Chemo-22 yesterday - Love for Life

I watched her dance for more than half-an-hour. Her mudras, expressions in her eyes, nimble movements matching the mellowed music made me lost in a world of unknown joy. It was as though I was lost in time and pacing up towards a new horizon. After a long pause, over a coffee, she offered me a book with vintage photographs of dancers of yesteryear. I browsed through a couple of pages. I did not notice that she had been noticing my eyes until I raised mine and glanced her with a sigh of inner satisfaction. "I think you are trying to connect to the art deeply", she quipped intently. "Am I?" I blurted out as though some one caught my moods instantly, after a brief embarrassing pause. I closed the book and walked towards the wide balcony that overlooked the city's skyline punctuated with a streams of greenery. I just felt the cool breezes of the late evening. Does art touch my heart? Why does it make me still inside? Does it stall my world for some time? What is its power that amazingly have a numbing effect on my external senses? I lost in my own array of thoughts when I felt her beside me with her hand around my waist and head leaning on my shoulder. I could feel the dance of her strand of hair on my neck. I preferred not to move since I wanted that feel of dance from her. Every part of her. I extended my hand on her waist. The Sun went behind the clouds as though He wanted to let us have our private world amidst the gentle breezes. Moments later, she left me and stood leaning against the railing looking at me intensely as though she was searching for some unknown images in my eyes of the vast expanse of the scenery before me. I smiled at her. She reciprocated gently. "I do not know what I love you for", she blushed. I smiled again as though I was waiting for a better answer for her own question. "But I do, really. I mean it." She took my hand, caressed it for a while after planting a gentle kiss on it. I took her in my arms and stood there. For long enough to let my heart talk to hers. Lump in throat. Arcs of tears in the corners of eyes. Clouds of happiness.

***

A good night's sleep revved up my moods on Monday morning preparing me for another session of chemotherapy. The day's moods were wonderful until I got to feel a mild and a brief dizziness associated with the suffusion of the chemotherapy drugs in my blood. The day's blood test showed improved blood counts (see the spike in the attached chart) and the weather salubrious. Oh, what a day it was!

***

My doctor, Dr.Niti, attended me when I was in my bed waiting for the standard regimen of medicines to be infused. She looked satisfied with the tolerance of my body towards the cruel therapy! And, only worry apparently for her was the presence of rashes on my face for which she simply commented,"He is sensitive to the medicine!" :) It had been quite a while since I saw my doctor. I usually look at the level of confidence in her eyes for my position and gauge the situation for myself and for my disease. It was a nice feeling to see the normality in her eyes. Elated!

***

"But the hospital records show you are married!", commented Ms.D'souza, the clinical psychologist, to my answer that I am now not in married status! I was meeting her for the first time in my entire spell of the treatment! Her smile was infectious and her eyes were beaming with a faint radiance as though she just had had a revelation!

"Oh, you s-e-parated?", her voice almost murmured in a hush.

It was a sort of an embarrassing moment for me. For the first time in a long period, I was forced to rub the wound that I was trying to ignore, forget and forgive in my emotional space. I was not used to the kind of reaction that I was expected to express for this disconcerting question on a personal issue that left me scarred and wounded for a long and tough time.

"Yes!", I responded in the similar hush. A well thought out and cautious response that was as though I was trying to defend my self from the hurt that it caused.

Ms.D'souza left me at that apparently sensing the economy of my guarded response. She then proceeded on a familiar turf of positive reinforcements that I had to have at these tough times. I listened to her intently not to disturb her train of thoughts and finally she returned after listening to my reassuring words for self and after seeing my stop-worrying-start-living attitude!

***

The standard regimen followed with the nursing staff attending to me in their usual business. The infusion of Irinotecan for around three hours was a bit boring time and made me sleep for a while. The sudden humidity in the ward woke me up and made me to listen to the conversations from the neighborhood on the vagaries of the chemotherapy and other corrective treatments for the suffering patients.

This time, last year, was the most tumultuous phase of my disease with excruciating pain and indescribable suffering. I moved to the current phase of improving quality of life with vengeance and change of attitude with the external support system of family and friends and the internal system of spiritual and psychological discipline. The way forward would probably tough, but I am all geared up to accept the life as it is and to take the challenges in my own way. I wanted to scream to the sufferers that this phase too shall pass and every one of them will live life royally!

***

It was almost 8:30 PM when I plopped down in the back seat of the cab revving towards my home. I almost was lost in my plans for the next few days - meeting a college mate who had flown in from Hyderabad for an official trip, having a get-together with other college mates in the honor of the visiting friend, taking my nephews and nieces to Coffee Day's local outlet, buying the writing paraphernalia including a set of ink pens, a good pen stand and couple of writing sheets, shopping for summer kurtas, completing the book that I am currently reading, catching up with a Kolkata colleague on phone on his impending trip to US and replying to a loving message in Facebook from an old friend.

Amid the beaming radio voices, I could hear her words, "Are you worried?"

Surprised at the sudden question, I replied,"Why, no!"

"I feel great for you." Her simple answer for my reply after a brief moment of pause.

Khaamosh, ai dil! bharii mehfil mein chillaanaa nahiin achchhaa,
adab pahalaa qariinaa hai mohabbat ke qariinon mein
- Mohammad Iqbal

I looked out of the partly downed window. The flowers in the traffic islands smiled and waved at me. I smiled at them, they shook their petals for me. One of them dropped to touch the moist grass below sensitively. With love. And care. Hitherto unknown. What a world. Oh! what a beauty!