Baras means a period of one year in Urdu so by extension Barsee denotes the annual commemoration of a death in South Asian culture.
It can often be something we dread but, really, how arbitrary. Can a particular date be something to fear?
Barsee. The word itself sounds like water pouring down.
A Barsaat. A rainfall of challenges, tests, finances, secondary losses.
Barasra.
A reminder of Allah's mercy.
Also descending down.
Sometimes the English language can't capture the exact sentiment.
Death Anniversary is just so awkward. It is just too close to marriage and therefore ends up somehow incomplete.
My husband and I -Our anniversaries were always riotous events with catered biriani, homemade cards from loving children, and messy chocolate cake.
But a barsee. It is a reminder.
From Al Rahman.
A Dia de los Muertos.
An homage, a mental eulogy, a sharing of memories or anecdotes, a Quran reading, a family trip to the cemetery or even a day to simply hide under a blanket.
Another twelve months have passed and you survived.
You woke up 365 times and you did your best.
In the other room I can hear the cheerful sounds of my grandchildren singing the incy wincy spider rhyme. I wish my husband could have witnessed this but he is in a better place and who knows, possibly witnessing this too.
Gratitude regardless.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.
The toddlers giggle and collapse on the floor in unison.
Throughout my childhood, my own mother used to laugh at my complaints about the rain. I would frown at the treacherous droplets and puddles saying,
Rain, rain go away
Spring showers ruined picnics, caked up the sandbox; dampened my BritAsian spirits and clothes,
But Mum relished the rain. She only ever saw it as this drought-ending mercy from her childhood.
In India, monsoons heralded answered prayers, water fights and paper boat regattas in sun kissed valleys.
It was relief, optimism, comfort and hope.
These precious memories are what I have left of my parents. Dad taught me the Quran and immersed me in literature and socialism. He tried desperately to bring order and structure to my free spirit. My mother taught me to appreciate all the elements, and to face all challenges with grace. I ponder over these legacies and no longer fear the barsee date. How can a 24 hour period be scary when we are learning to live months and years without these loved ones of ours.
And the incy wincy spider climbs up the water spout...
Two generations later, milennials also recognize the soothing effect of precipitation.
A tired young mother calls out "Google, play rain sounds"
And the swooshing lulls her babies into a blissful slumber.
The rain keeps falling. It has turned from torrents into a rhythmic misty drizzle.
It is a reminder.
From Al Raheem.
And what does the toddler dream about so peacefully. Maybe about that tiny, persistent spider?
Aren't we all just climbing up that spout again and again.
5 comments:
Absolutely brilliant! So profound.
Love it! So meaningful and so true..
Very nicely written thank you
Rain is such a mercy that when it happens we have a specific supplication asking for the blessings from it!
Allah tests us with loss, and in the verse He says glad tidings to the patient. Managing loss patiently can be the expiation and path to everlasting bliss reunited with those we loved.
🥰
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