Chapter Eighteen: Cutting Loose

You'd think having taken the food due to them after the service, our 10 minute walk back to the cul-de-sac would become somewhat easier but let's be honest - as if anything during this whole exodus would be easy and once again, I find us battling through crowds of people lining the street - trying their best to make walking through quicksand look easy!

Still, my crazy pygmy pal Tanny tries to alleviate the trauma by doing his best impression of a human shield and keeping folk away from me as they constantly attempt to push me off from underneath mum...I am grateful for the support being given by Tanny but I can tell my constant swearing and permanent grimace probably does not exude the gratitude I am feeling!

Quite honestly it is near on impossible to get over the sheer agony in my shoulders, still aching from our venture to the service initially let alone on the return journey!

Still, I march on - determined not to let some stranger become a pallbearer, especially since both my dad and Dada got pushed off and swallowed within the cavernous crowd consuming us when they were attempting to do so on the way back!

"I was one of the last men standing whom mum truly adored, I couldn't let her down!" I find myself chanting repeatedly to get through the pain.

However as the physical agony becomes increasingly prevalent on my face from what little Tanny can actually see through the crowd; sweat running off my brow and the dust being kicked up into the air sticking to my face, he decides to point out to me that mum would be nothing but proud of my performance so far.

"...and she definitely wouldn't hold it against you dude if you decided to pass the weight - literally - to her fellow villagers! Considering every single other person who started off as pallbearers be it on their way to the service or the journey back, have been forcibly changed about three times? Well, let's just say first prize goes to you!" he pipes up as he notices my knees practically buckling under the pressure.

I don't say anything to Tanny as I first stare at him angrily.

But after a moment, whilst there is a strong sensation of having failed mum, I know Tanny is right - "besides, ending up collapsing on the ground with mum strewn across the road would be a heck of a lot worse" I reason as I usher a bystander to take over as I move from underneath and rush forward so that I am at least at the cul-de-sac to receive mum rather than bring up the rear.

Tanny is saying something to me but I cannot help but constantly look back on a regular basis and being totally distracted by the chaotic state of affairs. How now that I had let go, not a single person who actually meant two shits to mum in her lifetime was in fact carrying her.

"Is this what you wanted mum? I bloody well hope so!"

As we march along, my thoughts are rudely interrupted by some villager banging on in my ear; I break out of my trance and look at him bemused as he continues,"...I asked whether you could tell me more about your mum. How she died, where your father's family is from and so on?"

"Errr...that's fine but as you can tell I'm slightly busy. Who's asking anyway?" I say to the extremely scrawny, dark skinned guy wearing a polo shirt and ill-fitting jeans and trainers with a rucksack hanging off one shoulder.

"We...," he pauses,"...the villagers just wanted to know...we appreciate your mother wanted to come back to her birthplace but we all wanted to know more..." he says as he nervously lifts his rucksack slightly higher to try and record what I say with the dictaphone I spy lying within.

"Villagers?! Villagers??! Ain't no fucking twats around here save for you who want to ask us about all this now, they're too busy grieving!!!" I shout having clocked the fact that the idiot was a journalist.

"Ok...not the villagers...I'm from...I'm from the press..."

"You don't say...well, ironically I've got news for you: MAKE A FUCKING APPOINTMENT!" I scream as I stop dead in my tracks staring right at him and breathing heavily like a bull getting ready to charge at a matador.

Tanny ushers me onwards as the shaking journalist turns and slumps off into the incoming crowd.

"Fucking bastard..." I say as I walk forwards with my head twisted so far round to ensure the idiot journalist has gone that an inch more and I would have probably made like an owl and done a full 180 degree turn!

"Chill dude...he's gone and you've still got a lot to do!" Tanny says but my anger subsides only a little at first.

I was already angry on several levels: from having lost mum, aching beyond belief, having to let go of mum's plinth and even feeling guilty about Uncle Habab. Now, as if all that wasn't enough, I was angry because a reporter had the audacity to want to try interview members of the family during mum's service and having figured that out, I had potentially fucked off a reporter who would perhaps go away and write all sorts about deceased writer Maria Khan's son telling the press to fuck off!

"Great - just great!" I say to myself repeatedly as I turn into the cul-de-sac round the side of the mosque, but so as to not stress myself out any more than necessary, I put things in perspective, "still, Mr Khan, it's only one reporter out of hundreds...besides mum's gone - you have far more pressing emotions and people to worry about!!! So take a breath!"

It is only then I notice the whole open area of the cul-de-sac has been covered using a giant sheet - each end tied with rope to trees or buildings to hold it up and there are three or four bouncer-esque security guards fully armed with revolvers and rifles standing at the mouth of the cul-de-sac as I enter; I turn to look at them and give my most regal smile although I am still seething inside as they salute me before turning their attention to the impending crowd approaching them as mum appears round the corner.

Before the bouncers even have to say or do anything though, another six appear as if by magic, to wrestle the plinth away and whisk mum over to the bottom of the steps near the white bungalow. The others in the meantime, are stopping everyone from entering the cul-de-sac until Goldie pushes through the crowd waving a list at them and after saying a few words to identify himself, stands by them pointing out to the bouncers those whom have been deemed worthy of coming in!

I watch numerous members of the press as well as generally nosey villagers trying their best to convince the bouncers that there has clearly been some mistake and am surprised to find my anger subside as I smirk to myself, "Good crowd control Dada - guess we've all learnt a thing or two from the trouble we had trying to get mum to the service then! Welcome to Club Khan!"

As I turn to look back into the cul-de-sac, I spot my sister, Neema and Auntie Poppy outside the three storey building walking up and down a line of women all crying their eyes out for mum's passing and constantly blessing my sister by stroking her head as my sister hands them their packed lunches.

It is somewhat amusing as to how calm everything is within the congregation of women compared to the utter lack of respect and order with the men; okay, so there may have been 75% more men than women at the service I had attended but seriously, as controversial as it may seem to a stereotypical Bangladeshi male, they had a lot they could learn from the quiet, reserved demeanour of these ladies.

But, perhaps I was being a tad harsh to the men. Okay, so some may have seemed a little...no, rather a lot out of order, but in spite of this, there was no denying that the whole event was quite a spectacle, "Despite everything mum and my constant mood swings, you'd be pretty impressed with the whole thing I'm pretty sure of that! As cheesy as it sounds, it's pretty hard not to feel the love people have for you...in fact, I'm pretty impressed myself!"

I smile as I imagine mum watching everything from above and nodding in agreement, eyebrows raised shaking her fingers at me as if to say, "told you so!".

As I am looking around, practically walking backwards towards the white bungalow taking it all in, I also spy some men working hard within the confines of the graveyard at the rear of the mosque abutting the cul-de-sac, digging away creating what I guess to be mum's final resting place.

I feel a huge wave of loss hit me again as I try to accept that I would be very shortly continuing the rest of my life without mum. Yes, she was dead and in a coffin, but we had to this point been together as a family - the moment we lay her six feet under, that would be it!

My heart beats faster and eyes begin to throb and twitch as I feel sadness shrouding me once more but thankfully, before any major water works, I hear my dad shouting over to me asking me to get my sister, Neema and Auntie Poppy over to the bungalow and so as to avoid the inevitable tears, I obey immediately, charging over to them and asking them to join dad and Dada accordingly.

As the four of us wonder in, I see mum's coffin has been lifted off the plinth which has been left outside and laid back inside the room within which Princess's father had fainted. Dada and dad are in the room as are Goldie and Tanny and another 10 or so members of the family - some I recognise, others I have no idea who they are.

Dad then makes an announcement, "As you all know, under Islam, one has to buried merely wrapped in a white robe and not in a coffin, so we shall need to remove beloved Maria accordingly. I understand the grave has now been completely dug up and prepared so my son shall deal with opening the coffin and removing the lead-lining before we lift her out. However, so you all know, it was Maria's last wish that when she was lifted out of the coffin in preparation for burial, she only wanted myself and our children to see her face as well as Dada, Poppy and Neema but that is it!

She was well aware that this was in direct conflict of how Islam is interpreted by some - that after a woman dies she should not be seen by anyone but this was her wish and the Khans are going to obey with this...and yes, we are aware that on the other hand, for those of you who would have liked to have seen her but cannot, you shall be hurt that she chose only a handful of people to see her which excluded you but such is life - cruel and unfair..."

Dad pauses as he cries a little.

I walk up to him and putting an arm across his shoulder, look around the room clearly spotting many a face that has turned to thunder and others strewn with tears; there is a hum of mixed emotions from dad's announcement.

Leaving everyone out would have been the way I would have played it personally but mum being mum, she didn't believe in keeping people sweet...but actually allowing only two of her siblings see her for the last time but excluding the rest like Princess's father or Goldie?

"OOooohhhh, controversial mum!!!"

My thoughts are interrupted though as dad manages to pull himself together once more to finish "...I know this may upset many of you but that was her wish so without further delay, please could everyone else bar those I've named leave the room and find it in themselves to forgive Maria."

With that everyone slumps off mumbling to themselves clearly feeling aggrieved for being treated as second class citizens.

Forget Goldie and Princess's father from whom I was expecting some element of confrontation, one second cousin twice removed or something actually steps out of the door but then steps back in and as I try to ask him to leave, he starts shouting at me!!! As he harps on saying that we had clearly misunderstood her dying wishes and blathers on as to how he was like mum's brother, as rude as it is in Bangladeshi custom I continue to stand my ground against this elder and repeatedly ask him to leave - let's be honest, he didn't give that much of a shit seeing as he never called, never wrote and never even helped organise a fucking thing for mum's service!

Eventually I realise things are getting a little too heated and inappropriate to say the least and I eventually admit defeat and walk away.

The second cousin grins triumphantly but only for a moment as I return with Dada in tow who promptly chucks the guy out; the cousin's eyes wide and wild with a stream of froth practically spilling out of his mouth as Dada does this.

Still, his behaviour makes all those remaining in the room realise the awkwardness of the situation, though no one says anything, as we look at each other until we all end up staring fixedly at Tanny, who in all the commotion, has not even remembered he should have left too!

It does relieve the tension a bit as we watch confusion on Tanny's face appear as he looks up from his glance at mum's coffin wondering why we are all staring at him, which then changes into embarrassed realisation as to why we were doing so.

Luckily we don't have to endure some random Tanny-quip as using her head, my sister asks him to leave before he says anything to explain.

As Tanny walks towards the door I over hear him say to dad how he will "stand guard outside to stop anyone from disturbing us until mum was ready for burial" and as dad pats him on the back, he gives me a nod as he closes the doors behind him.

There is complete silence with dad, my sister, Neema, Dada and Auntie Poppy sit or stand as they are as if frozen statues; all our faces exuding expressions mixed with emotions.

"3 portions sadness for our loss, 1 portion honour for being so important to mum with a small half portion of guilt over what had just happened and maybe even a pinch of anger for putting them in that position. The perfect recipe for melancholy and pensiveness" I think to myself as I lift up my trouser leg to once again unlock my dive knife from it's clasp and use it to unscrew the coffin lid.

I then ask Neema and my sister to give me a hand holding the lid steady at first and then helping me lift it off, which they do. We take a few steps away from the coffin precariously balancing the heavy wooden lid in our arms, until we manage to lean it up against one of the walls and then I turn to go back to mum.

There is a part of me that feels apprehensive to turn back and look into the coffin as I really don't want to see mum there - bar a few moments, most of the time everything that has happened has all felt like some badly written Bollywood movie, that none of this is real and mum is totally alive and well - but the moment I cut open the metallic lead lining and see mum's now pale and withered face again, it would be come so very, very real.

But this is a job I wanted so after a moments hesitation, I stick my knife down through the wax seal running along the edge of the lead-lining and the coffin as carefully as possible - hoping and praying our incessant movement of mum has not lead to her moving out of position and in the way of my knife - and saw very slowly to pry apart the wax from the wood.

It is emotionally draining for all of us.

I shed a tear for every cut I make as do the rest of the family as they stand and watch me; my sister and Auntie Poppy are sobbing continually and although it is breaking my heart, I carry on regardless.

Along with the emotions though, it is physically demanding as well for me. What is causing me the most problem is the sheer bruising I have sustained during my pall bearing and with the waxy seal being a couple of centimetres thick and couple of inches wide, it is taking me a lot longer to saw through than expected.

I want to ask for the surrounding family for help but it is obvious none are in any state to be able to do so, so I finally decide to ask for help by sticking my head out to call to Tanny.

Although he is standing just outside, before he can even respond to my request, Goldie jumps in pushing Tanny out of the way, saying Tanny won't know where to get another knife so he would be better suited to help.

Begrudgingly, I agree and Goldie charges passed me to get through to the kitchen through the doors on the other side of the room. I shrug to Tanny with a look of dismay as I pull my head back in, close the doors and continue sawing.

Gripes aside though, Goldie's brute strength proves invaluable and we manage to cut all the way around in probably less than half the time it would have taken me alone.

As the two of us are knelt on the floor, knees stained browny-grey with a mix of dust and mud, I begin indicating to him that before we began lifting the lead-lining off, he needed to leave as he was not meant to see mum's face as per her own instructions but as no one else is there to back me up, Goldie ignores me completely and begins lifting it up!!

"Cheeky fucker...!" I grumble as I help him lift, fearing that if not done carefully, the lining may very well land on mum injuring or crushing her delicate face or body.

But spookily, exactly at the moment mum's face is revealed, the electricity goes off and whilst not completely dark, the shadows we are casting makes it difficult for any of us to make out mum's expression without the lights on.

"WWWoooah mum! You really didn't want Goldie here did you!" my sister pipes up without thinking sniffling as she does from all her crying and conveniently taking the words right out of my mouth!

Goldie looks up at my sister somewhat irritated but before he can open his mouth to say anything, Dada asks him to leave in his usual authoritative manner.

As Goldie walks out, the power miraculously returns and the lights come back on and however inappropriate it may seem to outsiders looking in, all of us knowing mum's penchant for being down the line and brash at times, actually smirk a little as we all think this was mum's doing from beyond the grave to stop her wishes being interfered with!

After taking that short moment of levity, the rest of the family join me at mum's side by kneeling down next to me and leaning in to see my beautiful mum lying there and frankly, after all she had been through during the run up to her end and up until now, she looks incredible.

Delicate, bright white and at peace, mum looks like the Virgin Mary the way she is wrapped in pure white cotton all the way from head to toe with just her face peering out.

We sit there silently and stare at mum lying there before us knowing this would be the last time we would ever see her again.

All we can hear is our breathing; the spinning of the ceiling fan and the murmur of family outside dying to come in but knowing they are forbidden is mere background noise.

As every breath I take gets heavier and heavier, my heart sinks to the lowest point ever on this whole trip.

This was it...we had finally cut mum loose and were only a few feet away from saying farewell once and for all...

...I can feel myself welling up and coughing loudly I stand up abruptly and place my knife back into its holder.

The others however, let themselves go and allow their emotions to flow through with my sister sobbing on dad's shoulder, Neema hugging Dada as he cries and cannot bear to even look at mum, whilst Auntie Poppy merely holds her head in one arm as she rubs the coffin repeatedly with the other and shakes from side to side, crying softly at first and then practically screaming.

If my heart had already been broken once during this moment, it had been broken once more as I hover almost like a spirit above mum and the family...watching them all falling apart.

"We love you mum...always did, always will..."