Counting the blessings

My recent visit to hospital and the roller coaster ride of if’s and but’s from one report to another has taught me a lot. Most importantly lets not take our health for granted and that there are few people who will always stand by you – treasure them.
The 5 days of hell in the hospital was not due to fear of unknown, I am not scared to die ( though there was a moment I was scared for my mother if I did),  apart from that there was more of a childish worry – fear of pain, physical pain. I have a very high threshold for it, but somehow when body is weak, even the strength to take in pain goes down, that is the reason when my friends visited me, they found me crying in the hospital bed , yes, I was alone crying like a baby – for my hands were swollen with the needles and the bubbles that went in through the drips, it hurt like a mother f***r
It all started with mild fever and zero appetite, when I had not eaten a single grain for about 5 days it was thought best to get to hospital. Who knew that a silly fever will end up in shockingly acute Hepatitis and fear of tumor. There began the journey of if’s and but’s – doc’s found a tumor leading to series of painful test and reports and then further tests. With each report my brother would call me and reassure “don’t worry – don’t take tension” and I only knew he was saying this to himself – being in medical field for over a decade he exactly knew what those reports meant.
Painful needles inside me, and nurses struggling to find my veins to put them in (ya they say my veins are like baby’s – thin and tough to find – funny) and in the struggle to insert it – ample blood shed. I could see the amount of blood I lost on my best friends face–it wasn’t easy on him not just to look at me bleed like that but also with my nails  piercing deep in his hands every time they did it (and they did that a lot )  – he just stood still.
I wish there was a substitute to the process of CT and MRI scans. The contrast they inject in your veins while you are in the machine – ohhhhhh lordddddd not only the pain of medicines flowing through your hands to legs and everywhere kills you – you also remember doc’s command not to move and follow their instructions of – breath in – hold breath and breath  out– are you f***g kidding me???? But you want to go through this hell only once hence you somehow gather courage and do what is required — only to know later , if they find something not so pretty in the scan they follow it up with another equally painful one in 24 hrs – what the hell they did. They found a lesion !!!

Next day outside the procedure room I somehow lost all my courage and did something I regret doing. I called up my mom and cried to her over the phone. I sobbed telling her about the hell that was waiting for me behind those doors, and that she should pray to God to have it easy on me. I knew she too was crying. Bad move.
A day later, when the doc’s came back with results saying the lesion they found was benign and I just have to deal with Hepatitis – I took it with open arms.  Though the severe condition that I was and still am in is not a joke – but its all relative right ?  I just escaped fear of a tumor – biopsy – surgery and who knows a transplant – why wont I take Hepatitis smilingly  ???
Times like these wake you up to some facts.
I take care of my health in general – hmm eating habits not that great but I do exercise and try keep myself fit, don’t abuse my body, am teetotaler vegetarian , but clearly need to do more.
Few of my colleges visited me – not because I am their colleague – but for they care for me and love me as a friend. What do I say?
And then, I realized that there are some people around me who love more than expected – I always knew family did – but what I saw my friends do for me was commendable. Taking me from hospital to hospital for admission– help take me to washroom when I could not walk, bringing food home for a week, being there for anything that I needed. I loved them already but after this something has changed – I don’t know what – my eyes are getting moist just writing this…I must have done something right to deserve them.
Then there is my best friend for about 2 decades. He does not say much  (has he ever? ), but silently, continuously and endlessly takes care of me.  We may live far but I know when I need someone he will be the first one to show on my doorstep. What more do I say about someone I had been counting on since my teenage days  
I want to count my blessings at this stage and thank god for what and who I have in my life. I always look at the positives and in this time of adversity as well, I don’t want to look at disappointments or downs that I may have had, but look at the  blessings which overshadow all the lows. And once again thank the almighty for loving me the way he does.

Miss you papa


I need a closure desperately but “closure” is not possible. There is an escape, hiding, lying, running away but never a closure. I need to start writing again, and I cannot do that till I get this once piece out of my system, I have to, may be it is moving on, or trying to move on…what ever it is, I am giving it a shot.
Exactly a year back, on 17th March 2012 my life turned upside down, and will never be normal again. I put up a smile and walk, I live my life, yes I laugh and have fun too, but, there is a constant hollow that the subconscious mind is aware of …at back of the mind the scary fact remains, that – he is not there…he who loved me more than anyone is ever loved before, he loved me the way no one is capable of loving me again, he loved me because he accepted me the way I am, he loved me – Selfless – unconditional.
This is story of every father and daughter, may not be new about how father treats his daughter, but this is new to me, as this is not about father and daughter in general, it is my father and I his daughter. This is my story…hence unique to me.
He raised me as an equal to my brother, not once thinking that I was a girl, infact was a bit more liberal just so that I or he do not question it. I have not done anything that helps him chin up,  saying  I was his girl…but for no reason he was proud of me…that’s a father – simple 🙂  He would cover my mistakes from my mom,  protecting me, when I would visit my parents, he would make me breakfast, no matter how much I insisted it to be other way round. He would put extra cheese and butter on my toast – “oh papa I am trying to lose weight”, “nothing will happen” he would say and sprinkle pepper and salt !!! I like tea with my morning toast, but my mom would have left milk for me before leaving for school, dad would quietly make tea for me and gulp the milk down, knowing perfectly what I wanted. This was his way of telling me that he loved me. (and this was a routine till the end as recent as 1yr +).
He is someone whom I had enough chats and discussions with about life in general, he is the only one where I would share all my feelings I would find a match, he would tell me fearless “Guinea, you are blessed not to have children, today you have only one problem of not having children, but if you have, your life is full of problems till you live” he said that not coz he regretted he had two children or that he did not loved me , he said that “because” he loved me. He knew I am a weak soul like himself, and I would break many times in life,  probably like he did looking at me in trouble so many times…
Where do I get that friend back from?  who understood me and I could talk this stuff with or many other things that I shared with him. Big or small, I always shared, and this fact ??? “fact that my dad is no more” is too big for me not share with him -this is tooooo big in my life, and first person I want to talk this to is him, but how? I want tell him how my life is without my father, how I feel, how I miss him…when I shared smallest of things like music, update on friends, my art, stupid day to day talks…I sure want to talk to him about this, it is too huge for me not to share with him…how can he not know this??? Call me crazy but I do feel like this.
He loved me unconditionally & accepted me how I was, good or bad, I am his daughter…period….he never judged me. He gave me strength to face this world, when I had gone into a shell once, unable to face the world, he pulled me out hating that his daughter was hiding from the world, walked withe me shoulder to shoulder saying, “tell the world to talk to me if they have any question for my daughter”.
He made me the free minded person I am, for he was this beautiful free minded soul, the purest and most beautiful person I or my family has ever known. I am glad he has passed on his passion for music and hand for sketching to me. He has also given me his irritating (to many people around) habits , of not breaking rules, fighting for the right, standing stubbornly and foolishly for what you think is right, no matter if you come across as a fool !!! Yes I do look like a fool to many around me – but I don’t care, coz I have been raised by him, trained to stand for what I think is right, speaking the truth and be honest, open, on the face. Most importantly he taught me how to care. If God made more people like him, the world would be a much better place.
I have locked him in one corner of my mind fearing to open that door, for if I open it, floods of memories will come out, which would take me wildly with its flow and there is no coming back from there. No, I cannot forget him, it is not possible, time is not a healer too…you just learn to live with it. The wound is there, behind that locked door, which when opens accidentally, it drowns me. Different people find different way to deal with it, I have taken the escape route…running away from his memories or anything that reminds me of him…I fear the moment when there is a leak from behind that door… I cannot handle that.
Its been a year, more years will pass by, we will be busy with our lives we will laugh, smile, play , plan,  work, but that locked door remains, it is now a permanent part of of me and there is no escaping that…I will wake up tomorrow morning and go to work all smiles…the smile is genuine but so is what they dont see …  the image of the locked door constant on my mind…
There are two more such doors that I am aware of, in my mom and bro’s minds !!! We all have our own memories locked behind…we three are aware of each others locked doors too, but we don’t speak, we don’t talk, we just know its best left alone.
We miss him, every day , every moment in our own different way…and I do too, like I said, this is my unique father and daughter story…the father that I knew and the daughter he loved more than any human is capable of loving someone…that is how my father loved me, his daughter…
I miss you papa.

i live my dreams in my dreams.

i mean this literally… there are few things in life that i want so desperately…well, as the waking PK does not have it…i get to achieve them while i am happily asleep – may be the subconscious is still awake longing for it… the the fun part is, i get joy achieving / getting it even in dreams and the next day for me is the most beautiful one 🙂

Punjabi By Nature

ever wondered why a bengali is so close to his own culture as a marathi is to his own…or a tamilian or a gujrati…i never thought of it as much till a recent trip i had to chandigargh.

I went for an official trip to Chandigargh when I understood what the meaning of “roots” is…it is something magical…though i am born in dehradun…brought up in many cities (dad being in IAF had to move every 3 years) for work I lived in Chennai, Bangalore, Delhi and now Mumbai….I practically have no identity… Read more