Happy Thanksgiving!

I was watching Grey's Anatomy tonight [yes, I am in that phase.] where Meredith mentioned that one of the patients may be suffering from Cardiac Tamponade. The term seemed familiar. Quite familiar. Something I had read about. Wikipedia-ed. And suddenly my last 2 months flashed in front of my eyes.

I was home for Dassehra and the first day of my holiday promised home-cooked yummy-ness and endless laziness. Instead, I found my mum intermittently cribbing about some weird noises in her abdomen/ chest [she couldn't pinpoint it then] while blaming it on indigestion soon thereafter. A Doctor's wife and a Science teacher herself, she thought all she needed was a little rest. 

Little did we know then. Three hours and a visit to our friendly, neighbourhood Hospital's Cardiac Department later, she was diagnosed with Pericardial Effusion. From making pohe for breakfast to Pericardial Effusion by 1 pm.  That was the fastest, rudest shock ever. [For those interested in details - she had around 30 ml fluid around her heart.] It's moments like these that teach you the definition of Helplessness.

Within 5 minutes of knowing the words, I had read up the wiki link [that's where I first met Mr. Cardiac Tamponade] and felt stupidly prepared to brace myself for what was going to come. Information does that to you....But no matter how much you grow up and how much ever information you gather, how do you prepare yourself to face your own mother's frightened face?

But prepare, we did. If I have learnt anything from my old lady, was that the 'prepare for the worst and hope for the best' adage still holds ground. Tests and tests we sat through. And we talked. About silly little things. About health and family. About relationships. Some of the best conversations. Not in our drawing room, but in a hospital's patient waiting area.

Information. A little of it - gives you facts, neither insights nor any possibilities. 

But too much of it - makes you rush ahead of yourself, with mind-numbing what-ifs and what-nots - and that was the case with my dad. He went silent - mulling over the cause of PE and calling up his friends for consults. That was a week of utter turmoil.

And then, exactly a week later, my mum had to take the Cardiac CT. The test that was supposed to tell it all. Grim: yes, shit-scared: more so. That was the first time my mum broke down. Anticipation can be quite agonizing, but finally came the test results - the cardiac CT eliminated all the scary possibilities of PE leaving behind the inexplicably simple and yet highly possible viral infection which may have caused the inflammation and hence the fluid around the heart. So, yeah, a viral infection caused all that! Can you believe it?? It was a viral infection - that stupid little thing that must have gone unnoticed and blew up into so much trouble. Viral infection - which btw, is treatable, quite easily, actually. So yeah - viral infection- something that I have come to love ever since!! [Compared to all the sickening possibilities - I take this Viral Infection with much love.Thankyouverymuch]
 
Mum was ordered a month's complete rest and heavy medication. But that's a breeze as compared to the other possibilities! The other possibilities - things that I don't even wish to write down out here. They make me feel grateful today as my mother is back to being hale and hearty. After this biggest scare in my life so far, relief seems like an understatement. Smiles are treasured. And probably for the first time ever, care has been worded out in my family. Heck, I am even planning to say 'I love you' to my parents, one of these days :P

So yeah...it has been a roller-coaster ride. Every day, since then, has been one of cautious looking-over-the-shoulder. It took me 2 months to finally accept and write about it. But gratitude - just like grief, needs to be expressed.

So, Thank You!
Rutuja

The year that was...

Come December, and it's funny how I find myself in a retrospective mood already. The log book for 2012 almost coming to an end. But I have accounts to be settled. So much to say, even though I know it wont get me any answers.

I didn't blog much this year. And most of it was anyway too sad for me to keep returning on my previous blog. So here is me. Trying to make a head start once again. Start out fresh. But not without settling a few scores with 2012.

Dear 2012,

You were mean. And harsh. You snatched away two of my people this year, none of whom deserved to leave so soon. I shall remember you for a lot of things, but mostly this. For being one of the cruelest years ever.

You were a teacher to me. And may I add, a very tough one at that. You ensured a lot of quick learning from me with very little scope for re-tests.

You were my reality check. I started 2012 with Bambi-like twinkle in my eyes [or may be it was just wanderlust from my Europe trip], but you grounded me back to reality. You crushed a few of my plans and a whole lot of dreams.

But having said that...

You brought me unexpected joys. Friends who showed up least expected. With warm food and warmer hearts. Rented apartments that soon became home. Laughter that brought tears and tears that I can now smile back on.

You taught me to love people. Irrespective of the vast differences we shared. You taught me to love my parents again. And see them in a whole different light. As people, not parents.

And finally, you showed me that a little self belief can really take me places. That I need to trust myself before anyone else. Love myself, more than anyone else. That words like - dream, hope and belief - don't just make good poetry. And that it's not selfish to watch out for oneself every once in a while.

You were such a weird year 2012. I can't look back fondly at you but I can't help thank you for the tough lessons and much growing up that I have experienced.

Looking forward to a very different 2013. I hope you shall oblige much.

Love,

Rutuja

Packing life in cartons..yet again!

Come this weekend and life as I know shall never be the same again.

In a few days I move into a one BHK apartment [rented ofcourse] and for the first time after moving to the new city almost 1.5 years ago, I shall be truly independent. Sharing a place with flat-mates was fun...more like a hostel with a canteen attached for a midnight maggi session where you never feel the burden of responsibilities.

However, renting a place all by oneself seems like a big deal. Rent, maintenance, maid, electricity, gas, cable, internet - just a few deductibles one needs to remember each month. Simply to survive! I already shudder at the thought of having to keep the laundry bag empty and the fridge full at all times [probability of the reverse is always higher]. I already need to buy stuff like bed, cupboard, TV, refrigerator and a gas stove. yeah, did I mention the apartment is unfurnished? But I kind of like it that way. It's better to have no furniture than being stuck with the bad one.

So let me describe you my cute little place. It's got an L shaped drawing room, a perfect square of a bedroom, a washroom that's just the right size, a narrow rectangular kitchenette and a lovely balcony that runs along the bedroom and kitchen space. That's it...All mine! :)

Oh! Did I mention it's on the sixth floor and gets some seriously lovely breeze in the evening? 

Curtains, carpets, cushions...all in the colour scheme!! The mind is already drawing endless shopping lists. Want to buy a fridge? 165 or 220 litres? Single/double door? Frost/de-frost? Which brand? Which model? What guarantee? Phew!! So many decisions...and I haven't even come to the colours yet!

Whatever said and done...I know I await this experience. I feel almost ready jumping into this role of being super-independent. From where I am looking, it seems pretty well-timed and well-transitioned. But one can never be too sure, right?  

Packing my life, yet again, in bags & cartons, I can't help but feel like a nomad, who is just a bit too eager to make every place her own. 

Wish me luck,

Cheers.

A love like that...[II]

She was such a goon growing up. Beat many a boys in her school corridor. Once, she even slapped a senior on the school-bus back home [In her defense, he was sitting in HER seat!] She loved to argue and considered herself quite good at verbal duels. 

Times changed. She didn't. Soon she was in college. Her long tresses cut short. Boy-cut was what they called it. Collared half-sleeved shirts and a ragged pair of jeans. And the boy-cut. Almost a boy, you see. Strangely enough, she now made great friends with the guys. They no longer feared her. She was one of them. She laughed at their jokes about other girls and even added her own witty one-liners. They came to her on days of journal submission. They rallied around campaigning for her during college elections. and as weird as it may sound - they cared for her - like a buddy, in a brotherly sort of way - the girl, with the boy-cut.

Times changed again [how irritating is that!] And yet again, she didn't. There she was working in the corporate world. Cut-throat competition. Who knew being a bully at school would come to so much use later in life! She loved the aggression. The dominant streak that gets passed off as leadership qualities. And once again she became the 'man on the team'. Gym buddy. Smoke buddy. Booze buddy. They ranted about their girlfriends, she listened. They raved about their trophy wives and she listened. She smiled. She understood - something that always surprised the guys.

Times changed quickly thereafter. Her long tresses grew back. Her dark eyes shone when she laughed. She was suddenly noticeable. Second and third glances [and accompanied male attention] became a part of her life. A girl friend gifted a kaajal pencil and insisted she try on some. That day she became aware of the magic of kohl eyes. People seemed nicer, friendlier and worse, no one wanted to fight with her any more. No more verbal duels. No intelligent [or even lame] arguments.

And one day, she met him. He was smart and funny. Sensible with questionable sensitivity. But there was a spark between the two. He wasn't at his best behaviour with her. He didn't think twice before saying things on his mind. He didn't even offer her the last piece of the pastry..instead eyed hers hungrily. He didn't open doors or pull chairs for her. And he never, ever carried her laptop that she chugged around everywhere. He just walked beside hers, hands in pocket. Sometimes slowing down a step or two to match her speed. He didn't ask her how the day went by. He probably read it on her face. And he always, always started the conversation with the lamest of his jokes.

Times changed yet again. Thankfully, they both didn't. They still walk side by side, carrying their own baggage. No favours on each other. And yet they know when the other is tired. He still doesn't treat her 'like a lady'. But she knows he is the one coz he treats her the way she always wanted to be treated - a girl with a boy-cut.

A love like that [I] here

“Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won't help.” - Calvin

Ever had your computer hang when you try to open too many browsers or tabs? That obviously has been due to too much of an overload for the poor machine. [Ok geeks - do not get technical on me and explain how a computer actually hangs]. 

The human mind [at least mine] acts in a much similar fashion. Too many emotions sends it into a temporary numb state and one either needs to sleep it off or shake it like crazy to shut-off and re-start.

This week me and my people went through the shock and grief a colleague-friend's sudden death. The experience was traumatic for many of us. But personally, nothing was more mind-numbing than watching my friend's funeral [the traditional Hindu way]. Yes, I stood there...by her pyre. Watched her cold body go to flames. It felt unreal. Like a movie scene. Yet very raw. In the face. Standing less than10 feet away. The priest chanting the shlokas, the old uncle shaking from head to toe crying his guts out and the cousin holding onto to the uncle from collapsing. And as surreal as it may seem the person who laid down on the pyre was the same person you had your lunch with and went to gym together the earlier day! 

Never before did the fragility of this life seem more blatant. It was in my face. Like a 'Take That!' moment. I know several colleagues who revisited their insurance plans in the past 2 days. After all the friend we lost was supposed to have her new car delivered the same morning she had the fateful accident! Take that! Like death seemed to say to us optimists. Uncertain? Yes. Cruel? Oh yes.

And yet, like the sickening proverbial 'Show must go on.." we were back in our office formals the next day. Meetings lined up, sales figures drawn, excel sheets opened and made love with. The days were tactfully spent pushing back the thoughts of the lost one so as to have a productive working day. But its really hard to gulp down the lunch with an empty chair at the table.

Push away a thought. Pull back a memory. Linger on. Revisit good old times. Feel like a punch in the tummy. Shun that thought. Open a blank ppt. Forget what to type. Suddenly remember the last joke we cracked. Smile to self. Oh, will you concentrate on the ppt here? Just a thought. Now whom will I go to the gym with? Wonder a little. Scold self for the selfishness. All tugging of thoughts...and the mind seriously calling it a day.

You wish to cry but crying becomes an action/ function of a well identified emotion like grief or sadness and when numbness takes over, all emotions get jumbled into a big fuzz ball that the mind is better off not dealing with for the time being.

And then some time later, much later, after you have slept over the numbness a couple of times and the pain becomes more jaded and less sharper and you are just having a random conversation on a very different topic, something in you tells you it's time. To shed those tears that have been waiting for too long.You find yourself weeping mid-sentence and getting it out of your system. And indeed, good cry later you feel emotionally lighter.

You call an old friend you have been meaning to call for ages but hadn't. You talk to mom and dad (actually making 2 separate calls on their individual mobile phones.) Look up the calendar and plan a trip home. Hug someone. Eat an icecream. Cook some pasta. Sing aloud while doing so. Read some funny blogs and visit, re-visit and keep visiting here & here. And then you blog a little on this tiny blog of yours, post a post with Calvin & Hobbes title. Not because you want people to read you right away. But if you aren't there anymore some day...you don't want them to forget you.

Rest In Peace Dear Friend

20^th Feb, 2012 began like any other Monday morning. The reluctance to get out of the bed followed by getting ready while making a mental check-list of things to be done at work.

Little did we know it wasn’t just a regular every-day morning.

The news was told as soon as one stepped into the office. And that was it. Sealed with a grim confirmation. No space for doubts. Or even hope. She was gone. Just like that.

How do you say goodbye to a friend who leaves you suddenly?

How do you express that sharp sudden stab of shock, pain, horror and then grief and sadness? How do you deal with the sudden vacuum left behind?

The brain is a wonderful thing I tell you…the minute I heard the news, it went on a blank mode. I didn’t feel any pain or sadness. I even went thinking – What a lousy prank is this! She would come marching up to my seat any moment now and laugh out loud at this sick prank. The brain still thinks that’s precisely what’s going to happen.

The first time we met – she told me she hated MICAns. Can you believe her guts? And yet, she went on to become a good friend of mine. There must be something about her.

The first time I went to her place…she made me clean her house and do chores!!  [Of course, this is my version of the story! She claimed much khatirdaari!] and yet, I waited to be invited over again. There must be something about her.

She was more absent than present in the office. A hands-on field-work pro, was she; passionate about her brands and a fighter/striver to no end. We didn’t see each other for months at end. But whenever she was back, we made sure to grab our cups of coffee and warm that black couch for hours together.

We sailed the same boat. Our brand woes brought us together. We cribbed in unison. We laughed, we gossiped together. When one complained of a useless agency work, the other nodded with understanding. The lunches that extended up to an hour and the gym sessions that never quite managed to make it to one hour mark. Time spent together was time well cherished.   

There was a distinct streak of good spirit in her. I wish I could tell you what a fighter she was, in her personal and professional life. Stood by what she believed to be right. Firm and strong. And yet, she wasn’t all grown up with grown-up issues. She was a kid at heart. A devil, if you ask me. (Probably the reason why we got along so well!) She was naughty, dramatic and a certified ‘laugh out loud’-er.

How I wish I could tell myself and everyone else around that you are in a better place now. But I refuse to accept that!  You were happy here and would have never ever wanted to leave this place for a really long, long time!!  Can’t stop wondering why this had to happen.

To all those coffees that would never happen

To the black couch that would never heard your booming laughter again

To office gossips that would never be the same again

To lunches that will never stretch too long

To the office gym where I won’t see you again

To all those moments where we will now sigh and say, wish you were here now…

Will miss you my dear friend.