The pursue

Do you believe in fate/destiny?

Another uncle passed on—his departure as sudden as his kindness was constant. He was a man who knew every custom and rite, from birth to death, and he dedicated his life to guiding others in their traditions. Always joyful, always willing to help, he went out of his way to teach and assist those unfamiliar with the rituals of their ancestors.

In his final years, dementia took hold, and he suffered for a long time. His children and grandchildren stood by him, caring for him as he gradually withdrew from life, spending most of his days sleeping and refusing to eat. In the end, that was how he passed.

On the day of his funeral, I walked around his coffin three times, singing a bhakti song in his honor. No one interrupted me; they simply listened as my voice filled the space. His family and extended relatives heard me, yet it never occurred to them that he was a Hanuman bhakta—a devoted follower of Hanuman. It was only later that my aunt told me how fitting it was that I had sung that particular chant for him.

The next morning, her son-in-law played the Tamil version of a Hanuman song in his car, as if echoing the sentiment I had expressed. In the days that followed, he shared something unexpected: they too were Hanuman bhaktas, yet in their grief, none of them had thought to sing for him—until I did.