Friday 28 February 2014

Let us lose the drama

Ranjan is back from Calcutta, after having successfully organised the XIth SAARC Golf Tournament, a baby he conceived 11 years ago! This time he also had to fly back for a day to cremate his mother and then fly again to close the tournament. This meant getting up at unearthly hours, eating rubbish and not sticking to his strict regimen. The great thing is that he took it all in his stride and to those who do not know about his cancer, he looked just as he did in this picture, albeit a little less hair and maybe a few less kilos. Yes, Ranjan is looking good and feeling good too and that is a great relief. But to me it comes with a caveat: the 5 year cooling period.

This morning he told me that he wanted to spend the day shopping with his Pakistani pals. Shopping and Ranjan! I fell of the proverbial chair. The man has never gone shopping, certainly not with me and certainly not for lah-dih-dah sun glasses and saris. At first I had vision of crowded markets, lurking viruses and infections and my initial reaction was a big NO. The shopping spree also meant lunch at the club with vision of oily cutlets and day-old salads. But then I remembered an article I read recently entitles 10 Ways to Cure Cancer Without Taking A Single Pill. I was thrilled to see that we were doing most of what is suggested: the turmeric, the cannabis, the juices, the soursop and had others on our to do list: meditation, yoga, grounding and maybe one needs add gardening.

But there are two points that caught my attention and that I think we need to concentrate on now. The most important is: Let go of your prognosis! It is so true. We need to let go of all the Damocles swords: the 3 months and 5 years, the July PET scan and so on. As the article rightly says: Doctors should be banned to do so. I would add we should be banned to do and simply listen to our body, to the drop in weight, the fever, the loss of energy. Should they not happen, the 3 months and 5 years can go to hell.

The one I liked the best though was: Lose the drama! Stop talking about the cancer as if you talk about it, you keep it alive.  Like the main character in a soap opera, the soap opera can only survive while the character is alive. So we need to concentrate on how well the body is doing and BASTA!

The one red flag the article those give though is: Preserve Energy! And that is crucial. Do not please others and give your time and energy away. Learn to say NO and conserve your energy to do only things that make you happy.

So finally we have our new normal. Do what makes you happy, eat and continue your alternative therapies and listen to your body. 

It is in the job description

John Green wrote: But mothers lie. It's in the job description! Strange quote when almost all others glorify and extol them in all ways imaginable. But yes mothers do lie sometimes, even if their heart is choking from a love they cannot express for reasons that remain unsaid. I cannot begin to imagine the agony they must be going through when they are compelled to keep a lid on their love for a larger good, or a duty they cannot shun.

Sometimes it is a case of Sophie's choice, the need to chose one among many, or to shun one among others. For those around these are always sound reasons, reasons that can even bring them kudos and applause. No one sees the unshed tears or hears the unspoken words.

There are times when it is a clash of two mothers, both facing terrible dilemmas and being unable to reconcile them. Each has no option but to walk their own Calvary. In such cases the final judgement only comes when one faces one's maker.

But mothers are made of another mettle. As a quote says: God to whom little boys say their prayers has a face very like their mother's, mothers have the last word as they always leave a cryptic proof of their love before they leave. It is for us to discover and decipher it.

Mine was a diary that survived innumerable spring cleanings and only appeared when I was on the verge of breaking down more than 14 years after Mama left.

I pray everyone discovers theirs as it sets aside once for all, all the lies that needed to be told, all the silences that needed to be broken and provides the final healing that is so desperately sought.

Tuesday 25 February 2014

Give sorrow words


When I set up to 'define' my Ranjan's 'new normal' post chemo, I never dreamt that I would need to factor in grief of the loss of both his parents in one week. Today I find myself lost and alone in my battle with Ranjan's cancer. One must admit he made a remarkable recovery and to many he looks as fit as he was before the crab struck. Even I sometimes tend to 'forget' how ill he was and above all that he is nowhere near cured. Let us not forget that modern medicine needs 5 years to declare you cancer free and even then the risk of having a secondary one looms large. Come to think of it the Damocles sword hangs on your head till your last breath.

The picture you see was taken a little over six months ago. Ranjan almost looks like the alien option you have on photo booth! But this is no morphed picture. It was taken at the dining table last summer when Agastya my grand child was with us. This is where we have come from. And there is no way in the world I want to go there again.

Till now my main concern was to take care of Ranjan's diet, nutrition and give him all the alternative supplements needed. My only challenge was to coax him towards meditation, yoga and exercise. But today an insidious and surreptitious adversary stands in my way, one that is more dangerous than any as it is somewhat invisible and in my opinion, a cause for cancer cells to begin their toxic march.

For the first time the control freak is rattled. How do I help Ranjan through is grieving? Grief gnaws at your very being and does so furtively and grief and the processing of it is personal. I have my ways of dealing with pain and loss and that is to write.

But much I would like Ranjan to adopt this way, I do not think it will be possible. Maybe coax him into talking so that he can get out all the negative and destructive feelings in him. I could also urge him to make it point to highlight 3 positive things that have happened each day. Let us not forget Shakespeare's words in Macbeth: “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”


saying yes, saying no, and then waiting for us



My mother in law passed away yesterday morning. She only lived one week longer than my father in law. Theirs was a long relationship, the kind that makes you more than kin. This picture was taken during our marriage 40 years ago. It is sad that in-laws are a suspect relationships all across the world and blessed are the few who can transcend these age-long mores and build a their own happy story. For me that was not to be.

No one one knows what happens after your breathe your last breath. I only pray that our common Maker makes them understand the inevitability of the path I had to chose. I had no option. None whatsoever. May they rest in Peace.

The passing of my mother-in-law has brought to light with poignancy of the bond that is woven in a long marriage, where you stand by the other in good and bad, sickness and health till death does one part. She could only outlive him by just a few days. Papa outlived my mother by a year or so, and that too because he held on till I needed him. The day he knew he was an impediment to my life journey, he left, without a sound. I think that is what awaits me too!

This feeling of co dependency and love is most beautifully pictured in Jacques Brel's immortal song: Les Vieux.

Here is the best translation of this haunting song

Old folk no longer talk or else at times hardly from the tip of their eyes
Even if they are rich they are poor, they have no more illusions and but one heart for two
Their homes smell of thyme, neatness, lavender and vintage turns of phrase
Even if we live in Paris we all live in the boondocks when we live too long
Is it from having laughed too much that their voices crack when they talk of the past
And from too much weeping that tears still form beads on their eyelids?
And if they quaver a bit, is it from seeing growing old the silver clock
That drones in the sitting room, saying yes, saying no, saying: I’m waiting for you?

Old folk no longer dream; their books are left to slumber; their pianos are closed shut
The little cat is dead; the Sunday muscatel no longer makes them sing
Old folk no longer move, their gestures are too wrinkled, their world is far too small
From the bed to the window then from the bed to the chair and then from the bed to the bed
And if they still go out arm in arm, all clad in stiffness
It’s to attend in the sun the burial of an older man, the burial of an uglier woman
And, in the crack of a sob, forget for a whole hour the silver clock
That drones in the sitting room, saying yes, saying no and then waiting for them

Old folk do not die; they fall asleep one day and sleep too long
They hold hands, afraid to lose each other and yet lose the other one does
And the other remains there, the better or the worse, the gentle or the stern
It doesn’t matter. The one of the two left behind finds herself in hell
You will see her perhaps, you will see him sometimes, in the rain and in grief
Going through the present already apologising for not being further along
And shunning in front of you one last time the silver clock
That drones in the sitting room, saying yes, saying no, telling them: I’m waiting
That drones in the sitting room, saying yes, saying no, and then waiting for us









smile, open your eyes, love and go on

In my last blog I wrote about Cornelian dilemmas and the choices you have to make in life. I also recently wrote about Hubris, extreme pride and arrogance and its opposite Sophrosyne, or the virtue of  healthy-mindedness and from there self-control or moderation. All these are sort of coming together in my mind as I write this rather painful blog.

Ranjan lost his father a week ago and today his mother breathed her last. He is in Calcutta organising his pet project: the SAARC Golf tournament, something he created more than a decade ago. I was so thrilled that his return to his professional new normal was this tournament and prayed to all the Gods of all the Pantheons that it would go well. I was thinking of the humdrum glitches that occur in such events. I could never have imagined that such tragedy would strike. It was traumatic enough for him to perform the last rites of his father just a week back, and now he has to bid a final adieu to his mother. I know he is a strong person but how can I forget that cancer cells have invaded his body, and no matter how brave a front one puts up, the emotional shock of losing both parents in a week is nothing short of devastating. I feel terrified and helpless.

It is difficult for me to write about a relationship I was never truly privy to. Ranjan is a man of few words and is never comfortable talking about himself. I do not know how much time he spent with his parents as a child as he was sent to boarding school at a very early age. I do not know whether he sat on his mother's lap and heard a bedtime story or how many times she soothed his grazed knee. I know very little of him as a child but I am sure that there are some very tender memories that will help him at this difficult time.

I started talking about hubris and sophrosyne and there was a method in my apparent madness. We all at some time or another get swayed by hubris and think we are masters of our lives. We make decisions and choices that we foolishly think are ours. It is not so.

I cannot but remember my father's words. He always use to tell me that not a leave moves without His will and foolish and hubristic me wondered who that Him was! But today as I write these words I am compelled to accept the wisdom of my father. Nothing that happened in the past years, good or bad, was fortuitous. It was all part of the life path that we hide in our closed fist when we enter this world. Do not think I am fatalist though I may be sounding so. I spent the better part of my life as a Cartesian and had my Cassandra moments and my Pollyanna ones. As a true Doubting Thomas I put every experience to test and had my share of ups and downs. But there is one lesson that I was compelled to reject and that was the one that says that hindsight makes you wiser. Hindsight is a chimera. There is no way things could have happened otherwise. You have to take responsibility and move on.

When Ranjan is back home tonight, I will try and soothe him as best I can. I will listen should he want to talk or just share his private silence and respect it. I will conceal my fear for his health and try and stand by him in his hour of sorrow.

It is not hubris we should embrace, but Sophrosyne at least in our twilight years.

This is a poem that has always comforted me in the wake of death:


“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”
David Harkins

Wednesday 19 February 2014

Off with her head

Off with her head said the Queen of hearts to Alice! Today I feel like Alice in more ways than one. I need to pen my emotions or else they will gnaw at my soul and may leave indelible scars, scars I do not accept as I did not wrong. But scars there will be in the hearts of those I love while I stand helpless. Could it have been otherwise, I do not know. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty but sadly not in my case. Were I given a second chance I could not have done things otherwise. And in the words of  Sophocles, Oedipus Rex: I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect.

Mine was a real Cornelian dilemma, an inner conflict forcing me to make a choice. However in my case there was no real choice as mother I was. The consequences were mine to bear however difficult, painful or ugly. Today was the final blow: off with her head said the Queen and I as Alice did obey!

Tuesday 18 February 2014

it matters who I remember he was.

Ranjan lost his father today. I do not why the quote that came to my mind was Anne Sexton's who said: It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. I so hope Ranjan remembers the good moments and the laughter and happiness and is able to set aside the hurt and pain that are an integral part of a kinship that lasts for over six decades.

I hope Ranjan remembers the golf games where father and son egged each other, the evenings spent sharing some silly jokes and laughing till tears spilled out on both their faces whilst others laughed not at the joke but at the two of them guffawing, the innumerable drinks downed while sharing innuendoes in a word the good times!

May he just remember who he thought he was!



Monday 17 February 2014

An award for my man

In a few hours my incredible man will be receiving an award for the best tourism brochure - do not know the exact nomenclature - by no one less than the President of India! Wow! The brochure is of course about the love of his life, not me, but Golf! This is all part of the National Tourism Awards. The venue none other than Vigyan Bhavan my home away from home in the 70s and 80s when I donned the cap of conference administrator and interpreter. I cannot remember the number of hours and the days and nights I spent in those hallowed corridors. It all seems like life coming full circle.

The said brochure is for his company PASH India, a company that saw the light of the day in the very house I am writing in. I remember when it all began, how we brainstormed and decided upon a name, a logo and how I sat for hours with my newly acquired and rather shaky web designing knowledge and built its first website. If anyone ever saw the way it was coded, they would have a hearty laugh. Blissfully the only place where you still find that version is probably on my computer hard disk! And good that it remains there as at best it would be up for the award of the worst designed website. But in those early days we were all on cloud nine and come to think about it tacky or not, the website lived up to expectation. I also remember the first tournaments organised and the laughs and heart misses as we soldiered on. There was one in which the project why children made the goody bags and the brochure folders.

Today PASH India is an uber professional organisation going great guns. And today is also the vindication of all the work put by so many people over the years. It is also a big feather in the cap of my man who doggedly worked away to make this happen. Even when he was extremely ill, he never stopped working. The only small change I made was move his office to his bedroom - mercifully we have a large one - and barring chemo and chemo + 1 day, he sat at his dest with 2 computers and made sure everything was spot on.

I am so thrilled that his passion and tenacity will be celebrated today and for those who have been part of his battle, it is undoubtedly the best and well deserved recognition of all the trials and tribulations of the past years.

I am a very proud gal today!

Sunday 9 February 2014

Let us celebrate each day

The next red letter day in my big battle is June 2014 when Ranjan's next scan is scheduled. Then, if we are to go by existing protocols, and if God willing all goes well, I presume the men in white will decree another date, possibly six months hence and the drama will go on till July 2018 when according to existing protocols again you can be finally declared cancer free! Wow. July 2018 seems so far away. Ranjan will be 69 years old and I 66! Is this when we are meant to have the big celebration then?

This is far to long and I do not think I can live with a Damocles sword hanging precariously on my head and an elephant in my room. I am not string enough for that and do not see why we need to waste so much precious time to abide by senseless protocols. I have decided to celebrate every day from now on as a precious gift and damn the rest. I know it would be foolish to not keep in mind what has happened. But let us simply take is as warning signal telling us to slow down, to alter our lifestyle and make changes that are sensible. That we shall do though I guess that Ranjan has now earned the right to a few raclette evenings and sundowners, not to forget his Romeo and Juliet no 2!

I must admit that I am a little scared of letting go completely as I have had my most loved ones taken from me by the monster in various garbs, and I would prefer erring to the side of caution. Let us not forget the control freak side of me:) I guess I will have to work on that one however tough it is. I guess a few more prayers will do the trick.

Tomorrow Ranjan goes to Calcutta again for one night and then on the 22nd for one whole week. I am happy he is doing so, though I shudder to imagine what he will be eating and drinking. But I also know that the trip will build his confidence and make him realise he is back to normal.

I would like to believe that a great part in his recovery is due to all the brews and potions I conjured and the rather stringent diet he followed. That is why I feel a little concerned as travelling for an extended period means that many of his add ons cannot travel along and that his diet will go for a six. I cannot send him with leaves to be boiled or crushed and given at specific times.

I feel a bit like a mother who is unwilling to realise that her child has grown and is ready to fly and that my role now is to sit in the wings and only intervene if the need arises. Looks like the new normal is more difficult for me than I thought. Ranjan, one the other hand, is like a fish in water, as if the last two years had not happened. God bless him and let us celebrate every day. 

Tuesday 4 February 2014

Update in order

I do not know where and when this picture was taken. Looks like some friend's place where my man could not resist playing the piano, tuned or not! Actually he has always stopped and played whenever he has come across a piano: in hotel lobbies and once even in the deserted atrium of a mall! I know I am guilty of having tried and stopped him and even of getting riled at times when he played at home in the evening, but one of the most heart wrenching things that occurred in the last months was the deafening silence that reigned in the house as the piano remained shut. Some feeble attempts had turned to disaster and my man decided to stop playing. The chemo brain had shut the music.

But for some days now, Ranjan is playing again and it is wonderful to hear the happy medley of Beatles songs and classical pieces. It is one of the most wonderful return to normalcy. That is not all, he has been playing golf at least once a week, went to watch his best pal play with Tiger Woods yesterday, been to Calcutta for 1 night and 2 days and is slowly returning to normal work life. Of course he is still on a stringent diet and all the juices and brews I concoct. They do get a little disrupted when he is out, but no harm done!

He is back on the treadmill though we still have to work the yoga, meditation and positive thinking bit. His blood counts seem to be going up slowly. The next test is in a week. My doctor told me that he should avoid crowded spaces and be careful of what he eats as we do not need any infection or viruses coming our way. June is now the month when we will truly know where we stand.


Sunday 2 February 2014

on a winding path than on a straight one

In the past decade and more I have been blessed in more ways than one. One of the extraordinary thing that happened in my life is the abundance of Angels that have appeared from nowhere to help me when everything looked dark and despairing. And as Terri Guillemets said: You'll meet more Angels on a winding path than on a straight one. I chose the winding path the day I chose to close my eyes and see with my heart.

Last July the world as I knew it crashed. I too could have crashed with it had not an Angel taken my hand and shown me the way. I had less than 3 minutes to conjure a life that would replace the one that I was so comfortably ensconced in. 3 minutes, the time it took to go from my doctor's office to my home and climb the stairs to the room where my whole family waited for the verdict. I do not know which Angel guided me then as I announced in a almost cheery way that Ranjan had cancer. The mood I wanted to set was one of hope and optimism and certainly not place a humongous elephant in the room, specially after having lost two battles to the beast. In hindsight, I think that the Angels that helped them must have looked like the two people who gave me the gift life.

Ranjan has just left for a game of golf with his best friend and to anyone who has not seen him for the past 2 years, he looks just like he did when he was in the pink of life, barring maybe his Yul Brynner mane! Seeing him scoot off filled with me with joy but also made me realise how easy the dreaded roller coaster ride had been and most of all how many Angels had come to help me through this difficult time. It stuck like a bold that I could not have done this alone. It was time to look back and bow my head in gratitude to every Angel worked behind the scenes to make this day happen. I realise I began this journey just like the Little Prince who went bewildered from planet to planet, each more puzzling than the other but found the answers to every question that came my way.

So who are these Angels. I would like to be able to name each and everyone but will not do so to maintain good form, but nevertheless I will share the wonderful ways in which they touched my soul. I still do not know which Angel made me begin this blog. Without the possibility of pouring out my heart to the world, I would have crashed before taking off.

A screen, a keyboard, a mouse and the world wide web that breaks all barriers of time and space were my life saviours. I do not know how to thank the two persons who till that moment had remained remote and even somewhat inaccessible opened their heart to me unconditionally and bore with the dawn mails that I shot out every single day even though they are night people and sometimes must have just laid there head on their pillows when my mail reached them. They never failed to answer immediately and calm my fears or share my joy. They have been with me at every step of this journey. There is also a little girl who lives in a faraway land where it is night when my day dawns. We have an ongoing battle of whose hugs will reach first and she wins hands down. And that is not all. She has also been plying me with unexpected goodies that come as a surprise and lift my mood in a quantum leap. Then there is a wonderful uncle who has stood by me every inch of the way, a warrior facing the same enemy. His love and counsel have been precious.

My family of course has stood by me like a rock. My grandson is my partner in arms to get Ranjan his nanou do all that is required be it jump on the trampoline or eat his food. Thanks to Skype he is able to make his angry frown and scare his grandpa when needed.

However I could not have wage this battle if my other family had not stood by me at every step. I mean the project why family which encompasses my staff of course, but also all those who have believed in my dreams and made it possible. When I when AWOL and put my professional life on hold, they held the safety net that ensured that nothing went wrong. Every supporter of project why walked the extra mile to keep things as they were and rid of the guilt I could have felt or of the necessity of having to make choices.

As some of you may know, over the years my role in project why got curtailed, as that is what I wanted, and was limited to raising the missing numbers. Last year a very special Angel, whom I first met as a young school girl and who is now a spirited and beautiful young lady, heard my silent prayer and managed to send us a bag of gold that allayed all my worries and kept project why alive and kicking. Without her I do not know what we would have done.

And then ether were the innumerable people that commented on my posts, sent prayers and positive energies and advise and never made me feel alone. One such person is someone I grew up with way back in the sixties in Saigon, where our lullabies where the sound of guns and bombs. To have reconnected with her was nothing short of a miracle.

I also feel grateful to the ones who sent me books and even medicine to strengthen my determination in walking the winding path and fighting the men in white. That reinforced my will to try all shades of alternative therapies and come out a winner.

I was touched beyond words by the heart warming comments by people I did not even know. Yet each one of them was an intrinsic part of this journey that was once frightening but ultimately turned out to be the biggest boon in disguise for someone who grew up as an only child with her imaginary friends. Today that little girl is an ageing woman whose life is abundant in friends who care.

To all of you I say thank you and to use my grandson's expression: I love you all the numbers!