Bergsonian Rhapsody

The notion of time has always been a philosophical query that has fascinated me. Though mathematical time is always the same, the perception of it by us mortals is different and according to Bergson intuitive. The time waiting for a loved one will feel far longer than the one spent with the loved one, even if in both cases the the minutes on the clock remain the same. I remember how long a year looked when I was small, one birthday to another seemed an eternity! Today it seems to move so fast that one does not realise where time has gone. But within the 365 days that seem to fly as you get older, there is a Bergsonian Rhapsody being played. Sometimes time weighs like a lid as Baudelaire so beautifully wrote in his famous  poem entitled Spleen. For the past 4 years or so the movements of our rhapsody were punctuated by waiting for Agastya and then waiting for the day he left and then waiting again for him to come back. All this waiting was interspersed by other activities.

For Ranjan it was his work, his weekly and sometimes morning Golf, his few trips abroad for work and golf; for me it was my work at project why, my writing reports and when I could find time my creative writing. But all changed on July 4th 2013 at exactly 7.20 pm when a scan report landed in my hands with the ?lymphoma written on it. All our carefully scripted lives keeled over as an unwanted guest forced itself on us, hogging all the space. Everything else had to fit around its non negotiable demands. Agastya's presence made things easier as it brought the much needed laughter and joy as he wrestled for his place and always won. But there is a flip side. His presence made me push away all the elephants in the room and in my head. Come to think of it the 'Ranjan has cancer' I find myself mouthing to people enquiring about his health, does not seem to have sunk in. It still feels like saying 'Ranjan has flu'! And that is because the presence of a little child makes you want to hope and live.

I dread tomorrow when the house falls silent and little things strewn here and there - a pair of tiny Crocs, a small car, a cricket bat in the garden, the Odomos tubes that his mom seems to place in the most unlikely of places, his favourite chocolate drink in the store room, his clothes folded neatly on the ironing table - will be heart wrenching reminders of the little chap's presence. It will take time for the house to get out of Agastya mode and get back to its usual shape. Somehow no one, even the staff, likes putting things back and everyone delays the task as much as possible. But  inevitably, things will fall back in place.

Time that seemed to run at the speed of light while the child was here, will now take on new perceptions in true Bergsonian style, seeming so incredibly slow at times and quicker at others. This time it is not the demands of a child that will trace our day, but the ones of the unwanted guest and his impositions that have to be met. And there is no routine here as one bad blood test can alter everything else. It is strange but true that somehow this will help us fill the empty space and time of our lives. We have another time table to follow and this for quite a few months to come.

There is yet another side to this Rhapsody. I do not when or how the cancer will replace the flu in my mind but I know it will. The tears will have to be shed. Tears of sorrow. Tears of rage. Tears of helplessness and even tears of fear. Till now a little Angel kept them all at bay.