WHAT NOT TO DO WITH MY BODY AFTER I AM DEAD:

What prompted such a thought in me?
A Bengali story I read lately (in translation) called “The Red Saree” by Ashapurna Debi.

I’ve always maintained I cannot carry the shakha-pola-loha-shidur with the same grace that I perhaps would do to a blue earring or a white watch or green shoes! I do love decking up in a saree, I feel very “nice” in it…and yes sometimes I do give in to the fact that a shakha may complement a dhakai saree remarkably.

Where does all this fit in?
Here: AD’s story (I don’t remember exactly now) was more or less set in very early 20th century Bengal, but it didn’t fail to scare me. True to it, a much- married Bengali woman (and unwidowed) on her “last journey” (to the burning ghats) is dressed up (uncomfortably) by her grieving fellow-females. Please note: relatives first, friends can wait.
In the saree she had wedded in; which in most cases is a pathetically red Benarasi one. I succumbed to all these rituals (esp the “redness”, gold, sandalwood etc.) rather in a procedural manner: denial-defiance-bargains-begging-aloofness-acceptance. Huh. The shade which was finally bought was an over-expensive (why oh why?) “kaalchey-laal” and while I did drape it once, for no number of while-on-earth Tissots and Fiats and Tiffanys and Diors would I ever agree to embark on my oh-so-divine-journey in that legendary-arty-weave.

Tell me; amidst all other corpses wouldn’t I look awfully out of place clad in a 6 yard of exquisiteness!!! Yuck, I wouldn’t be able to rest in peace :)

So, I wouldn’t like the following things to happen to me once I’m no more verbally-reactively-responsive:
1. No burning of my body please. I am afraid of fire and burns.
2. No keeping it back for ‘x’ number of hours for visitors to cast a ‘last look’. I don’t much enjoy looks even now.
3. No decking me up in the “notun-bou-saaj”. I have been enough non-reticent to display my dislike for laal shaaree, shakha pola loha shudur, and oh yes, even the aalta. I mean they are so loud.
4. I would like my specks in my clutch. I feel incomplete without it.
5. No holding of the traditional “shradhha ceremony”. Relatives bitching around have always disgusted me. Friends can have a farewell-treat, on me.
6. Play any of the ‘dj kents’ playlists on my i-pod. I love listening to music while traveling. Always.

I do not know if any one would ever register these or who would abide by my wishes.
I do not also know if at all I would rest in peace.
I do not know. And do not want to be known.

It is nice to be unknown, to un-belong.
To be. Even after being.