Asariri: A Life Full of Life

By Rajni Sekhri Sibal

A few days after Nisha loses her best friend, her father, she meets Asariri on a hilltop covered in daisies and irises in the Himalayas. Asariri befriends Nisha, a young single mother, who has lost her husband and father within a span of two years.

Asariri is a bit of a poet and provides meaning to Nisha's life. Drawing upon all that is rational and profound, Asariri helps Nisha reconcile with death and accompanies her in her quest to understand all that matters to a rational person in a global world – happiness, life choices, dreams and success, balance in life and nature and peace and serenity – and all that needs to be comprehended to live a 'life full of life'.

Asariri is a disembodied voice with access to a mystic ancient pool of infinite wisdom. A poignantly written story-moving, rich in character and deeply emotional.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Feb 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9789389449440

Rajni Sekhri Sibal

Rajni Sekhri Sibal is an Indian Administrative Service officer, presently Secretary, Government of India. She is the first lady to top the Civil Services Examination in 1986. Rajni was posted as Additional Secretary (Disaster Management) in the Ministry of Home Affairs, Government of India. She was responsible for International Cooperation and Disaster Management policy formulation as well as coordination of response and relief in the event of a severe disaster in the country. She successfully handled the response and relief efforts during the Kerala Floods and other calamitous situations like Titli, Gaja, Pabuk and Pethai cyclones in Odisha, Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu and Puducherry; drought in Maharashtra, Andhra, Karnataka and Gujrat as well as landslides, floods and cloud bursts in Manipur, Tripura, Himachal Pradesh, Assam, Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Karnataka. Rajni held the additional charge of Executive Director National Institute of Disaster Management and has also represented the country in workshops and conferences, both in India and abroad, in the field of disaster management. Are You Prepared for a Disaster? is the author's latest book and draws upon her experience in policy making and handling natural and manmade disasters in India. The book is crafted to provide insights into various hazards and to provide information to individuals, families and communities about how to mitigate risk and prepare for a disaster. The book also conveys the best course of action to be taken before,during and after a calamitous event.

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‘From the glare of his pyre to the embers and the ash, a flicker of a fading lamp and an era comes to an end.

As a face becomes fuzzy, as a voice fades with time; as summer follows winter, a father is missed each day.’

—The Author

ONE

From Nisha’s Diary: The End of an Era

Local time: 07: 58:53, Friday, 26 December 2003—Baba passed away, today.

He died young. On a cold and misty morning in December, my father didn’t wake up. He suffered a cardiac arrest in his sleep. His body was still and cold. Yet, there was a serene smile on his face—like the one he always had when he spoke about living each moment fully.

Baba was a juvenile diabetic with a congenital heart condition. He was constantly aware of the finite nature of life. His health-related issues would have made anyone morose. Instead, my father was the very spirit of life!

He had no religion but had a philosophy of his own.

Baba often said, ‘Life is great. It offers you the opportunity of attaining your own potential many times and it’s unfortunate if you don’t grow.’ From him, I learnt to compete with no one but myself, to overcome my own shortcomings, my fears and my weaknesses.

One thing I marvelled about Baba was his optimism. Neither did he have any regrets about the past nor any apprehensions about the future. He believed that it was essential to live each moment of every day.

Baba died early but he lived a complete and purposeful life—a life with a resolve.

Besides memories, all that remains now is a hand-written scrap of paper stuck under the glass-top of the table I am writing on—Baba’s writing table. Just two words neatly written in his slanting handwriting, ‘Ultima forsan’—perhaps the final hour!

‘I go last, after many who have gone before me, I go in the midst of many, who are now dying,

I go as the first, at the head of many who have still to die; don’t cry for me.’

—Katha Upanishad, Adhyaya 1-Valli 1, Nachiketa to Vagasravasa

TWO

The Aftermath

AT THE CREMATION GROUND, Nisha broke down as her father’s body was engulfed in flames. A part of her died that day.

The pain of losing her husband four years ago was still raw. Baba had been a pillar of support to Nisha and her children, Sara and Neil. Her husband’s death had left her desolate and now with Baba’s demise she was completely broken.

When they returned home after lighting his pyre, Nisha stood at the gate and saw a sea of relatives and friends, dressed in white, through a teary haze. Everyone was there—uncles, aunts, cousins and friends. Yet, she didn’t have the heart to go into the house she had grown up in. It seemed empty without Baba’s gentle but commanding presence.

Nisha stepped into the garden her father had loved. She could visualise him sitting under the mango tree, reading the morning paper and drinking his favourite Darjeeling tea. She remembered sitting under the tree with him as a child before going to school. On seeing her and her brother, Ajay, Baba would put away the morning paper and give them his sole attention. He would listen to their chatter as if it were the most important thing in the world.

As she grew older, Nisha construed that Baba was different—he was insightful, wise and perceptive. He was her best friend, and now he was no more!

During the thirteen-day mourning period, the family turned to Baba’s older sister—Nisha’s Booa—for guidance. Booa was thirteen years older than Baba, who was the youngest amongst four siblings. She treated her little brother more like the son she had never had. Booa was married when she was barely seventeen and had become a widow rather early in life. After her husband passed away, she moved back to her ancestral home to live with her parents, and continued to stay there, along with her youngest brother, after the demise of her parents. As far back as Nisha could remember, Booa had always been an intrinsic part of her family. She was a bit of an autocrat and held strong opinions about everything. She now presided over all the rites and rituals with aplomb.

‘My brother’s soul is still here,’ Booa said firmly as she took on the mantle of the head of the family sombrely.

She then gazed into space as if she could see what others could not and whispered to her attentive audience, ‘We have to pray for his liberation.’

The children of the family sat huddled at a little distance from the elders, trying to catch every word Booa uttered and looked at her with awe and incredulity as she laid down rules to be observed for the next thirteen days.

‘Souls surround the people they love. Up to thirteen days after a person dies, a soul remains in the ether!’ She said with an all-knowing smile.

Baba had been a modest person and would have preferred a simple funeral. He would have squirmed with discomfort at all the brouhaha but Booa was unstoppable with her long list of dos and don’ts.

Ajay was ordered tersely, ‘Go, shave your head!’

Ajay refused adamantly.

‘Do you want your Baba’s soul to be left in the abyss between the earth and the heavens?’ Booa asked in a stern voice and added, ‘for that is what will happen if the rituals are not performed meticulously.’

Nisha joined the revolt against Booa’s tirade.

‘If you side with your brother, I’ll snip your hair off too!’ Nisha was sharply warned.

Booa turned to Ajay and tried to explain, ‘As the eldest son, you must perform all the rites and rituals. Shaving your head is the very first