True stories - Brother

True stories - Brother

I was the Tom-boy among all my friends during my childhood. Having 7 brothers definitely helped. I was strong brave and did almost all activities that the boys of my age did. My friends looked up to me and I was their little hero, while I enjoyed the caring love and affection of all my brothers. 

It was in one of those dares my friends threw at me that I decided to climb that walnut tree by the pond. I was 8 years of age, but jumped up to the dare, and threw myself up a difficult branch, but then got stuck. Neither could I reach up to the next branch nor could I climb down to the branch I jumped up from especially with the pond looming below. For a moment I was frightened, I didn't know what to do. The kids below got frightened too as I was at a considerable height. They began shouting in panic and then ran away fearing the wrath of the elders. My mother had appeared at the backdrop but did not come out probably because she had my younger baby sister in her arms. (She later revealed that she didn't come out as she dint see me atop the tree and she had actually thought somebody had jumped into the pond.) I was up at a considerable height, scared and confused and alone. Then I saw somebody running towards the tree. It was my little brother, all but 4 years old, small and skinny. He came below me, looked up with his wide eyes, held out his thin hands and shouted. "Jump, my sister, I will catch you. Don't u worry. I will save you." Tears sprang to my eyes. His bravado, his concern, his love. I still remember that scene vividly. The view from the top, the frightened me, the pond full of water looming below, Amma and the baby and the skinny little kid below me with wide eyes, arms stretched out, calling out to me to jump,a wide reassuring smile in his lips, full of concern and love.

Fast forward 60 years. My brother, because of his concern and love for all, because of his unmatched brilliance and bravado,  grew above all of us, conquered the world. Today is his funeral. I cannot bring myself to look at him today, but I did, somehow. Seeing him brought me back to that day 60 years back. His wide and glowing eyes were shut today, his arms which are not skinny now, are now folded across his body. But that smile, I can still see that reassuring smile in his face. That smile of defeating us all, even in death. That smile, of knowing what lies beyond. That smile, telling us not to cry for him as he is now free from the world of suffering and is now resting in the hands of the Almighty. 

Dear brother, you outdid all of us in all aspects of life but this is one time when I wish you would've let us go ahead into the arms of God. But when I close my eyes, I can still see you, healthy and happy, arms stretched out, eyes wide and the same reassuring smile in your lips. That view is enough for me, till the day i join you, when I'll take that jump into your arms.

Just like that day.

Lots of love,

Oppol.

True Stories - Perspective

True stories - Perspective

Both the good thing and bad thing about CML clinic is that you keep seeing the same cohort of patients every week. Some of them are irritating, but mostly patients are considerate, willing to wait and not noisy. One of my favourite patients was a young lady in her early thirties, just because she seemed to be the happiest in the whole OPD, if not the whole world. She never jumped the queue, insisted the older patients and the wheel chair bound patients to be seen ahead of her and never ever complained about the system, which does not treat its subjects fairly. But what really really set her apart is one character. She is the only patient I have seen, who has the heart to ask at 3:00pm whether I had any lunch or whether she could get me something to drink. In the midst of their troubled lives and bizarre sicknesses, people, quite understandably, forget to think that the doctor seeing them at 4:30pm might not have had anything to eat or drink since morning. Just that one question, showing an extraordinary love for the fellow human being, in spite of her own illness, made her my favourite patient.

But she always came alone. As a policy we hematologists don't ask personal details of our patients unless required, probably because there is enough sadness running around and there is no need for an additional emotional burden. One day she came with her child. The little girl child was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Quiet and well behaved like her, with the most beautiful of smiles. Everyone in whole OPD gave the mother and child a second glance, just because of the pure happiness they radiated.
After examining the patient that day and writing her prescriptions I asked the mother, "How come I've never seen your daughter before, did she used to stay at home with her dad??" A moment of darkness crossed the mothers face. But it quickly turned into the perennial smile. "Oh doctor, you don't know. I'm a single mother." That was enough for me, the stupid me had blown off my mouth, yet again. Typical foot in mouth situation. You start the conversation and you don't know what to say. But she did not seem to be bothered and started her story.

"I was 4 months into my arranged marriage when I was diagnosed as CML. My husband left me on the day of diagnosis and I returned to my parents. I was devastated, lost, jobless and penniless. I contemplated suicide. Although the doctors explained to me that the disease would most likely be under control with drugs, I didn't want to be a burden to my parents or to anyone. I cried all day and night. Just before I went to bed, my dad came to me and told. "See you'll be my favourite whatever happens and whoever leaves you. You were such a confident, smart and ambitious girl when you were little. Bring that girl back. Tumhara hi zindagi hai beta, jaise vo bekaar-sa ad mein bolte hein, "Make it Large"....." I didn't sleep a wink that night. In the morning I decided I am going to face my disease with my head held high. I went to my best friend from school, borrowed some money from her and bought a sewing machine. Long story cut short, I own a stitching and designing shop in my hometown. I employ 6 girls now, all either cheated or abused by their husbands. 

Life is never complete without more people to love. Hence with the approval of my dad, I adopted her. Took some real arm twisting with all the paperwork. But now I am her mother and her only parent. It's actually quite funny. I used to get a lot of marriage proposals when I became successful, those have reduced since she came. But I'm not at all sad doctor, I decided that day itself, that I will not venture into anything myself, unless it was on my own terms.

I am surrounded by people who love me unconditionally doctor, and I came to realize that in life, that's all that matters."

She gave me the sweetest of the smiles, picked her daughter and walked out. The daughter waved me a ta-ta over her mom's shoulder. 

I closed my eyes to savour that moment. Oscar Wilde's famous lines came to my mind.. 

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist.".

Happy Women's day.