My Father's Death and My Double Shame

The time of which I am now speaking is my sixteenth year. My father, as we have seen, was bedridden, suffering from fistula. My mother, an old servant of the house, and I were his principal attendants. I had the duties of a nurse, which mainly consisted in dressing the wound, giving my father his medicine, and compounding drugs whenever they had to be made up at home. Every night I massaged his legs and retired only when he asked me to do so or after he had fallen asleep. I loved to do this service. I do not remember ever having neglected it. All the time at my disposal, after the performance of the daily duties, was divided between school and attending on my father. I would only go out for an evening walk either when he permitted me or when he was feeling well.

I was in my sixteenth year at the time I am now describing. As we have seen, my father was bedridden with a fistula. My mother, a longtime family servant, and I were his main caregivers. My nursing duties mainly involved dressing his wound, giving him medicine, and preparing medicines when they had to be made at home. Every night I massaged his legs. I went to bed only when he asked me to or after he had fallen asleep. I loved serving him. I do not remember ever neglecting this duty. After completing my daily duties, I divided all my available time between school and caring for my father. I went out for an evening walk only when he gave me permission or when he was feeling well.

This was also the time when my wife was expecting a baby,—a circumstance which, as I can see today, meant a double shame for me. For one thing I did not restrain myself, as I should have done, whilst I was yet a student. And secondly, this carnal lust got the better of what I regarded as my duty to study, and of what was even a greater duty, my devotion to my parents, Shravan having been my ideal since childhood. Every night whilst my hands were busy massaging my father’s legs, my mind was hovering about the bed-room,—and that too at a time when religion, medical science and common sense alike forbade sexual intercourse. I was always glad to be relieved from my duty, and went straight to the bed-room after doing obeisance to my father.

This was also the time when my wife was expecting a baby. Today, I can see that this was a double cause of shame for me. First, I did not restrain myself as I should have while I was still a student. Second, my lust overcame what I regarded as my duty to study. It also overcame my devotion to my parents, which was an even greater duty. Shravan had been my ideal since childhood. Every night, while I massaged my father’s legs, my mind wandered to the bedroom. This was at a time when religion, medical science, and common sense all forbade sexual intercourse. I was always glad to be relieved of my duty. After bowing to my father, I went straight to the bedroom.

At the same time my father was getting worse every day. Ayurvedic physicians had tried all their ointments, Hakims their plasters, and local quacks their nostrums. An English surgeon had also used his skill. As the last and only resort he had recommended a surgical operation. But the family physician came in the way. He disapproved of an operation being performed at such an advanced age. The physician was competent and well-known, and his advice prevailed. The operation was abandoned, and various medicines purchased for the purpose went to no account. I have an impression that if the physician had allowed the operation, the wound would have been easily healed. The operation also was to have been performed by a surgeon who was then well-known in Bombay. But God had willed otherwise. When death is imminent, who can think of the right remedy? My father returned from Bombay with all the paraphernalia of the operation which were now useless. He despaired of living any longer. He was getting weaker and weaker, until at last he had to be asked to perform the necessary functions in bed. But up to the last he refused to do anything of the kind, always insisting on going through the strain of leaving his bed. The Vaishnavite rules about external cleanliness are so inexorable.

At the same time, my father was getting worse every day. Ayurvedic physicians had tried all their ointments, Hakims their plasters, and local quacks their remedies. An English surgeon had also used his skills. As a last and only resort, he recommended an operation. But the family physician stood in the way. He disapproved of an operation at my father’s advanced age. The physician was competent and well-known, and his advice prevailed. The operation was abandoned, and the various medicines bought for it went unused. I have the impression that the wound would have healed easily if the physician had allowed the operation. The operation was also to have been performed by a surgeon who was then well-known in Bombay. But God had willed otherwise. When death is near, who can think of the right remedy? My father returned from Bombay with all the equipment for the operation, which was now useless. He had given up hope of living much longer. He grew weaker and weaker, until at last he had to be asked to relieve himself in bed. But to the end he refused to do any such thing. He always insisted on making the effort to leave his bed. The Vaishnavite rules about outward cleanliness are so strict.

Such cleanliness is quite essential no doubt, but Western medical science has taught us that all the functions, including a bath, can be done in bed with the strictest regard to cleanliness, and without the slightest discomfort to the patient, the bed always remaining spotlessly clean. I should regard such cleanliness as quite consistent with Vaishnavism. But my father’s insistence on leaving the bed only struck me with wonder then, and I had nothing but admiration for it.

Such cleanliness is certainly essential. But Western medical science has taught us that all bodily functions, including bathing, can be managed in bed. This can be done with the utmost cleanliness and without the slightest discomfort to the patient. The bed can remain spotless throughout. I would consider such cleanliness entirely consistent with Vaishnavism. But at the time, my father’s insistence on leaving his bed simply filled me with wonder and admiration.

The dreadful night came. My uncle was then in Rajkot. I have a faint recollection that he came to Rajkot having had news that my father was getting worse. The brothers were deeply attached to each other. My uncle would sit near my father’s bed the whole day, and would insist on sleeping by his bed-side after sending us all to sleep. No one had dreamt that this was to be the fateful night. The danger of course was there.

The dreadful night came. My uncle was in Rajkot then. I vaguely remember that he had come to Rajkot after hearing that my father was getting worse. The brothers were deeply attached to each other. My uncle would sit near my father’s bed all day. After sending us all to bed, he would insist on sleeping beside my father. No one imagined that this would be the fateful night. The danger was there, of course.

It was 10-30 or 11 p.m. I was giving the massage. My uncle offered to relieve me. I was glad and went straight to the bed-room. My wife, poor thing, was fast asleep. But how could she sleep when I was there? I woke her up. In five or six minutes, however, the servant knocked at the door. I started with alarm. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘Father is very ill.’ I knew of course that he was very ill, and so I guessed what ‘very ill’ meant at that moment. I sprang out of bed.

It was 10:30 or 11 p.m. I was giving the massage when my uncle offered to take over. I was glad and went straight to the bedroom. My wife, poor thing, was fast asleep. But how could she sleep when I was there? I woke her up. Five or six minutes later, however, the servant knocked at the door. I started in alarm. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘Father is very ill.’ I already knew that Father was very ill, so I guessed what ‘very ill’ meant at that moment. I jumped out of bed.

‘What is the matter? Do tell me!’

‘What’s wrong? Please tell me!’

‘Father is no more.’

‘Father has died.’

So all was over! I had but to wring my hands. I felt deeply ashamed and miserable. I ran to my father’s room. I saw, that if animal passion had not blinded me, I should have been spared the torture of separation from my father during his last moments. I should have been massaging him, and he would have died in my arms. But now it was my uncle who had had this honour. He was so deeply devoted to his elder brother, that he had earned the honour of doing him the last services! My father had forebodings of the coming event. He had made a sign for pen and paper, and written: “Prepare for the last rites.” He had then snapped the amulet off his arm, and also his gold necklace of Tulasi-beads and flung them aside. A moment after this he was no more.

So it was all over! All I could do was wring my hands. I felt deeply ashamed and miserable. I ran to my father’s room. I realized that if animal passion had not blinded me, I would have been spared the agony of being away from my father in his final moments. I would have been massaging him, and he would have died in my arms. But now my uncle had received that honor. He was so devoted to his older brother that he had earned the honor of serving him at the end! My father had sensed that death was near. He had signaled for pen and paper and written: “Prepare for the last rites.” He had then snapped the amulet off his arm and his gold Tulasi-bead necklace off his neck and thrown them aside. A moment later, he was dead.

The shame, to which I have referred in a foregoing chapter, was this shame of my carnal desire even at the critical hour of my father’s death which demanded wakeful service. It is a blot I have never been able to efface or forget, and I have always thought, that although my devotion to my parents knew no bounds, and I would have given up anything for it, yet it was weighed and found unpardonably wanting, because my mind was at the same moment in the grip of lust. I have therefore always regarded myself as a lustful, though a faithful, husband. It took me long to get free from the shackles of lust, and I had to pass through many ordeals before I could overcome it.

The shame I mentioned in an earlier chapter was my shame at feeling sexual desire even as my father lay dying. At that critical hour, he needed me to stay awake and care for him. This stain is one I have never been able to erase or forget. My devotion to my parents knew no bounds, and I would have given up anything for it. Yet I have always thought that my devotion was tested and found unforgivably lacking because my mind was in the grip of lust at that very moment. So I have always regarded myself as a lustful, though faithful, husband. It took me a long time to free myself from the chains of lust. I had to endure many trials before I could overcome it.

Before I close this chapter of my double shame, I may mention that the poor mite that was born to my wife scarcely breathed for more than three or four days. Nothing else could be expected. Let all those who are married be warned by my example.

Before I end this chapter about my double shame, I should mention that the poor baby born to my wife lived only three or four days. Nothing else could be expected. Let all married people take warning from my example.