Soul Pour

The other day I called a friend for a very mundane reason. After discussing with her, I just asked after her and her family’s health and well-being. The kind of question we ask and expect a reply like, “I am fine”, or “Going on” or maybe “Yeah….well life is ok ok”. So, I got a little unsettled when she answered, “Well, things are not so good. I am not well and I need to undergo a surgery”. I kept asking what her problem was and she kept evading. I assumed it was a gynaecological problem. The tone of her voice made me a bit anxious and I visited her the same evening. Imagine my shock when she said she has a tumour in her brain and needed to undergo immediate surgery. Though, we all know medical science is very advanced and such surgeries have now become as routine as a piles operation, we cannot stop ourselves from worrying whenever anything concerns the heart or the brain. She was upset, I understood that the atmosphere of the entire household was tense. Her children kept trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, maybe in an effort to gauge the reason everyone was tense. Children are the worst sufferers in such situations. They instinctively figure out something is wrong, but are kept completely out of all adult discussions and are often just plain ignored. Nobody explains anything to them; they keep guessing and come to their own conclusions which sometimes are traumatic for them.

This brought me back to the days of December 1987, when I was at the cusp of teenage. My brother, two years younger than me and my sister was just three years. For a few days, my mother had been suffering from a pain in her throat. There was a slight swelling and at first glance it looked like mumps. For a few days, she ignored it, and then she went to our family doctor who tried to treat it with a dose of antibiotics. When neither the pain nor the swelling subsided, she went to a specialist. For days, she took antibiotic injections, but nothing happened. The swelling did not increase, but it neither subsided. Physically, she was fine though, she cooked, went to work to her school, took tuitions as usual, took care of us, scolded us when we were naughty! So, we never felt she was not well. Except for minor irritants, like her going to the doctor every evening, or discussion between my parents expressing their worry as to why the swelling has not subsided, we never bothered ourselves.

I do not know exactly when or how it happened, but news spread that my mother was seriously ill. People started visiting us. It started with friendly neighbours dropping in to enquire, then moved to near relatives, far relatives, my parent’s friends, my friend’s parents, my parents’ colleagues, my mother’s student’s parents, hi-bye associates……..People started coming with fruits, expressed surprise that my mother was doing all her household work and was not on leave from work, advised her that she needed to rest. Some hugged her and cried, some scolded me that I was big enough and should start learning household chores. Some expressed annoyance at my brother and my watching TV…how can the kids of a sick mother watch TV! There came a time, when we did not get even a few hours of privacy. Some visitor was always there.

One doctor, my father’s friend’s friend came and pressed my mother’s throat and held her pulse. His face got grimmer and he shook his head. He went out and I overheard him tell my father, “I am afraid it’s malignant”. It was the first time I heard the word “malignant”. In those non-google days, all I could do was look the word up in the dictionary. I cannot now remember the exact meaning, but it also used the word “cancerous” to describe the word further. That was when it struck me…..I burst into tears….my father noticed and his eyes too brimmed over.

My sister was too small to understand or react to all this…but I and my brother started having discussions which always ended with both of us crying. My parents started looking miserable which I now realise was more because of the visitors, their good –samaritan behaviour, their superfluous concern and unsolicited advice.

My father decided to take my mother to CMCH, Vellore for treatment. With help from friends, relatives and colleagues, they were able to manage train tickets, reference letters and some money. My mother’s treatment took one full month. She was diagnosed with glandular tuberculosis. With a surgery and a year’s dose of medicines, she came back home fitter than she ever was.

But that month was a life-changing experience for me. During that month, we three kids managed with my grandmother (God bless her soul) and a full time maid (God bless her…she is a gem). During that month, I would often cry at night, pet my sleeping baby sister, whisper to her that I will take care of her if Ma does not come back. During that month, I had my first taste of sexual assault. There was a neighbourhood uncle who would come to our house every day to find out if we were doing fine. Often he would come very near to me to pore over my shoulder and rub himself against my back. If I was carrying my sister, he would take her from me, his hands brushing my chest. My grandmother noticed this and told me to remain invisible for the time that uncle was in the house. During that month, I learnt to pray hard, pray with all my soul. During that month I learnt to take adult decisions like what vegetables should be bought. During that month I learnt to settle disputes, between my brother and our maid, our maid and my grandmother. During that month, I learnt to bathe a three year old and even to give her a haircut!

My mother is old now, with a lot of old-age related health problems. She is a strong woman with a very rational approach to life. It was because of her rational and no-nonsense approach that she dealt with and defeated her illness three decades ago. Our visitors had almost killed her with their sympathy! She has withstood all storms; I hope to God, I have inherited a few of her strength genes!

I wish my friend is strong and pragmatic in her approach to her illness. I desist from offering sympathy since in my experience it is the worst thing one can give! All I can offer my friend is a hug, my prayers and wishes for a quick recovery.