A habit called Life!

I was woken up to a slight murmur in the next room. The house was not big enough for one to be completely ‘private’. But these were familiar murmurs which start very early in the day. There is no curiosity. There is no need to check what is happening. It is the same murmurs I hear every morning – starting at 4am much before the conventional early risers try to put on their jogging shoes. It goes on for 4 hours

He always has a cold water bath at that hour. It is not a rule but just a habit. Whatever the season he had the same rules – Get up at 4, cold water bath, tie around the towel and start his conversations with The Divine. He never claimed that he can talk to God but I just believe he did. Otherwise it would be difficult to do the same thing for more than half a century and call it prayer.

By the time I am up and drag myself to get ready, I watch him swiftly walk to the corner of our compound. He stops by to look at the rising sun on the way. His clenched fist contains sugar that he uses to feed the ant hill in that corner. He doesn’t spend much time there to relish the ‘good deed’. It is not benevolence but just a habit

He spends half of the day in the front room reading the newspaper. The other half includes journaling his day with mind boggling detail. His diaries are archives to our collective family history reaching beyond the 2nd cousins. If you have an argument about a date, there is no better place to look. Journaling is being recommended as a ‘productivity tool’ or  a way to tell your story but for him it was just a habit.

His wife for over half a century has this constant need for novelty. But she still enjoys every bit of supporting the habitual. They have a lot of age gap. He amusingly speaks of an instant in their childhood where he baby sat her. For them marriage was a social institution which works perfectly well because it is meant to. Love was not an outcome, it was just a habit.

He has studied in a Urdu medium school. Survived the crossfires in the Razakar movement. Faced the brunt of naxalism. Observed how layers and layers of interpretation to mythology and religion were built over the years. Sometimes when he is in the ‘zone’, he can bluntly refute the most widely accepted ‘truth’s with utmost authority with a pinch of logic. For him knowledge was in practicals, never in theory. He believed no one should go back hungry from his house – and no one ever did.

It is even tougher to figure if discipline is a habit or habit is a discipline. All his life he never ate in a restaurant as it would be unhygienic. Prefers food prepared on the same day. Meals are in the same place at the same time everyday. There is always a reason behind every action – logical/illogical/abstract it is there.

The habit was not about comfort zone or familiarity. Because when his son built a house, he was ready to move from his habitual home in a jiffy.

Most of his habits remained status quo even when in hospital including seeing his near and dear ones as regularly as he always wanted. Except for his grandson when it was time for him to say goodbye.

4 years, a lifetime since. Still very vivid. The memory.