24 days to the last………….
The ultimate truth of life – is when you light the funeral pyre of your parent. That the thought of giving ‘Mukhagni’ and never to see him again is scary enough. It never sinks in, until you do it yourself.
These are but just the words,which I can pen down for the moment. These are the remnants of the journey of 24 days, from the day my father was admitted in the ICU till the day he breathed his last.
These are just the thoughts that transpired and today when I see in isolation of the events of the last one month, I gather to just let my fingers do the thinking and writing and let loose.
I wud have given my heart,arm,legs and any damn organ or the body …all to trade for a few more days of my father’s life, but this is not to be. This piece would have never been written, nor was there any need for it. But this is a story that needs to be heard, to be told, to be felt……
From ICU in vapi on the 10th to Marriage on 11th to Funeral on 19th to Shradh on 31st…. All in the space of 22 days. Is there anything else that remains to be seen ?
I wont see that innocent smile ever again
wont see him getting down from the auto near the building gate, with tiffin in one hand and playing with the puppies downstairs.
wont see him on a Monday morning, wrapped in a shawl, waving me good bye as I leave for work.
Wont see him on Saturday evening, with a warm smile as I enter the home and having a customary hug.
Wont ever feel his arms on my shoulders when am in moments of distress.
wont feel his gentle words of encouragement and the quiet dignified presence with a dash of humor thrown in.
wont be able to ever take an auto on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon from vapi station to his factory,go to the canteen, take him along and come back home.
On the way, he would share some anecdotes of his experiences, his friends and the life he had spent earlier.
wont ever see and enjoy test matches on the TV or any football games together.
wont be ever able to sit near his feet on a lazy evening on the verandah and discuss old memories and different topics of the world.
wont ever be able to hug him and embrace him at will.
wont ever be able to sneak in as a small kid between him and mom on a cold winter night or on a Sunday afternoon, bereft of any worry in the world.
And these are just but a minuscule of instances which come to mind at the moment, and there are a lot of more things that remain unwritten and unexpressed, probably its better that way.
And even if these experiences and memories were nt there to share, it wouldn’t have mattered, or it wouldn’t have had made my grief any lesser, coz he was my father, the beloved son, the beloved Babu,Borokaku,Chhorda,
After retirement in August, Baba often used to reminisce about his childhood memories, of the tales from police lines in Burdwan, of Bengal paper mills in Raniganj,of his siblings, neighbors,early life’s experiences,lessons learnt,unfulfilled desires, his parents, near ones,world affairs, his philosophy of life, his way of looking at the world, the broad vision that meant “ We be of one blood, you and I”. I had heard a few of these before also, Baba used to say, Bambi- do you like me sharing these stories or are you getting bored. I used to say, Dad has it ever happened this way? I have always eagerly heard what you have said, why do you even think so?
I suggested to him to pen down his memoirs in a book, in a file so that on a wintry morning on an easy chair, he can read it to his grandkids 15 years as well.
But that wont happen now, those memories, those things will never ever be put to pen and book.
Coz, he has gone far, far away from where there is no return. People tell me to be strong, brave bla bla and all that…... If only that could bring back my father for a day, it would have mattered. By the reams of rituals, ceremonies, rules and all, if I could just bring him back for a day. If only all the money and treatment in the world could revive him, if only he could just smile and talk to me.
Baba, you have left me and mom in the lurch. Why did you go so early, so far, why dint you stay back and spend the next phase of life in peace and serenity. Everything was in my favor, every damn thing. Career, marriage, money, just everything. Why did you have to go this way ? why . I could have brought the world to its knees if only there was a hope that you will come back hale and hearty.
Never will I be able to express my innocence freely, never will I be able to cuddle up to you, never will I be ever heard by an unbiased mind and never will I hear those soft and loving words. You went like this, how could you. Never will I be able to discuss the happenings of the day and week. I just want to feel you dad, you cant go away like this. Why ? you and mom could never be a part of any good moments, any ceremonies, any weddings in the family, not even your own son’s wedding.
Isn’t this an unfair life ? within 7 days of my marriage, I had to don the funeral dress and shradh within a fortnight. I had to go and marry under the most unnatural circumstance, that is with the father in the ICU. How much strength do I show ? and what for?
Coz he was my father, my dearest and closest friend in this whole world without whom life doesn’t matter. It will never be the same. Not the whole treasure in the world can bring him back now.
We never had the money, but we always lived with heads held high with all the grace and humility in the world.
These pangs of regret- I will carry to my grave that I could never fulfil his last wishes.
Bambi, I don’t want to get admitted here.
Bambi take me home, where I will be alright.
Take me to Bombay.
Take me by flight to Kolkata. I want to be there at your marriage…………………..
Why dint I do any of these ? Coz I was scared. Scared to go against the doctor’s advice, and force him to travel, lest I had to bring him back to the hospital again. But ultimately, what happened? He still dint come back.
And what bout Mom? What about her feelings ? How much of a heart does it take to say, you go and marry and I will stay here with your father.
People say, there are many tough things in the world to face. Well I can just say, nothing comes closer to seeing your father die in right in front of you and you unable to do anything about it. That feeling of helplessness is hard to compare. Probably the only thing closest would be going to the gas chamber fully aware of the outcome or being in an crashing airplane where that feeling of inevitability sets in.
Heart beat fell to zero, blood came out of mouth, a last gasp for breath and tightening of the limbs and that was it. That was the end. 19th Dec 12:35 pm.
I hear that I have been a good son, an ideal son, that I had the chance to serve my father on his death bed. But what good was it, what was the outcome, for all the money, fame, good name in the world, I could nt bring him back. And come to think of it, if a son doesn’t do it, who else will ?
Lives will go back to normalcy, people will forget and go back to the humdrums of the daily life, the recession, the careers, the money, the good things in life, the different desires to be fulfilled, prices of commodities, new investments, etc etc, but for me that feeling of vacuum will never subside. Not for anything.
That he has been relieved of his pain and suffering in the hospital, that he has gone to a better place, that he would have been proud of me, that he could see his daughter-in-law before going….what are these words? These are just small so called consolations which even I tried to think and console myself and mom, but in effect these are nothing. These are no consolations at all. These are just the way of trying to lessen the feeling of grief. But it wont serve any purpose, it doent make me feel better, nor does it show anything.
We have always been quiet people. Our happinesses,expressions of joy,sorrow,anger,ecstasy have always been quiet and non-fussy. That’s how my father lived his life, that’s how mom expressed herself and that’s how I have always been.
25- Nov, Friday…this evening is the one that I travel back to Vapi in splendid spirits. Everything geared up for the marriage, cleaned the Bombay home nicely, just kept everything ready for my parents to come back, stay a couple of days thereafter they are scheduled to travel to Kolkata by Duronto. I would spend the next week preparing the handover for my absence from office and shopping a lil for the marriage. On the way, have a nice chat with friends in the train about how the marriage is going to take place.
It is quite strange that disasters, calamities or accidents never really give an inkling of their coming….. or lets put it this way, I have never felt any premonitions.
I reach home in good spirits as well and then Dad narrated me an incident that happened an hour back and which shook me to the core.
“Bambi, aajke khub baaje bhaabe aatke gechilam” ( I was trapped very badly today)….why ?
Mom was out in the evening shopping for daily errands, I was in the train way back and Dad was alone resting. Suddenly, he felt a severe breathlessness, the kind of asthma spasms which manifested in between. He was in the bedroom and gasping for the breath, but could nt find the strength to get up and get the asthalin inhaler to use. Ultimately, he had to crawl from the bedroom to the drawing room, take at least 6-7 doses of asthalin, gasp for some more time and then felt relieved. All this happened in the space of an hour and half. Who the hell knew that this was to be the turning point of everything.
This made me think to get him checked again at Haria hospital. This was the night that I got both Mom and Dad together, like the old times. The next evening, with Dad visibly weak, we went to the hospital, where the Doctor, just on a preliminary check advised hospitalization. Dad’s shock and disapproval was visible. No No..I don’t want to get admitted now, I want to go to Kolkata and get treated there. The doctor insisted and said ..Uncle, please be here for a couple of days , once you feel better, you can go home. I told Dad gently, Dad please get admitted, its only for the good.
After the ECG, doctors took no chances and got him in the ICU….and as we were just completing the formalities, the spasms started again.
I came to know of this condition in details later on, that this is called Dilated Cardiomyopathy, under which the heart muscles become weak and are unable to pump the heart with the regular frequency. That this is the root cause of a vicious cycle of insufficient supply of blood to different organs and the consequent diseases…. Ischemia (lack of blood to any particular organ),resultant, cardiac shock,pulmonary edema,renal failure and brain haemorrage, myocardial infarction et etc…these are just some of the terms I learnt over these days, all to no use.
26-Nov Saturday
27-Nov Sunday
28-Nov Monday.
4th Dec Sunday
5th Dec Monday
6th Dec Tuesday
7th Dec Wednesday
This is the day I broke down. Maybe the last time I broke down like this was in junior college. Hollered over the phone, cried and shed tears. I felt I was pushed into a corner by everything. By circumstances, in laws everyone.
9th Dec –Friday.
This night I cuddle up to my mom, there is a strange feeling. Mom also feels the same.
This is the last time I sleep as a boy in this home, the place the bed, where me Dad and Mom always used to sleep together. She consoles me, saying Bambi, there are so many parents who cannot be at their kids wedding themselves, why do you feel so down ? we are here, our blessings are with you. Go ahead, our relatives are there, they will take care of you like what we do.
A mom’s heart again. Always ready to sacrifice everything for the family, for the husband, for the son. That’s why men can never equal women in terms of sacrifice, gratitude and love.
All her life, she struggled, wih the surroundings, fending for the family, for Baba and me. at all stages. Its unparalleled. To make something out of nothing, one should ask Mom. Never enjoyed life in real sense, always felt for others. Why does she have to face this, what wrong she has done? For that matter, what wrong have we done as a family, or as individuals ?
10th Dec Saturday…
This is the day, I leave for Bombay and then to Kolkata, filled with trepidation and fear and hope.
Fear that I may not see Dad ever again alive. Leave by Flying Ranee in the morning. Mom packs my bags and fills me with hope that all will be well. How much of a heart does it take to say, that – you, go, marry and come, I will stay with your father ?? is there anything bigger in this world than a Mom’s heart ? How much of a strength does it need ? Well, there are no awards or rewards at stake nor there are any marks out of 10 for feelings on a barometer, there are no measurements at all.
Go home to Mira Road, pack bags, take the taxi, board the flight at 5 pm, land in Kolkata…it all passed in a whiz……….. I just don’t recollect the events, except that my co-passenger on the flight was snoring a lot. My thoughts were just rushing back to the status of my father….how he was, how much of a pain he was in…how is mom feeling ..et al.
Chotomama was there at the airport, we shared a tea and cigarette and on the way, he too broke down, something that I never saw, bemoaning the fact that parents wont be able to attend their only son’s wedding. Unbeknownst to me, and which was to come to light a couple of days later, he had suffered a heart attack, in midst of all this strain over my marriage. Now, just awaiting for the bypass surgery to be done.
11th Dec Sunday
Think it was in the ‘95 Australian open. Pete Sampras playing in the quarters against Courier. Suddenly, we saw a scene that was unbelievable,as shocking as it was saddening. The great champion was crying, almost inconsolable….it was continuous, while serving, while on the rallies,at the end of the point,during changeover. A full fledged sobbing followed by tears, which he used to wipe off and then serve again.
Why? It came to light later that his close friend and one time coach Tim Gullickson was dying of a longterm illness and it was at this moment that Sampras remembered him and broke down…. yet, he still managed to win the match. Tim however lost the battle and died later.
Life does have parallels…I did find a parallel there.
Well, those were the thoughts running through me, for my predicament was similar, and probably a parallel could be found here, at least in this context, for I did my duty of getting married, while the thoughts were with my father and the situation he was in. The end result ……was also same.
12th Dec. shifted the reception by a day earlier.
13th Dec- Tuesday
On the reception evening, I get to hear from Pradnya and rangada that Dad has been put on ventilator. Many calls here and there and ultimately, I decided to fly back the next morning itself.
14th Dec Wednesday
This day passed in a flash, but every moment was excruciating. I had been away from my home for just 5 days and 4 nights and it felt 5 years. I took wife straight to the ICU and saw Dad. He was sedated heavily but still an effort to smile at me assured that he recognized me.
15th Dec Thursday
This is the day when it started to go all haywire. Pradnya left in the evening nd the doctor there told me that now is the time to do dialysis. Creatinine was 5.9, from the normal 1.2. and urea was 400, from the normal 50. The risk – many patients cant take dialysis well and have cardiac arrests. There can be uncontrolled bleeding and pressure may drop.
And if we dint do ? then it was going to be renal failure anytime.
He asked me for consent. Meaning I sign a possible death warrant myself. After weighing the pros and cons, Rangada was with me…. I took the bait. That night we waited till 3 am. Until the dialysis was done. I asked Dad how he felt. He smiled. I was the happiest guy in the world that moment.
So it went for 2 more times. Everytime it showed improvement.
17th Dec – Just when we were beginning to think that the greatest danger may be over, his lungs collapsed. The night doctor tried to revive him, one x ray after another after another.
Ye bhi pura blank aaya, used to be his retort. I mumbled to Rangada ‘Is this the moment ? “ Sejda called from London, he did this more times in this 20 days, than he has ever.
Tokai, give him the positive vibes. He will derive the positive energy from you.
My courage was failing. I sat alone in the courtyard smoking. Every 10-15 mins I went to see, then dropped Rangada home and came back. This was the time, however I tried mentally, my body was giving up. I just dozed off for 2 minutes sitting in the cold, mosquitoes around,cigarette in hand, till the ember touched my fingers.
Suddenly with a start, I woke up, punched myself and sweared…come on….you cant give up. Never give up. May be the doctors were wrong. Come on, Dad needs me ..to be with him at this hour.
I went and saw again. Finally the doctor assured me, yes you go home now, the condition is a bit stable now.
18th Dec Sunday- Heard the doctor’s final word,requested them to let me stay in the ICU with Dad for his final hours.
Mom, in the evening while returning from the ICU said “ei ki shesh dekha…Bambi …shob ki shesh? “ Is this the last we see of him . I looked blank at her, what could I say ? Her grief and despair, and my grief and despair….both stared at each other. No words were uttered, I gently held her hand and took her out of the ICU.
While going in the night from home to hospital, Mom met me in private outside the home and offered her hand. I just looked at her. She said “Bambi,All the best.” I just shook her hands and gave her hope. May be the doctors were wrong, may be there would be an x-factor.
I spoke to Dad the whole night, looking at him, holding his hands, pleading with him to stay and not go, that he cant go like this,leaving us this way. I could just see his hands and feet move, and it was obvious that he was in discomfort, his eyes were half closed and he dint respond to the nurses at all. They told me he was in a coma, that he had a brain haemorrage. But he did respond to me, he did raise his eyebrows and try to look at me……despite the collapsed lung, despite the renal failure, despite the haemorrage, despite the heart being so weak, despite everything. That’s what gave me hope.
19th Dec Monday- all over. At 12 35 pm, I was at his side. Suddenly the heart beat fell to zero and blood came out of his mouth. I shouted out to the sister there, who said may be machine is wrong. But I shouted again. In came the doctor,closed the curtains, told me to go out. Those few moments felt like a life time. Each moment a thousand thoughts and then ..there was numbness all around. Doctor came out and signaled all over. I collapsed. Picked myself up and rush back to see my Dad for one last time. There was a kind of sereneness and peace in the face, was it coz of the relief from the pain and suffering of this world or he blessed me this way, I do not know.
On the way to the crematorium, I kept looking at his serene face and hugged his cold body. The person who was a father, a husband was passing away from this world, leaving 2 of the most pitiable and tortured souls to grieve for him.
I did all the chores there mechanically. For the last time on the pyre. I hugged him, touched his feet applied chandan and ghee to him. Oh, the torture of the moment, I bet its an individual thing.
Lit the pyre and stay there for one last moment. I could feel Dad standing beside me and whispering softly “ Bambi….Bambi”. those words still ring in my ear.
I come back from the funeral, to see Mom, the lion – hearted lady she has always been waiting for me. the only difference in her outer are that the bangles that are the signs of a married woman, is gone, as also gone is the sindur from her forehead. I really cannot digest it.
20th Dec- Tuesday- I get back to work on mails and calls. There was once a tale in my office that one colleague went to work the very next day after marriage. He was lauded quite deservedly. What would one have to say to this ?
31st Dec Saturday
1st Jan Sunday
I see Mom looking at Photo of dad and saying softly to me – “Aaste aaste kemon dure hoe jaache “ slowly, how far is he drifting away…….. I asked why ? I still remember him everyday.
But,truth be told, her loss is greater than mine, however I love my Dad, I can still cling to something else, but how will Mom going to survive? Its definitely more her loss much in the sync of “thy need is greater than mine”
Such is the wretched story of my life, sometimes I feel why am even alive to face this and endure this ? what would more strength give me …what would more courage give me ?
I have a new wife at home, who is understanding and cooperative so far and endured every step willfully. But she has her own individual desires, ambitions, way of thinking….everything. She wants to stay in Bombay and live the life her own way,whereas Mom doesn’t want to leave her memories,her social friends who so unflinchingly stood by her. Her mind is set in Vapi, a place she has emotional attachment with, a place where we got a semblance of belonging through so many years of toil, hardship, tears, heartbreaks. And to be fair, its not easy to leave a place at this stage of life.
Its not fair to the wife either. Why would a girl coming from a different set of values, family have to feel and be there so much for another family, the one she has just got to come to know ?
Am torn in between. Where do I go ? I don’t have an inkling of liking either for Bombay, Vapi, Kolkata,Iran or any damn place. If someone could just fathom the way I felt at this moment, he would have been my truest friend. Here I am , engrossed in social obligations, running a home, two homes rather, obliging people, doing my work, supporting wife and mom in their day to day doings, whereas I am not enjoying one bit of it at all, not for a million dollars. I wish I could just be with you Dad, just felt your reassuring touch, just felt you close to me, my truest friend. You were my best friend and I was yours in this whole world. Nothing else mattered. If only I could bring you back in a wheelchair, if only you could have lived at this moment and been with me.
Bambi, baari jaacho ? Ektu thaako aamar saathe. bambi, are you going home, just stay with me for sometime. (these words of yours just ring in my ears). I did, wherever I could. But still it wasn’t enough.
Every night in the ICU, I just hoped that it wont be the last that I see of you. That’s why, I had a superstition running deep inside me that I should always see and say bye to you 3 times. This I did everyday.
Now, am the man of the house. All of a sudden. This means I cannot have a parent over my head overseeing things. Now, I cannot rush home to say Dad, Dad, this is what happened, this is what is new, this is what I have to share, this is what happened in the match today, this is what happened on the TV. It means, that I cannot have my tantrums, my childishness that used to manifest seeing at you and the calm expressions. It means, to realize all of a sudden that I am so much alone in this whole world.
This is a crap way to live one’s life. I now fully realize what drives people to kill themselves. If only I could get hold of an ampule of cyanide or a bullet. Matter over, all at peace, world at peace.
Wait, there is still time for that. I will take it till the day I can, else will just buzz off. And sorry, don’t give me the crap of being bold, being strong, being brave and all that bullshit. I just know, I lost my best friend and father, under tremendous amount of pain and trauma not only to himself, but to all of us, mom and me in particular.
Holy shit ! This was supposed to be the best phase, the best days, the best months of my life. All settled, career waiting to fly high, a good rotation in Iran, good company to work with, a nice wife and the best parents one can ever think of. And what has it come to ? A nightmare? Even if it was a nightmare, there is still a hope that it was just a dream. On waking up, everything would be ok. And what the hell is this ? there is no escape…at any time. There is no escape at all. Every morning brings me the grim reality of going to battle, with the world and with oneself,alone. Every morning there is the feeling that there is no one to look over me. Just a damn orphan. And this is all due to you Dad. But then, can I blame you ? No. Coz, there have been very people that at least I have seen in my limited period in this world who can bear pain so much without any utterance. Probably this time, the pain got so much that you could take it no more.
There are not many people who understand me or even try to do so. I have also never bothered to explain and prove so. But Baba did, he understood. What to say, when to say, when not to say anything. He knew I was a sensitive kid, very emotional and soft. Stick never worked with me….ever. I never got it from Dad. He knew love did work. He used to hug me at random, I felt overjoyed.
I did creep into one of his diaries and see what he wrote for me. Nice little limericks, nice little essays, portraying the feelings he had when I was born. Remembrances of the day when he used to come home and see me playing… I knew all this…what he wrote in that colored diary of his. And since I was aware of what he felt, I always took double care not to offend my parents in anyways.
Of course, such patience cannot be said to be my friend in these days, when I did often lose my cool or did scold them.
Baba used to say, (and I am still getting used to the fact that am referring to him in the past tense,) Bambi, live your life like the way of the two persons you looked up to most as icons,as idols. One was Jim Corbett and the other was Sherlock Holmes. Probably I can rumble off Jim’s writings in mid-sleep, I have read them so many times and more importantly, tried to assimilate it.
Baba said that try and model your life, career,deduction, outlook, approach based on that and find your own way.
Till todate, I often have very disturbed sleep, often I dream that there indeed could have been a different ending. Some night I dream that Dad has survived and am marrying again, in presence of him. Some night I feel we are reliving the memories of my childhood again, him driving the cycle and I sitting in front. I yearn to be a kid, I don’t want anything in this world. Only if my father came back to me….for whatever moments. And then I wake up suddenly in a start and the dream crashes………….
Life goes on, we live on…… but this vaccum which Baba left me and Mom with, it can never be filled, cannot be ever.
some time in Jan 2012.
The ultimate truth of life – is when you light the funeral pyre of your parent. That the thought of giving ‘Mukhagni’ and never to see him again is scary enough. It never sinks in, until you do it yourself.
These are but just the words,which I can pen down for the moment. These are the remnants of the journey of 24 days, from the day my father was admitted in the ICU till the day he breathed his last.
These are just the thoughts that transpired and today when I see in isolation of the events of the last one month, I gather to just let my fingers do the thinking and writing and let loose.
I wud have given my heart,arm,legs and any damn organ or the body …all to trade for a few more days of my father’s life, but this is not to be. This piece would have never been written, nor was there any need for it. But this is a story that needs to be heard, to be told, to be felt……
From ICU in vapi on the 10th to Marriage on 11th to Funeral on 19th to Shradh on 31st…. All in the space of 22 days. Is there anything else that remains to be seen ?
I wont see that innocent smile ever again
wont see him getting down from the auto near the building gate, with tiffin in one hand and playing with the puppies downstairs.
wont see him on a Monday morning, wrapped in a shawl, waving me good bye as I leave for work.
Wont see him on Saturday evening, with a warm smile as I enter the home and having a customary hug.
Wont ever feel his arms on my shoulders when am in moments of distress.
wont feel his gentle words of encouragement and the quiet dignified presence with a dash of humor thrown in.
wont be able to ever take an auto on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon from vapi station to his factory,go to the canteen, take him along and come back home.
On the way, he would share some anecdotes of his experiences, his friends and the life he had spent earlier.
wont ever see and enjoy test matches on the TV or any football games together.
wont be ever able to sit near his feet on a lazy evening on the verandah and discuss old memories and different topics of the world.
wont ever be able to hug him and embrace him at will.
wont ever be able to sneak in as a small kid between him and mom on a cold winter night or on a Sunday afternoon, bereft of any worry in the world.
And these are just but a minuscule of instances which come to mind at the moment, and there are a lot of more things that remain unwritten and unexpressed, probably its better that way.
And even if these experiences and memories were nt there to share, it wouldn’t have mattered, or it wouldn’t have had made my grief any lesser, coz he was my father, the beloved son, the beloved Babu,Borokaku,Chhorda,
After retirement in August, Baba often used to reminisce about his childhood memories, of the tales from police lines in Burdwan, of Bengal paper mills in Raniganj,of his siblings, neighbors,early life’s experiences,lessons learnt,unfulfilled desires, his parents, near ones,world affairs, his philosophy of life, his way of looking at the world, the broad vision that meant “ We be of one blood, you and I”. I had heard a few of these before also, Baba used to say, Bambi- do you like me sharing these stories or are you getting bored. I used to say, Dad has it ever happened this way? I have always eagerly heard what you have said, why do you even think so?
I suggested to him to pen down his memoirs in a book, in a file so that on a wintry morning on an easy chair, he can read it to his grandkids 15 years as well.
But that wont happen now, those memories, those things will never ever be put to pen and book.
Coz, he has gone far, far away from where there is no return. People tell me to be strong, brave bla bla and all that…... If only that could bring back my father for a day, it would have mattered. By the reams of rituals, ceremonies, rules and all, if I could just bring him back for a day. If only all the money and treatment in the world could revive him, if only he could just smile and talk to me.
Baba, you have left me and mom in the lurch. Why did you go so early, so far, why dint you stay back and spend the next phase of life in peace and serenity. Everything was in my favor, every damn thing. Career, marriage, money, just everything. Why did you have to go this way ? why . I could have brought the world to its knees if only there was a hope that you will come back hale and hearty.
Never will I be able to express my innocence freely, never will I be able to cuddle up to you, never will I be ever heard by an unbiased mind and never will I hear those soft and loving words. You went like this, how could you. Never will I be able to discuss the happenings of the day and week. I just want to feel you dad, you cant go away like this. Why ? you and mom could never be a part of any good moments, any ceremonies, any weddings in the family, not even your own son’s wedding.
Isn’t this an unfair life ? within 7 days of my marriage, I had to don the funeral dress and shradh within a fortnight. I had to go and marry under the most unnatural circumstance, that is with the father in the ICU. How much strength do I show ? and what for?
Coz he was my father, my dearest and closest friend in this whole world without whom life doesn’t matter. It will never be the same. Not the whole treasure in the world can bring him back now.
We never had the money, but we always lived with heads held high with all the grace and humility in the world.
These pangs of regret- I will carry to my grave that I could never fulfil his last wishes.
Bambi, I don’t want to get admitted here.
Bambi take me home, where I will be alright.
Take me to Bombay.
Take me by flight to Kolkata. I want to be there at your marriage…………………..
Why dint I do any of these ? Coz I was scared. Scared to go against the doctor’s advice, and force him to travel, lest I had to bring him back to the hospital again. But ultimately, what happened? He still dint come back.
And what bout Mom? What about her feelings ? How much of a heart does it take to say, you go and marry and I will stay here with your father.
People say, there are many tough things in the world to face. Well I can just say, nothing comes closer to seeing your father die in right in front of you and you unable to do anything about it. That feeling of helplessness is hard to compare. Probably the only thing closest would be going to the gas chamber fully aware of the outcome or being in an crashing airplane where that feeling of inevitability sets in.
Heart beat fell to zero, blood came out of mouth, a last gasp for breath and tightening of the limbs and that was it. That was the end. 19th Dec 12:35 pm.
I hear that I have been a good son, an ideal son, that I had the chance to serve my father on his death bed. But what good was it, what was the outcome, for all the money, fame, good name in the world, I could nt bring him back. And come to think of it, if a son doesn’t do it, who else will ?
Lives will go back to normalcy, people will forget and go back to the humdrums of the daily life, the recession, the careers, the money, the good things in life, the different desires to be fulfilled, prices of commodities, new investments, etc etc, but for me that feeling of vacuum will never subside. Not for anything.
That he has been relieved of his pain and suffering in the hospital, that he has gone to a better place, that he would have been proud of me, that he could see his daughter-in-law before going….what are these words? These are just small so called consolations which even I tried to think and console myself and mom, but in effect these are nothing. These are no consolations at all. These are just the way of trying to lessen the feeling of grief. But it wont serve any purpose, it doent make me feel better, nor does it show anything.
We have always been quiet people. Our happinesses,expressions of joy,sorrow,anger,ecstasy have always been quiet and non-fussy. That’s how my father lived his life, that’s how mom expressed herself and that’s how I have always been.
25- Nov, Friday…this evening is the one that I travel back to Vapi in splendid spirits. Everything geared up for the marriage, cleaned the Bombay home nicely, just kept everything ready for my parents to come back, stay a couple of days thereafter they are scheduled to travel to Kolkata by Duronto. I would spend the next week preparing the handover for my absence from office and shopping a lil for the marriage. On the way, have a nice chat with friends in the train about how the marriage is going to take place.
It is quite strange that disasters, calamities or accidents never really give an inkling of their coming….. or lets put it this way, I have never felt any premonitions.
I reach home in good spirits as well and then Dad narrated me an incident that happened an hour back and which shook me to the core.
“Bambi, aajke khub baaje bhaabe aatke gechilam” ( I was trapped very badly today)….why ?
Mom was out in the evening shopping for daily errands, I was in the train way back and Dad was alone resting. Suddenly, he felt a severe breathlessness, the kind of asthma spasms which manifested in between. He was in the bedroom and gasping for the breath, but could nt find the strength to get up and get the asthalin inhaler to use. Ultimately, he had to crawl from the bedroom to the drawing room, take at least 6-7 doses of asthalin, gasp for some more time and then felt relieved. All this happened in the space of an hour and half. Who the hell knew that this was to be the turning point of everything.
This made me think to get him checked again at Haria hospital. This was the night that I got both Mom and Dad together, like the old times. The next evening, with Dad visibly weak, we went to the hospital, where the Doctor, just on a preliminary check advised hospitalization. Dad’s shock and disapproval was visible. No No..I don’t want to get admitted now, I want to go to Kolkata and get treated there. The doctor insisted and said ..Uncle, please be here for a couple of days , once you feel better, you can go home. I told Dad gently, Dad please get admitted, its only for the good.
After the ECG, doctors took no chances and got him in the ICU….and as we were just completing the formalities, the spasms started again.
I came to know of this condition in details later on, that this is called Dilated Cardiomyopathy, under which the heart muscles become weak and are unable to pump the heart with the regular frequency. That this is the root cause of a vicious cycle of insufficient supply of blood to different organs and the consequent diseases…. Ischemia (lack of blood to any particular organ),resultant, cardiac shock,pulmonary edema,renal failure and brain haemorrage, myocardial infarction et etc…these are just some of the terms I learnt over these days, all to no use.
26-Nov Saturday
27-Nov Sunday
28-Nov Monday.
4th Dec Sunday
5th Dec Monday
6th Dec Tuesday
7th Dec Wednesday
This is the day I broke down. Maybe the last time I broke down like this was in junior college. Hollered over the phone, cried and shed tears. I felt I was pushed into a corner by everything. By circumstances, in laws everyone.
9th Dec –Friday.
This night I cuddle up to my mom, there is a strange feeling. Mom also feels the same.
This is the last time I sleep as a boy in this home, the place the bed, where me Dad and Mom always used to sleep together. She consoles me, saying Bambi, there are so many parents who cannot be at their kids wedding themselves, why do you feel so down ? we are here, our blessings are with you. Go ahead, our relatives are there, they will take care of you like what we do.
A mom’s heart again. Always ready to sacrifice everything for the family, for the husband, for the son. That’s why men can never equal women in terms of sacrifice, gratitude and love.
All her life, she struggled, wih the surroundings, fending for the family, for Baba and me. at all stages. Its unparalleled. To make something out of nothing, one should ask Mom. Never enjoyed life in real sense, always felt for others. Why does she have to face this, what wrong she has done? For that matter, what wrong have we done as a family, or as individuals ?
10th Dec Saturday…
This is the day, I leave for Bombay and then to Kolkata, filled with trepidation and fear and hope.
Fear that I may not see Dad ever again alive. Leave by Flying Ranee in the morning. Mom packs my bags and fills me with hope that all will be well. How much of a heart does it take to say, that – you, go, marry and come, I will stay with your father ?? is there anything bigger in this world than a Mom’s heart ? How much of a strength does it need ? Well, there are no awards or rewards at stake nor there are any marks out of 10 for feelings on a barometer, there are no measurements at all.
Go home to Mira Road, pack bags, take the taxi, board the flight at 5 pm, land in Kolkata…it all passed in a whiz……….. I just don’t recollect the events, except that my co-passenger on the flight was snoring a lot. My thoughts were just rushing back to the status of my father….how he was, how much of a pain he was in…how is mom feeling ..et al.
Chotomama was there at the airport, we shared a tea and cigarette and on the way, he too broke down, something that I never saw, bemoaning the fact that parents wont be able to attend their only son’s wedding. Unbeknownst to me, and which was to come to light a couple of days later, he had suffered a heart attack, in midst of all this strain over my marriage. Now, just awaiting for the bypass surgery to be done.
11th Dec Sunday
Think it was in the ‘95 Australian open. Pete Sampras playing in the quarters against Courier. Suddenly, we saw a scene that was unbelievable,as shocking as it was saddening. The great champion was crying, almost inconsolable….it was continuous, while serving, while on the rallies,at the end of the point,during changeover. A full fledged sobbing followed by tears, which he used to wipe off and then serve again.
Why? It came to light later that his close friend and one time coach Tim Gullickson was dying of a longterm illness and it was at this moment that Sampras remembered him and broke down…. yet, he still managed to win the match. Tim however lost the battle and died later.
Life does have parallels…I did find a parallel there.
Well, those were the thoughts running through me, for my predicament was similar, and probably a parallel could be found here, at least in this context, for I did my duty of getting married, while the thoughts were with my father and the situation he was in. The end result ……was also same.
12th Dec. shifted the reception by a day earlier.
13th Dec- Tuesday
On the reception evening, I get to hear from Pradnya and rangada that Dad has been put on ventilator. Many calls here and there and ultimately, I decided to fly back the next morning itself.
14th Dec Wednesday
This day passed in a flash, but every moment was excruciating. I had been away from my home for just 5 days and 4 nights and it felt 5 years. I took wife straight to the ICU and saw Dad. He was sedated heavily but still an effort to smile at me assured that he recognized me.
15th Dec Thursday
This is the day when it started to go all haywire. Pradnya left in the evening nd the doctor there told me that now is the time to do dialysis. Creatinine was 5.9, from the normal 1.2. and urea was 400, from the normal 50. The risk – many patients cant take dialysis well and have cardiac arrests. There can be uncontrolled bleeding and pressure may drop.
And if we dint do ? then it was going to be renal failure anytime.
He asked me for consent. Meaning I sign a possible death warrant myself. After weighing the pros and cons, Rangada was with me…. I took the bait. That night we waited till 3 am. Until the dialysis was done. I asked Dad how he felt. He smiled. I was the happiest guy in the world that moment.
So it went for 2 more times. Everytime it showed improvement.
17th Dec – Just when we were beginning to think that the greatest danger may be over, his lungs collapsed. The night doctor tried to revive him, one x ray after another after another.
Ye bhi pura blank aaya, used to be his retort. I mumbled to Rangada ‘Is this the moment ? “ Sejda called from London, he did this more times in this 20 days, than he has ever.
Tokai, give him the positive vibes. He will derive the positive energy from you.
My courage was failing. I sat alone in the courtyard smoking. Every 10-15 mins I went to see, then dropped Rangada home and came back. This was the time, however I tried mentally, my body was giving up. I just dozed off for 2 minutes sitting in the cold, mosquitoes around,cigarette in hand, till the ember touched my fingers.
Suddenly with a start, I woke up, punched myself and sweared…come on….you cant give up. Never give up. May be the doctors were wrong. Come on, Dad needs me ..to be with him at this hour.
I went and saw again. Finally the doctor assured me, yes you go home now, the condition is a bit stable now.
18th Dec Sunday- Heard the doctor’s final word,requested them to let me stay in the ICU with Dad for his final hours.
Mom, in the evening while returning from the ICU said “ei ki shesh dekha…Bambi …shob ki shesh? “ Is this the last we see of him . I looked blank at her, what could I say ? Her grief and despair, and my grief and despair….both stared at each other. No words were uttered, I gently held her hand and took her out of the ICU.
While going in the night from home to hospital, Mom met me in private outside the home and offered her hand. I just looked at her. She said “Bambi,All the best.” I just shook her hands and gave her hope. May be the doctors were wrong, may be there would be an x-factor.
I spoke to Dad the whole night, looking at him, holding his hands, pleading with him to stay and not go, that he cant go like this,leaving us this way. I could just see his hands and feet move, and it was obvious that he was in discomfort, his eyes were half closed and he dint respond to the nurses at all. They told me he was in a coma, that he had a brain haemorrage. But he did respond to me, he did raise his eyebrows and try to look at me……despite the collapsed lung, despite the renal failure, despite the haemorrage, despite the heart being so weak, despite everything. That’s what gave me hope.
19th Dec Monday- all over. At 12 35 pm, I was at his side. Suddenly the heart beat fell to zero and blood came out of his mouth. I shouted out to the sister there, who said may be machine is wrong. But I shouted again. In came the doctor,closed the curtains, told me to go out. Those few moments felt like a life time. Each moment a thousand thoughts and then ..there was numbness all around. Doctor came out and signaled all over. I collapsed. Picked myself up and rush back to see my Dad for one last time. There was a kind of sereneness and peace in the face, was it coz of the relief from the pain and suffering of this world or he blessed me this way, I do not know.
On the way to the crematorium, I kept looking at his serene face and hugged his cold body. The person who was a father, a husband was passing away from this world, leaving 2 of the most pitiable and tortured souls to grieve for him.
I did all the chores there mechanically. For the last time on the pyre. I hugged him, touched his feet applied chandan and ghee to him. Oh, the torture of the moment, I bet its an individual thing.
Lit the pyre and stay there for one last moment. I could feel Dad standing beside me and whispering softly “ Bambi….Bambi”. those words still ring in my ear.
I come back from the funeral, to see Mom, the lion – hearted lady she has always been waiting for me. the only difference in her outer are that the bangles that are the signs of a married woman, is gone, as also gone is the sindur from her forehead. I really cannot digest it.
20th Dec- Tuesday- I get back to work on mails and calls. There was once a tale in my office that one colleague went to work the very next day after marriage. He was lauded quite deservedly. What would one have to say to this ?
31st Dec Saturday
1st Jan Sunday
I see Mom looking at Photo of dad and saying softly to me – “Aaste aaste kemon dure hoe jaache “ slowly, how far is he drifting away…….. I asked why ? I still remember him everyday.
But,truth be told, her loss is greater than mine, however I love my Dad, I can still cling to something else, but how will Mom going to survive? Its definitely more her loss much in the sync of “thy need is greater than mine”
Such is the wretched story of my life, sometimes I feel why am even alive to face this and endure this ? what would more strength give me …what would more courage give me ?
I have a new wife at home, who is understanding and cooperative so far and endured every step willfully. But she has her own individual desires, ambitions, way of thinking….everything. She wants to stay in Bombay and live the life her own way,whereas Mom doesn’t want to leave her memories,her social friends who so unflinchingly stood by her. Her mind is set in Vapi, a place she has emotional attachment with, a place where we got a semblance of belonging through so many years of toil, hardship, tears, heartbreaks. And to be fair, its not easy to leave a place at this stage of life.
Its not fair to the wife either. Why would a girl coming from a different set of values, family have to feel and be there so much for another family, the one she has just got to come to know ?
Am torn in between. Where do I go ? I don’t have an inkling of liking either for Bombay, Vapi, Kolkata,Iran or any damn place. If someone could just fathom the way I felt at this moment, he would have been my truest friend. Here I am , engrossed in social obligations, running a home, two homes rather, obliging people, doing my work, supporting wife and mom in their day to day doings, whereas I am not enjoying one bit of it at all, not for a million dollars. I wish I could just be with you Dad, just felt your reassuring touch, just felt you close to me, my truest friend. You were my best friend and I was yours in this whole world. Nothing else mattered. If only I could bring you back in a wheelchair, if only you could have lived at this moment and been with me.
Bambi, baari jaacho ? Ektu thaako aamar saathe. bambi, are you going home, just stay with me for sometime. (these words of yours just ring in my ears). I did, wherever I could. But still it wasn’t enough.
Every night in the ICU, I just hoped that it wont be the last that I see of you. That’s why, I had a superstition running deep inside me that I should always see and say bye to you 3 times. This I did everyday.
Now, am the man of the house. All of a sudden. This means I cannot have a parent over my head overseeing things. Now, I cannot rush home to say Dad, Dad, this is what happened, this is what is new, this is what I have to share, this is what happened in the match today, this is what happened on the TV. It means, that I cannot have my tantrums, my childishness that used to manifest seeing at you and the calm expressions. It means, to realize all of a sudden that I am so much alone in this whole world.
This is a crap way to live one’s life. I now fully realize what drives people to kill themselves. If only I could get hold of an ampule of cyanide or a bullet. Matter over, all at peace, world at peace.
Wait, there is still time for that. I will take it till the day I can, else will just buzz off. And sorry, don’t give me the crap of being bold, being strong, being brave and all that bullshit. I just know, I lost my best friend and father, under tremendous amount of pain and trauma not only to himself, but to all of us, mom and me in particular.
Holy shit ! This was supposed to be the best phase, the best days, the best months of my life. All settled, career waiting to fly high, a good rotation in Iran, good company to work with, a nice wife and the best parents one can ever think of. And what has it come to ? A nightmare? Even if it was a nightmare, there is still a hope that it was just a dream. On waking up, everything would be ok. And what the hell is this ? there is no escape…at any time. There is no escape at all. Every morning brings me the grim reality of going to battle, with the world and with oneself,alone. Every morning there is the feeling that there is no one to look over me. Just a damn orphan. And this is all due to you Dad. But then, can I blame you ? No. Coz, there have been very people that at least I have seen in my limited period in this world who can bear pain so much without any utterance. Probably this time, the pain got so much that you could take it no more.
There are not many people who understand me or even try to do so. I have also never bothered to explain and prove so. But Baba did, he understood. What to say, when to say, when not to say anything. He knew I was a sensitive kid, very emotional and soft. Stick never worked with me….ever. I never got it from Dad. He knew love did work. He used to hug me at random, I felt overjoyed.
I did creep into one of his diaries and see what he wrote for me. Nice little limericks, nice little essays, portraying the feelings he had when I was born. Remembrances of the day when he used to come home and see me playing… I knew all this…what he wrote in that colored diary of his. And since I was aware of what he felt, I always took double care not to offend my parents in anyways.
Of course, such patience cannot be said to be my friend in these days, when I did often lose my cool or did scold them.
Baba used to say, (and I am still getting used to the fact that am referring to him in the past tense,) Bambi, live your life like the way of the two persons you looked up to most as icons,as idols. One was Jim Corbett and the other was Sherlock Holmes. Probably I can rumble off Jim’s writings in mid-sleep, I have read them so many times and more importantly, tried to assimilate it.
Baba said that try and model your life, career,deduction, outlook, approach based on that and find your own way.
Till todate, I often have very disturbed sleep, often I dream that there indeed could have been a different ending. Some night I dream that Dad has survived and am marrying again, in presence of him. Some night I feel we are reliving the memories of my childhood again, him driving the cycle and I sitting in front. I yearn to be a kid, I don’t want anything in this world. Only if my father came back to me….for whatever moments. And then I wake up suddenly in a start and the dream crashes………….
Life goes on, we live on…… but this vaccum which Baba left me and Mom with, it can never be filled, cannot be ever.
some time in Jan 2012.
5 comments:
awesome description of the phases u went thru.. your conversations with ur mom was heart touching.
thanks Sourabh da...appreciate
Its really very touchy. It reminded me of my journey
Its really very touchy. It reminded me of my journey
Thanks mayoor.i am sure you would relate .
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