Chapter 11 Chapter Nine The Death of My Father and My Double Shame

The incident I am going to talk about here happened when I was sixteen years old.As I said before, my father was bedridden with a fistula.My mother, an old servant in the family, and myself were his primary caretakers.I was responsible as a nurse, mainly to bandage his wound, give him medicine, and prepare the medicine for him that needed to be prepared at home.I massaged him on his legs every night and only left after he told me to go to bed or when he fell asleep by himself.I love serving him like this.As far as I can remember, I have never been negligent.All my time, except for washing and other things, was spent on two things, attending classes and serving my father.I went for evening walks only when he allowed it, or when he felt better.

It was around this time that my wife had a child.Looking at it today, this incident is a double shame to me.Because number one, I'm still a student, I should restrain myself, but I don't.Secondly, such indulgence not only hindered my duty of studying, but also hindered me from fulfilling my greater vocation, which is to be filial to my parents.Because I have regarded Slovan as my ideal character since I was a child.Every night, although my hands were busy massaging my father's legs, my heart was wandering in the bedroom, and at that time, no matter from religion, medicine, or common sense, there should be no sexual activity.When my duties were over, I was always full of joy, said good night to my father, and went straight to the bedchamber.

At this time, my father's illness became more and more serious.The doctors of Yajurveda, Hejin practitioners and local quacks have exhausted all their poultices and secret remedies.A British surgeon also came to diagnose.He thought that the last and only solution was surgery.But our family doctor disagrees.He objected to operating on such an elderly patient.The doctor was able and famous, and his opinion was accepted.Surgery is not moving.Many medicines purchased for the operation were also thrown aside.My impression now is that if the doctor had agreed to operate, the wound would have healed easily.

Moreover, the operation was performed by a well-known surgeon in Mumbai at that time.But God had other ideas.Death is at hand, and who can think of a proper cure?My father came back from Mumbai with all the surgical instruments which are now completely useless.He no longer wants to live.His body became weaker and weaker, until he couldn't even get out of bed to defecate.But until he had to, he still insisted on getting out of bed to defecate.The rule that followers of Vishnu attach importance to external cleanliness is so insurmountable. Cleanliness is of course very necessary, but Western medicine has taught us that activities such as defecation and defecation, including bathing, can be performed on the bed under strict hygienic conditions. The patient will not feel troublesome at all, and the bedding will not be soiled.I don't think there is any conflict between this cleansing and Vishnu's dogma.Yet my father's insistence on getting out of bed to defecate did amaze me at the time, and I have great admiration for him.The dreaded night came at last.My uncle was in Rajkot at the time.I seem to remember that he rushed back only after receiving news that his father was seriously ill.The two brothers are really close as brothers.My uncle sat by my father's bed all day, and after sending us off to bed, he insisted on sleeping next to my father.No one thought that this was a night of life and death, although everyone knew that danger could happen at any time.It was around ten-thirty or eleven o'clock in the evening, and I was giving my father a massage.Uncle was coming to take my place, and of course I was more than happy to leave the job to him, and went straight back to my dormitory.my wife-

—The poor man is fast asleep.But I'm back, how can she sleep?I woke her up.However, after only five or six minutes, the servant knocked on the door. I jumped up in panic.He said, "Get up, your father is very ill." Of course I knew that my father was very ill, so I immediately figured out what "seriously ill" meant.I get out of bed right away. "What's the matter? Tell me the truth!" "Father died." It's all over!I just rub my hands tightly.I feel shame and pain.I ran to my father's room. I knew that if I hadn't been blinded by animal desire, I would have been able to share his pain in his last moments.I could still massage him and he would die in my arms.But now it is my uncle who enjoys the glory.He loved his brother so deeply that he would have the honor of serving him at the end!My father knew it was time, so he gestured for someone to bring a pen and paper, and wrote the words "preparation for the ceremony".He took off the talisman on his arm and the gold necklace of basil beads and put it aside, and he died after a while.

The shame I spoke of in the previous chapter was the indulgence of my lust when my father was dying and needed discreet service.This stain is one that I can never wash and forget for the rest of my life.I often think: Though I thought my filial devotion to my father was boundless, and that I would have sacrificed anything for his sake, I was unforgivably dispossessed at the critical moment, for at that very moment I was driven by lust. sleepy.So I often think that I am faithful to my wife, but a lustful husband.It was a long trial before I was finally freed from the bondage of passion. Before I conclude this story of double shame, I will mention that the unfortunate child born to my wife died within three or four days.What else can you expect?Let those who are married, follow my example and be vigilant.