The Scent of a Soul
Have you ever dreamt of or experienced a loved one visiting you after dying? Or did you feel they were sending you signs of some sort? Did their clock or watch stop working after their death? It happened to me several times.
When Amma passed on it was so unexpected the shock left me in limbo. I was 3000+ km away; we had spoken only a few days ago. She complained of a migraine one night. When she met the doctor the next day, she told him about her migraine and slipped into a coma for a month — never to return. There was no getting over it. I found myself still gasping at the memory of her limp pale body kept alive by a lung and heart machine.
I needed closure when she died but I also wondered about her. Yes, I worried about my dead mother. What does a soul feel when it is ripped from earthly bondages in the flick of a switch?
I had an inexplicable experience when I lost a younger brother a few years before to drowning. Tossed around by both rip tide and ocean wind, his body was recovered several days later. He was too young to die; I still ask myself, “Why not me?” When I visited his home, I turned around restlessly at night and saw him sitting on the bed across from me, chin in hand, staring; confusion writ all over his face. He did not speak but his eyes seemed to ask, “Why are you here?” I wanted to ask him the same question. Did he not know of his passing?
I returned home to my home in the hills tormented. Whilst taking solace in a library the book, ‘The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying’ by Sogyal Rinpoche, practically fell into my hands. I was meant to find it. According to Wikipedia, the book ‘is a presentation of the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism based on the ‘Tibetan Book of the Dead or Bardo Thodol.’ Though complicated, it answered a few questions. One thing I understood or interpreted is that people who die suddenly often return home, acting as they would when alive.
That freaked me out. I thought I had only dreamt of my brother.
A dear Tibetan friend led me to her monastery where we lit some butter lamps and consulted the monks who chanted for my brother. For the first time, I felt like a weight had lifted off my chest.
Then in 2019, while Amma was still in a coma, I sought my friend’s help once again. I could not go down to the monastery in Doon. And, God bless her, she arranged for the monks to chant for my mom for three whole days. She sent me video clips that were comforting yet made me cry. I didn’t know a single monk in the hall and yet, there they were, all strangers, chanting in unison for an unknown woman miles away. The sight and sounds resonated in ways that slowed down my restless heart in hushed whispers. My husband and I were in our living room when simultaneously, out of nowhere, we smelt the beautiful fragrance of incense that I had smelt before. It was just divine. I asked my husband if he could smell it and when he answered in the affirmative, I just knew it was a sign that mom had gone. The phone rang soon after. That night I had a beautiful dream wherein I had just reached Amma’s home after a long day of travel. As usual, like every visit, she and my sister were waiting for me on their tiny verandah, beaming. We hugged hard and long. Amma looked as she did when she was 35 instead of 87 while my sister looked her actual age. Amma was young, healthy and happy in my dream. I woke up realizing I no longer needed to worry about my dead mother.
Then the maleficent pandemic arrived and took my kind-hearted friend away. Her loss tormented me for months until, one day, a magnificent mountain hawk eagle perched on the tree within touching distance from me. It sat there confidently locking eyes with me. For reasons I cannot explain, it felt like a messenger sent by my Tibetan sister. It seemed to say, Stop worrying, I am OK.” There is no scientific evidence to prove the bird was a sign but only I know the feeling of peace it cast upon me as it slowly lifted its wings and soared away into the blue sky above.
I still wonder if it was all a dream, figments of my fertile imagination.(earthymatters013@gmail.com)
