The Colour Within

Her infectuous laughter, exuberant energy  & unrestrained willingness to help lends her THAT rightful place in your heart. An ace singer, dancer, passionate educator, and a wing commander at the airforce . Amu was destiny’s favourite child. 

‘Ammmaaa’ comes the sweet and elevated shrill from a distance as Amu makes a zealous run towards her and plunges into her arms to give her a gentle kiss on her cheeks. Gushing with love and indulgent affection Manju turns around and waves back at Amu to elegantly disappears into the misty air. This was a little ceremony the mother and daughter celebrated every single day. 

Manju, was a quaint, hardworking, sincere woman who was the sole bread winner for her family of 5 sisters, brother, parents, husband and 3 children. From cooking meals to earning for the meal,  she lived a life with no frills for herself. 

It’s dawn and everyone is in deep slumber, when Amu sensed an unusual activity in another room. Rubbing the lingering residual sleep away from her eyes she moved in the direction of the sound, to see her mother looking into the vacant air around her. She was frantically shaking her head and hand hurling abuses ‘Move away, how dare you come here. Don’t you know my children are sleeping’?Amu is petrified at this bizarre site. 

Her innocent eyes silently investigates the room, wondering who she was speaking to, when her father’s thundering voice interrupts the search, asking everyone to go back to their rooms.

‘Ammmaa' comes yet another elevated shrill as Amu prepares to run towards Manju, waiting expectantly for her warm and indulgent look. After all, it was their special little ceremony. Manju stops for a moment, turns around, gives Amu an unmoving and numb look, turns back and walks away silently, leaving Amu teary eyed.

Unwilling to give up, Amu stood silently behind the grill of the veranda everyday, hoping against hope, that maybe Manju would remember their special ceremony. She yearned to plunge into her arms, kiss her, feel her warmth & indulgence. But in vain. Amu had lost access to the vulnerable place in Manju’s heart, who had now become stoic, matter of fact and unmoved by any of her childish shrills. Schizophrenia had loomed up menacingly into their lives and everything else faded into oblivion.

Everything changed. Religious ceremonies were held to ward off the evil. The priest, with vermilion etched stubbornly across his forehead, ranted hymns and mantras as the the rest of the family sat around him with their heads lowered. Not sure, in respect or in shame. The smoke, incense, chanting and her mother’s face kept reminding Amu of the frailty of her own life. Manju’s ‘shock treatment’ had shaken up little Amu.‘Why did this happen to me? What did I do? Why me?’ Were her only questions as she incessantly cried, trying to make sense of her own life. 

From then on hell broke loose almost every other day. 

Amu was in deep sleep when a loud, frantic & high pitched conversation of her mother, woke her up. Manju was tossing abuses at her ‘imaginary’ company as her husband, a silent bystander, heard this slanderous conversation. Unable to take it Amu’s dad clenched his teeth and beat her with a thrust that went hand in hand with the pitch of her revolt. Cringing in fear, Amu tucked herself under her quilt, shrunk her body and held it tight as she shivered and prayed for her life. As her dad walked into the room she could feel his body breath fire. 

The next morning as Amu woke up and went up to her mother, she noticed the scars of the beating peeping apologetically from under the sleeves of her blouse. It agitated her. “How could he beat her? Why can’t she keep quiet?” 

For Amu, her own home had now become a questionable abode. On days when both her parents were home, she would deliberate between staying in or going out to play. Insecure, she was torn between staying away from the gaze of neighbours who were privy to the deplorable soliloquies of her mother and roaring conversations between her parents.’What will they think of me? Maybe I should just stay back and not face them? But what if mumma and daddy fight again today?’Amu was embarrassed by her clan. She didn’t want to be known as ‘The mad woman’s daughter’. She didn’t want to be anywhere close to her. 

Even joyous occasions like birthday parties reminded Amu of her misfortune of having an aberrant mother. Manju’s ‘non - standard’ behaviour of sitting aloof from all  mothers and mumbling something to herself infuriated Amu. Enraged she would stomp towards her and blurt ‘Why don’t you just shut up’. 

With time, her disdain for her mother grew in bounds. She wanted to get away from that house. Get away from both her parents. In local buses, train journeys Amu was often embarrassed  by the judgemental gaze of those watching her mother’s highly animated and involved conversations with herself. On most occasions, she pretended she had nothing to do with her. On other occasions, she would just stand beside her mother and pretend to respond to her mom's mumbles to put all scrutiny to rest. Amu was ashamed.

Desperate for some anchor of sanity in her life, Amu found refuge in her father. This, despite his ills of a violent temper. But this too was on a slippery slopes. One day on her way back from school, Amu was abruptly asked by a friend ’Has your father lost his job because of forgery?’She was stumped. It stirred up a storm inside her. She tossed and turned all through the night thinking ‘This can’t be, dad was the only one…he too’. She needed closure. She relentlessly rummaged through all the papers, studied every little piece of information she got. All the while thinking ‘this can’t be? He can’t do this to me?’ It consumed her. But alas!

She had just gotten around this setback when a few days later, her classmate asked her the question she feared all along ‘Is your mother mad’. She was speechless. All she could think of was her mother’s pale face each time she came back from her shock therapy. Amu went back home infuriated only to watch yet another fight between her parents. ‘This is it’ she fumed as she threw her school bag on the bed, pulled out her math book, roughed up the pages and pinned the pencil heavily on the paper, almost tearing it as she wrote on it. It was late evening, when Amu woke up, almost lost. She hadn’t realised when her frenzy had lulled her to sleep. She stared at the ruffled-up pages, her incoherent writing and it's strong imprints on the paper. And an uncomfortable realisation stared right back at her. She was capable of being in the same realm of insanity as her parents. And that her reality was there to stay. It was time for her to accept it.

Amu decided to confide in her close friends. Each time she spoke about it, she accepted it to herself. It liberated her from seeking validation from anyone, since it was now out there in the open. She began participating in dramatics, sports and public speaking and soon gained appreciation. She rejoiced in her talents that gave her a unique identity. All through her graduation she explored unabashedly & experimented with her strengths be it in academics, sports, literary art and just about everything. Strangely, it was only after her personal successes that she could see beyond herself to understand what her mother went through. Of course life’s inaccuracies continued to gape at her. But she sought refuge in a parallel world that she was creating for herself. A place that truly gave voice to everything positive in her life. She was creating that thing called CHOICE. 

CHOICE, an acknowledgement of consequence of what you choose, even if it is helplessness. 

Amu learnt to stand up for herself each time from then on. She stood up against the conservative stand of her father who was persistent on sending her to their hometown to pursue further education. She rebelled against her mother to be a part of the Indian airforce. She treaded on unchartered paths and succeeded.

When we tap into our STRENGTHS we are being truly fair to ourselves. It is only then, that we think beyond ourselves to forge an empathetic connection with others. 

As time passed Amu got married to her college sweetheart, had 2 beautiful children and seemed to believe that she had serenity and stability in life that she always desired. When one day she got a call from her son ‘You ***, you control freak’. As his loud and thundering voice pounded on her ears Amu’s heart beat plummet and everything around her became listless. Life had come a full circle and this time it was her son. Schizophrenia was back ! 

Getting on with the same drill of life, Amu soon picked up the strewn pieces of her courage and grit blown apart by fate to prepare for yet another battle. Only this time with ‘conditions apply’.


This story has been written after months of interview with the individual involved. The names have been changed to respect the anonymity that subject of this story wishes to maintain. 

To be or not to be - Confessions of a work in progress Mom !!

A year back we decided to move houses because the society that we lived in didn’t have many children. Shlok, my 5 year old, made just one friend. But a very very tight one. Even then on most days he ended up spending time pretty much on his own, surrounded by his toys and his imaginary world with them as very active purposeful members in it. Having moved and with a mission to increase his circle of friends, my husband and I made incessant effort to introduce him to new kids ( some not so open to including him) and get his social life going. 

Amongst all the passionate ( bordering on hysterical) motivational ‘speeches’ to my son on how he would have the time of his life with his ‘enlarged social circle’ , all that he wanted was to take his dinosaur, his buddy, and play with him. Or probably just run around , jump around in solitude. On so many occasions,  his intense play sessions with his Dino, were interrupted by my enthusiast ‘hook up effort’ with other kids. Shlok was more than willing to play with them as long as they connected well with his buddy Dino.

Our relentless poking probably prodded Shlok to reach out to other kids, but on most occasions he was turned away, allowed on ‘conditions apply’ & sometimes left alone in the middle of a play session. My heart ached every time I saw this, maybe even cried, when he would just look at me and say ‘no one wants to play with me’. 

If you are a parent reading this, you know how at times you just want to take over ‘make it all right’ for your little ones. But on some occasions you just don’t know how. It was then that we took a step back to think. Think about what did we want from our 5 year old. Think about why we were doing this to him. Think about what it did to him and to us.

It was then that we decided to ‘let go’. Let go of trying to mould him into something that went against his own grain. Let go of the constant effort to align him to societal norms that put premium on ‘extroverted, social’ behaviour. More importantly, we BEGAN enjoying the amazing stories, opinions , conversations with his dinosaurs that emanated from his little world . And of course ‘enabling’ him thrive in what got him through his day.. his own company as he ran in solitude, in full gusto, to his heart’s content and his little companion ‘Mr. Dinosaur’.

Putting the best foot forward !

Telephone rings at the Unit headquarter

Soaked in blood, gasping for breath to collect all his strength, upholding a strong guard on his emotional outburst, maintaining his position of command, Major Dutta relays the entire incident with meticulous precision to the officer on the other side. 

His men were still panic stricken and his only companion in this inconceivable moment was his alert brain.‘Get the stretcher’ he frantically ordered, almost asthmatic, as he took the support of the wall to stand. 

Having lost a lot of blood, he chaotically pulled out his boot lace to tie it around his thighs and knees, trying his best to stave off the gruesome sight of the left overs of his left leg, blown in a mine blast, with exposed flesh, vulnerably holding on each other with strands of skin.

‘The stretcher is broken Sir, came a frantic cry from one of his men; ‘This can’t be, I had surveyed the medical equipments just  couple of days’ were his frenzied thoughts as he studied the situation to get a hold on it. He was out of time ! 

20 minutes had passed and the pain was cutting through his body with vengeance, almost on the verge of taking control over him. The wind slapping against the thin thread of skin, needlessly holding on to the remnants of his heel was agonising and he needed to get rid of it.

With the excessive blood loss and the difficult terrain ,the only option that Gaurav ( Major Dutta) had was to reach the other side of the valley  to the unit headquarter on his stretcher. Amidst the difficult  climb, with the risk of being exposed to the enemy, were fleeting thoughts of his daughter and his wife, who  he had spoken to just the previous evening, But he needed to detach & declutter himself to keep up the spirits of his men bearing the weight of his body. 

The doctor's assistant met Gaurav and his men mid way through the ascent and with marvellous dexterity, keeping pace with the shaky run, inserted the drip in both the hands.

They soon reached the OT and even before he knew or could prepare himself for what was about to happen next, an attendant came and lifted him holding his right leg and shoulder. They held both his arms tight , to avoid resistance, and sprayed concentrated hydrogen peroxide on his exposed flesh. With no pain killers ,he had to fend for himself against the stinging, stabbing and unendurable pain. It was sharp, shrill & resounding, touching every part of his body, as he bellowed in agony. 

From here on it was a long 8 hour journey to the base hospital where he would finally be treated. The thought of his wife and daughter continued to linger as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

They reached the hospital at 6:30 in the morning next day and from a man in control he was now somebody who was controlled, a patient.  

In the darkest of hours, a man’s insistence to survive is so strong that it pumps him with emotional gumption to deal with anything, sometimes the vulnerable emotions of others . After the operation as Gaurav opened his eyes to look at the unfamiliar sight ,his unequal limbs. He looked right back at the nursing attendants staring at him in rapt attention to manage his distress and exclaimed ‘ If you think I am going to say ‘meri tang’ like Rajesh Khanna, then that’s not happening’. Everyone was in splits ! 

Blowing hot and cold, life was a spoilt sport. The agonising phantom pains that gave him sleepless nights, sometimes also stoked his unaddressed emotions of his hapless state. To add to his strife, his legs had to be re - amputated further by 2 inches to fit a better limb for him to be more active. A surgery like this intensified the severity of his phantom pains -  they were like 440 volts of electricity padding through his body ( can you imagine !)  and were accompanied by 8 injections everyday for 14 days. All this without out any pain killer or sleeping pill. They were addictive, the doctor said.

But like a candle that both defies and defines the darkness, so was he. Humour, fun and courage in and around him were catalysts of hope for him. He saw courage in the severely injured, some early 20s war wounded officers who carelessly played cricket in the hospital ward oblivious of their current incapabilities or the young soldier, without any limb, laughing at himself for having tea with a straw or yet another one valiantly showing off his ability to write with whatever was left of his upper limbs. 

Strokes of fun like  incessant rounds of cricket, board games in the hospital ward ,wild nights driving through the city shook him out of their sedentary life. It was also his way of being resolute of moving on. 

Getting a new limb was all that Gaurav yearned for. It was his only symbol of moving on , getting unhooked from his situation. And when he finally got them, it was like a toy that lent to his imagination the possibilities that lay within in. He was ecstatic. 

Learning how to walk with his new limb felt like a baby taking its first strides. But Gaurav constantly reminded himself of times when he had overcome bigger challenges and kept at it. As an avid sportsman he knew better - you fall, get up, dust the dirt off and get back to your game. He rationalised all his fears and was back on his feet in a record time of 3 days .

Gaurav wanted to get back to as things were before his accident and he persuaded his seniors to be back with his unit in Punjab, after a break of 10 month. But something within him was amiss. He couldn't remember the military terminology that was his 2nd language sometime back. He felt displaced and disconnected with his surroundings and pulled himself into a shell. This was the first time that he subtly realised the trauma his brain had been through. He missed the practise sessions by his unit and he slipped into a vacuum. But a remark by one his men on his absentmindedness,  who he lead once and played a role model to, was a wake call for Gaurav. 

He had to reinstate his position as their leader and role` model , both in emotional and physical strength. He HAD to be an EQUAL and MORE. He had to unstick himself from his current state and decided to court challenges to see for himself if he still had it in him. He waded through water , walked through long and difficult stretches of undulating terrain with long stretches of mucky land, strangely representing the contours of his own life. There was immense pain and discomfort. But he removed the noises from his head , the self deprecating thoughts and kept his focus on the goal to be an EQUAL. 

The units started basketball matches and as luck would have it one of the team members had to drop out because of an injury. Already at the edge of seat, Gaurav grabbed the opportunity when offered and played for the first time on his new limb for a stretch of 45 minutes against another unit to eventually win. Of course , they jumped out of their skin when they saw his artificial limb as he lifted his track pants to air his limb They had not only lost, but lost against a 4.5 member team. 

You can either be a product of your circumstances or of your decisions. The choice is yours!  

Gaurav’s perseverance and determination didn’t go unnoticed and he was once again viewed as a valuable asset and an EQUAL. He didn't settle for less and took on opportunities befitting his position of command. He continually raised the bar for himself by throwing himself to unfamiliar challenges and this time it was Golf. This was tough as the sport required him to put 70% of his weight on his left foot, which was not used to this kind of rigour. But not settling for less he was soon playing at his full potential in 6 months. 

As Thomas Jefferson rightly said “ The dreams of the future are better than the history of the past”. 

In 2009, he learnt of golf tournament organised by IWAS (International Wheelchair and Amputee Sports Federation) World Games in Bangalore with contingents from across 20 countries. His childhood dream of representing his country at international level now seemed inches away. And for him it was his underdog limb that propelled him to take those giant leaps towards them. He won a bronze medal.

Revelling in his strengths gave him faith & confidence in himself. It gave him a sense of purpose, which was to rehabilitate soldiers with similar conditions, in a meaningful manner, through sports. 

It wasn’t easy to enthuse soldiers whose despair had become ball and chain of their life, but Gaurav was hell bent. After having trained 10 soldiers on his own accord for sports at national level, he persuaded the  sports control board of the army to not only provide financial aid to those enrolling with him for training, but also to allow them to participate in the National Paralympic events. Leaving no stone unturned, he convinced the sports control board to promulgate a sports policy for disabled soldiers. After consistent perseverance for almost 2 years , it came into effect in 2014.  Not settling for anything less, they came back with 3 gold medals on their very first outing in 2015. This became a beacon for him to encourage other soldiers to be a part of his endeavor. In the past 3 national para athletics championships, his team of just 17 has won 20 medals in all. Not only did he realise his own dream , but gently stroked a fervour for life in others too. 

These were emotional moments that vindicated his stand that if you really want something then nothing can come in the way. You should just have to want it badly enough !

Stopping at nothing, he  now aimed at the international Paralympic events. Since 2015, his boys have won 5 gold medals and 2 silver medals for the country at the world stage. As on today he has 18 soldiers who have a new goal in life and 30, who are getting there. 

He continues to pursue his dream to set up a state of art training facility in the army and with his firm resolve this will soon be a reality. As for himself, he continues to expand and explore the horizons of his strengths as an avid Triathlete, having to swim 750 meters, cycle 20 Kms and run 5 Km. He has done 11 so far, and who knows there maybe many more to come. 

 Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible. -Francis of Assi

This story has been written after in depth one to one discussions with Gaurav over many months. If you wish to reach me , please write into nag.sonal@gmail.com

Surviving Cancer: Straight from the heart

It's 8:30 am and I am sitting in my hotel room staring at the scanty streets of Vellore, thoughtless ,waiting to get to the hospital. The gaze often broken by a bout of incessant cough and body pain because of high temperature, something that I had for a month. This, triggering a trail of thought of what could have gone wrong. After a long wait of two hours, it was finally time to go .

As we reached CMC ( name of the hospital ), my gaze only got grimmer, greyer and morose. I could only see a sea of people with tear stained eyes and expressions that were strained of hope. My eyes were probably projecting my own feelings on to the colour of this world. I had to get my blood test done and there was a long que before it would be my turn. It almost felt like a relief camp where everyone seemed to have lost something in life but were yet hopeful. I was eager to get done. It was finally my turn. Because of high levels of dehydration, the nurses found it difficult to draw out enough blood from my veins to get the tests done. They had to poke me quite a few times for the process to be complete. I was irritated, disgusted and I just wanted to get away from that crowd. After waiting for close to 3 hours it was finally our turn to meet the doctor. It felt like judgement day, was it road to heaven or hell?

By now I had begun to feel that there was something seriously wrong , I guess it was my way of just preparing myself for the worst. The conversation that followed next between the doctor and me was as straight as it could get 

Me : Am I dying 

Doctor : The blood results are not looking good. This could be a case of leukaemia. We still need to do more tests but right now it looks like that. 

Me : What is the treatment ?

Doctor : it's chemotherapy ?

Me: How successful is it ?

Doctor : This is a standard treatment ,but we don't know how your body will take it. What about your job?

Me: what about my job? I don't care. If I have to leave it so be it. 

My mom held my hand as I spoke to the doctor. The conversation that followed next between the doctor and my husband is completely blurred in my head. 

My brain had not yet  processed what leukemia actually meant. The fact that the word 'Leukemia' or 'chemotherapy' was linked to cancer was nowhere in the vicinity of my intellect. I just knew I had leukemia. I went back to the hotel and cried my heart out. I was going through a mix of emotions. I wanted someone to tell me that the tests were inaccurate. I felt guilty for making my husband go through such trauma at such a young age. Felt helpless, because I wanted God to give me more time with my near and dear ones. I wasn't thinking about death but neither was I thinking about survival. I was in a state of limbo. I couldn't see my family go through this. Fortunately, my cough was  so intense that I didn't even have the luxury to absorb everything that was happening. All I wanted was to sleep. 

We went back to the hospital the next day  for my bone marrow test. I somehow felt responsible for keeping everyone's spirit high. I didn't want them to loose hope and it is for them that I had to be stronger. As much as I tried, I was a bundle of emotions. On one hand I was still trying to fathom that it was ME going through this test and on the other hand I clung on to every symbol that represented hope like my Rudraksha Mala, my Mantra and the smile on that little bald boy's face, who in the face of his own adversity was trying to lift me up from mine.

The test results were out and it was confirmed that I had leukemia.

We went back to Bombay the next day and I was admitted to Kokilaben hospital. The moment I entered the hospital,for a flash of a moment it was like an oasis, away from web of emotions I was entangled in. The grand chandeliers, amazing decor, a cafe , Internet area, hair salon, classy and comfortable furniture, my room on the 13th floor with its beautiful view of the Arabian Sea , the sun set, of airplanes taking off and landing and  just about everything took me away from my current state. But not for long before reality struck with a triumphant wheel chair staring right back at me.

I was no guest on a leisure trip but a patient. It was so unnatural for me to sit on a wheelchair and be pushed by someone else, when all I'd done all my life was to push my way through to survive an independent city life. I just could not accept it as a part of my identity. The fact that I had to go in a separate lift meant only for 'patients' was not an easy one to assimilate. I didn't want to associate with the others in the lift who seemed more comfortable and accustomed with this identity. This was not my cohort,I didn't belong here. 

As soon as I entered the room, I was given hospital clothes and within a day's time I had an ultrasound done, my heart checked up, been operated on in the ICU for my central line to be set up and for a drip to be attached to me 24/7. The mental demarcations were now physically manifested. I now looked like a patient, and it was there for everyone to see and assimilate. But I could never be one with this identity and it only helped me be more independent, aware and self reliant ( as much as I could be ) throughout my treatment. I had taken control of all my medicines and knew exactly what needed to be had and when. I knew the days I had to be given chemotherapy and was extremely alert while it was being administered. I was ready to fight the disease that put me here today. 

For treating leukemia I went through 5 cycles of chemotherapy where my body was crushed, each time it built itself back again. Pain and body discomforts were my constant company throughout the 6 months of my treatment. For chemotherapy to be administered, a central line was attached to my jugular veins in the region of my neck, each time I came back for a cycle. These were extremely painful surgeries because on most occasions the doctors could not find my veins ( due to dehydration) and had to re inject the anesthesia multiple times since its effect would wane even before the surgery was over. Most of these surgeries took place in the ICU and it was mentally traumatizing to hear the beeping sounds of the heart monitor, see worried faces of  family members and nurses of some patient who was probably breathing his/her last breath. 

My wisdom tooth also decided to show itself during the treatment and there were very cells to manage the pain or its growth.The right side of my face was completely swollen and I could not open my mouth to eat or drink. The pain was so intense that it would reverberate in my ears. But I had no other option but to wait it out. There were also moments of intense pain in the neck and shoulder region because of which I could use one side of the  upper body and had to be  given blood thinning injections everyday.

I had to be extremely cautious of every minor wear and tear in the body. A common issue confronted by most is fissure and I too went through it. Because of low blood counts my body could not repair it the entire 6 months of my treatment and this was an agonizing pain. The pain was so intense that neither could I lie down for long periods and nor sit on a chair. Every little sound in the room , from the opening of the door , to footsteps, to the water flowing in the wash basin would hurt my ears. I could not sleep for days and nights and would sometimes be given anti anxiety pills. I would live on pain killers which had to be given judiciously. These were sleepless nights for everyone in my family. They couldn't see me go through so much pain would be at the edge of their emotions, venting their anger at the sisters in the ward, if they delayed the next dose of pain killers by even a minute. By the last cycle, normal pain killers weren't enough and the pain had to be managed by the pain management department that decided to give me morphin. I was given a self regulated apparatus and once I took the first doze I was in a state of trance. It had been days since I had slept or even known what it would be to have no pain. I was exhausted and slept for a long stretch of 12 hours. My family too was finally relieved. 

However not all days were bad. Life has its ways of maintaining some balance by sprinkling humor, hope and happiness into it. For instance, I had gone for an ultrasound which required me to drink a lot of water and by the end of the test my bladder was galloping and the sensation was unbearable. To save time I had loosened the belts of my pants and was geared towards getting me to the washroom with everything else in oblivion. As soon as I entered the room, I just stood up without realizing that I had loosened the belt of my pants, and right in front of the ward boy my pants fell off. The blanket that I was wearing, fell on the ground and I stepped on it and ran into the washroom. On one hand the ward boy was too shocked to see me in the state that I was in and on the other hand my husband was scolding him for letting the blanket fall on the ground. It was a hilarious moment and we had a good laugh as an after thought.

We also dealt with my intense hair loss by celebrating the moment. I certainly didn't want to cling on to the last strand of hair that would be left of it and decided to shave. I wanted to look fashionable and my husband and parents bought me the most exquisite hats. We took snaps and had a great laugh as I adorned them.  

Right after the shave

Adorning one of the  hats

My room had also turned out to be a great get away destination for my family members. While they would be in deep sleep I would be a silent and ,must I say , a sleep deprived spectator to their loud snores where sometimes one would take the lead and sometimes both would go in unison with equal gusto. With deep sense of responsibility, each would get up and gently remind the other to stop snoring and this continued the entire night. It was sheer entertainment. 

There were also beautiful moments that I shared with my husband. This was one of those nights when I was in intense pain and I wanted Sid to stay over but instead my parents were staying over. I couldn't express myself to anyone ( including Sid) because it would disrupt the entire schedule. We stretched our time together till it was 9:00 pm and visiting hours were over. The moment he left the room I had tears in my eyes, only to see him return in 20 minutes. It was as if he read my face and sat  by my side through the night.  

Among st all this turmoil of emotions of pain, humour , love we clung on to everything that gave us hope. All my aunts and family members would write and recite the Maha Mrityunjaya 108 times everyday in whatever corner of the world they were in, to seek positive forces. I would feel a gush of positive emotions and peace every time I would hear it. 

We also celebrated good food during my intermittent stays at home. It was probably our way to let loose and gather some moments of happiness and re energize ourselves for the next cycle of chemotherapy . Since outside food was not allowed, I had the most sumptuous home made food ranging from Sizzlers, biryani, eggs with cheese, buttered sandwiches , cheese sandwiches, caramelized nuts and everything sumptuous one could think of. We were all on a high on food.

I learnt then, that to be happy, one does not have to try too hard. It's important to naturalize yourself to the present context of your life so that you don't feel out of place in your own world.  There is nothing called pursuit of happiness, it's a state of mind that exists right now, this very moment and we are empowered enough to choose the states that should prevail. 

Being in the hospital, restrained to a single room, with little flexibility to move, since I was on a 24/7 drip, and with limited social interaction was extremely boring. I could not watch a lot of television or movies because my eyes were weak and I would get tired very quickly. The window in my room was my only connect to the external world. I had to keep myself busy to keep all negative thoughts at bay and hence I decided to practice maths. There were also board games like ludo and snakes and ladder that we played. But there were days when I would get anxious about the pace at which time would move. I yearned to feel like a normal human being, walk normally on the streets, dress normally, breath the same air and not air that was cleansed regularly . I wanted to feel the wind in my hair, feel the sun in my face . I wanted to be free. 

The last leg of my treatment was the toughest as it took a lot of time for my blood counts to bounce back to normal levels.  I would wait everyday  for my doctor to walk into the room without a mask and it almost felt like that day would never come. But finally on the 19th of September the doctor walked in with no mask on his face. I knew then that my blood counts were good and it was such a liberating moment. My family too with a hint of hesitation, excitement and acclimatized restraint pulled their masks down. I hadn't seen them without it for close to 6 months. I wanted to open my room windows and breath the air outside, I wanted to walk down the hospital isles carefree without another deadline in my head, without any form of mental preparedness for the next few cycles. This was THE END and I wanted to go home. 

The journey to recovery is not just for the patient but also for the family members. Everyone has to regain that confidence back in life and start shedding the various layers of precaution, fear, extreme mental alertness and extreme care and concern that one gets accustomed to. We are still paranoid about prolonged discomforts such as headache, cough, fever and have to prevent ourselves from thinking of the worst. After all living a life that is just a shade lighter of my life at the hospital was not part of the deal. This is part 2 and it had to be filled with bright and courageous colors.

My friends, family members , employer , office colleagues have stuck with me through the tough times. Never have I witnessed so much goodness in the world as I did then. It seemed as if everyone was rallying for me. They were all tapping the positives force of the universe and I was soaking in all of it. It gave me the strength to fight. I learnt then to  cherish my relationships of whatever nature they may be or however critical I maybe of them. After all, they were my very moorings when life seemed to be drifting away.

Moving  on

I have moved on and lead a very normal mainstream life. I get my blood tests done regularly and each time I look at the report, I feel triumphant. My cells are behaving and I'm grateful to my body and mind for that. I had a baby two years after my treatment and my husband continued to pursue his entrepreneurial dream. No one made any course correction in their life , in fact this incident only reinforced our belief in our ability to deal with any form of calamity and to live life on our own terms. 

Having witnessed the regeneration of life multiple times throughout my treatment, I believe that we are an engineering marvel of God. The human mind probably can't even fathom this genius . Hence we should just abandon unproven notions about ourselves , be on that exploratory journey, be thrilled to know how amazing we are as living beings and pat ourselves on the back for it. 

Writing my story has been a therapeutic journey and I hope to have touched a chord in your heart too. I'd like to thank my family and friends who stood by me and taught me about goodness of heart. I'd like to pass this on to others who are in a similar situation and could be reached through my blog.  

'CAN'cer

As I begin penning my thoughts I do so with a tad bit of under confidence, not with respect to the 'art of expression' ( ah! I do it pretty well verbally and non - verbally) but because this is the 1st time I am going public with what I went through and my experiences along.

The year 2010 has been a year that in any sense of the word was a 'little' different from the usual course of life that all of us go through. No no ! I didn't migrate to Uganda, Siberia or any of those weird countries where I was abducted and you know my experiences from thereon ( that makes a plot for an interesting story though) but into a world that literally displaces everything around you for the time that you are there. The world of Cancer.

Yes in retrospect it sounds and feels scary to me too but when you are there the only thing you have an appetite for is HOPE and, more importantly, the only vibe that emanates from you then to your family is that of HOPE.

My journey through my successful recovery has taught me lot about myself about the attitudes that help one sail in every phase of life.

1. Victim Syndrome -'Why me? Am I bad' . Did I ever go through such bouts ! NEVER! 'Why me??" because God knew that I had the emotional and physical capacity to deal with this gracefully. So all of you who go through this, please take a step back, feel honoured that you are the chosen one , embrace the situation and prove it to yourself that you are bigger than the problems you have. I did it and it worked.
2. Humour - Bring in a sense of humour in everything in life. In the good and bad times. And I applaud my family and friends for it. Apart from the fact that chemotherapy literally washes away your immune system, it has a whole lot of side effects. I am sure cinema has done enough to educate us about lumps of hair coming off. But when it happened to me I was actually happy and frankly it was pretty amusing. Against everyone'wishes I decided to go bald instead going through the ordeal of cleaning up your bed - sheet off the hair. Now, for anyone else it may have been a very emotional situation but for my family members and myself it was a ceremony. I refused to wear a scarf, which is the 1st indication of anyone going through chemotherapy, and decided to make myself the style icon and yes ladies and gentlemen I wanted to look like parameshwar Godrej !!! and 'mission Hat' was launched. Sid went from one end of the town to the other and bought me those hats. So yes , I will cherish the memories of such events and many more that I experienced with a pinch of humour.
3. Power of the mind - On several occasions during the course of my recovery I was truly amazed at the power of the mind and what a true gift it is to humans. I also realised how often we tame our minds to conveniently accept certain attributes as our weaknesses which may really be either escapism or just lack of experiences to know ourselves better. So throw yourself to the challenges that life has to offer and you will realise you are worth more than what you really think yourself to be. When I was given the news, my 1st thoughts were obviously about my family but it took me less than a day to be determined to fight this damn thing. I had already prepared a timetable in my mind and had decided the dates ( mind you, these are not intuitive days but the real dates ) on which each threshold would clear. For eg. I had decided that by the 14th of May I would successfully come through my 1st cycle of chemotherapy and by the 13 I had done it. The doctor said I was lucky and all I could do was just smile. I knew it was not just luck, it was my mind. There were many more such instances, but I'll feel like a braggart if I elaborate further. So if you are interested to know, mail me and I shall talk about it further.
4. Take control - Stop relying on external factors to make your life better. The locus of control is always within. I've often witnessed people with frustrations around their careers, family, friends, illnesses etc. It's time to take some responsibility for yourselves if you haven't done it as yet and stop the melodrama around it. It does not help !!! during my treatment I had taken the responsibility for my medicines and ensured that I got up and took them myself. It's my body and I damn well take control of it. There was no room for tantrums or spoon feeding for myself. I also did not let unfounded fears of others get in the way of my freedom. If 'I' felt and was medically advised of certain liberties, then I grabbed them and exercised them. There is no point in being 'extra' careful in life. Live it sensibly and you'll never regret having lived it.
5. Inspiration - I have often found myself pretty lost when someone has asked me, who is my biggest inspiration. Frankly I can admire people but get inspired ... nah! not happened UNTIL I looked within and found it in myself. Even today when I feel irritated by something I always go back to MY world of cancer and get inspired by the things that I did. It works ... always works ... Yes I AM my inspiration for myself. And this applies to each and every one of us. Look within and you will realise the greatness that you have exhibited in different walks of life. So like I said, the locus of control is always within.
6. Facebook - Last and not the least, I have often seen a lot of people post status messages around cancer patients, some also around breast cancer. Without any intention to trivialise the intentions of those who've done it, this is not enough. In fact if all that you have done is this, then please refrain from doing it again because it really makes no difference to anyone to write something on the social network platform. The treatment for cancer is a very expensive affair and there are some who give into because they don't have the funds to support their treatments. Apart from this, in the UK and US there are instituted bodies that provide therapeutic support to family members who have relatives going through cancer treatment or who have lost their fight against cancer, but this is a something that is almost absent in India. What is required for a cancer patient or the family is not a 'status message' but for you to step into hospitals and volunteer to just talk to those family members. I've done it and it is the most gratifying experience one can have.

That's about it. I've been intending to write this blog since sometime but got overwhelmed almost every time I got down to it. This is a part of my journey to recovery and for those of you who've taken the time to read it, thanks for being a part of it.

1. When not asked for most advise falls on deaf ears.
2. It's not worth nurturing friendship where you are not emotionally equals
3. Don't let the incapabilities of the people around you affect your capabilities