This day, about 13 years ago, I was lighting candles in St Thomas’s Cathedral in Chennai. The lovely SF was very ill at the time and I was lighting one for him, even though he’d told me repeatedly that he wasn’t a believer and that the candles I lit were for me and not for him. All was good. As I touched the taper to the wick, time stood still and I was overcome by an anguish I’ve not felt since. I went from smiley, happy, to gut-wrenching hysteria. A quiet hysteria though – I wouldn’t have wanted to make a scene. It was over in seconds. I hadn’t a clue what had just happened.
Later that day, when we got back to the hotel, I had a message from SF’s mate to say that he’d died earlier about the time I was lighting my candle. I reckoned he’d passed through on his way over just to say Ha! Told you!
This week, while in a temple in Bangkok, I came across a prayer bell of sorts. People had bought charms and hung them from a bell-shaped form to create a bell of prayers. Many had written their names and the date on them; more again had written their prayer. And from those I could make out, career topped their list above health, wealth, love, and family.
Never having had a stable, trajectoried career myself, I found this difficult to relate to. I’ve never wanted solid, steady, secure, preferring the ifs and maybes that allow a little flexibility in the hours and days I work and the places in which I choose to set up shop. I like new. I like different. Or at least I thought I did.
Perhaps I’m still jet-lagged. Or maybe it’s the heat. Or then again, it could really be the strangeness, the newness, the difference that I’d thought I wanted, but five days into this Thailand trip, I woke up wishing I was in the village, in Balatonmagyaród, far from the teeming masses. I have a knot in my stomach the size of a baby elephant’s eyeball wondering if the train tickets we have for today’s 10-hour+ journey north to Chiang Mai are fake. I woke up anxious, no longer trusting my ability to spot sincerity and separate the genuine from the disingenuous. The events of the past few days have been a little much. No threat to life or limb but my soul got a bit of a bashing. If I could fast forward 24 hours, I would. And that’s not good.
It’s been years since SF passed and yet my one wish for us would be that we could have just one more pint and say the unsaid. Had I added my prayer to that bell, it wouldn’t have been for career or health or wealth or love but for a little more time with those who matter, and more appreciation for the mundanities of life.