Contemplation

My maternal grandmother passed away in India last night after a long and active life of 90 years. Given her age and that at last news her health was deteriorating, it didn't come as a complete surprise but the event does certainly stir the emotions. When Muslims hear of a death, we say inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon - To God we belong and to Him we return. It's light on the tongue but a heavy and beautiful reminder that our lives are not ours to fritter away but to make the most of it with goodly action as we are all going to go on that path, or as Game of Thrones would have it - valar morghulis.

Living as we did, several thousand miles apart, most of what I remember about her was from my childhood when we'd make frequent family trips to India but even then, I don't immediately remember a great deal from those trips - as a child my major concern was that we'd always go in the summer holidays which corresponded to monsoon season in India which meant we were mostly indoors.

Upon hearing of her death, I pondered - trying to remember what I could about her. I remember an old photo where she was robustly holding my toddler self while my older cousins posed and I remember the last time I saw her. I last visited India ten years ago and my Urdu is quite awful so when I was around her I couldn't communicate all that effectively but I remember her waving from the window when we were making our goodbyes and I remember thinking how small and fragile she looked, and in my youthful arrogance, wondering if I'd see her again. Not my greatest moment but I do also remember praying for her and myself as a result.

In all honesty, it saddens me to admit that I didn't know much about her beyond a general overview of her life. My memories of her are clearly very limited and 90 years is a long time and those who were geographically closer like my cousins will no doubt tell me numerous stories about her as the days go by. I could be very wrong (and I'm sure my cousins will correct me if so!) but hers was not a life of grand and momentous activity but a relatively simple life much like countless anonymous others. Growing up in a village before ending up in Mumbai with my grandfather, she did her duty and fulfilled her religious and social role: believer, daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother.

That's not to say her life was unimportant - every life is. She was loved by those she knew and to those whose lives she was directly or indirectly involved in she made a huge difference and had huge impact. The values she instilled in her children live on in the generations that came after and our very existence was naturally dependent on her. Her descendants have ended up all over the globe making what further impact they can in their own social circles and much like ripples on the sea, it's impossible to track what far-reaching effect these are having.

It's more than a passing curiosity that, even in our modern and progressive world, when people hear of a death they grow solemn and supportive and still acknowledge that the ending of a life is a significant thing. My various WhatsApp groups have been hugely supportive with prayers for her forgiveness and granting of Paradise to her and it's genuinely moving and appreciated. People make time to visit close relatives of the deceased and even brand new work colleagues are understanding of the need for flexibility.

When we hear of the death of strangers on the news its relatively easy to dissociate oneself from it but when it's someone you know who's been affected it's all that much closer to home and that little phrase becomes a stark reminder of our own mortality and the productiveness of our own existence.

To God we belong and to Him we return.

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