Thread by @shenoyn

My dad, who passed away recently, had one incredible quality. He was just not afraid of dying in the way the rest of us are. Let me give an example. Way back, in 2001, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. The treatment was radical. They would remove half his jaw and most of the

tissue surrounding it. There was a problem though. Just the year before, he had had angina and chose not to have a bypass surgery. The oncosurgeon warned that while the mandible surgery itself was quite straightforward, his heart condition posed a significant risk. My mom and I

were there with him when the doctor said that. He was characteristically nonchalant. "If we don't do this surgery it's 100% death, right? And if we do it, it's only a 50% chance that I'll die. We'll go ahead and do it".
"Get these tests done" said the surgeon "and get admitted

this weekend". We returned in a sombre mood. My mom and I, that is. Dad was his usual chirpy self. Tests done, the appointed day arrived. We sat into the car, dad, mom and I. My eyes were teary. It could well be the last time he was leaving home. The drive was pretty much

in silence. As we drove towards the Tata Memorial hospital - it was around noon - dad spoke. "Can we go to Modern Lunch Home? They have a great fish thaali. I don't know if I'll be able to have it again". We went, of course. And mom and I were totally unable to eat a morsel.

But dad ate as heartily as he usually did, asking for seconds. And then we went in and got him admitted. He was right. He was never to eat at modern again, because the surgery left him unable to eat anything other than mashed food and the radiation they administered after the

surgery left him without most of his taste buds. It didn't make a whit of a difference to his life philosophy though. He continued practice right up to 2018, till his neurologist told him he mustn't drive any longer, and worked as an administrator in his hospital till lockdown

last year. For me, the thing was his complete equanimity when faced with the prospect of imminent death. I hope, when my time comes, that I will be able to muster up at least a hundredth of that courage.