Couldn’t resist clicking this :)))))
Seen at a food court in a mall at Bangalore……
When fate hands you a lemon - II
If horses run, can dogs be far behind??
Ankhiyon se neend churaata hai
Sachche jhoothe khwaab dikhaata hai yehi
Hansaata hai yehi yehi rulaata hai”
Yeh to chemo che, ye to chemo che!
That’s one thing I found common with love and chemotherapy. Saari saari raat jagate yahi, ankhiyon se neend churaata hai! Sleepless nights, drowsy days, nausea, all were part of the package called chemotherapy, the life saving treatment for cancer. Still I found that cancer times can be fun-filled and normal, like any other.
With nausea hitting me in waves after chemotherapy, gulping down a few morsels was torture to me. Added to that was the agony of sounds, even normal everyday ones. A few days post chemotherapy, tolerating any form of noise was difficult for me. Imagine my exasperation and irritation when one morning my ears were assailed by the strident sound of drums from the nearby compound. It was unbearable. Then I really understood how the Gauls must have felt when Cacofonix, their bard, started singing. No wonder they gagged him and tied him up securely to a tree, while enjoying their merry feasts of roasted boars.
Wondering where hubby dear had disappeared, I looked around only to see him laughing his head off, in the balcony. He was there, beckoning me to join him, to view a hilarious scene, no doubt, from the expression on his face. Weak and feeling all nauseous, I smiled from my seat at the dining table, my mother cajoling me to eat something to regain some strength.
The drums had temporarily died down and there he was inside the room pantomiming what happened outside. The drums were part of a wedding baarat getting ready to leave. The decibel level of the firecrackers and drums frightened the horse, who took to its heels sans the groom.
The Sardarjis of the family ran behind the horse and would the dogs be left out? The street dogs, not to be accused of letting a fleeing horse run, raced behind, barking madly and the whole battalion in motion was an amusement to the bystanders! The scene enacted in front of me had the desired effect and I was laughing, a bit disappointed at not having witnessed the fun.
Alopecia is one side effect of chemotherapy. In two weeks my hair started falling in bunches and within a month I was totally bald. My doctor had suggested that I go in for a wig, but I chose to have the “Persis Khambatta” look. Combs, hairbands, hairclips all disappeared from my dressing table. Photos of my “motta thala” ( bald head) was sent to all my friends with the title “suppandi look”, which had some in splits and some commenting it looked cute! These were small things that added spice to my life during the treatment.
Getting a few hindi words mixed up also created some fun at the hospital. ”angootha andar kar do” the nurse would say as she was about to administer the saline. And I would be confused as to how I was to fold my fingers to keep my wedding ring in. I made kathakali actions to hubby dear standing nearby. He smiled as he explained “angootha not angoothi” It clicked!
With all this and more around, I definitely had fun during my cancer treatment and that was a relief too for my loved ones who gave me their undivided attention and care, when I needed them most in my life!
Many times I would despair. Luckily I was able to overcome that and most of the times the loss of hair on my head was the only giveaway that I was under cancer treatment.
I am sure that God must have thought that He better heal this lady fast or His mail box will get clogged with the fervent prayers my family and friends send Him! So here I am, fit as a fiddle, and plan to stay on this earth for few more decades, hopefully.
When fate hands you a lemon – I
My tryst with cancer
“When fate hands you a lemon
Take it, squeeze it and start a lemonade stand”- Anonymous.
The above quote was oft repeated in my school days, the gist of which I realized as I moved through life, as it handed me lemons, melons, oranges, grapes, apples, pomegranates and what not! I am not quite sure whether I made the right proportion of lemonade, grape juice or mixed up the whole thing to get mixed fruit juice, but survive I did, through the experiences life taught me. And those did help me definitely, when at the age of 48, fate handed me not a lemon, but a lemon sized lump on my breast.
The kind surgeon that I met, a man of few words, scribbled FNAC (Fine Needle Aspiration Cytology).
This was on May11th, 2009.
He directed me to the pathological laboratory where the results showed “Appearances highly suggestive of carcinoma”. Shocked I was not, thoughtful I was. My daughter’s 12th standard board exam results were a few weeks away and that meant she was going to a college hostel soon and I could join my husband abroad after a long time. Now it was not to be. Man proposes, God Disposes. How true.!
Husband was expected home in a few days and I deemed it fit to keep the news to myself until he was home. Meanwhile I met my family doctor, the surgeon and discussed to keep things ready by the time he came.
May 16th he reached home and once he was there, action started. We decided to have the treatment at Baroda itself, home to us for the past 13 years. Kailash cancer hospital aka Muni Ashram as it is known was the choice. SOS was sent to my mother, sister and sister in law, who were ready to help me at the time I needed them. It was planned that they take turns to be with me at Baroda so that their homes were not affected much.
May 18th was my first visit to the hospital. The oncologist, again a kind and calm person, explained to me the treatment. Surgery, 6 doses of chemotherapy at 21 days intervals followed by 30 doses of radiation. It was suggested that I cut my hair short for I would be losing it due to the effects of chemotherapy.
Now it was my choice, I could sit and brood about
- my cancer, or,
- about losing my hair, or
- the fact that all this treatment would take six months postponing my stay with my husband (After all I was looking forward to being with him after my kids education and it had been such a long time).
I did not choose anything to brood about.
I chose to SMILE J
I chose to wait another 6 months to be with him.
I chose to let go of my love for my long hair.
I chose to go through it with a lot of faith.
Faith in the Almighty, faith in the love of my dear ones.
Always a Teen!
Savour the hours of your teens,
Hour by hour, pick it apart.
In every moment find some joy.
Vent yourself to its offerings
And taste them to your fill.
Joyous will be life then, for
All that matters is laughter, through life.
Tell me what you see above! Written in 1980 by one teen to another. Time to celebrate 30 years of the above and I do so with a similar one to the one who wrote the above for me.
Pleased I was when you wrote it
Remember those days I do very often
And enjoy those moments still
But …..
Old I will never be
Dear hubby I am still a teen.
Picture courtesy : Internet
Badmashi
I am not a movie buff but I see the occasional movie which doubles up as an outing for the family. When my daughter was home for her vacation, a month back, we went to watch the latest movie “Badmash Company” . The story line has four youngsters Karan (Shahid Kapoor), Bulbul (Anushka Sharma), Chandu (Vir Das) and Zing (Meiyang Chang of Indian Idol fame) who want to get rich quickly. The first idea of their “quick money making scheme” centres around the fact that a pair of shoes fetches a good price, but by itself, a single shoe has zero value.
“Justice also said that at the time that General Rafael founded the navy, Lorenzo Daza bought a shipment of surplus boots at a very low price from the English army, and with that one deal he doubled his fortune in six months. According to the newspaper, when the shipment reached this port, Lorenzo Daza refused to accept it because it contained only boots for the right foot, but he was the sole bidder when customs auctioned it according to the law, and he bought it for the token sum of one hundred pezos. At the same time, under similar circumstances an accomplice purchased the shipment of boots for the left foot that had reached Riohacha. Once they were in pairs, Lorenzo Daza took advantage of his relationship by marriage to the Urbino de la Calle family and sold the boots to the new navy at a profit of two thousand percent.”
Parmeet Sethi, writer director of Badmaash Company seems to have lifted the idea straight from Marquez’s book!
The second idea the quartet came up with, to get rich quick, was similar to the first one, this time the item was leather gloves and the scenario shifting from India to the US which ultimately lands him in jail.
Later in the film, the hero turns over a new leaf and starts working at his Uncle’s factory. A huge consignment of shirts turns out to be defective, and his uncle is facing total ruin. Karan sets his brains to work, and for a change he uses them for a good cause, succeeding in marketing the defective shirts through a novel idea of having 7 different shades of the same shirt by owning just one shirt. He calls them the “Bleeding Madras Shirts.”
Fascinated by the bleeding shirts, I googled to find more about the Bleeding Madras shirts and got this information.
“The bleeding Madras fad of the 1950’s and ’60’s, brought the world’s attention to Madras, both the cloth and the city. And in the cloth’s heyday, over 150,000 new plaid patterns were fashioned, using homemade vegetable dyes that bled, ran and blended to create a stunning effect. (”Cool” was the word we used, way back then.) Today, of course, Madras no longer bleeds, because it is dyed with man-made, color-fast dyes. ”
Which is a bigger badmashi? Lack of original ideas, or rehash of ideas?
Sunflower
Twilight has dropped her curtain,
Hiding the blazing sun behind the horizon.
The Sunflower,
who until now was smiling,
Is gloomy.
Her petals have drooped
Her brilliant smile has faded
And she patiently awaits the dawn
When her love
With all his splendour
Comes sailing up the sky.
The Fingers…….
The fingers…….
Cute chubby fingers that held me tight, at midnight, when woken up by a bad dream or the barking of the neighbour’s dog.
Cute chubby fingers that curled up to hold mine, when I held you close to my bosom.
Cute chubby fingers you held my face with, to plant a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
Little fingers firmly entwined in mine, as you took your first baby steps.
Little fingers, all messy and coated with the chocolates you ate, that you wiped on my saree.
Little fingers that pointed, with sweet gibberish from your mouth, the ants and insects that troubled you.
Little fingers that gathered the mud from the yard and put them into your mouth.
Little fingers that held the crayons, as I discovered your creativity in the myriad hues splashed across the newly painted walls.
Little fingers that held a pencil firmly, as you started writing your ABCD.
Small fingers that held the cricket bat as you rushed to play out with daddy.
Small fingers that wiped my tears without a word, but with twinkling eyes, whenever you caught me weeping.
Teenage fingers that were reluctant to hold my hand.
Teenage fingers that accused me, with fire in the eyes, “You are wrong”.
I watched in amazement the transition. Cute chubby fingers, little fingers, small fingers, teenage fingers and finally they grew up to be normal fingers.
They became invisible as years passed by. Fingers that did not need my assistance.
Every child I saw reminded me of the cute chubby fingers, the little fingers the teenage fingers and then I longed for those fingers that were invisible to me now.
I am old and frail, my whole body aches. I lie here waiting for a glimpse of those fingers that have become invisible to me.
Won’t you come to me, my child, for once, let me feel them, the fingers that conveyed so much to me.
Hold my frail face, with those strong fingers …….
Give a gentle touch to these aching limbs of mine……
Feed me a morsel to satiate my hunger……
And above all hold me tight to reassure me.
I await you, my child.
This blog is dedicated to all the beautiful mothers of the world.
Untitled
A tribute to the earning member of the family…………
Years roll on,
Life moves on.
Things remain the same,
Its always a game.
I earn, you spend
You spend and I send.
It’s a vicious circle,
Like an octopus’s tentacle!
I feel like a drowning boat,
That tries to keep afloat.
I try to make ends meet,
And am always on my feet.
I pray to the Lord
Keep me healthy,
Let them afford
To be wealthy.
This life and beyond……..
She smiled. They were aghast.
He looked so calm as always. She could even see the unseen smile that played around his lips just like he smiled the first time when she met him years back. “How can you apply Pythagoras theorem here. Its not a right angle…….” Her words trailed off as she saw the smile that hovered on his lips. She looked back into her notes and realized her mistake. He had just uttered one word “tangent”. Yes! A tangent to a circle forms a right angle with the circle’s radius at the point of contact of the tangent, how did she overlook that?
She looked at his moustache, the right side slightly twirled up and smiled.
The light from the ceremonial lamp created a halo around his serene face. Some elder from the crowd was directing a young girl to pour oil into the lamp. The strains of Ramayana recital filled the air along with the heavy scent of burning incense sticks.
Tears flowed.
She wept.
She wept to her hearts content.
All her pent up grief came tumbling down.
A resignation to wait ……till she and he would be one again.
Again they would be one….she was sure…as he was……
Untitled
Her strength and solace''.
She saw him through the glass doors of the arrival lounge waiting to collect his luggage. The flight had just landed. She waited impatiently, counting the seconds. She was tired, fatigued. Just wanted to hug him, rest in his arms, weep and let out all those suppressed emotions.
She was tired of handling everything alone for so many years. He called her the strong one. Kids always depended on her. And now the final blow, her test reports had come last Monday. It gave her a shock. She was fatigued keeping everything to herself. He was coming home to celebrate her birthday. How could she tell him now? But then did she have a choice?
'Now' said the Doctor. 'Keep aside everything and get it done immediately. No excuses, health comes first.'
She knew he was right, after all her health was important to the family as well as herself. How could she refute that?
At last she saw him collect his blue suitcase and come out.
His eyes were searching for her in the crowd. She waved. He came towards her and gave her a warm hug.
' 3 months' he whispered.
She drove back leisurely as he talked about his journey from KL to
One hour later she sat own beside him. She put her head on his chest. Words wouldn't come out. She wept. Tears flowed like summer rains. As he hugged her with one hand he slowly took the envelope she was holding in her hand.
To her, he was there to take over. Now she wasn't afraid to face anything anymore. He was there to take charge. Her fatigue disappeared, she wasn't tired any more. Her body was enveloped with a new energy, to face any obstacle in the world.
She was at peace''!
