thank you in the most simplistic way or ratcheting up with complications.
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One of the incomplete transactions of my life was not being able to do the things I wanted to do for my father. As a kid I would step in and take over the work from him so he can take rest, an Indian tradition that I cherish. When I moved to Saudi Arabia on an assignment, I sent my first check to him with which he started paying off my loan. With the next check I asked him to buy clothes for the family and wanted him to replace his old black Jacket he wore forever with a new one. He said no, first things first. In the first week of December 1977 my check paid off all my loans, and with the next check I asked him to oblige me. Man, I am feeling a deluge of emotions as I am writing this, darn, my eyes are welled up.
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He did not get the check, he just had to live his words, "Until my last breath, I will be earning my living and take care of my family." Darn it, he did it. I was angry for my helplessness, and was happy that the man kept his word. But that created a huge gap in my life and I continue to recover my balance by serving the senior friends in whatever little way I can. You can always count on me to drop everything off to attend to a senior's request.
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Talking about keeping one's word; in the late sixties he decided to go back to till his father's land abandoned some forty years ago, when the whole family died in the influenza that had killed millions around the world. He sold a thriving property we had and sunk the money in the farm and I was on it for six months. He gave his word to someone to sell for quick cash and told us about it in the evening, three of his friends descended at our house with three times the money, my father refused; he said no, I have given my word to that man. My mother and I were angry; he said he would rather lose the money than his word. I did not value it then, but when I left home, it all meant so much to me and yes, I have lost quite a lot for that, then I realized no one will take the wealth with them either.
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My father is my hero and opened the doors of wisdom to us. Pluralism indeed runs in my family. He taught one of the biggest lessons of my life in social cohesiveness and dealing with extremism that I continue to reflect in my talks, acts and write ups.
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During the communal riots in Jabalpur (India) in the early sixties, both Muslims and Hindus were killed in the mayhem. I wish every father in India, America and elsewhere teaches this lesson to his kids. He was crystal clear on his take; He told us the "individuals" are responsible for the bloodshed and not the religions; he would emphasize that you cannot blame the intangible religion and expect justice, we must blame the individuals who caused it and punish them accordingly for disturbing the peace and thus bring a resolution to the conflict by serving justice. He said you cannot annihilate, kill, hang or beat the religion, then why bark at it?
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My father was a Mayor of the Town of Yelahanka (The town gave birth to Bangalore in 1537) and served the council for many years. He was also the president of the Islamic Association of the town. We grew up with no barriers between us and another soul. He broke all traditions of the society; during the early sixties India was pretty much like the US in the way she treated her "Harijan - God's chosen people as Mahatma Gandhi termed the "untouchables". The African Americans endured such treatment here. My father would invite them in our home and my mother would serve tea and food in the same glasses and plates that we drank and ate. It was a big no no at that time, some boycotted coming to our house and many people opposed him with unsavory words, but my father stood his ground. I see that streak in me playing it out all the times. Thank you Dad for inculcating the value of treating every human with full dignity, that is just one of the thousands of things you blessed me with. I love to see all of God's creation treated fairly and justly.

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He treated all of us kids with dignity and I am pleased I got to be disciplined at least once. I guess I replicated that with my children to the point my kids would actually say, Dad, you should have disciplined us. I did not see the need for it. I am fine and they are fine too. I gave them the cold shoulder that my father had given me to straigthen me out, and it worked both ways, athough my daughter was a tough cookie, she would not budge.
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I was about ten years old and watched a man fall off his bicycle with his big bag of rice and was struggling to get back on it, and I wasn't going to help the man. I saw my father about 100 feet away and the way he sped towards me got me frightened for the first time, I dashed inside the home and a few minutes later after helping the guy he was in… I climbed on top of the paddy bags in a corner of the house, I thought he could not get me there, so he goes outside and plucks a long branch off the mulberry tree and gives me a few good ones. "My son will never do that" after that conditioning, I have developed the habit of stopping for everyone who needs help. I dare not watch and not do something about it.
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On this day, I thank Dadsky Everett Blauvelt who was the reason for me to be here in Dallas, he and I worked together in Saudi Arabia some 35 years ago. Also want to express my gratitude to my friend Davendra Dev Maini who is a fatherly figure to me as well and my two senior friends whom I admire; Dr. Harbans Lal and Rev. Bill Matthews, all of them have great attitudes and affection for humanity and I love them.
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To those who have not had a father or had a negative experience, God has offered guidance through the instrument of forgiveness to release you from the pain. Just do it. I will be happy to be a big brother or even a father for the moment of your need. It's an open offer to call me at (214) 325-1916.
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God bless us all, Amen!
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The tribute to my mother is at: http://theghousediary.blogspot.com/2011/05/mother-my-story-happy-mothers-day.html

Mike Ghouse is committed to building a cohesive America and offers pluralistic solutions on issues of the day. He is a speaker, thinker, writer and a frequent guest on Hannity show and nationally syndicated Radio shows and Dallas TV, Radio and Print Media. Over 1000 articles have been published on Pluralism, Interfaith, Islam, India and cohesive societies. Two of his books are poised to be released this fall on Pluralism and Islam. His work is encapsulated in 27 blogs, four websites and several forums indexed at http://www.mikeghouse.net/.