18th birthdays are special. A child’s transition into adulthood… at least on paper. Our particular conundrum is, how do you celebrate your child’s 18th, when she has already transitioned on to bigger things.
Sakshi’s batch mates have spread their wings and gone to universities around the world. Some have carried her photograph with them, so that she too gets the ‘college experience.’ This is just the first of many anniversaries and events, which she will not have. Moments in time, when we will be left standing wondering simple but heart-breaking questions like, “How would she have looked?” “What would she have done?” “How would she have coped with that?”
Before I come back to this point, let me get one thing off my chest – I believe in an afterlife. Not because Sakshi passed away last year, but because the idea of something in us continuing even after we shed our bodies has always made perfect sense to me. I had not needed proof. However, after Sakshi’s death, I yearned for some kind of validation that my belief in an afterlife was not just an amorphous belief, but something that could be experienced, if not proven. Clinical hypnotherapy, reiki, meditation, access bars… these are just some of my tools.
I remember sitting in the car following the ambulance taking her from the mortuary to the cremation ground. Suresh was in the ambulance with her because we did not want her to be alone. I remember sitting in the front seat of the car, thinking throughout the 45 minutes it took us to reach our destination, “Where are you?” It was a question that plagued me… haunted me. It was the background hum to my every breath. “Where are you? Where are you, Sakshi?” It took me a couple of weeks before I began to get a glimmer of an answer. I am still seeking to understand the answer more deeply.
Why am I telling you this? Not really sure, but it may have something to do with full disclosure. I feel that no conversation with me would be complete and true, unless you understand that I still feel my daughter’s presence in my life. I grieve. But I don’t grieve because she no longer is. I grieve because I am not able to hold her physically or hear her talk, sing, and laugh, because I can’t see her grow into a beautiful adult in front of me. I grieve because so many of the dreams that she had, and so many more that she had not yet had the opportunity to even conceive of, have been lost. I grieve. I also believe she continues to be – in a form and in a dimension that I cannot sense with my limited physical senses alone. The answer to my question is, “She is everywhere.”
Usually, I would have shared a poem written by me to express what I mean. But Mary Elizabeth Frye has done such a wonderful job, there is no point in me trying to reinvent the wheel.
Now that that is out of the way, let me write about some other things.
Last month, Sakshi’s school, Gems Modern Academy (GMA), held the first ever Sakshi Verkot Memorial Theatre Festival. The plan is for it to grow into an annual affair that will have participation from multiple schools. At the inaugural event, held over two days, the skits, dances, and songs were performed by the students of GMA. Not just performed, they also directed, managed backstage and were responsible for the sound and lighting!
To think that students, their parents and teachers, devoted time amidst the rigmarole of homework, exams, projects, family time and holidays, to organize and rehearse for this festival, has moved us deeply. One of the young thespian’s mothers came up to us at the end of the first day’s program, and said, “There are not enough opportunities for kids who dream of being actors to hone their skills and showcase it. Thanks for providing them with this platform.”
While we cannot take any credit for this, we both knew that this is the best way to remember Sakshi. She came alive on the stage. This girl who hated Hindi and barely scraped through her Hindi papers, would learn by rote two pages of monologue in Hindi and deliver it with the right emotion and nuances. She would beg her drama teachers to cast her as the villain, because the bad guys always have the meatier and more cutting dialogues, and they seem to be having more fun! In fact, for one of The Hive (theatre school) plays she got to be a part of, and which was staged at The Junction, she got her teacher to change Count Olaf’s gender so that she could play Olaf.
This festival represents her love and her passion for the performing arts. I wish she could have taken it further, but I console myself with the knowledge, that in her passing, she has given birth to a festival that will help many young artists take it further. What an ode!
The other thing that I want to write about is our foundation. Sakshi’s Joy Foundation is up and running. The website went live on the 25th of October – on Sakshi’s 18th birthday. While it will still be a couple of weeks more before one can donate or buy Sakshi’s Joy candles from it, we do have forms, emails and WhatsApp numbers via which one can express their interest in supporting us. We will revert as soon as all the legalities are taken care of. The website will be a home for the foundation that we hope will go on to reflect Sakshi’s light and love amidst under-privileged paediatric cancer patients.
I will try and be more regular with my posts going forward. I will not call it a promise, but my intention :). As always, thank you for being so patient with me and holding a space for my words in your hearts. I am more grateful than words can express.
My God, this piece!💙🩵🌻💖 It is perfection. Soo beautifully written and flawlessly edited. I read it in one gulp through misty eyes, my heart pounding a little at the sheer depth of emotion that you have crafted through simple words.
I believe this too - Sakshi is everywhere. I will buy the candles that will spread her special light and joy.
I loved reading about Sakshi's passion for theatre, especially how language came alive for her in the art form.
I look forward to getting to know her in your words, Binu, and I hope the writing gives you a measure of peace and strength 💜