Blessed

You may wonder what makes a seemingly intelligent, reasonable and sensible person perform an act that would be deemed demeaning and even repulsive to some. And yet despite the Cartesian principles I live by, I crawled yesterday from the entrance of the Kalkaji temple to the shrine. For those of you who have never been to this temple, the half a mile or so walk is along an oft crowded path littered with every kind of dirt and muck that man and beast can create. To the scientific mind this stretch of partly cemented partly tiled expanse would be home to every bacteria, germs, bacilli and pathogens under the sun. People walk on it, spit on it, dogs poo and pee on it and I presume children too! It is supposedly cleaned twice a day but in a perfunctory manner. And yet I crawled all the way, to the feet of Goddess Kalka to redeem a pledge I had made in July 2013 when I performed a 'challis' which means going for 40 days to the shrine. You maybe wondering why!

That was the time when Ranjan was very sick and we had not been able to get a diagnosis. His blood counts were taking a free fall, he was melting away and I was helpless and powerless. Everything that I could have done, had been done. Every test and investigation had been performed and gave no incline. I had knocked at the door of every kind of doctor possible and come empty handed. I had prayed and prayed but God remained mute. But one thing I did not lose was my Faith. And it those times of despair, it was the only rock I could hold on to. I knew my faith was being tested and I was ready for the test.

One the last day of my 40 day pilgrimage, I had pledged that I would come crawling to the Goddess is she were to show me the way and the day Ranjan's haemoglobin would touch 13. Actually the reason I knew about this 40 day pilgrimage and the crawling pledge was because many in the slums perform it. I guess on the other side of the fence it remains unknown! On that side God is propitiated in lavish ways that can be bought through money. Not so with the poor.

When I took that pledge, I was in the deepest of despair and this pledge was my way of accepting defeat in front of God. It was the undoing of all my hubris, and megalomania as well as my firm belief that God would not let me down. I simply needed to find what God wanted from me any how far I was prepared to go to save Ranjan. The pact was sealed. The fact that I had been heard was revealed a few days later when we got a diagnosis and I felt in charge again.

It would take 17 months for the haemoglobin to cross the 13 mark. It did last week and I wads ready to fulfil my part. I must admit that I was a little scared as the ritual requires you standing than lying and extending your hands and that standing again from the point your hands were and lying again to be repeated for the whole distance. At 62, with ageing knees and stiff back it is no mean task. Add to it the filth, the damp and even wet patches makes it even harder.

I did it yesterday, and it went like a dream. The filth did not matter, it was as if it did not exist. Once I began, it was as if I was transposed to another realm and that the God I held on to was by my side all the time. I did the run in 15 minutes and for those 15 minutes I felt in deep communion with my God.

It was a humbling and yet uplifting experience that filled me with hope and joy.

I felt blessed.

From 7 to 16.. booting the elephant out of the room and out of our lives

For all those who love my better half and have been following our battle with Sir Hodgkin, here is an update and good news. R's last reports are A+! All parameters are good and the haemoglobin which at one time had reaches its nadir: 7, has now shot up to 16! This could only have happened with the guidance of two exceptional doctors, my GP and my Tibetan doctor and the unstinted support of all my friends from the world over. But above all it is because Ranjan trusted me implicitly and agreed to swallow all the potions and brews I made for him. Not to forget the Internet that allowed me to get all the information I needed. I so wish I could have done the same for my parents. I know have a greater admiration for my mother who refused all conventional treatment. Sadly I could offer her nothing in lieu.

We did have 10 chemo sessions but again with the approval of my two doctors. The oncologist wanted 2 more but I decided to stop when I realised that Ranjan was saturated with the poisoning. All along my Tibetan doctor and I prayed that his immune system would remain intact and it has.

I did not follow any protocol. I trusted my intuition and made choices when I felt them to be right. I would call it the Anou Protocol which was a medley of diet changes, supplements, jumping of the trampoline, exercising and above all not accepting to live in 'survival' mode. We just lived as we had when he was well. We absolutely did not return to the conventional options of post chemo tests and scans and all else. We booted the elephant out of the room and of our lives.

I recently read two articles on cancer. Frightening. The first is about a doctor profiting from selling toxic chemotherapy. It is only the tip of the iceberg. The second article is about the lifting of the hold on a breakthrough cancer treatment by the FDA. Dr Burzynski does not believe in 'one size fits all' and offers personalised care. This is a point I had raised with R's oncologist when I insisted that he did not need the last 2 chemos that were part of the 'protocol'.

What modern medicine or let us rather call it bizMedicine is a almost total corruption and manipulation of the Hippocratic Oath, and we are falling for it. I am reading a fascinating book by Rana Dasgupta entitled Capital, and urge you to read Chapter Five to see what is happening in our city. It is terrifying.

We all need to make the right choices, to inform ourselves before rushing into treatments proffered with alacrity and impunity, to listen to our body and above all to keep positive. Laughter is indeed the best medicine!

Not bad luck

A new study doing the virtual rounds of the world wide web wants us to believe that most cancers are caused by bad luck! I guess this is the easiest answer a doctor can provide a patient when he has nothing else to proffer. All patients want to know what caused their cancer and the doctors do not have any answer in spite of the gazillions spent on cancer research. So the medical fraternity must be thrilled and relieved at now having a study emanating from none other than John Hopkins giving them an answer that fits all, satisfies all and needs no further explanation. Come on if you have bad luck mutations then what can anyone day, bar God I guess! That makes the big C beyond any ones control and bad luck a scientific phenomenon. I wonder whose agendas are being met by such a study.

In an interesting rebuttal cancer survivor Chris Wark makes some interesting remarks. This study seems to suggest that if you have cancer, you drew the bad lot and lost the lottery. Simplistic? Not quite as if we were to accept this rather absurd view then changing your lifestyle and eating habits may not help; the only thing that will help is to find out as early as possible whether you are in the lucky lot or the unlucky one. And how do you do that? By early detection and more research. And whose pockets are filled: research and conventional and expensive investigations and treatment. Luck cannot be changed by eating broccoli or giving up sugar. Accepting this study would actually push you to eat, drink and be merry as if you are lucky nothing will happen to you, but if you are unlucky then why not live recklessly. This study, if it were to be believed, sweeps all other options away.

I have had cancer in my life since 1958 when I was just 6. My grandma died of liver cancer. Then four decades later it took my mom and pa away. At that time I knew nothing of alternative therapies and other options. In 1993 when I net to Paris a month after my father's demise and had to visit a doctor for some minor problem, I was asked my medical history and when the doctor realised that both my parents had cancer, it was suggested that I have a detection test every year. Mercifully for me, I never do anything without thinking and I decided I did not want to live a life of yearly remission. I would wait for my body to send me a signal and then decide. When I came back to India I met my Tibetan doctor and since have been taking Tibetan medicine.

I however also took the decision of finding out more about cancer and even though the Internet had not arrived in our lived I did find books and articles that talked of diets, and life style and alternative therapies. I made some radical lifestyle and dietary changes and am still going strong.

Two years ago Cancer came into my like in the worst way possible. My husband wad diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. But I was ready and bad luck was not one of the things on my check list. As the Internet has arrived in our lives, I spend days and nights looking for information and making informed choices to prepare my own protocol. I only agreed to chemotherapy because my Tibetan doctor told me that Hodgkin's was one of the three cancers that responded well to chemotherapy. She gave medication to keep the immune system going and also to soften the side effects of the lethal and legal poisoning. My husband had no side effects. When I felt that he as saturated I bullied the oncologist to agree to stop the chemos.

I have shared my battle with Hodgkin's in this blog. My protocol for Ranjan was a mix of dietary changes, supplements, cannabis leaves, soursop tea, and more. Even today, he follows that protocol. Ranjan is golfing, and even jet setting and is off to Helsinki in a few days and then to a gourmet weekend in Paris with his best friend. I do not know where luck stands in all this.

Coming back to the study and to Chris Wark's rebuttal, I agree with him when he states: Bad luck is perhaps the most dangerous idea to permeate the cancer community because it renders the patient powerless.  Nothing you did caused cancer, therefore nothing you can do will make any difference in healing it. Now you are completely dependent on early detection to prevent cancer, and if that doesn’t work, your only hope is surgery, chemo and radiation to save you. There’s no use in changing your diet or lifestyle. This is absurd. Only by changing your like style and even jumping on a trampoline you can beat the big C!

There are innumerable studies that show that you can reverse your cancer. Chris Wark mentions some in his article should you be interested in knowing more and as he also says: There are 21 African nations with less than 1/3 of the cancer rates of the United States. Niger has 1/5th, but their starchy plant-based diet and physical activity has nothing to do with it. They are just 80% luckier.

Changing your life style, exercising and thinking positive can reverse your cancer. I speak from experience.

Biceps and Bhai sahibs

Being a recluse, I have my evolved my own ways to de-stressing, taking time off or even traveling to strange lands without having to go further than a few minutes walk. For me these are ways of getting of the spinning world and  catching my breath and even recharging my batteries. My latest travel is to the gym located ten minutes walk from my home. For an hour or so I am transported on to another planet I have fondly named - Biceps and Bhai Sahibs! As I walk down the steps of this strange world, I feel a different person. I am in alien world and make sure to embrace its ways. So off comes the jacket and scarf, and with a wave to the burly trainers I get on to the treadmill, set my speed at 6km and take off. The blaring music, the kind I normally shun, sets the rhythm of my walk and I find myself enjoying the mix of house music, Hindi pop, Punjabi rock that hits my ears through a speaker located just next to my treadmill. I catch some words but mostly it is just the beat that gets me going. Before I know it, my 30 minutes are over. Strangely these are the only 30 minutes where I find myself not thinking or anything at all. Maybe this is a form of meditation.

Often the treadmills next to mine have bhai sahibs with large biceps running at high speed. Most are young men eager to get the beloved 6 0r 8 or whatever packs. Some of them grunt while they run. Actually there is a lot of grunting, mostly with the lads doing weight training. It is funny, but somehow I feel quite comfortable amidst them. They sometimes smile at me, but are mostly serious trying to impress one and all.

After my walk, it is time to train and all the young trainers are most eager and ready to 'train' me. I think they are quite amused at the old biddy wanting to build her body! So its is one machine after the other and repetitions laded with encouraging words. I somehow don't feel ridiculous even though in most machines I can only lift the minimum weight of 5 kilos though I have reached 15 kilos in some.

I am like a child trying to concentrate and do my best. Lower body, upper body, abs.. the whole enchilada. And all through the show my mind does stray in any direction: no pwhy, no family, no home. Just me and my training.

I am glad I found the world of biceps and bhai sahibs. It gives me the breath of fresh air I need, in spite of the grunts, the sweat and the loud music!

A few good men

A gentle soul breathed his last yesterday night after a long and valiant battle with the unrelenting crab. My relationship with him was unique. He was the first 'in-law' I met before my marriage. I was nervous like hell as I walked the stairs leading to the Chinese restaurant where we were to meet. The question in my mind was : would he approve of me. But the moment I met him, all doubts flew away as his charm and kind ways worked wonders and all tabs were soon castaway. He was an amazing erudite and I found myself mesmerised by his knowledge. The much feared lunch ended too soon with a warm hug and a words of blessing.

Then life tools its twist and turns and sadly the note we had struck while enjoying noodles and Manchurians vanished altogether. We met a few times, as niece and uncle in-law, the equation that never seems to balance.

It was a few years back that our paths would cross again. This time it was a terrible challenge that would bring us together, one that would test the mettle we were made of. He would stand tall, like few do and take the road less travelled even if it led to difficult choices. But he took them with courage and conviction. He filled a space in my heart that had laid empty for far too long. I felt blessed. Thus began a new relationship, one that defies all definition and obliterates all tags and labels.

We enjoyed talking about any and everything. His massive erudition and wisdom never failed to amaze me and I learnt more at his proverbial knee that I would in books. We shared a passion for reading and writing and he never failed to comment on my blogs. The have lain orphaned for the past months as he lay in a hospital bed, his body wrecked but his spirit soaring.

Good men are few. He was one of them. The world will never look the same after his demise.

May his soul rest in peace.

What's in a number

OK so yesterday was our fortieth wedding anniversary. Why is the fortieth more important than the the thorny ninth or the forty first? To me each anniversary from the very first has been a cause to celebrate. Yet someone somewhere decided that some are better than others: the twenty fifth, the fiftieth or the sixtieth! Come to think of it every day of togetherness is sufficient cause to celebrate. The success of a marriage is to be able to fall in love every morning with the same person as everyone of us changes as time goes by and we need to accept and embrace the changes. If we are wise enough to understand that our love is safe.

Many people have huge parties to celebrate the social milestones of a marriage. I have never been one to do so. On those days I have wanted to be with those I love and be able to spend quality time. I recoil at the idea of dressing as a bride or renewing my vows. I renew them each day and more than never when faced with a challenge. That is when love is put to the test.

Marriage is a series of relationships that you stumble upon as you travel the journey of life. It often starts with that woolly feeling of falling in love, when the world is viewed through rose coloured glasses and everything seems right. But those glasses come off and you need to conjure the ones suitable for the moment you are living. And as you trudge along your relationship takes on many hues: you are friend, philosopher, guide, partner, companion and much more. You are the shoulder to cry on, the patient listener, the cheer leader, the devil's advocate and above all the honest critic even when it hurts. It is in being each of these and more that you secure your love and can move into the twilight years.

After forty years, I guess one has been all of the above as best one can. Today our love is bathed in comfortable quietude and often we do not even need word to comfort each other or to convey what needs to be said. One knows when to hold a hand or give a hug and when to remain mute. From the passion of the first moments one has moved into a comfortable zone when the yore years have found their place and only the future remains.

It is a blessed feeling that needs no loud revelry. Come to think of it every moment is a celebration

A very special birthday wish

Today is my mother's Kamala's birthday, a blessed day in more ways than one. At the crack of dawn I got my almost daily Skype call from my grandson. He is now old enough to call himself. He was keen to show me his 'new' computer - actually his father's old laptop! He was over the moon as he could now imitate his Bapu and type on the keyboard even if the computer did not work. Children have their unique make believe world, and only children excel at that. Ask me! I am an only child too! After typing his name, and mine he suddenly asked me a word beginning with K. Serendipitous  to say the least as Ma's name begins with a K. I spelt it out and told him it was my Mama's name and that today was her birthday. His hands immediately flew on the keyboard as he told me he was sending her a message. He was quick to tell me what he was writing: happy birthday; though I do not know you, I love you.

It was a magical moment. I gently told him that she loved him too and even if one could not see her, she saw us and specially him and always showered him with love and blessings.

The moment ended as the little fellow chased another thought yet in filled me with immense joy and I knew that Kamala was smiling!