The Last Meal

It was a Friday night. For some reason I didn’t feel the vibe or the ‘weekend’ mood. “Quarantine
killed the mood yo”, I thought to myself as I hit ‘skip intro’ button on the Netflix series I was
watching. Bojack was as usual getting wasted. I closed the laptop and hit the bed for the seventh and
final time for that day. I lay on my bed thinking about my grandad who was eleven miles away. He
was sick and his days were counted. His mobility, food intake and nag for witty jokes had died down.
We all knew and were waiting for his time to come. The next morning I was woken up by my dad.
The news had just come, my mom’s eyes teared up. We reached my dad’s brother’s house where my
grandad had been living his final days. The Lockdown had made this tough phase of our lives extra
tough. Amongst great struggles and difficulties we finished the last rites on that day. Though
deceivingly named as ‘last rites’, it was the start of a lengthy thirteen-day ritual process. After a tiring
day we had a tiring lecture from our family priest on the DOs and DON’Ts for the thirteen days, the
rituals that were lined up and his monetary demands. He explained that the soul of my grandad would
take the shape of a formed baby over the next ten days and then take on a three day journey to heaven.
It was our duty to feed this forming baby everyday before its departure. Since the baby would be very
big by the tenth day, the tenth day meal was not only the last but also the most lavish meal. This meal
would be its last meal. The days passed and so did the sorrow. The tenth day arrived later than I
expected. The last meal was getting prepared. “This meal would be devoid of salt as it will drive the
sprit away to heaven”, explained my grandma. There was one catch however, this meal should not be
eaten by any living being and should be disposed in a water body. A water body with good running
water. So the search was on in Google Maps.
We reached the water body with the meal at around 1pm. It was a small dirty water way with floating
pieces of plastic (the cleanest in our city). The Thamirabarani river (which runs along our village) has
a rocky river bed but pure and fresh water. I remembered my grandpa’s directions on how to traverse
the river and reach the opposite bank during one of my visits to the village, some 500 miles away
from this water body. This water body required no such directions. With a heavy heart we disposed
the meal and came back home. Something kept bothering me and when it was dawn I reached for the
scooter keys and went back to the same water body.
A stray cow, a crow and a rag picker were peacefully eating their first meal in many days by the side
of the mostly dried up water body.
-Vishal Venkatarangan