Someone kept ringing the door bell of our deserted old house. It was usually around midnight. Everytime I tried to be brave and step outside to check, I could only find looming spine chilling darkness. I was in no mood to stumble upon Poltergeists or evil eyes of a deathly animal staring back at me. I shuddered at the thought of discovering either of the two. I poured some double malt whiskey and put myself to sleep... like I had been doing for the past three days.
It was October 13, 2017 and like the end of every two year tenure, my husband and I were compelled to travel and change homes owing to our jobs and our dreams of, "Living a life less ordinary." MES probably did a great job masking every crack and crevice of the debilitated accommodation allotted to us, but there was an unsettling feeling lurking in this house.
I had put the thought of ghosts and hauntings away by preparing for my Post Graduation entrance examination. I tried to reason with myself that I was a 27 year old, married Doctor ,who dearly missed the hustle and bustle of the ordinary day to day life with her friends and family. It was however exciting to start life at a new place with my darling husband, Randeep.
Major Randeep Bhalla, an officer of the coveted Gorkha Rifles had to leave for a Combat exercise for a month, as soon as we got there. He had even asked me to stay at my parent's house and spend the rest of my leave there. No matter how tempting the offer sounded, I knew that I would just end up being pampered and non productive. It would defeat the whole purpose of my trying to plunge into the ocean of Medicine in order to get a good college for my post graduation. So I solemnly decided to stay alone in this house, at the farthest corner of a God for saken place in Kashmir.
Our buddy didn't turn up the day after Randeep left. So ,I decided to go the market and fetch milk and some groceries. Not having my gastronome husband at home, was a pretty good reason to diet.
The con of having my childhood sweetheart as my loving husband, was that he knew I would choose to do something like that and he made me swear to cook and eat regularly. He stressed on eating healthy and not go with my survival instincts to rely on instant noodles.
As I made my way to the billing counter at the grocery store, I bumped into a beautiful and a fragile looking woman, whose scarf had gotten stuck in the door. She introduced herself as Mrs Ekta Puri while I was struggling to take her scarf out of the door without tearing it into shreds. We strolled around the shopping centre, when we discovered that our husbands had gone on the same exercise. I was relieved to know that I wasn't the only one, in this treacherous ordeal of living alone here.
We bonded over a cup of coffee in the cafeteria where she talked endlessly about her struggles with her mother-in-law. It seemed that we were both just looking for company and it felt safe for a while. Out of nowhere, she asked where I was putting up and I told her my address, house number 2, Ashok Vihar. I saw a grim look on her face while I warmed my hands with my coffee mug.
She drew her chair closer to me, gently squeezed my hand and said, "Captain Kalindi Pillai, either you're an extremely brave woman or your husband has kept a secret from you."
I felt dizzy and the yellow lights of the cafe seemed to be floating around me. I finally got a hold of myself and asked what Ekta meant by her contentious statement. She cleared her throat and took her own sweet time to formulate an answer. Her weird behavior was taking a toll on me. She looked me in the eye and said, "Three months before you shifted here, a couple...uh...seemingly happy newly weds were inhabiting your house."
She took a deep breath and suddenly her phone rang. She nervously took her daughter's call who had gotten her period for the first time. Her daughter was obviously freaking out, from what I could make out of all the shouting on the phone. Ekta apologized and left hurriedly to pacify her daughter and to hopefully make her believe that she wasn't going to die but was now capable of reproducing. I got up and shook her hand. Controlling myself from compelling her to complete the story, I picked up my shopping bags to head back.
As the sun went down, a gloomy twilight settled over the land. I made tea and fixed a meal for myself. I doubly checked all the doors and windows, because of all the animal attack incidents and urban legends of various supernatural events. I tried to keep my fear at bay by cleaning Randeep's cupboard. It took several hours before I could find my way out of this gruesome task. I lit up an incense stick, chanted a small prayer and sat down to study.
Agitated by a difficult topic, I decided to look for my Davidson in the trunks stacked in the store room. There I stumbled upon a beautifully decorated yet torn diary. As an avid reader I decided to plunge into the secrets it withheld. The only entry in it was from May 24, 2017
It read: "Love a little more, it might hurt a little less."I am numb. It hurts today to think of what they might see in me. It hurt then, it hurts still. Been long since I have introspected myself. I sit alone today, outside and it's too cold. It's too cold and there is nobody to hold on to. If there was someone here I might ask whether the tree that has stood for hundreds of years loses its essence in fluttering wind. Does it have its essence in standing still? It's too cold and it hurts, it hurts as my hands shake in peril. There is no warmth for me to seek and if I'm to believe, I'll die alone. It hurt then, it hurts still and it might hurt for the rest of my time.
Somedays I feel too much and then on other days, nothing at all. If someone was here maybe we would feel together of the wind that shakes me still and of the winters that hold me still. But it's just cold out here, fog dense enough to cloud my perception to seek any love, if there is. I shiver, I hurt and there's not much hope.
If someone was here I'd ask why I succumb to darkness when it's still daytime but there is no-one here except me and I don't want to remain while it bleeds."
I felt sorry for the person, who this diary belonged to. I placed it back and left the store room with my Davidson.
In a matter of seconds, my lids grew heavier and I decided to hit the bed.
I woke up in panic, convinced I had heard the curtains in front of my bedroom's door swaying. In the dim glow from a bathroom night-light, I made out a ghastly shadow on the wall and froze, terrified. I'm going to die, I thought.
A tall and a slender woman dressed in a beautiful red saree was standing infront of me. She reeked of lavender and her scent filled the room. "I'm Amrita", she smiled. Everything about her was normal, except for the question; how did she get into the house when all the locked doors and windows?
I gulped and greeted her. She told me that the diary I had found earlier was hers. Amrita asked if I could lend her my ears as no one had ever liked tolerating her existence. I was confused and empathetic but I really liked the vibe and simplicity she exuded.
She began to speak as I fixed us some tea.
"We were married after a brief courtship. He was a handsome man with a decent personality and a gift of gab, while I was an indecisive and a calm person who could never go against her dad's wishes to get me married to his family friend's son.
The romance didn't last long.
Soon I had to cover my bruises with make up and long sleeves and told no one about my plight. My oddly silent husband, grabbed my arm; threatened to break it in retribution for sabotaging his life. He fought his whole life to get ahead and to get attention and I ruined it for him."
She took in the aroma of my ginger tea and took a small sip as she continued, "Just because things could've been different doesn't mean they'd be better."
She looked earnestly at me and said, "I should've run away but I didn't. Like any other young woman in love, I thought I could save him. Little did I realise, he wasn't in need of being saved...he just wanted me out of his way. I loved him so much and he broke my heart. I had no where to go. No affection to seek. No future to look forward to.
He had killed me the day he told me, he married me only to comply to his parents wishes and excessive dowry...I decided to hang myself from the very fan you're sitting under. I left this life but I couldn't transcend the barriers of this physical world...Escape into after life. I don't mean to bother anyone who steps into this house. I just need some company...just like you do." She looked at me expectantly.
She made sense and then I couldn't look at the fan over my head... but surprisingly I wasn't scared. There wasn't a black atmosphere in the house or eerie sounds.
I decided to step into a new territory of the other side and asked, "What happened to your husband, was he ever punished for all the unpardonable things that he's done to you?"
"His jeep tossed over in the mountains...oh never mind...he was driving and talking to his mistress.", she had a smile pasted over her thin lips.
I breathed with effort and asked what had been bothering me for a while,"I didn't even have an ouija board, how did I manage to communicate with you?"
She chuckled and answered, "I just have a story to tell...which will probably not turn into a block buster. I don't need ghost things to prove that I'm a ghost!"
We laughed hysterically, both amused by her witty humor.
After five long days, my husband turned up at our doorstep. He had returned because the exercise had been postponed due to adverse weather conditions. I told him about the creepy events, the door bell, the expression on Mrs Ekta's face, carefully omitting the details of the scented ghost.
Randeep chided, "Around here the only thing that spreads faster than disease is gossip." His reaction changed to disgust when he pulled out something from the hole in the wall where the door bell hung. "Look, it was just a stupid fucking lizard tangled in the poorly wired bell. Also,
I'm famished and this looks like barbequed meat. Let's have dinner before I'm reminded of my days in Academy camps where I would eat anything that moved."
November 24, 2019
"The house is empty just how it was before we first moved in.", Randeep gently squeezed my shoulders trying to calm my nerves as he strode past the packers and movers to signal the truck to move.
I whiffed in the lavender fragrance, one last time before leaving our house. We were posted out to a peace station, finally everything was on track but knowing that Amrita was around, my eyes welled up. I was leaving a friend behind, I sighed.
As I stepped into the garden, I heard her faintly saying, "This is not a goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you.
Remember me and smile, for it’s better to forget than to remember me and cry.”
Thursday, May 14, 2020
Monday, May 11, 2020
Godspeed.
Ever met a person who feels like home ?
My world came crashing down in the middle of a tormenting Gynecology and Obstetrics lecture. I was sneaking a peek on my webMD to look for details on TOLAC (Trial of Labour After Cesarean)...so were my batchmates. Everybody struggled to not be seen and thrown out of the lecture amidst the bombardment of questions by our well read, ex-Army Teacher. A lot of tabs popped on my phone including recipes on Maggi bhajiya and pakoras and then something caught my eye.
News flashed: Shelling at Rajouri, 2 dead, 7 injured. Funny how I had memorized the definition of palpitation in medicine but at that very moment I wasn't sure if my heart was fluttering or sinking.
Then the inevitable happened, our teacher, Col Nihar Gupta, pretended to cock his rifle, took an aim and threw a chalk, that whizzed past me. It missed my right temporal region by barely 2-3 mm.
"Dr Sarayu Sharma, would you please throw some light on management of pregnancy with prior caesarean section?", he demanded.
I stood up mustering all the strength I had, disoriented and about to break down. I stuttered and surrendered, only a "um...Sorry... Sir" barely escaped my dry mouth.
"I thought so!", Col Gupta smirked.
He continued, "If every doctor would be negligent enough to let women end up with ruptured uteruses, humans would be as extinct as dodos! I presume with all humility that you wouldn't want that now, would you?"
Even after being humiliated, I miraculously managed to sit through the lecture and then ran to the library. I plonked on a chair in it's farthest corner where couples usually got cozy or people watched porn courtesy our fast and free college wifi. I closed my eyes and let the darkness grow and spread until it morphed from a feeling of sadness into something worse: a memory, a flashback. It was just last night that I asked him to call me back. I remember now, I was crying. I told him that I loved him, that I always would.
He was a proud Infantarian and had been posted to God forsaken places. He merrily crossed each hurdle that came his way and made our lives remotely challenging. Signals being jammed for security reasons, all the cool stealth mode jargons, the whispers, the smoky breathing on the phone, calls being difficult to decipher due to firing, we had seen it all but this time it was eerily different.
The last time he called was 36 hours ago. My excessively ethical officer was squealing and babbling with excitement about his dining in. He had sent me his photographs and it was always a treat to ogle at my impeccably dressed man. A few hours later, as a ritual I had recieved a drunk call from him.
"Do you love me?", he shrieked.
"Love is too weak a word for how I feel.", I replied.
It was as though a mere phone call from him could dissipate the months that separated us.
"Play me a song you like and I bet I'll know the lyrics.", he declared. I obliged and Alexa played "Lamborghini".I remember clearly that he croaked for about twenty minutes and I laughed with satisfaction.
"We love each other and time won't change that.", he said softly and then slept on the phone.
If only Alexa could presently turn off my feelings and make my face inscrutable to the people in my college who gawked at me to capture any and every piece of gossip.
My friends dragged me out of the library, onto the college ground and brought me back to the present. I had lost control over everything, even the places in my head. I sat there in the morning, eyes closed and the hot sun orange on my eyelids, I could be anywhere but like always, I transcend to the times when we had each other and it was enough. I remembered: freezing rain beating the tin roof, street lights illuminating the road. I was with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in my hand, hastily fishing through the fiction novels. That's when Captain Angad Singh Rathore came and stood behind me. He put his strong hands on my shoulders. I could smell his spicy and aromatic cologne, that miserably failed at masking the stench of cigarettes.
"Smoking kills.", I muttered under my breath.
"Loving you too.", he whispered in my ear.
I still remember the feel of his hands, the weight of them, reassuring and protective. That very moment I caught myself trying to remember the last time I had a meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitched. I turned to face him with a triumphant smile on my lips.
"I can't breathe!", I shrieked as he bent his tall, lean and muscular frame to tightly embrace me.
"You're not supposed to", he retorted with a chuckle.
His eyes touched me more than anyone's hands ever could have.
I sipped my coffee while he scanned through the menu and irrespective of the weather or the cafe, he ordered a cold coffee owing to his intimate attachment to NDA. Everytime we met, two minutes magically stretched to two hours in a second. Interstellar, beat that!
We were a team since his academy days. Everyone could see it. I calmed his flamboyance and tamed his direct and acerbic personality. He was way more decisive and helped me make decisions by teaching me the art of spontaneity. I appreciated everything about him that others had taken for granted. We had even agreed to keep a Labrador and name him Leo in memory of his dog who had died 4 years ago. Angad had given up on buying a dog because he thought he could not bear another heartbreak if his dog would die. He decided he could not go through that misery all over again. It took me some time and a lot of undaunted efforts to make him understand that he would eventually learn to try and hold onto complicated and challenging things, but the most difficult thing in life was to love fiercely and let go.
Needless to say the strength, that protectiveness he radiated, didn't potray me as weak. He intelligently made me strong in other ways. I made intellectual leaps that left him open-mouthed in admiration. We learned from each other and grew together.
It was seven months after his commissioning that we went for our family friend's wedding. Luckily his leave was sanctioned and my exams did not clash with the dates of the functions. It was pouring heavily as we were returning from the Haldi function. The moonlight made everything glow. I knew Angad so well; the more transfixed his face, the deeper the turmoil of emotions within.
"I like you", he blurted out and looked away.
"That was fast. Faster than Clint Eastwood I reckon!", I giggled.
"Why would I lie to someone I'm fairly fond of?", he grinned slyly and continued,
"I know that nothing is certain but you and I can take it day by day." It was a strange relief hearing it out loud.
"If you love me..then that is worth everything.", I said instinctively.
"My car smells of you, invigorating and refreshing.", he tried to give his heart a free rein thrashing his immense self control but ended up changing the topic.
I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around him and joked, "Now even you reek of me"
He appreciated my gauge attempt at humour, touched my cheek and said, " I'd take down my walls and open up a door for you."
Like any other cliche romantic movie, I thought we had a moment. Angad pulled over the car to the side and fiddled with his phone claiming, "You would love this song Sarayu!"
I giggled and assumed he might have had his share of fantasies.
In that splendid moment, "Bharat Mata Teri Kasam" (The Esteemed Passing Out Parade Song) enthusiastically played on his Creta's stereo system. I was stunned for a moment but without any delay, both of us started screaming the ceremonial lyrics at the top of our lungs.
He secretively glanced at me, smiled cheerfully and said, "I promised your parents to get you home safe and in time. I'll protect you even to the peril of my life. So don't get any ideas ma'am"
"Don't be cheeky!", I had snapped.
It was the sweetest thing anybody could've ever thought of and I admired him for that. The night slipped away marking the beginning of something worth holding onto.
My friend who was two roll numbers before me, tried to console me and held my hand tighter breaking my chain of thoughts. I nervously clinged onto my phone. As luck would have had it, my phone made a strangled sound. My ordeal was over. It was a video call from Captain Rathore. I could barely accept the call as my hands trembled. I stared at him in horror, awe and shock.
He cast a bemused look at me and smiled.
"Service before self, remember? I was responsible for a large convoy and most importantly leading my men. Although we did miss an IED waiting to greet us on the road by just ten minutes.", he shrugged sympathetically, splayed his fingers except the ones holding the cigarette.
I had nothing to say. My eyes were clouded with tears.
"Your eyes aren't supposed to hold tears, they are made for holding dreams, Princess!", he solemnly added.
I smiled at him obediently.
"I really hope to be with you soon enough. I forgot how homesick I was.", his voice echoed off the skylight as he waved his hand generously, ran towards his men and disconnected the call.
I blew him a kiss.
God speed.
My world came crashing down in the middle of a tormenting Gynecology and Obstetrics lecture. I was sneaking a peek on my webMD to look for details on TOLAC (Trial of Labour After Cesarean)...so were my batchmates. Everybody struggled to not be seen and thrown out of the lecture amidst the bombardment of questions by our well read, ex-Army Teacher. A lot of tabs popped on my phone including recipes on Maggi bhajiya and pakoras and then something caught my eye.
News flashed: Shelling at Rajouri, 2 dead, 7 injured. Funny how I had memorized the definition of palpitation in medicine but at that very moment I wasn't sure if my heart was fluttering or sinking.
Then the inevitable happened, our teacher, Col Nihar Gupta, pretended to cock his rifle, took an aim and threw a chalk, that whizzed past me. It missed my right temporal region by barely 2-3 mm.
"Dr Sarayu Sharma, would you please throw some light on management of pregnancy with prior caesarean section?", he demanded.
I stood up mustering all the strength I had, disoriented and about to break down. I stuttered and surrendered, only a "um...Sorry... Sir" barely escaped my dry mouth.
"I thought so!", Col Gupta smirked.
He continued, "If every doctor would be negligent enough to let women end up with ruptured uteruses, humans would be as extinct as dodos! I presume with all humility that you wouldn't want that now, would you?"
Even after being humiliated, I miraculously managed to sit through the lecture and then ran to the library. I plonked on a chair in it's farthest corner where couples usually got cozy or people watched porn courtesy our fast and free college wifi. I closed my eyes and let the darkness grow and spread until it morphed from a feeling of sadness into something worse: a memory, a flashback. It was just last night that I asked him to call me back. I remember now, I was crying. I told him that I loved him, that I always would.
He was a proud Infantarian and had been posted to God forsaken places. He merrily crossed each hurdle that came his way and made our lives remotely challenging. Signals being jammed for security reasons, all the cool stealth mode jargons, the whispers, the smoky breathing on the phone, calls being difficult to decipher due to firing, we had seen it all but this time it was eerily different.
The last time he called was 36 hours ago. My excessively ethical officer was squealing and babbling with excitement about his dining in. He had sent me his photographs and it was always a treat to ogle at my impeccably dressed man. A few hours later, as a ritual I had recieved a drunk call from him.
"Do you love me?", he shrieked.
"Love is too weak a word for how I feel.", I replied.
It was as though a mere phone call from him could dissipate the months that separated us.
"Play me a song you like and I bet I'll know the lyrics.", he declared. I obliged and Alexa played "Lamborghini".I remember clearly that he croaked for about twenty minutes and I laughed with satisfaction.
"We love each other and time won't change that.", he said softly and then slept on the phone.
If only Alexa could presently turn off my feelings and make my face inscrutable to the people in my college who gawked at me to capture any and every piece of gossip.
My friends dragged me out of the library, onto the college ground and brought me back to the present. I had lost control over everything, even the places in my head. I sat there in the morning, eyes closed and the hot sun orange on my eyelids, I could be anywhere but like always, I transcend to the times when we had each other and it was enough. I remembered: freezing rain beating the tin roof, street lights illuminating the road. I was with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in my hand, hastily fishing through the fiction novels. That's when Captain Angad Singh Rathore came and stood behind me. He put his strong hands on my shoulders. I could smell his spicy and aromatic cologne, that miserably failed at masking the stench of cigarettes.
"Smoking kills.", I muttered under my breath.
"Loving you too.", he whispered in my ear.
I still remember the feel of his hands, the weight of them, reassuring and protective. That very moment I caught myself trying to remember the last time I had a meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitched. I turned to face him with a triumphant smile on my lips.
"I can't breathe!", I shrieked as he bent his tall, lean and muscular frame to tightly embrace me.
"You're not supposed to", he retorted with a chuckle.
His eyes touched me more than anyone's hands ever could have.
I sipped my coffee while he scanned through the menu and irrespective of the weather or the cafe, he ordered a cold coffee owing to his intimate attachment to NDA. Everytime we met, two minutes magically stretched to two hours in a second. Interstellar, beat that!
We were a team since his academy days. Everyone could see it. I calmed his flamboyance and tamed his direct and acerbic personality. He was way more decisive and helped me make decisions by teaching me the art of spontaneity. I appreciated everything about him that others had taken for granted. We had even agreed to keep a Labrador and name him Leo in memory of his dog who had died 4 years ago. Angad had given up on buying a dog because he thought he could not bear another heartbreak if his dog would die. He decided he could not go through that misery all over again. It took me some time and a lot of undaunted efforts to make him understand that he would eventually learn to try and hold onto complicated and challenging things, but the most difficult thing in life was to love fiercely and let go.
Needless to say the strength, that protectiveness he radiated, didn't potray me as weak. He intelligently made me strong in other ways. I made intellectual leaps that left him open-mouthed in admiration. We learned from each other and grew together.
It was seven months after his commissioning that we went for our family friend's wedding. Luckily his leave was sanctioned and my exams did not clash with the dates of the functions. It was pouring heavily as we were returning from the Haldi function. The moonlight made everything glow. I knew Angad so well; the more transfixed his face, the deeper the turmoil of emotions within.
"I like you", he blurted out and looked away.
"That was fast. Faster than Clint Eastwood I reckon!", I giggled.
"Why would I lie to someone I'm fairly fond of?", he grinned slyly and continued,
"I know that nothing is certain but you and I can take it day by day." It was a strange relief hearing it out loud.
"If you love me..then that is worth everything.", I said instinctively.
"My car smells of you, invigorating and refreshing.", he tried to give his heart a free rein thrashing his immense self control but ended up changing the topic.
I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around him and joked, "Now even you reek of me"
He appreciated my gauge attempt at humour, touched my cheek and said, " I'd take down my walls and open up a door for you."
Like any other cliche romantic movie, I thought we had a moment. Angad pulled over the car to the side and fiddled with his phone claiming, "You would love this song Sarayu!"
I giggled and assumed he might have had his share of fantasies.
In that splendid moment, "Bharat Mata Teri Kasam" (The Esteemed Passing Out Parade Song) enthusiastically played on his Creta's stereo system. I was stunned for a moment but without any delay, both of us started screaming the ceremonial lyrics at the top of our lungs.
He secretively glanced at me, smiled cheerfully and said, "I promised your parents to get you home safe and in time. I'll protect you even to the peril of my life. So don't get any ideas ma'am"
"Don't be cheeky!", I had snapped.
It was the sweetest thing anybody could've ever thought of and I admired him for that. The night slipped away marking the beginning of something worth holding onto.
My friend who was two roll numbers before me, tried to console me and held my hand tighter breaking my chain of thoughts. I nervously clinged onto my phone. As luck would have had it, my phone made a strangled sound. My ordeal was over. It was a video call from Captain Rathore. I could barely accept the call as my hands trembled. I stared at him in horror, awe and shock.
He cast a bemused look at me and smiled.
"Service before self, remember? I was responsible for a large convoy and most importantly leading my men. Although we did miss an IED waiting to greet us on the road by just ten minutes.", he shrugged sympathetically, splayed his fingers except the ones holding the cigarette.
I had nothing to say. My eyes were clouded with tears.
"Your eyes aren't supposed to hold tears, they are made for holding dreams, Princess!", he solemnly added.
I smiled at him obediently.
"I really hope to be with you soon enough. I forgot how homesick I was.", his voice echoed off the skylight as he waved his hand generously, ran towards his men and disconnected the call.
I blew him a kiss.
God speed.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Breathe again.
"Dr Maitreyi Mahapatra, you're welcome to the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit," declared the Head Nurse at Apollo hospital, Delhi, in the wee hours of a solemn Monday morning. After being greeted warmly by the staff, I was intricately briefed about every patient in the Unit.
As soon as I heard about Nanki, one year old infant, my interest was piqued.
She was a case of Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I had never encountered a patient suffering from that disease, but I had thoroughly read about it. Spinal muscular atrophy is a rare form of genetic disease with no cure. These children don't
survive to adulthood and usually succumb to respiratory failure. They come frequently to the hospital after contracting infection, have difficulty in breathing and usually require ventilators to survive.
At noon, I went over to Nanki's bed after I had finished writing case sheets. I smiled fondly at the child, wiped the tears trickling down her pink cheeks with one hand and used my other hand to pin both of her hands tightly on the bed, for the nurse to administer an Intravenous injection.
I was trying to comfort Nanki by rubbing her chest and talking to her when I noticed a tall and slender woman impatiently peeking through the windows. I realized she was Nanki's mother and signalled her to come inside. She thanked me, nervously wiped her tear stained face and introduced herself as Mehak Brar. I saw Mehak dithered. I gently squeezed her shoulders.
"Love may move mountains but it isn't enough to save the people you love, " Mehak sighed with sorrowful eyes and left the room.
I realized, I couldn't agree more... but as a doctor, the race against time and odds wouldn't let my compassion pitifully tone down my efforts to keep her daughter alive.
Nanki had been admitted for 36 hours with no signs of improvement and it was time to take a call. We could either remove the tube that helped her breathe and see how her lungs responded or we could wait... but waiting would mean increased risk of infection. Either way, she was hovering very close to death.
While sitting in the doctor's lounge, all doctors ended up discussing Nanki's case management and her survival probability.
"I wasn't even sure if the child would survive following the removal of the endotracheal tube when she was brought in but I couldn't risk the merest flagging of her mother's spirits. I administered some antibiotics and bided my time. I usually cast a quick glance at her vitals everytime I crossed her bed," to which all the doctors replied in unison, "We're all hoping for the best."
I had barely slept the previous night and the night before because every child demanded attention. Those soft, small hands asked for help while tears brimmed from their twinkling eyes in anguish.
On thursday morning, Nanki couldn't tolerate the pain any longer. She was too angry to be patient, kept howling and tapping her fingers on the bed... unable to move as that was her only way to protest.
The Medical Superintendent was taking rounds when he saw Nanki's agony and sternly requested her parents to arrive at a decision, a little faster.
He said he realised it was never easy to decide the way anyone's child should die, but we couldn't be selfish as parents and doctors to let the child heartbreakingly suffer every second of the day especially knowing that another such attack could prove fatal. After the emotionally magnanimous discussion, Ankit Brar, Nanki's father, signed the consent form.
He wished to meet me as I was the doctor in charge of removing his daughter's tube.
To my surprise he just wanted to let me know that the family had decided to not opt for tracheostomy in case Nanki stopped breathing. He said he had quit on being selfish and was done seeing his beautiful daughter suffer everyday. He was ready to let her go, become a star and shine upon him. He sighed and in a scarily calm voice whispered, "Everybody has to say good bye sooner or later." It was clear that he was besotted and broken.
The nurses asked Ankit to take Mehak away from her suffering daughter's bed.
The doting mother, unable to let go. She held on her child and wept. Ankit dragged Mehak out of there. Mehak ruffled Nanki's hair affectionately...one last time before leaving.
My lids were soaked and I choked while I scrubbed for Nanki's procedure. I stiffened my back, pursed my lips, like a soldier honoured with the most important undertaking. Duty call made me stand resolute with calm demeanor.
I needed to save the child. I needed my wits about me.
The assisting staff's eyes conveyed curiosity as I entered the Operating room, and carefully examined Nanki. They had seen the poor baby being admitted in the hospital five to seven times since the day she was born.
Nanki seemed weaker this time around but we had go ahead with the procedure. I carefully removed the tube. I felt her heartbeat quicken as I listened attentively. I was horrified to see Nanki not being able to tolerate, turning blue and getting uncomfortable. I called out for the Senior Pediatrician's opinion regarding re- intubation but she dissuaded me from doing so. If I could not re-intubate, I had to give morphine to ease Nanki's pain...Maybe her time had come.
Her parents were brave enough to let go of her and I wondered why was I struggling to hold on... So I extubated her and put the oxygen mask on. Her O2 level plummeted further, lips turned pale, tiny extremities turned cold.
I waited for a few hours by Nanki's bedside.
I could hear Mehak weeping bitterly and Ankit begging her to keep herself together.
It was almost 7 o'clock in the evening when Dr Niharika had showed up to relieve me. I hurriedly returned to my cabin, changed into a beautiful banarasi silk saree and neatly tied a bun at the nape of my neck.
My husband, Major Aman Mahapatra was going to pick me up for an official party.
He was never late. As he stood at the hospital exit door at 7:30 PM sharp, I waved and ran towards him. He flexed his biceps as he sucked in his breath and puffed his chest, displaying his muscular and well toned physique.
I whistled and patted him on his shoulder.
He bowed his head theatrically, "Thank you, kind Miss!".
I smiled broadly at him and with stunning swiftness, he caught me unawares and made me squeak when he lifted me in his arms. He asked me to lower my voice reminding me that we were in a hospital. I rolled my eyes and gave him a chagrined smile, to which he replied softly; "My transcendentally beautiful wife is required to accompany me to a boring party where my Commanding officer's wife would be asking her to make a diet chart for her yet again...only to not follow it." He stuck his tongue out and I snorted like a pig as I entered Aman's Isuzu.
I switched on the light above my head, and applied mascara. Aman clutched my hand and asked what I saw in the mirror of my compact powder. I mechanically replied, "A haggard and tired woman."
He clicked his tongue in disapproval and corrected me by saying, "That's a Goddess there, in her mother's exquisite blue saree."
I melted at his observation skills and gave him a peck on his cheek.
Before stepping out of the car, I had promised myself not to think about Nanki and tried to block Mehak's condition out of my head. I was shaken back to the present when, Mrs Sandhu asked me to sit beside her. "You look tired! Get yourself a drink... I can't even imagine standing in a place where blood and death go hand in hand...And that's your work place. Must take a toll on you?" Mrs Sandhu, the Commanding officer's wife, asked with genuine concern.
"I've gotten used to it but it still gets heavy sometimes." I replied calmly in striking contrast to my tumultuous day.
I excused myself and instinctively went to look for my husband; whom I found him surrounded by children, listening to his adventurous stories and the places he had travelled to with rapt attention. Our eyes met as I entered the Ante room.
Aman grinned while Mihika, his senior's three old daughter comfortably sat on his lap and playfully boxed him on his abdomen.
She sneezed while chewing french fries and Aman shot his head back to avoid the spray of droplets mixed with food on his face.
"Always battle ready", smiled Aman with nonchalance.
I laughed softly as Aman's frenetic activies cheered me up. His charisma and support made me strong enough to face the rigours of a demanding life as a Paediatric specialist.
Three painstaking days later, Nanki defied all odds. The nurse came shrieking, that Nanki had started breathing on her own. I rushed to the child's bed and touched her hand lighlty and noticed that her gaze travelled beyond me. On turning I saw her mother peeping through the glass window. Mehak ran inside the room, wrapped her arms around me and yelped with delight.
Death had indeed missed her baby by a tiny whisker. I was overwhelmed to sign Nanki's discharge slip and asked her to meet me in the clinic for follow up. Seeing Nanki's smile after everything she had been through...made it difficult for me to not believe in magic.
As soon as I heard about Nanki, one year old infant, my interest was piqued.
She was a case of Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I had never encountered a patient suffering from that disease, but I had thoroughly read about it. Spinal muscular atrophy is a rare form of genetic disease with no cure. These children don't
survive to adulthood and usually succumb to respiratory failure. They come frequently to the hospital after contracting infection, have difficulty in breathing and usually require ventilators to survive.
At noon, I went over to Nanki's bed after I had finished writing case sheets. I smiled fondly at the child, wiped the tears trickling down her pink cheeks with one hand and used my other hand to pin both of her hands tightly on the bed, for the nurse to administer an Intravenous injection.
I was trying to comfort Nanki by rubbing her chest and talking to her when I noticed a tall and slender woman impatiently peeking through the windows. I realized she was Nanki's mother and signalled her to come inside. She thanked me, nervously wiped her tear stained face and introduced herself as Mehak Brar. I saw Mehak dithered. I gently squeezed her shoulders.
"Love may move mountains but it isn't enough to save the people you love, " Mehak sighed with sorrowful eyes and left the room.
I realized, I couldn't agree more... but as a doctor, the race against time and odds wouldn't let my compassion pitifully tone down my efforts to keep her daughter alive.
Nanki had been admitted for 36 hours with no signs of improvement and it was time to take a call. We could either remove the tube that helped her breathe and see how her lungs responded or we could wait... but waiting would mean increased risk of infection. Either way, she was hovering very close to death.
While sitting in the doctor's lounge, all doctors ended up discussing Nanki's case management and her survival probability.
"I wasn't even sure if the child would survive following the removal of the endotracheal tube when she was brought in but I couldn't risk the merest flagging of her mother's spirits. I administered some antibiotics and bided my time. I usually cast a quick glance at her vitals everytime I crossed her bed," to which all the doctors replied in unison, "We're all hoping for the best."
I had barely slept the previous night and the night before because every child demanded attention. Those soft, small hands asked for help while tears brimmed from their twinkling eyes in anguish.
On thursday morning, Nanki couldn't tolerate the pain any longer. She was too angry to be patient, kept howling and tapping her fingers on the bed... unable to move as that was her only way to protest.
The Medical Superintendent was taking rounds when he saw Nanki's agony and sternly requested her parents to arrive at a decision, a little faster.
He said he realised it was never easy to decide the way anyone's child should die, but we couldn't be selfish as parents and doctors to let the child heartbreakingly suffer every second of the day especially knowing that another such attack could prove fatal. After the emotionally magnanimous discussion, Ankit Brar, Nanki's father, signed the consent form.
He wished to meet me as I was the doctor in charge of removing his daughter's tube.
To my surprise he just wanted to let me know that the family had decided to not opt for tracheostomy in case Nanki stopped breathing. He said he had quit on being selfish and was done seeing his beautiful daughter suffer everyday. He was ready to let her go, become a star and shine upon him. He sighed and in a scarily calm voice whispered, "Everybody has to say good bye sooner or later." It was clear that he was besotted and broken.
The nurses asked Ankit to take Mehak away from her suffering daughter's bed.
The doting mother, unable to let go. She held on her child and wept. Ankit dragged Mehak out of there. Mehak ruffled Nanki's hair affectionately...one last time before leaving.
My lids were soaked and I choked while I scrubbed for Nanki's procedure. I stiffened my back, pursed my lips, like a soldier honoured with the most important undertaking. Duty call made me stand resolute with calm demeanor.
I needed to save the child. I needed my wits about me.
The assisting staff's eyes conveyed curiosity as I entered the Operating room, and carefully examined Nanki. They had seen the poor baby being admitted in the hospital five to seven times since the day she was born.
Nanki seemed weaker this time around but we had go ahead with the procedure. I carefully removed the tube. I felt her heartbeat quicken as I listened attentively. I was horrified to see Nanki not being able to tolerate, turning blue and getting uncomfortable. I called out for the Senior Pediatrician's opinion regarding re- intubation but she dissuaded me from doing so. If I could not re-intubate, I had to give morphine to ease Nanki's pain...Maybe her time had come.
Her parents were brave enough to let go of her and I wondered why was I struggling to hold on... So I extubated her and put the oxygen mask on. Her O2 level plummeted further, lips turned pale, tiny extremities turned cold.
I waited for a few hours by Nanki's bedside.
I could hear Mehak weeping bitterly and Ankit begging her to keep herself together.
It was almost 7 o'clock in the evening when Dr Niharika had showed up to relieve me. I hurriedly returned to my cabin, changed into a beautiful banarasi silk saree and neatly tied a bun at the nape of my neck.
My husband, Major Aman Mahapatra was going to pick me up for an official party.
He was never late. As he stood at the hospital exit door at 7:30 PM sharp, I waved and ran towards him. He flexed his biceps as he sucked in his breath and puffed his chest, displaying his muscular and well toned physique.
I whistled and patted him on his shoulder.
He bowed his head theatrically, "Thank you, kind Miss!".
I smiled broadly at him and with stunning swiftness, he caught me unawares and made me squeak when he lifted me in his arms. He asked me to lower my voice reminding me that we were in a hospital. I rolled my eyes and gave him a chagrined smile, to which he replied softly; "My transcendentally beautiful wife is required to accompany me to a boring party where my Commanding officer's wife would be asking her to make a diet chart for her yet again...only to not follow it." He stuck his tongue out and I snorted like a pig as I entered Aman's Isuzu.
I switched on the light above my head, and applied mascara. Aman clutched my hand and asked what I saw in the mirror of my compact powder. I mechanically replied, "A haggard and tired woman."
He clicked his tongue in disapproval and corrected me by saying, "That's a Goddess there, in her mother's exquisite blue saree."
I melted at his observation skills and gave him a peck on his cheek.
Before stepping out of the car, I had promised myself not to think about Nanki and tried to block Mehak's condition out of my head. I was shaken back to the present when, Mrs Sandhu asked me to sit beside her. "You look tired! Get yourself a drink... I can't even imagine standing in a place where blood and death go hand in hand...And that's your work place. Must take a toll on you?" Mrs Sandhu, the Commanding officer's wife, asked with genuine concern.
"I've gotten used to it but it still gets heavy sometimes." I replied calmly in striking contrast to my tumultuous day.
I excused myself and instinctively went to look for my husband; whom I found him surrounded by children, listening to his adventurous stories and the places he had travelled to with rapt attention. Our eyes met as I entered the Ante room.
Aman grinned while Mihika, his senior's three old daughter comfortably sat on his lap and playfully boxed him on his abdomen.
She sneezed while chewing french fries and Aman shot his head back to avoid the spray of droplets mixed with food on his face.
"Always battle ready", smiled Aman with nonchalance.
I laughed softly as Aman's frenetic activies cheered me up. His charisma and support made me strong enough to face the rigours of a demanding life as a Paediatric specialist.
Three painstaking days later, Nanki defied all odds. The nurse came shrieking, that Nanki had started breathing on her own. I rushed to the child's bed and touched her hand lighlty and noticed that her gaze travelled beyond me. On turning I saw her mother peeping through the glass window. Mehak ran inside the room, wrapped her arms around me and yelped with delight.
Death had indeed missed her baby by a tiny whisker. I was overwhelmed to sign Nanki's discharge slip and asked her to meet me in the clinic for follow up. Seeing Nanki's smile after everything she had been through...made it difficult for me to not believe in magic.
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Undefeated.
In this age of modernization, when the technology is on our side and the world has forgotten the feeling of carefully opening a letter to not hurt it's contents, I gently unravel his letter. Beauty climbs up on my lap for moral support and Beast carefully fixates his gaze on me.
It's crazy how only a month ago, Captain Anvay Dalvi was standing there in his well furnished drawing room. Anvay joked that he had suggested his coursemate to make Morphine out of the humungous garden of poppies in his MESS. All of a sudden, he decided to cut to the chase. His eyes were brimming with excitement as he sheepishly spelt out that he was all set to leave for Siachen.
Rattled by his sudden free throw to sandbag me. I blurted out,"Do you even know, why Siachen is called "Siachen" ?
He shot me an annoying self righteous glance, cleared his throat and replied, "No."
He smirked and continued, "All I know is that getting my facts straight would be easier than breaking into Fort Knox! So to speak."
I roll my eyes and retort, "Siachen glacier is named after the pink sia blossoms that bloom across Ladakh in summer months, with no roses actually blooming in the second longest glacier in the world."
He looked at me intently and I tried to stay somber with my tone in order to put forth an argument in a no-win situation as,
"I understand that you're captivated by the mesmerizing beauty that Siachen holds. Your secret longing to see the world from the summit of the highest battlefield on planet Earth is justified but you need to consider some exquisitely documented pieces of knowledge, like during the American Civil War, the stress associated with war was called Home sickness. During World War One, it was shell shock. After World War Two, it was battle fatigue. I know Siachen is not always at war but it's nothing close to safe as well." I was interrupted when he shrieked,"Take the drama down a notch, Juliet!" He had more than a few quips up his sleeve.
Managing a quick recovery and thinking on my feet, I said, "I realise there's more to you than your handsome face, crew cut hair and aviator shades. Moreover, Siachen is more than just the battlefield on the roof of the world. It might come out as a shock but the people who are willing to sacrifice their lives for their country, marketing it as a lifestyle also experience anxiety and vulnerability before deployment. The undulating emotions of physically hurting or killing opponent soldiers, destroying hostile forces, grieving the deaths of your fellow mates results in severe mental stress. Moreover the duty towards nation deprives you of opportunities to reach out to your loved ones and share your struggles and insecurities. Carrying out surreptitious operations, where the weather is your worst enemy demands a whole new level of psyche!" I stop to look at him, only to find him unbelievably suave enough to be on the cover of Vogue. I surrender and declare, "I know you're ready for it." I drew in a deep breath and added, "I know what 'Living a life less ordinary' means to you. I would never want to weigh you down with my fears. Don't forget, I'm Ted Mosby and drawing pros and cons in every situation is my forte." I rested my case, shrugged and painstakingly managed to paste a smile.
"I know, you know! Maybe that is your niche but do you know why the Army decided to send us there...because we can get the job done and if we can, we will fucking get the job done.", he growled.
I threw my hands in the air in frustration and got to work by telling him about the Stages of Acclimatization, Drugs used to help acclimatization, Warning signs of dehydration, Acclimatization schedules and I ended it all by quoting the Siachen motto, "Quartered In Snow
Silenced To Remain
When The Bugle Calls
They Will Rise
And March Again."
"I thought you were a lover and not a fighter.", he let a devious smile escape his lips.
"Well, I'm both. I've got layers.", I replied. I finally had a witty comeback even though it was a pyrrhic victory.
He started singing Jon Bellion's, 'Conversations with my future wife'. I joined in on the line that says, 'Will you love me when my phone turns off...'
In a fraction of a second, we rolled on the floor, laughed and then held hands because the lyrics were heartbreakingly true and it was quick to sink in.
I transcend back to the present and try to decipher Anvay's horrible handwriting which had been worsened due to the biting cold. It read:
"Dearest Radhika,
I hope this letter finds you in rainbow colors.
At first sight, Siachen is awe-inspiring beyond belief. Life here, with all fears we carry, coupled with the eerie remoteness, the cold and discomfort up high, makes me appreciate the good things at Base Camp like never before. The thought of calling back home or the prospect of a hot home cooked meal in a comfortable bed seem like a luxury of the past. Never thought I'd count my bathroom as a blessing because our toilets are pretty primitive here; generally just a hole in the floor inside a tiny and cozy FRP. Plenty of "misfires" ensure the floor around the hole is well soiled. Being at 20,000 feet, it's excruciating to hold one's breath for very long. Moreover the nausea set in due to the high altitude doesn't give you time to feel disgusted and even if you try pushing yourself, you're knocked out of your senses in no time. Life's pretty much like minesweeper, you step on a thin piece of ice and poof! You're down a hundred feet. As I'm good at spectator sports, the first thing I observed was...Set at a safe distance from camp, the green oxygen cylinders are stored, racked like artillery shells in preparation to bombard peripheral posts. The RMO here, Captain Amish Gunn, is a jovial person and surprisingly a combat enthusiast. Also I shamelessly tested his knowledge during our initial encounters at the base camp, according to everything you had briefed me about before leaving. After a careful history of drug allergy, he asked us to take Acetazolamide, 125 mg before the climb and it worked wonders preventing us from from the harsh symptoms of mountain sickness. He gave us medical supplies containing elastoplast dressings, a bandage, some antiseptic ointments, sunscreen and a few pills. Most importantly he labelled the pills for me. I happened to gush about you, over a drink with Amish. He got overzealous and made sure to prove his competence after that. So I have been carrying, I'll quote you, "Trental for frost bite and Cyclopentolate drops for snow blindness. Devil's in the details."
You would be happy to know that Captain Gunn and I, are pally, he talks about the Micro atmosphere Siachen has created due to some gravitational pull and I tell him about Direct Emission Weapons. I can't tell you how much I miss you when the know-it-all doctor propensity dominates the chats in our testosterone charged posts. It's hilarious to find all the officers and troops sitting there cross eyed failing to grasp the doctor's medical innuendos.
Although we're always under the gun but I still made new friends here, Rinchi, Loa and Gimshik, our porters, who help us to navigate by feel when the visibility is horrendous. Everything looks the same, the snow covered slope and the black sky.
Sometimes we all get to share a cup of hot tea supplied by post members and we take in every sip, thinking it could be our last while kneeling over sharp rocks amidst heavy wind blasting us with debris.
Some days, we plow on foot uphill. The wind pushes upto 70 miles per hour and when my neck gaiter slips below my goggles, the wind feels like pins and needles on my face... my face goes numb. At that very moment I telepathically crave to thank you for a thousand kisses that I still feel on my face.
Now that I get to crouch on it, I see Siachen in a different light. The mountain still holds me entranced. The challenge, the beauty, the simplicity of this extraordinary place has irresistibly drawn wishful soldiers and I still burn with passion when I talk of it.
There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought of you. I love you, Radhika. I hope you're taking care of yourself and that Beauty and Beast are not taking a toll on you. I hope you're studying hard enough to save yourself from getting beaten up. Just kidding. You make me proud. I'm extemely sorry that I missed your graduation but I promise to make it upto you when I get back. Service before Self, remember? Can't wait for you to join the Armed Forces, so you would quote this too.
Love,
Anvay"
I giggle through the tears as I meticulously fold his letter and keep it between the pages of my Davidson: Textbook of Medicine. Then I gingerly get to pen down a letter...to send my love back to Siachen hoping that it'll find him warm and safe.
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