Passport to Die Gracefully

Passport to Die Gracefully
I was born an Indian, a sheer
accident, I live an Indian, my choice, I would love to die an Indian, my pride.
An Indian by heart I may be, till
that last puff of breath leaves my mortal being, but the QODI has started worrying me off late.
For all those wondering what this
QODI is all about, it is the Quality of Death Index,
the index which measures how well you are placed, the care that you can expect,
while you lie on your death bed.
The 2015 Quality of Death Index has positioned
India disgracefully and dishonourably near to the ground when it comes to the
possibility of receiving good end to life attention and care. A shameful 67th
among the 80 countries in the world measured in the index.
Research of the 80 countries covered
in this index, I did and was in for a startling revelation. I had always
frowned upon a few of these countries and have even silently thanked God in my
prayers that I was not born in any one of them. Now with what this index reveals,
I am sincerely having thoughts of amending my prayers to ask for at least a
death in one of them.
Would I have ever thought of
spending my old age in Ghana, or Tanzania or maybe Zimbabwe? I wouldn’t have
had this glaring index hadn’t caught my fancy and my attention. Now I wish I
could. Admittedly, these countries fare far better than India when it comes to
reaching a dignified and more peaceful end to life.
67 is a long way down, it feels, and
surely it is. Much far from the top and too close to the bottom! Fortunately, there
are 13 below the rug too, including our friendly neighbour Bangladesh larking
at 79 just above the “top of the house” Iraq.
This QODI has made me think hard,
repent at my error of judgement too. I would have thought of migrating to a
safer haven in my hey-days which I didn’t. Inching close to the half century
mark, the possibility of doing that now sounds bleak too.
Suddenly I look at my daughters and
their unsuspecting smiling faces raises a tinge of hope in my eyes. I am not
getting emotional here for sure, not that feeling of “a daughter is a daughter
for the rest of your life” kind of mood too.
It’s just the thought and the wish
that they decide to move out in pursuit of their livelihood to any of these
countries with a decent QODI, and they harbour the thought of having their
grand old Accha (meaning Dad as how my
daughters call me) as a baby sitter for their tiny tots. Oh yeah, not a bad
idea, and viola, I still got a chance to die gracious and distinguished. It was
not a bad bet after all having a quarter dozen of them and that surely
increases my probability quotient even more.
That’s perhaps my passport to die
gracefully.
Till my prayers are answered and I
am destined to get the passport to be the doting grandpa in a better QODI
country, I just wish that we shouldn’t actually have gained independence from
the British.
Thanks to the extensive palliative
care and a strong hospice movement, UK being voted on the top of the QODI
index, if we had remained a colony, perhaps I would have at least got a more
stately and noble death.

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5 thoughts on “Passport to Die Gracefully

  • After reading the holy cow, I was wondering what iif, all the animals that are killed for human consumption arround the world banned or allowed could read and understand this " QODI" and seek passports in their respective countries and I would be the first person to write a blog of course with the help of expert blog writers from the world. Wish some all these animals could read my reply and understand this "QODI"

    Reply
  • After reading the holy cow, I was wondering what iif, all the animals that are killed for human consumption arround the world banned or allowed could read and understand this " QODI" and seek passports in their respective countries and I would be the first person to write a blog of course with the help of expert blog writers from the world. Wish some all these animals could read my reply and understand this "QODI"

    Reply

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