Funerals for the ages: Remembering the dead or judging the living? 

In the not-so-distant past of 2013, the world mourned the loss of Nelson Mandela, a titan of humanity. Well, most people mourned. While Barack Obama moved the crowd to tears with his stirring eulogy, he also managed to move social media into a frenzy with, of all things, a selfie.

Captured candidly by photographer Roberto Schmidt, there they were: Denmark's Helle Thorning-Schmidt holding up her smartphone, Obama leaning in like an enthusiastic college student, and David Cameron tagging along with his best "pleased to be here" smile.

Naturally, the image went viral. While some applauded their camaraderie, others asked the burning question: Was this the time or place?

It got me thinking about funerals today as they've seemingly become social gatherings with a side of grief. It's not just world leaders who've forgotten how to act at solemn events.

What used to be a space for mourning and reflection has apparently turned into something resembling a mini reunion. Or worse—a kitty party for aunties.

Conversations have shifted from heartfelt condolences to thrilling debates over who wore what, who's married, who's divorced, and who's just bought a rather questionable sofa set.

The absurdities of grieving relatives

As I stood there, feeling like an unwilling participant in some bizarre social experiment, a distant grandmother who had never seen me before took it upon herself to start a conversation.

With a smile that seemed more judgmental than loving, she said, "You're pretty, but your mother was prettier when she was your age. She's still much prettier than you two sisters. I don't know why, but you two didn't inherit even 10% of her beauty."  

Oh, what a charming way to kick things off. As if we had the option to be more beautiful and, like, chose not to — because, obviously, that's how beauty works. And, it was absolutely the perfect place to throw out such a delightful insult.

Another aunty began a new conversation. She turned to another aunty, feigning concern about her sons. "What's he doing now? He studied at DU and still hasn't made anything of himself? And your other son is married, running a business, but can he really run the family?"

It's always reassuring to know that others are so invested in your personal affairs, isn't it?

Meanwhile, across the room, another woman was sobbing—tears streaming down her face. But soon I discovered, it wasn't because of the loss of her relative.

She was weeping because her son was living away from her. A grand total of 296 km, from Rangpur to Dhaka.

296 km, a journey that could be covered in just 6 hours. But for her, that distance might as well have been the Grand Canyon. "He has to live alone now," she sobbed dramatically.

"When he was home, he could hardly pour a cup of water for himself, and now he's all alone!"  The tragedy, truly.

Then comes the food

It is a Muslim tradition that those who come to mourn should have at least one meal at the deceased's home.

One child was calling her mother to leave the funeral, so she wouldn't miss her coaching, but the mother responded, "Bosh kheye jai [Let's eat first]."

Then another man continued asking for more food as if it were a buffet, and also criticised the lentils for being dull.

A dish called 'mejban', famous for funerals in Chattogram, is immensely popular among all Bangladeshis—even those living abroad.

What many don't realise is that it's typically a funeral food. So people attend funerals for the "mejbani bhoj", thinking it's a buffet.

A call for reflection and respect

The person who dies is someone's most cherished relative or friend. Death means no return.

Even if we are distant relatives of the deceased, we must show consideration.

If we can't offer genuine sympathy, we should at least refrain from making others feel like they are just another face in the crowd, or that we've only shown up for the sake of it.

Throwing unkind comments or gossiping about people's lives, especially in a grieving space, is not only disrespectful but bad manners.

It is vital to remember that the relatives of the deceased are often too emotionally drained to cook, let alone prepare an elaborate spread.

What they serve should be appreciated, not critiqued.

Funerals should remain what they are meant to be: a time for mourning, remembrance, and support. Not a social gathering, a party, or a marketplace. A little sensitivity, restraint, and decorum could go a long way in restoring the reverence these occasions deserve.