The son also lights

In the old tradition, it is the son who lights the cremation pyre after the death of a parent.  The son could be the youngest and only male child among a bunch of children, it does not matter.  Only the son has the right to engage in the final act.

Actually, it is not the final act, but the beginning of a series of acts to make sure that the departed reaches heaven.  Not only the departed but also the two generations who preceded.  While the souls are in a waiting room, they need to be fed, which is why the son then performs rituals every month on a new moon day and then a grander set of rituals to mark the anniversary.

What if one has only daughters and no son?

I told the aunt that it is not the old shastras that I care about.  Instead, we need to remember those who went before us and made our lives possible, I added.  I reminded her that we always recall the grandparents and the uncles and the aunts and share stories even if they are ones that we have heard a million times.  To remember them is what all the rituals are about, I argued.  It is not really about the ritual itself.

But, I know that such talk will not move the faithful from their firmly rooted beliefs.  Yet, I am at an age that to not speak the truth as I understand it is simply not an option.

Traditions are powerful.  They give meaning to many. Even when they are a world away from the old country.

Naipaul writes movingly and yet matter-of-factly about the ritualistic traditions after the death of his sister in Trinidad.  The sister's son, who was born in a land far, far away from India, and a descendant of people who were brought over to the Caribbean islands by the British who wanted cheap labor after slavery was abolished, was the one with the rights and responsibility for the rituals after his mother's death.

Whether or not they understood the words and the actions that the pundit was choreographing, the son said swa-ha and fed the fire.  He and the assembled knew that the tradition would help them make meaning of death and, therefore, life, and to deal with the grief of having lost a loved one.

Sons like me who have shed the old traditions have to find a place for ourselves; we can learn from the daughters who have figured out how to be a part of the tradition even when the tradition keeps them out.