Narayan and Iravati Lavate wish to end their lives on their own terms

Inside the small apartment is a pile of books - on forensic medicine, the Right to Information, a copy of the Constitution of India, the Law of Affidavits and Supreme Court rules

For the elderly occupants of Room 10 in Laxmibai Chawl, the humdrum routine of life has been interrupted by media visits over the past fortnight. By now, even the shopkeepers have got the cue, guiding folks through the narrow bylanes of Thakurwad in South Mumbai. When Narayan Lavate, 87, and his wife Iravati, 78, wrote to President Ram Nath Kovind on December 21, 2017, seeking “mercy death” or physician-assisted suicide, they didn’t anticipate this kind of response. 

The Lavates have been campaigning for a citizen’s right to death since 1987. “We have legislation allowing abortion on medical grounds. Why shy away from allowing those above the age of 75 to voluntarily end their lives?” ask the couple, who are busy fending off concerned queries by relatives and friends since the news broke.

Inside the small apartment, just a foot over Narayan’s bed, is a pile of books — on forensic medicine, the Right to Information, a copy of the Constitution of India, the Law of Affidavits and Supreme Court rules. There are more such volumes on top of cupboards. So I am not surprised when he hands me a draft copy for his proposed “Bill” on euthanasia. The file also contains copies of letters sent over the years to politicians and members of the judiciary such as Sharad Pawar, Supriya Sule, Ram Jethmalani and R M Lodha. “He even joined law school thrice but never went past 15 days,” says Iravati.

A retired school principal, she rests her leg on the other bed, explaining how her movements have been restricted after her hip surgery. “I can’t walk for long or take the bus anymore. Cabs refuse to ply in the area, especially after the construction work for the Metro began.” While Narayan, who retired as a state transport officer in 1989, still heads out to meet friends and consult with organisations, days stretch ahead emptily for Iravati. Cooking and cleaning take up some of her time. The rest is spent watching television or listening to the radio. Her outings are restricted to Fridays, when the couple attends a senior citizens’ meet. “We are tired. We have lived our lives, are of no use to society. Everybody has to go sometime, we are merely asking for the right to go in our time, together,” she says. 

The dispiriting conversation takes a different turn when it moves to Khatau saris. The frail woman lights up instantly. She is equally vocal on politics, going on to hum the lyrics of Jag He Bandishala (This world is a prison) by poet G D Madgulkar, which is pasted just above the dining table. Their fight, she tells me, partly stems from watching their parents end their lives bed-ridden. The other part has to do with dying with dignity. “Article 72 of the Constitution gives the President the right to commute death sentences of convicts and show mercy. We are asking him to expand the term “mercy” to include those over 75 years who want to voluntarily give up their lives,” says Narayan. 

Members of the Society for the Right to Die with Dignity, the Lavates say some of their friends are coming around to their point of view. In the Lavates’ case the decision is made simpler because they don’t have kids. The couple also reached out to Dignitas, a Swiss non-profit that provides assisted suicide for members who suffer from a terminal illness or severe physical/mental illnesses. While the Lavates don’t fall into either of these categories, being physically and mentally sound, they believe Narayan’s failure to get a passport is all that’s holding them back.