Why did I not make kozhakattais this year for Ganesh Chaturthi

For a while now, I have not believed in a God who watches over us. All my temple visits have been to admire the construction or the beautiful deities, but it has never been to pray. At some point a few years ago, I decided that I did not like the idea of prayer which stemmed from fear or from a need/greed. I did send out prayers into the world, but they were always thankful messages as I was grateful for the life I was fortunate enough to be leading. I knew that the circumstances which provided me with a happy comfortable life were not always in my control, and I had the good sense to know that I was lucky.

Even if I myself did not believe in gods that looked after us, I liked the rituals linked to Krishna Janmashtami and Ganesh Chaturthi, so on the appropriate days, the idols were decked up and the prasad was made. The flowers for the idols came from our own garden, and this was nothing short of a miracle for someone like me who had spent a large part of my life living in apartments. There were always enough parijaat flowers for the archanai/puja and more than enough red hibiscus flowers to thread into garlands. Making kozhakattais (modaks) for Ganesh Chaturthi was a big event in our house, and it was only in the past 4 or 5 years that I was able to make the rice flour- paste shells in the right shape (they had to stand up like teacups on my palm, ready to receive the filling) and of the right consistency (thin enough for light to go through but thick enough so they kept their shape when steamed). They had to be hand-made, of course, with no resorting to readymade moulds which could have made my life easier.

But this year, I am devastated, and still struggling to make sense of the tragedy that struck our family. My very beloved elder son suddenly left us for ever, early in the morning on a Saturday in April, and our lives turned upside down then, to say the least. I had no gods to rant to, or about, and that is another problem that I will have to cope with some other day. I watch people celebrating Ganesh Chaturthi and Janmashtami with fervour and devotion, and have to control the urge to tell them that it is all pointless. I also have to suppress the voice that tells me that such a tragedy befell us because I didn’t believe in gods and/or pray to them, as that can lead to some very dark thoughts. Believe me, in the past 4 months, I know all the different paths that can lead to spiralling rabbit holes of sorrow and confusion and darkness. When I am able to claw away from the edge of these thoughts, thanks to being surrounded by very loving family and friends, I know that one day, I will again learn to be grateful for the good times we did have, and the happiness (even if always tinged with an absence and sadness) that lies ahead. Right now, all I can think of is “How am I going to cope with Diwali?

100 days without Shashank

 30 July - this will be 100 days without Shashank physically present in my life. 

What all have I missed in the past 100 days:

- my son's hug

- my son's loud laugh

- my son's grin as he gently mocks me for something funny or silly that I am doing

- any one calling me Mama

- some in-depth information about some animal, bird, technological or just fun fact

-  the list could go on and on

What have I not missed -

- a single day when I did not cry

- a single day when I did not miss him

- a single day when I can't remember his last breath, his last words - 'mama, I can't breathe'

 - a single day when I can't remember the last ride with him in the car to the hospital

- a single day when I can't remember the last look when they clamped down the iron door of the furnace in the crematorium

- a single day when some bird or insect did not show up to remind me of him

- a single day when some member of the family or a friend has not called to find out how I am 

- a single day when I have not realised how special my family and friends are

- a single day when I have not thought of the senselessness of Shashank's going

- a single day when I have not felt privileged for the time we had together, for the love we shared, and the memories we made as a family

- a single day when I have not been glad that we let Shashank know he was loved

Dreams that came true

 Thought this would be a good place to store this article on Shashank that was printed in 2012 

Maps on his mind 

At first glance,it looks like a rather elaborate algorithm. On closer inspection,the algorithm reveals its true nature its a map of the river network of Uttarakhand. 

Written by Priyanka Kotamraju 

May 13, 2012 02:49 IST 

At first glance,it looks like a rather elaborate algorithm. On closer inspection,t he algorithm reveals its true nature it’s a map of the river network of Uttarakhand. Exact and detailed, this map is surprisingly easy to read. 

Meet Shashank Srinivasan map-maker, ecologist, photographer, wildlife enthusiast and part-time cycle tour guide of Delhi. When plotted, his life would make a very engrossing map. Brought up in Kolkata, studied in Bangalore and England, he works in Delhi and dwells in mountains as the About me section on his website puts it: 

While I am currently based in India,I do most of my work remotely.  Now a freelance cartographer,Srinivasan has worked with various outfits, both non- profit and government-run, such as the WWF, NTCA, Sanjay Gandhi National Park and the Ministry of Environment on projects dealing with climate change, conservation and urban planning. 

Speaking enthusiastically on the Tso Kar Basin project he was involved with, he explains how maps helped effectively and easily predict the times of conflict between migratory patterns of birds and movements of nomadic tribes of Ladakh, shedding much-needed light on a fragile eco-system. Its a project he hopes to revive. 

Cartographer and ecologist by design, he is, however,an accidental cycle tour guide. This cycling evangelist, as he likes to call himself, stumbled upon Delhi by Cycle, a see-Delhi-on-wheels initiative started in 2009 by a Dutchman. The routine of conducting these tours gives him a sense of going to work, a feeling otherwise absent in his nomadic map-making existence. 

Srinivasan brims over with plans on unusual ways of looking at Delhi’s cityscape, maps he intends to draw of second-hand bookstores, seeing Delhi through older eyes of the seven cities that flourished before. 

Plans for setting up a non-profit outfit specialising in spatial design are afoot, he says. And while that dream unfolds, he continues to make meaning of land, eco- systems and communities through the tools he knows best maps. 

First published on: 13-05-2012 at 02:49 IST  https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/delhi/maps-on-his-mind/

https://indianexpress.com/article/cities/delhi/maps-on-his-mind/ 1/12 

7/27/23, 7:56 PM Maps on his mind | Delhi News - The Indian Express 

Financials after a departure

I was devastated a few minutes ago as my joint account with Shashank changed to become my single one. I can recall the day I went with him to open this minor account when he was probably around 7 years old. Just a month before he left us ( is that how one will forever describe his demise?) I was telling him to close the joint account with me as he already had one with Supriya. His response was so quick! "Why should I? This was my first bank account. I'll never close it!". And he didn't. But I did. Bit by tiny bit, he's being erased from our future. 

He's already not a Director in the Company and the Foundation he started, and soon, Ravi and I will be the signatories for the bank accounts linked to these organisations. I have also just finished the horrifying task of dismissing him as an employee so that the insurance premium is not deducted against his name. 

My dear considerate son had so thoughtfully added nominees for all his investments that his wife, brother, father and I have become benefactors without ever ever wanting this to happen. What else am I going to have the strength to face? 

Thinking back on discussions we had about the need for life insurance, I recall how he would keep talking about it as a useless investment. All I can think of now is, thank goodness he didn't believe in it. Else one or some of us would possibly be benefitting from his demise, and that would surely be too much! 

We took our time to process all this financial stuff, but also agreed that it was essential. This was Shashank's hard-earned money and had to be taken care of as per his wishes. But shouldn't it have been the reverse? Isn't he the one who should have been processing Ravi's and my finances?

We will surely figure out how to best benefit some other organisations or people in Shashank's name, and that will hopefully be less debilitating and ensure the postponement of the gradual erasure of one wonderful human's giant footprint on this Earth that he loved.   

Description of my grief

For a while I am ok. Suddenly one thought about Shashank creeps up, wiping away whatever thoughts were flooding my brain before that. For a while this tiny thought makes me smile  because it's always accompanied by his beautiful wide grin or his gently mocking 'mamma...'. Then there's the sudden realisation yet again that he's gone, that smile and that tone are gone forever from my life.  And then the pain starts. It's like my womb clenches first, and then the memory of the loss spreads to the stomach and the back.  My chest feels like it is going to explode - how can any physical being hold so much of grief and not burst into fragments! The tears are streaming from my eyes, my nose, my mouth is the shape of  one nefer-ending wail - loud in my head but silent to others. I've learnt to cry without a sound so that I don't disturb either my mother or Ravi. Finally at some point, the tears stop flowing, leaving behind a splitting headache, a tense back, a completely gutted stomach, and a message - enough for now, go be happy for a while till we are back again and again and again, for as long as you live.  

Celebrating Shashank ...

My heart is so full just now. While my tea was brewing, I went and sat in the inner courtyard with my eyes closed, and the bulbuls came back. For almost 10 minutes I sat still while they inspected the lamps and then went from branch to branch of the Champa. We will all feel a bit better if they start making a nest again in the same lamp. The remnants of the previous nest are still there inside, so I'm keeping my hopes up. 

Yesterday, a friend of Shashank's said that during a chat about death and after, he mentioned that he'd like to be in our garden always. I cannot imagine why young people in their 30s would even have such a discussion, but then these are strange times, and Shashank had lived through the loss of a friend at 20. All I know is that we never had such a discussion with each other, though everyone who matters knows that I'd like my body to be donated. 

When Ravi walked into the house with the ashes, there was never any doubt in our minds that a part of Shashank would always be with us in our home. And he is, after a heartbreaking dignified ceremony in the beloved inner courtyard.  

It gives me goosebumps to know that this was exactly what Shashank had desired. I wish the need to follow his instructions had come many years later, preferably when we, his parents, were not around to be a part of the proceedings, but then these are strange times. Mad times, as Shashank would say.  

It's funny to have a heart that's feeling so heavy and so light at the same time. 

Celebrating Shashank forever

 Shashank, my son.

He'll be here with me

every time I see a spider working on its web,

or a sunbird doing a balancing act on a hibiscus flower,

or a slug making its way slowly across the paving stones.

He'll be here with me

every time a cat pauses at our doorstep

or yawns gracefully

as she stretches languidly in the sunshine.

He'll be here with me

when the dark clouds start gathering,

when the smell of petrichor wafts across the terrace,

the harbinger of the rains to come.

He will be here

when I am planning a pattern for the loom

or thinking up the colours for a new quilt,

never the World map quilt that he wanted.

He will be here every time I pick up my crochet hook,

looking over my shoulder,

making sure that my spider has 3 or more eyes,

that my owl does not have ears - even if they are cute,

that the dugong i am making has a longer snout (or is that a manatee?),

that I don't call my tortoise a turtle.

He will be here every time one of us is leaving on a journey

and we pose for the selfie-taker who has to record the moment,

much to the amusement of the waiting cab driver.

He will be here every time we sit

in front of a beautifully plated dish

or a particularly attractive dessert (the creamier the better)

that just begs to be photographed.

He will be here every time I make a dosa

or a carrot cake

or a mango lassi

or a biscuit pudding

or. ....the list just goes on and on

He will be here all the time.

I just wish he wasn't gone.