A Deepavali without Indiran

For Usha Suppiah, Deepavali has always been about family. It meant a house filled with relatives, festive cooking and children gathered around to make murukku.
This year, however, the festival will be marked by the absence of her eldest son, K Indiran.
On Feb 18, the 22-year-old armed forces trooper was found unconscious at the 10th Mile Army Camp in Kuantan. He died two days later while receiving treatment.
“The last time Indiran was here, we were all happy. But this year, he’s not around, and when we feel one of the family members is not around, we feel ‘one kind’,” Usha, 52, told FMT Lifestyle.
“I really miss him. All of the family members miss him. But still life must go on.”
Following Hindu tradition, they will not be celebrating Deepavali for a year after the death of a family member. Still, Usha and her three other children will observe prayers and have a modest gathering with relatives travelling from different parts of the country.
Her youngest daughter, 12, has been trying to understand why the celebrations will be different this year. “She asked, ‘Amma, why is Anna (big brother) not around? We cannot celebrate Deepavali, right?’
“I said to her, ‘Yes, Anna is not around, but we are still doing prayers. We are not celebrating in a grand way, but still we are doing makan-makan’,” Usha, a nurse, said.

In previous years, Indiran would return home about a week before Deepavali to help clean and decorate the house, accompany his mother on shopping trips, and prepare traditional treats such as murukku.
He was also the life of family gatherings, often entertaining his relatives and friends.
“Indiran’s uncles and friends would gather, have drinks, and then Indiran would dance and sing. We would all fully enjoy ourselves because he would dance with us. That, I cannot forget,” Usha said.
Indiran had also taken on greater responsibilities at home after his father, a Royal Malaysian Air Force officer, died in an aircraft crash in 2016. As the oldest of four children, he stepped up to help his mother and look after his siblings.
“He took care of his sisters and brother. He would cook rice, clean the house … just like my husband, he would help out with all the housework.”

Given that her husband had died in an aircraft crash, Usha was initially reluctant to let Indiran join the armed forces. Eventually, however, she accepted that it was the path he was determined to follow.
Indiran had been in service for less than two years when he passed away. During that time, he had developed a reputation for his good attitude and humility.
He was also skilled in photography, often taking pictures at army camp events attended by senior officers, and had been trained to operate drones.
It is the everyday moments Usha misses most, particularly the calls Indiran would make to check on her.
“He would call several times a day and say, ‘Amma, how are you? Have you eaten? How’s your work today? Eat well, sleep well, take care’,” she said.
“I really miss his calls, his voice. Nobody can replace him.”

About a week before his death, Usha had met Indiran in Taiping and cooked some of his favourite dishes, including fish sodhi, bayam and lala.
“We then went to a Chinese restaurant and I fed him, and he fed me,” Usha recalled. “He said, ‘Amma, luckily you came.’ It was the last dish I cooked for him, the food that he liked.”
For Usha, the meaning of Deepavali has not changed; what is different is that her son is no longer there to share it with the family.
“Even though he’s not around, we feel that he’s here. We cannot see him, but all the family members can feel him,” she added.
“We are going to miss his funny attitude, silly jokes, and the love and laughter he brought into our lives.”
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