Last Salutation (English Article) Dhruva Narayan Singh Rai

- October 01, 2023

Dhruva Narayan Singh Rai

LAST SALUTATION

The day uncle breathed his last, aunt got paralysed. She even being old with bent waist had been attending him since long. At that time I was at Triveniganj some three miles away from the village. I was told about the unpleasant incident through a cell phone. At once I hurried to the village and saw uncle by myself lying motionless, body covered from face to feet with a piece of white cloth. I took up the cloth and saw him sleeping in everlasting slumber. His eyes were closed and face as usual as before as if showering blessings on me. In fact he didn’t seem like dead. It seemed he would open his eyes and begin to ask about how I am. But, alas! It was my mere imagination. How could such thing happen? I bowed and touched his feet for reverential salutation praying God for his peace in heaven. I touched his face lightly and covered it thereafter. Oh! I couldn’t weep at all. My eyes remained dry. Sorry uncle. I beg your pardon. How ungrateful I am! I recollected the long past while ours was a joint family. It was a big one. Grandpa and grandma were alive. Father was three brothers. There were mother and two aunts. I was two. Lalan was two. Chittaranjan was only one. Lalan had one sister. Shashimala and Manjumala were Chittaranjan’s two sisters. Besides Kalawati and Jaiprakash, paternal sister and brother, too, were the members of the family. Everything was well because youngest uncle Indranarayan Singh and aunt Saraswati Devi were very wise and tolerant. He was a Middle school teacher but kept the knowledge equal to that of a high school’s. Saraswati Devi was very enduring and worked for all equally. She loved us very much due to which she was mother of all of us. We never thought of her to be any different. The truth is this that we were very happy and never remembered that we had our own mothers, too. ‘Dhruva Narayan! Uncle called. I got up even when in profound sleep. Every time his voice rang in my ears. He often said, ‘You have to work hard and fare well! I had committed his advice to my memory. Whenever I was with him, he asked me about this or that thing and thereby taught me many things easily. One night it so happened that we were returning home from Triveniganj fair after visiting cinema. Many men and women of the village were with us. When we came across the Tedhariver and were walking along the Chakarki bank, water seemed to be sprinkled. I was on uncle’s shoulders. He held me tight and asked, ‘what happened?’ I replied, “Someone sprinkled water on me.” “It might be a ghost,” he said, “Don’t get afraid. I’m with you. Nobody can do anything to you. Always be bold.” In this way he often taught me new things and encouraged me to be bold. Today I remembered all such things as regards him and felt myself to be an orphan. The source of inspiration which ignited what I call my innate ability ran dry only in name but it is yet flowing with the same force telling me, “I won’t die for you for I have to guide you to the greatest goal.” Once he took me to Saharsa to show me a doctor. That day we couldn’t come back. We had to spend the night in a railway dhala hotel where we took dinner and slept on benches setting them close together. It was winter season. There was chilling cold. But there was only one khadichadar with us. Uncle gave that to me and said “Put it on your body and sleep. It is too cold outside.” I asked, “What will you cover your body with?” He said “I have my dhoti.” Thereafter he folded his khadi dhoti and wrapped his body with it and began to snore. It was summer vacation. In those days it was one month’s long. Uncle was at home and had gone to the market in the afternoon. Brother Jaiprakash and I were preparing Maduwa (a type of black grain) and sieving seeds in cot’s net. It was hot but the moon from the sky made us feel cool. We, in fact, were lost in the work. We didn’t care who came and went because the way went through our door. At last my attention was drawn to a call. It was coming from a little distance. “Dhruva Narayan! Dhruva Narayan! I have a very good news for you,” said uncle. “What news, uncle!” I asked. In reply he said, “You not only passed in the Board Examination but also broke all the previous records. Congratulation!” I didn’t believe my ears but it was true, a fact. I was happy from within. Uncle was very pleased with me. He wanted me to study ahead. Financial condition of the family was not good. Only uncle had to look after everything. He was posted at Banailipatty where he lived most of the time. One day he asked me to get ready. I asked, “Why?” He said, “You have to go to Madhepura for admission in T. P College. Jaipraksh will also go with you.” I got amazed and pleased, too. I got ready. Brother Jaiprakash, too. Uncle said, “It’s getting late. Let’s set out soon. We have to reach in time.” We set out with him for Madhepura. There we took admission in Pre Arts. The then Prinicipal was Ratan Chand, a great scholar of English. M. P. Yadav was the Vice Principal, a strict administrator and reputed scholar of several subjects. Both the two took us lovingly. In this way my study went further. Uncle never spoke of his inconveniences. The truth is this that he sent all the money he got as his monthly salary. There left nothing with him even as his pocket money for which he taught village students. With the earning from tuition he met his needs and rest of it was sent home. What a sacrifice! What a contentment! Today lying even on death bed he is satisfied and seems saying “Don’t get despair. Never think yourself alone. “I shall always be with you” I feel myself like weeping but it was a mere feeling. No drop of tears fell down rather I got inspired much more than before. May be it is an amazing thing for you but it is true to a letter. I got booster doge of inspiration from my uncle which my father couldn’t do. Somehow I did my graduation and was making a waste of time at home in the village. On one Saturday he came home and asked me, “You have to go to Birpur with me tomorrow. There is a High School where you will teach English and Hindi. The Headmaster has demanded such teacher.” I just listened to him but couldn’t say anything at once. I weighed myself and thought whether I would be capable of it or not. My confidence said, “Yes, you will. Go and begin to teach. It will change the course of your life.” Next day I left with uncle for Birpur where I started teaching both the subjects. The students were satisfied and the Headmaster was pleased. I often missed home. I was given one hundred twenty-nine rupees as salary after a month was completed. My joy knew no bounds to get the money for it was my first earning by the sweat of my brow. I said, “Many Many thanks to uncle.” Uncle loved me most of all. But so far as study goes he was very strict. He never let me loose. He made me the lesson done. He made me new things gotten by heart. He punished me whenever I turned a deaf ear to him. That’s why I became accustomed to regular study. He encouraged me by saying, “Keep reading and making sincere efforts for success; someday you are to get it for sure.” I replied, “I must try my best without thinking what comes.” I always followed his advice. He was a great human. He was the most patient and efficient teacher. Even now he is my ideal. It is he who brought me up with proper guidance and paved my path of progress. “Uncle! What can I do for you today?” “Nothing, my son. I’m all right.” “No. Uncle! You must have been suffering from ailment. Why don’t you tell me? Please tell me what happens.” “No. Nothing, My son. I haven’t any suffering from any ailment. I’m completely at ease. You know this is the ultimate truth. Birth and death are interrelated. One can’t deny this fact.” “But uncle! How can I console myself? Everybody is weeping at your departure. Whom I will call uncle? Who will guide me? Who will provide me money for further study?” “You will be granted everything. Just believe me. It is no use weeping now. Laugh and make others laugh so that life may be happy and this world a cosy home.” he said. At this I really wept and pearl of tears rolled down my cheeks. Funeral pyre was made at a little distance behind the house. Uncle was bathed with Gangajal. The girdle was cut away. The body was wrapped with white cloth, symbolic of soul itself. A boy asked me, “Sir, Why is a dead man made nude and wrapped with white cloth?” For a moment I kept mum thinking, then said, “My child, it is because a dead man become soul itself and it is white complexioned. Didn’t you follow?” He said, “Yes. I see.” A bamboo bier was put at the gate, feet out to the courtyard and head in to the gate of the house. A coin was kept on the forehead. One after another we poured Gangajal in the mouth and Tulsi leaves on it. The face was covered thereafter. We bowed to his feet and saluted. The funeral procession was taken out. Different coloured paper flags were being pitched ahead and the bier was being carried behind. One man was saying, “Ram Naam Sat Hai.” All were saying, “Sabki Yahi Gat Hai (Only Rama’s name is perpetual).” Four of us were shouldering the bier. It was kept down once on the way to the pyre. We moved three times with the bier on shoulders round the pyre, right to left, feet front and head hind. Lastly it was kept on the pyre. Again we dropped Gangajal in the mouth one by one and offered our last salutation. Chittaranjan in white cloth set fire to the pyre which began to blaze after some time and uncle was burning to ashes. Kirtan Mandali was singing Kabira’s Samdaun- “Yah Jeevan Kagaj Ki Pudia, Bund Pade Gal Jana Hai. Rahana Nahi Desh Birana Hai(This life is a small paper packet, dissolves with drops of water. Not to inhabitate in this alien country).”

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Short Introduction

Name : Dhruva Narayan Singh Rai Date of Birth : 15/01/1954, Education : M.A.(Hindi), M.A.(English), Birth Place : Village- Nipaniya, Thana- Triveniganj, Dist- Supaul (Bihar), 852139 Books Published : Angutha Bolta Hai (Khand Kavya), Dwapar Gatha (Mahakavya), Face Of The Mirror (Subjective Essays), Tukra Tukra Sach(Kavita Sangrah) Editor : Nirala: Vyakti aur Sahitya, Jan-Tarang (Patrika), Senior Editor: Kshanada (Traimasik Patrika), Chief Editor: Chaurasi Journal of Mini Khambuwan (Patrika), Flying with Words (Stories) Others to Come Out : A Towering Personality Late. Dr. Mahabir Prasad Yadav (Biography), Ehsaass-E-Safar (Gajal Sangrah), Aaina-E-Hakikat (Gajal Sangrah), Gao ki Auraton ka Koras (Kavita Sangrah), Riturang (Samaygeet), Anugunj (BhaktiGeet), Taanpura (Kahaniyan), Ramaniyarth ka Arth (Aalekh), King's Megaphone (Poems) Honour/Awards : Kavivar Maithili Sharan Gupt Samman, Gajal Samrat(Antarrashtriya Sammanopadhi Sansthan, Kushinagar U.P.), Bihar Kavyaratna (Akhil Bharatiya Kala Samman Parishad, Kushinagar, U.P.), Rastrabhasha Aacharya (Hindi Vikaas Seva Sansthan, Kaptanganj, U.P.), New Ritambhara Sahitya Mani Samman (Chhattisgarh), Kavya Gaurav Samman(Aakriti Prakashan, Pilibhit U.P.), Sahitya Kamal Samman(Aakriti Prakashan, Pilibhit U.P.), Kavya Shree Samman(Tarunoday Sanskritik Vikaas, Parishad, Khagaha Purnea, Bihar), Sahitya Sewa Samman(Mahima Prakashan aevam Chhattisgarh Shikshak Sahityakar Manch), Devbhumi Sahitya Ratna (Devbhumi Sahityakar Manch, Pithoragarh), Bharat Gaurav Samman (Richa Prakashan, Katni M.P.), New Ritambhara Bharat Bharati Sahitya Samman 2010 (Chattisgarh), Sahitya Ratna Samman (Tarunoday Sanskritik vikaas Parishad, Khagaha Purnea, Bihar), Sahitya Satyam Samman (Sahityik, Samajik aevam Sanskritik Wagwaichitrya Manch, Araria,Bihar) In Magazines : Jan-Tarang, Jan-Aakanksha, Kshanada, Lahak (Kolkata), Parti Palar, Samvadiya, Richa, Sankalp (Hindi Akademi Haidrabad), Prasann Raghav Nirbhik aevam Rashtriya Nishpaksha Saptahik, Shambuk Masik, Vipr Panchayat, Tarunoday, Vaishyavasudha, Vichar Dristi, Bhagya Darpan, Mandal Vichar, Bharatvani, Sahityanchal, Naari Asmita, Shabd Karkhana, Lafj, Prachya Prabha, Nayi Gajal (Traimasiki) and in different Literature Collection Books.