Maya, March 17 1951 - October 26 2001

Death is nothing at all

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together
is untouched, unchanged.

Whatever we were to each other,
that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way,
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air
of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort,
without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you,
for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.
All is well.

- Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral

Maya with a donkey

Shobha Nayak

I have had this photo of Maya for a long time. I just call it Maya with a donkey. I smile every time I see it.

The year was 1997. Maya, Amarnath, Narayan and I went on a Western Caribbean cruise. The place was the famous Dunns River Falls, Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Maya saw a cute donkey with a flower cart and rushed to hug it. The picture captures a whimsical funny side of her, which few people ever saw. Narayan and I have fond memories of that trip with her.

This was a time before digital photography so Narayan took the small photo and scanned it.

Yes, she was wearing shorts and looked gorgeous.

The taste of losing you

losing you tastes of home-made marinara sauce,

the one i found in your freezer,

was it a week later?

we saved it, until we could no longer

in a box, hidden in a deep icy corner.

days passed, weeks turned to months

each numbered by your absence.

i took it out one day.

it thawed, slowly

it simmered, thickly

red tomatoes, oregano, garlic.

it poured, heavily

over three bowls of spaghetti.

we ate, in silent reverence, without appetite

our palates paralyzed, knowing

this would be our last taste of you.

i still search for you...

in every string of fettucini

in each slice of pizza

in countless d’amicos and casa piccolas and olive gardens

in paris and delhi and houston.

i think, perhaps, i can find you in my own kitchen,

chopping, blending, stirring,

like i’ve seen you do, a hundred times before.

i come close, sometimes, but never enough

knowing, this is the taste of losing you.

For Maya on her 60th

I originally posted this on Facebook on March 17th, 2011...

On the day Maya would turn sixty, I turn to her favourite passage. She herself was called by many different names, but to me she was just my mother. Today I celebrate her deeply abiding, wholly unconditional, exceptionally forgiving love. Her smile meant home.

When you find the Light within you 

you will know that you have always

been in the center of wisdom.

As you probe deeper into who you really are,

with your lightedness and your confusion,

with your angers, longings and distortions,

you will find the true living God.

Then you will say:

"I have known you all my life

 and I have called you by many different names.

I have called you mother and father and child.

I have called you lover.

I have called you sun and flowers.

I have called you my heart.

But I never, until this moment,

called you Myself."

from Emmanuel's Book : A Manuel for Living Comfortably in the Cosmos

by Pat Rodegast, Emmanuel and Judith Stanton