Lessons for a lifetime

Quite a few posts on my blog since 2011 have been about cancer and I hope this is the last in the series. 

Lot of people I have met, or know, say proudly that they have not changed one bit. I feel sorry for them because change and growth are synonymous for me. If they have not changed, they have not learned anything from any life experience and have let a wonderful opportunity to grow go to waste.

Cancer, in its five appearances in the bodies of three people I love, has taught me different things. 

The first appearance was a shocker. It taught me not to take people I love for granted. It made me regret all the fights I ever had with aaji (grandmother) and all the times I travelled to exotic locations instead of visiting her. 

The second tryst with the disease taught me that people are very good. I felt this immense rush of positivity. I decided to promote, with a stubbornness that would put a well-bred mule to shame, the inherent goodness of people. I believed with all my heart that mom had cancer to ensure that I start blindly believing in the goodness of people.

The third time around, my teacher decided to take a stricter approach and ensured that I achieve, what at this point in time I perceive to be, a balanced approach to life, people and the games that these two seem to be playing with me all the time.

I’m not the only daughter in the world to see her mother suffer. I know I’m not the first or the last person to go through the gamut of emotions I am going through every day for the last 5 years. However, with all the bones in my body I’d like to believe that the way I’m processing all that is happening, in reality or otherwise, is unique and can be a attributed to only one person in the world. ME, in case I was not self-indulgent enough in the previous paragraphs and you missed who I was referring to when I said one person in the world.

Of the many things that cancer has taught me or rather I have chosen to learn from it is that the only need that is constant is the will to survive. From my mother who revived from what most of us (family and friends and friends of family and their uncles) thought were her last few days, to my younger brother and to me; we all were hell bent on surviving however we could albeit the modes of self-preservation were different. Mom concentrated on becoming better and recovering the quality of her life. Akshat decided that staying away from the situation as much as he could would help and I decided that the only way I could survive was by exhausting myself to bits. As months passed by and she became better the modes of survival became different for all of us. Mom takes on just a little bit more on her plate than any other person feels she can chew. Akshat, continues to stay away for most parts but is available to help out whenever I lift my hands in defeat. I, go out with friends, travel, read just a little bit more, use the camera lens as an extension of my eyes, mostly make the effort to enjoy life by taxing myself just a little bit more.

I have been generous enough by mentioning mom and Akshat in the previous paragraph. Don’t expect me to continue to do so. This is about what I learnt. Clearly, I did not learn much about turning away from the spotlight. I continue to bask in the limelight!

Back to things I learnt. I learnt to be patient. A virtue not many believe I possess. I became patient with people who had no idea what they were talking about because I knew their concern was genuine (at least in that moment). I became patient with people who refused to make an effort to understand what I was trying to explain because…

… well because I’m a nice person.

I have noticed, also, that I have become impatient with I’m so fat because my waist size has increased by 2 millimetres type of people. I feel that somehow by interacting with them I’m wasting precious moments of my life, which I could be spending learning something new—about the world, India, Delhi, a new word, a new way of life or learning something as mundane as which movie will come on TV the coming weekend.

I have learned that I need to learn how to not care too much. To my utter surprise, on several occasions, several people have told me that my major character flaw is that I care too much. How much is too much and how less is too less, I’m yet to learn. But over the last couple of years I have started to put myself first. Things, emotions, actions, people who make me happy continue to be a part of my life. Others, who deliberately or inadvertently make me unhappy or generally add even a pinch of negativity in my daily life, are better forgotten. I must admit, I am becoming good at it. Parle often told me that her biggest strength was that she absolved herself of the guilt that followed the act of making a mistake. I am now absolving myself of the mistakes I have made by giving everyone else’s opinions room even at the cost of my own. Respect, I have realised is a two-way street. People who disrespect me will no longer be excused for their bad behaviour. I, of course, am genetically inclined to be polite and well mannered. So that leaves me with only one option. I ignore. People and situations that do not agree with me or my ways stop existing for me. 

Cancer attacked our lives in its biggest sweep yet in 2014. Mom needed chemotherapy again. We were still trying to device a way to plan and shop for my wedding later that year along with the visits to the hospital that we found out that my mama (mother's brother) was also suffering from cancer. My mother and mama ended up being treated in the same hospital by the same set of doctors. There were days when both were being administered their chemos. Mami and I would be busy running around the hospital corridors managing the paper work and the brother-sister duo would be busy visiting each other, laughing, sharing sweets and choorans. On several occasions the hospital staff would remind them that it was a hospital and remaining silent or in the least soft was required. Seeing these two I often wondered what made them happy even in such circumstances. And another part of me would answer that they are forcing themselves to be happy to survive these circumstances. I have now learned that staying happy is a choice. You can alter your circumstances by being happy. Smiling is contagious. I also know that sadness can be infectious. So I avoid being around people who love to crib and who no matter what the circumstances have the penchant for seeing the negative.   

Cancer claimed two members of my extended family within a week’s time last year. In the wake of their deaths some old lessons were revised. Life is fragile. Staying true to who you are and ensuring your happiness in this lifetime are the most important things. The most disturbing lesson that was taught again was that life stops for no one. You laugh again, you eat again and you go back to the ‘normal’ life again. The void that the dead leave in your lives remains. But the living soon start taking more room in your daily life. The people who leave continue to be a part of your life as tars and memories. 

Best friend

Laying in her bed, under the covers, she fights a losing battle with the yellow street light that enters her small room from the gap between the deep purple curtains. She continues to stare at the yellow light as snatches of memories come and invade her mindspace even as she reminds herself repeatedly that she has work tomorrow and she must sleep. The clock strikes two. She can only clock in a measly four hours of sleep before she has to wake up to complete the daily chores. Predictably, she does not doze off. Instead, she remembers the incident that  had occurred a few days back, in her office.

She was talking to this lady who had recently joined the department and was still finding her footing. They were sharing stories. The new one was being funny, throwing insults, sexual remarks and making innuendoes at anyone and everyone in a bid to prove that she had an I-couldn't-care-less attitude.

The old one, to the department not the world, was smiling while she decided how much to let this stranger inside her world. The new (older) one was talking about her daughters fondly. The old-to-the-department-newer-to-the-world went through something that instant. She decided to talk about the person most important to her. As a preamble she joked about cancer. Then she choked while saying, 'She is my best friend, you know.'

The older of the two women did not know how to handle this old-to-the-department-newer-to-the-world girl, who was enjoying the last few days of her 20s. She decided to wear her nonchalance like a prized heirloom--the rightful owner never misses a chance to wear it but never displays it too obviously to the world. She gathered the empty plate, on which fruits had been cut only a few minutes ago. Took a second longer than necessary to balance the blue knife on the white, gold-rimmed plate and headed to the office kitchen muttering to the 20-something girl, 'Ya, ya, I get it. Your mom's your best friend.'

Words

Words. Harsh, to the point of being cruel. Spoken in a callous manner. Words that made me sad earlier today. Sad enough to cry and contemplate how miserable I feel and how difficult things have been for me since October 2012, if not earlier. Sad enough to make me relive the horrid ambulance ride to the hospital, with my mom talking incoherently, Anita aunty saying soothing words to her, the driver going at a break neck speed, and I thinking to myself, ‘unfortunately, now I’ll never wonder what relatives of the patient go through while being in an ambulance.’

  

My mother, my daughter

The transition, not as smooth as I would have liked

One day she was answering my questions,

Looking after me like I was still a child,

And fighting with the world one person at a time

Defending my every whim, my mother

The very next, on a hospital bed

She was looking at me for answers

Fighting for every breath,

And completely dependent on me,

Consulting me on matters of life and death, my daughter

The switch, sudden as lightning

Made me want to shout at the One controlling the world

Yet I’ve never been more at a loss for words

And completely caught up with all that had to be done

Surrounded by faces suddenly I was all alone

A year, long and arduous as it was

Survivors, brave and strong

We made it through the turbulent waters

And we smile, our broken yet wide, proud smiles

There are tears as well, of triumph over cancer

Back to the routine, boring and mundane

She again is the mother with the final word

I’m once again the daughter with whims and wishes

And we fight, talk, laugh, share

All the while being grateful for each day we have

God’s Chosen One

Every daughter dreams of mouthing the words her mother repeats to her. As someone who recently had to repeat her mother’s favourite five words to the woman who had given her birth, let me tell you that it is not all that it is made to be. There were often moments when I asked the most common question asked ever, ‘Why me?’ And my mother, in her almost-irritating-optimism, would reply, ‘You are God’s chosen one.’

During the last week of February 2011 after a series of medical tests and visits to the doctors my mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (stage three). Over the last four months, I heard my mom complain only once. All she said was, ‘He should have spared me this at least!’ All I could say at that time was, ‘You are His chosen one.’

Stories of cancer, people surviving cancer, doctors dedicating their lives to saving lives of cancer patients and families fighting the disease through thick and thin are not new to me. I had read a lot of pages dedicated to the survivors, the saviours and the people who stand behind, giving never-ending support. I sympathised with the souls that had the misfortune of going through the battle for life. Their words made sense. The world through their eyes made sense. As a reader, their words assured me that my problems were small, the battles of life harsh and I could muster the courage to fight whatever life threw my way with a broad smile. However, all said and done, for me cancer was just a fictional problem that attacked others.

Let me be honest and confess. I had said those words to her and then subsequently several times to myself, my younger brother and even relatives while talking about cancer and her brave fight. However, it took me a couple of months to actually understand why we are God’s chosen ones.

The last four months for me were all about chemotherapies, medicines, shuttling from Delhi to Jaipur every 21 days, the surgery, living in two cities at the same time (mind in Delhi and thoughts in Jaipur with my mom), and several other things with which boring you would not be a very good idea. With my mother’s treatment completing successfully today, with a heart light with relief I want to remember why, ‘We are God’s chosen ones.’

When we first got confirmation that it in fact was cancer, the only thought that ran through my head was to call and consult my mama (mother’s brother) and mami (mother’s brother’s wife). They are the only real family I have apart from my mom and brother. No amount of ink can help me pen down my thoughts for the two people who have saved my mother’s life. Cancer has been the most difficult on mami. The house-work increased overnight, she had to put her own life on hold and throughout she had a smile on her face. She also ensured that she continued to be a pillar of strength for my aaji (grandmother), mama, brothers (Ansh and Akshat), sister (Prasha) and me. No one I know could have been this selfless in showering love over all of us and ensuring that hearts did not break and nervous breakdowns did not happen. She was the glue that held everything together. Thank you seems a very small word to express my gratitude to the woman who saved my mother’s life. ‘We are God’s chosen one,’ to have mami in our lives.

Mama is the closest Akshat and I have to a father figure. He plays the role of a facilitator. He arranges things, makes things happen and sets the carpet rolling. All it took was a fraction of a second for us to decide and call him when we found about the cancer and even less time to pack our bags and set mom’s base at his home for the subsequent treatment. He is the only man I know who generates vibes that help people around him depend on him without thinking twice. Over the years, I have seen him doing his best trying to save lives of several people he knew and even strangers. But I also know that the last few months have been very difficult on him. Seeing your only sister fighting another battle cannot be easy. I saw him brave seeing his sister shrivel to all bones. I wish no brother has to go through what he had to go through. I also wish that all brothers love their sisters as much. ‘We are God’s chosen one,’ to have mama in our lives.

It was a very difficult time for Akshat but his biggest gift to me was not to cry in front of me. He said he knew he had to be the strong one since I really enjoy crying. He managed to take care of a lot of things at home when I was away. Although, we had our share of fights, I know for a fact that I could not have gotten through the last four months and the agony they brought without Akshat at my side. I’m God’s chosen one.

My mother's friends, who are as good as a mother to me--Anita aunty, Maju Aunty and Archana aunty. They were there on stand by. Any time, I needed anything, all I had to do was ask. Sometimes, they would know what I might need even before I asked. How can I not be God's chosen one when I have four mothers.

Even as a child, I was often taught by mom that friends are very important. An introvert, she nurtured my extrovert nature with much love. She encouraged me to be a good friend and often told me that it is the people in your life that matter. Relatives you can’t choose, but exercise the choice of making friends wisely. Till recently, I believed that having good friends just reflected on the fact that I was a good friend. I was certain that friendship was a two-way street. ‘I am God’s chosen one.’ He decided there was no better time than now to teach me that the goodness of people is theirs and the one at the receiving end is purely blessed. In this case, it was me.

Although, Gurneet and Kanchan, who are my friends for life and beyond were not physically present to console me every time I wanted to shed a tear (and there were a lot and a lot more and then a few more times) God was kind enough to surround me with people who went beyond anything I could imagine to help me cope. It just sends a shiver down my spine to even think about what would have happened if I was not working at OUP. I have worked with a lot of people, but so far have not worked with a boss like Lena. She was understanding and did not once question the leaves I had to take. Support from her ensured that I had no pressure from office when I was in Jaipur for the chemotherapies and the surgery. I know that I can go to her with any problem and she will offer a solution. The most important thing she told me when I called her from Jaipur the first time was, “Priyanka, keep the faith.” Every time I felt my faith shaking, I remembered her words, took a deep breath and magically enough my faith was restored. I am God’s chosen one.

Vinata, Lopa and Anuradha became the elder sisters I never had. They gave me strength and ensured that I never lost faith. I truly believe that Vinata’s prayers have worked wonders and played a crucial role in mom’s recovery. Lopa almost took over the role of my mother and was a very patient sounding board. She listened to me for hours and not once refused to give me an ear even at her busiest hour. She took me out on all the days when she thought staying alone would have proved catastrophic. She was so right and I am so grateful that words fail me. I will eternally be grateful to both of you. Anuradha, in her silent way, always held my mother in prayer and would actually fulfil my stupid demands for chips and sandesh at one go. Jessica would always be the first one to message me to ask about mom. She remembered all the dates of chemos, when I was leaving and when I would return. She was always ready to give me an ear when I wanted a five-minute break from work and also opened her magic drawer to give chocolates when I most needed them. She even bought me three pairs of earrings for my birthday, including a dirty one (which I liked and she was generous enough to offer to clean with a toothbrush). I am God’s chosen one.

Sheena and Sangeeta along with the other members of the ‘chillar party’—Athena, Supriya, Hansita, Meghna and Shweta, did not let go of a single chance to make me laugh and smile. Sheena’s jokes are what kept a smile on my face even when my mind was full of chaos. Sheena and her family’s prayers have worked. Thanks a lot Sheena and please thank uncle and aunty as well for the prayers and for the frequent supply of delicious idlis and chutney. Sangeeta, became a friend in a really short period of time. It did not matter that I was missing from office soon after she joined. It never felt that she was new in my life. The pink umbrella and the constant supply of yog kanthika made me so happy that words are not enough and I hope she one day fulfils my foolish demand of buying me a Victorian gown to match the umbrella and of course the ticket to UK for the fairytale dance with Prince Charming :-) Athena’s concern and constant liking of my status updates on FB, Supriya’s happy hanger face, Hansita’s company on chat every night from 9 to 10, Meghna’s good humour to take jokes like a sport, and Shweta’s daily morning rounds to my desk to discuss the ‘rat’ situation in office made my days in Delhi fun. I am God’s chosen one.

I was always told that colleagues never become friends. To those who believe this, I say you are wrong. Colleagues are as good as family, at least mine are. Everyone in my department, made sure that my birthday was a special one. Even when I was all alone in Delhi, everyone made sure that I did not feel alone even for a minute throughout the day. The most precious gifts I got on my 28th birthday were priceless hugs, invaluable wishes and abundant blessings apart from the surprise cakes that the department pitched in to get for me. Most importantly, everyone I knew gave me their time. I will always remember how all my friends and colleagues ensured that I felt special and did not miss my mother. I am so proud to say, I did not miss her much. I am truly God’s chosen one to have Lena, Vinata, Lopa, Samar ji, Praveen, Anis, Anuradha, Sheena and Sangeeta in my life. Samar ji once wrote to me saying, tough times don’t last, tough people do. Words I wish to remember always. I am God’s chosen one.

Some 14 years ago, I became friends with a tall, silent, fair-as-if-a-tubelight-was-lit-inside-her-skin-girl. And after as many years, I came to know why we became friends. It was Parul’s destiny to be my emotional backbone through this ordeal. She took on the role of being on the other end of the telephone line at any given time of the day and listen patiently to my long renditions of,’ why me God’, ‘universe is conspiring against me’, ‘I’m God’s chosen one’, ‘I am so grateful’, ‘I’m lonely’ and several other hits that are lost in the sands of time and fortunately no one will ever have to hear them. She spent hours trying to talk sense to me when I refused to listen, soothing me when I just wanted to bawl like a baby, talking utter nonsense to ensure my mood would alter and I would laugh like a maniac. She has often been described a pure soul, supatra, old soul, and several similar adjectives. Fulfilling a good friend’s duty, I always ridicule all her claims to such fames but the fact is that she deserves all these and then some more. I will never again admit it, so I hope you are saving this one for eternity Parul. I love you so much and thanks for proving all the quotes about friends and friendship correct. I am God’s chosen one to have had you in my life for the last 14 years and I hope to retain you for the remaining years.

Would also like to mention some friends, who have come to my life through the wonderful world of blogging. Some I have never met, and then there are Nitu and Kavita whose homes I have stayed in. Thanks Amit Charles, for your prayers and constant pep talks on gtalk. Patty, for your long mails and frequent inquiries about my mother. You are an inspiration to her and she often talks about you and Abe to her friends. Nitu, for sending your best wishes and praying for my mother. Kavita, for taking the pain and asking the pious lady to light a lamp for my mother's good health. Deepak uncle, for unknowingly encouraging me to continue clicking photographs and channeling my energy into doing something productive. All your wishes worked and thanks to you my mother will be back in Delhi soon. I'm God's chosen one to have all of you in my life from different corners of the world :-)

Thanks is a word too small to show my gratitude to all the people mentioned here and a lot of others I have not mentioned. I am really grateful to have each one of you in my life. Thanks a lot for ensuring that I still believe that I’m God’s chosen one.

Guilt of the Moment

I stand in a corner

Head bowed, staring at the wall

I can hear strangers laugh

Their joy makes me sick

Don’t they know?

Of my suffering, my struggles

The tears I have not shed

Don’t they care?

Slowly I raise my head

Accidently, I meet the kind eyes

Across the room I see a warm smile

Unknowingly, I return the gesture

I can feel my lips

Curving into a smile

I loathe myself right now

Guilt of the moment burdens me

Image courtesy: Love is Eternal