Old is...

In the Nazi Germany orders were given to execute the differentially abled/mentally handicapped people. This was to prevent the bad blood contaminating the good.

Today the old and sick have become a burden to the fast paced society. We would also say good riddance to them than spend a lifetime regretting. Haven’t our funeral homes become place of relief?

I was travelling with my friend. He was talking about how ‘painful ’ it was for him to see his mother take care of his grandmother. They had to put up with the whims of bed-ridden grandmother. She developed back ache due to constant physical exertions. Once old people were taken care of with fancy hopes of inheritance. Today we will have to do it on sheer goodwill.

When my paternal grandparents were on their death-bed, they didn’t have any to take care of them regularly. It was my dad’s responsibility, but he had to take care of his three kids too. Job prospects weren’t that good in India. The social equation has changed a lot. We can never classify things into black and white.

‘The old Age Homes’ were considered evil years back. But today they have become an inevitability. The government has realized the upcoming challenge of growing number of old. Even the government had to pitch in with schemes for folks of affluent people.

Kerala, which has been a centre of migration, has a characteristic landmark today- palatial homes of NRIs with old parents roaming inside like ghosts. The irony is once they coveted for a huge home. Today it has become a prison.

Voiceless

The showers had just ceased. The city felt slight relief from the severe afternoon heat. I set out for my evening jog. Although the traffic was heavy with people rushing home from work, there were no pedestrians on the sidewalk.

I was passing by a bus shelter. There was a dark figure lying under the shade, probably to escape from the rain. I dared to take a peek through the corner of my eye. ‘It’ had a long hair like a woman’s. I couldn’t make out the dress. It was a dirty rag thrown over the body. I couldn’t stand the smell. I rushed away and took a deep breath of fresh air.

We were in our college when we heard about the home for the destitute and made a visit. We were a group of youngsters and we made it a point to visit the place regularly. We helped in cooking and cleaning (even the toilets). Spending an afternoon with these mentally challenged people became a revelation for us. Frankly, many a times they exhibited more ‘innocent’ intelligence than a normal man. It was not that easy for us. Many of us took time to adjust to the way of life there. Everything from water to food wastes were precious and had to be conserved and recycled. But these were good lessons for comparatively well-off people.

The institute was run by a nun, who was ousted by the church for bearing a different vision from that of the church. But despite being ex-communicated she always wore a nun’s dress. She managed this institute of 40-60 inmates all by herself. She received very little donation. The only thing in abundance was these challenged people. The taxi-drivers and policemen dumped all the unwanted on the pavements to this place.

The left-over food from marriages was ‘donated’ to seek the divine blessings in exchange. She got very little physical help too. A few youngsters like us visited once in a while and helped out in cooking, bathing and cleaning. The nun was not getting any younger and suffered from various ailments. To be frank her mental health was also affected due to the continuous strain.

The inmates in better shape than others managed to help the nun. An old lady, very much weak in health, did the chores very silently. Then there was this lady good in slicing vegetables. But she had this problem of stealing unknowingly. She used to slice the vegetables and hide them. So the nun had to keep an eye on her. There was a young woman with a young son and baby daughter. They were abandoned by the father. She did no help in the household activities despite being in perfect physical condition. But the little boy and baby girl spread love all around.

I still remember the day. It was vacation time in college. The news in the front page caught my eye. The police had busted some racket somewhere. I love these spicy stories. But the feeling turned to horror when I came to know that police raided our destitute home. The story was that some political activists surrounded the place alleging that a sex mafia was working behind the scenes. Police raided the place and found a man and woman in suspicious circumstances. They also found an air-gun, condoms and a few sleazy magazines. All the inmates were thrown out and the nun arrested. To make the matters worse some of the deceased inmates were buried in the compound.

We were too ashamed that we had worked for such a group and were silent for some days. Then some secret inquiries were made. That was a time when the property prices were shooting up. The institute had a good amount of land surrounding it. The nun had leased out the space from someone and he wanted to evict them. This person played the dirty game and since he had the money anything would have been possible. The nun was too old and not in the best shape, physically or mentally, to watch out for the vultures.

We never know what happened to the nun or inmates. Many might have died, many may be still begging, a few would have moved out to similar places and a few woman would have turned to prostitution. What would have happened to those kids? Is the nun still in jail? No one bothered to enquire. Has the institution given way to some multi-storied apartment.

The next day also I found the same figure, but this time it was standing on my way. ‘It’ was half naked. I tried to bypass ‘it’ without looking. But still I involuntarily stole a peek. ‘It’ was flat chested and hence it had to be man. But still the hair was plaited like a girl’s. The smell made me retch. I ran away. But then I realized, it was not the smell but the conscious that hurted the most.

J

Who am I? What am I? Are we spiritual beings which comes into the world with human body attached to it?

We are so acquainted with our bodies right from our birth. We identify ourselves with our physical body. People are ready to spend anything on their body to preserve it and keep it safe.

What if I wake up one day with a part of me missing? Or what if some part of me refuses to obey my commands? I can't imagine myself there.

I still don't know the reason why I connected with him so fast. May be it's the similarity in our names. I will call him by J. J was studying in the tenth standard when Cancer struck him. J's parents were doctors and they resigned their jobs and shifted to the capital for his treatment. I had never seen him and only knew him through his grandfather. A young kid developing blood cancer was bit tough for me to contemplate.

Taking a break from his studies J started his treatment. He seemed to be on the road to recovery when his doctors found out that the cancer started raising its tentacles yet again. The bad part was that his arm was in danger of amputation. A costly operation was done to save his arm. But fate was unkind yet again. They had to amputate his arm.

We had heard of and seen videos of brave people fighting back to life after really bad accidents. But when some kid we knew lost his arm, it sent out a shock wave in the community. The toughest challenge such a person would face is the community itself.

1. 'Good-hearted' people smothering them with sympathy. Sympathy is one of the useless emotions in English dictionary.
   
2. Judges who try to figure out why this malady happened. Irrespective of their facial expression or voice tone they will obviously be deriving secret pleasure from taunting others.
   
3. People staring at them as if they haven't seen such a specimen.
   

I saw him for the first time after the amputation. I had the picture of a scrawny kid. But he was well built (almost as tall as me). The hair was trimmed short. He looked healthy except for his arm. His physical appearance unsettled me since I was not prepared for that.

With some difficulty his folks got him admitted into a private school in the city. The authorities were hesitant at first. No one is sure if it was his fellow school mates who taunted him or if he couldn't adjust with the environment. In a class of 60 if you are the only one without an arm there will be some problem for obvious reasons. His conditions deteriorated. What started as a mental agony spread to his body. The supposedly dead cancer cells reappeared in his lungs.

One night I got a message that J passed away after a long struggle with cancer.

The Smile

Hey, you guys ever thought of this. Our human race has advanced like anything. We are able to dominate any creature, any situation to our advantage. But can we prevent our body from getting eaten by worms. Not always.

I have been hearing about this book for a long time. I was trying to get my hands on it, but to no avail. This Onam exhibition as I was walking through the stalls I came across a book stall. I was just browsing through when my eyes fell on this book. I grabbed it with both my hands. Thus my dream for some time had been fulfilled even though I had to put away buying some other things I had planned for the day.
It is a Malayalam book written by K.S. Aniyan on the incidents that happened in the life of Dr. V.P. Gangadharan. He is an oncologist working with the Cancer patients. The stories in the book are enough to melt the heart of even the cold blooded. I don’t have any copyright for the thing. But since I believe this story is going to touch anyone who stumbles on my blog, I am compelled to write.
The name of the book is ‘Miracle called life’. I am just translating story here. May be I would rather say it is an abridged version.

No matter how much pain a man has been through, he will be very reluctant to leave his life. He tries to hold on to his last thread of life as his time comes. May be this world is too beautiful to leave.
But it was the first time the doctor was witnessing such a situation. As Sophiya is entering her last days she is smiling more and more. She had a cancer no woman wanted to have- breast cancer. Removing a woman’s breast was like removing her womanhood. But here he is standing perplexed. Because normally he is meant to comfort her. But here she is lying on her bed with a smile and asking for her best friend, Sunandha. Her husband was staring in to the lake through the window with no emotion on his face. That man perplexed the doctor more.
‘Even he is getting bored of this place’, she said.

When she was brought to him cancer had entered in to the most advanced stages. A wound had opened up in the breasts and worms were wriggling in the pus that oozed out. He was shocked. She has been suffering all this pain silently.
‘Didn’t u feel like coming here earlier?’, he asked a bit shocked and a bit angry.
‘Doctor, she didn’t tell anybody about this. We found out when we went for a visit.’ The nuns who brought her here told him.

What were these nuns doing here? Why she is suffering all this as if she is enjoying the extreme pain. The husband who is staring listlessly, unmindful of the happenings around him, not knowing that his wife had a breast with pus oozing out. Doctor could not draw a clear picture out of this story. He was eager to weave together these mysterious threads.

One day as he reached the room during his routine rounds, he heard a crying. He saw woman crying over Sophiya. That was Sunandha, Sophiya’s best friend and someone the doctor wanted to meet. And it was she who unfolded the clear picture of Sophiya’s life story.
‘Sophiya was brought up by nuns in a catholic run orphanage.‘

‘Although she was an orphan, she was talented and very beautiful’

‘Sophiya....beautiful???’ he could not visualize this human skeleton as ‘once up on a time..Beauty-queen’.

‘When she was married off to a well off family everyone felt happy for her. At last she is getting a secure future and a family to call her own. But she had been cheated. The family didn’t reveal that their boy was a mad man.’

‘But it was his brothers who became mad due to lust when they saw her. They dreamt about having sex with the wife of their retarded brother. One day one of the brothers beat her for refusing to sleep with him. Hearing the sound Sophiya’s husband came. The retard started beating her up, hearing the lies of his brother. This became a daily routine. Either let her brother in laws fuck her or get beaten by her husband. The beauty of hers became her curse’

Now the fog lifted. Everything became clear. She is suffering all the pain to destroy her body, destroy her greatest curse. She is smiling because from now on no one will have a lust for her, no one will want to take off her chastity. She had prevailed over all the flesh eaters who wanted her body.

The husband sat in the corridor staring into nothing.

(The story is titled as ‘Smile of fire’. The way I wrote this story won’t come even come close to the real one. So if you get the book don’t think twice. Grab it. And remember this is not a fiction a real life story.)

Donate Life....

Despite my fiery blogging, I am a really sweet, sensitive person.
I have been to Regional Cancer Centre, Trivandrum a few times. Seeing those beautiful kids with masks over them and shaved heads, I always wonder what if I was in that place. Cancer is something that will drain a middle class both financially and emotionally. The duty of rest of us is to support them in whatever way possible.
People who are going to suffer most are the ones coming from distant parts. Most of the cancer patients will need 15-29 bottles of blood daily. These people may not know anyone in the city. Lodging is another problem. An average person will not be able to stay in a rented place throughout and the patient may need good food too. So NGOs came in to the scene willing to help them. Most NGOs were started with good intentions. But later religious fundamentalist organization found an opportunity for religious propagation. So today except a few all the NGOs are barred from entering the premises of RCC.
For these people facing an uncertain future, the biggest gift we can give is hope. Another equally important gift is life. Life through blood donation.
I had this awareness throughout. But boy, I was afraid of this injections and dark red blood. I was called up for some genuine cases but was too frightened to take the big step. Once using all my courage I went to a hospital, but group turned out to be wrong. ‘Thank God’ this was the first reaction that went through my mind.
During college days requests regularly came up. I would have been waiting eagerly, with all the summoned up courage to donate blood. But when the request is announced not a single muscle in my body would move. Deep freeze!!!!!!!! As the people leave I would console myself ‘Next time’.
Days went by. I became a graduate. Once this social activist friend of mine called me up and asked if I was willing to donate blood. Willing??? Of course, I am but I can’t and how am I going to tell him that. Thousands of excuses crossed my mind. ‘Alright now or never’ I set out with him. Friend of mine who knew it was my first time constantly pumped me with encouragement. I got in there. Many where waiting for their turn. All the nurses were so friendly. When the time came to fill up the questionnaire I was looking out if I had any of the diseases mentioned. Tough luck!!! I was in perfect condition to give blood. As I lay in bed a nurse was walking around with a long scissor. I was thinking ‘ Is she going to cut the veins using that’. I was bewildered and looked around. My friend seeing my predicament laughed and said it is for some other purpose.
Surprisingly I didn’t face much pain when they inserted the needle. I closed my eyes. A nurse came up and announced ’It is over’. (So soon. No wait, I have got some more to give.) They kept asking me if I was feeling dizzy. I started getting confused ‘Am I supposed to feel dizzy?’
Anyways guys everything went on smoothly. I even went around in hot sun for some shopping. I didn’t collapse. I said to myself ‘Next time I will be more willing as the first time jitters are over.’



In our company requests for blood donation comes through intranet and there are regular blood donation camps even. But each time I was feeling more and more frightened. I managed to call some people, who had raised a request, in the numbers given. They said thanks and said they will call me up the next day. I prayed ‘Lord please I am not ready’.
One day my friend KT asked me if I am willing to donate. I said I was 200% willing. He said he will call me up soon. I was praying ‘Oh no, God please not me’.
Then the last day he messaged me again if I was willing. Again with all the courage I said ok. He asked me to wait downstairs. I went with three other willing donors in a car. There was another guy who was doing it for the first time. I thought that at least for his sake I have to pretend that I am brave.
While donating there was a guy who was lying next to me. He said he thought his needle was not balancing. That nurse said that it is fine and then suddenly blood oozed out. That guy was cool. But I was not. I couldn’t decide if I should lie with eyes closed or open. (Open to see if my blood was oozing out or not.)
Anyways this time too donation happened without any incident. But seeing the plight of that poor father running around searching for 20 donors in this unknown land struck the tender chords of our heart. The patient was a 35 year old woman with kids. Her husband on learning that she had cancer abandoned her in her parent’s home. He was a daily wage laborer. Her old parents are looking after her.

So guys if any of you get a chance ‘Don’t think…Grab it…Help make world a better place’
Cheeeeers