Seven days ago, my mother was rushed into the
Intensive Care Unit following a violent attack of seizures which led her into a
semi-comatose state. This wasn’t the first time she was admitted into a
hospital, but this indeed was the first time I was closest to losing her. Forever!!!
As the Doctors here at the Apollo Specialty Hospital, Jayanagar 3rd
Block, worked tirelessly to revive her, there were many flashes that returned
to my memory. As I write this article, she is still here however she is on the road to recovery.In this article, I’m going to share some of those moments that
left an indelible mark in my life and in more ways than one changed it.
It was the year 2002. My first two
months in Southampton were traumatic. I was struggling to understand the
intricacies of the MBA programme since it had been five years since I had
passed out of college. Trying to make sense of ‘their’ style of administering
courses means unlearning what you have already learnt in ‘our’ style. And
trust me, it wasn’t easy. Research-based methods had to take precedence over
rote-based methods. Questioning was more important than agreeing. And unlike
what we are taught here in India, there is no right or wrong answer; just
perspectives. Justify it with relevant academic and real-life theories and
instances and you get your grade.
Then there was
the guilt, bitterness and sorrow of a break-up. Not that I want to give that
too much of importance here but it was my first break-up (at the age of 24). What added to my woes was the accommodation. It wasn’t bad,
not at all but I simply was not prepared for living in a room that was the size of a matchbox. How was I going to spend an entire year in an
8X6 Room??? Add to that, some terribly noisy neighbours and ,therefore,
sleepless nights, and you have a perfect recipe for depression. Oh and I forgot
(how could I)!!!!! I had to wake up at 5 in the morning every day, to carry a
20-kg mail bag around a distant neighbourhood to deliver mail. I had to complete
the entire delivery within the hour (else, I would miss my pick-up) and then
report back to the Post office.
From a Course
viewpoint, my first assignment at class was nothing short of disaster. I had
failed. And badly. The tutors found my language to be a notch or two better
than the rest of the class but I wasn’t here to demonstrate my grip on English.
I needed to change the way thought about assignments; and the first one was a grim warning of what
lay ahead. Ever since I landed in the
United Kingdom in September 2002, I was in for one rude shock after another (thankfully,
racism wasn’t one of them). It was
around the first week of November (closer to my Birthday) that everything
changed. And there was just one person responsible for it. No prizes for
guessing who it was.
I was in the
library looking for some research material for my next assignment when I
received a call from one of my newly formed friends, “ JD! there’s a packet that’s
come for you from India. It reads from Sheila Gandhi and it’s quite big. You
might wanna come and take a look” I was elated. A packet from home meant
goodies. And if this friend of mine said it was quite big then it meant loads
of goodies. Some respite, I smiled to myself. And knowing my mom, she would
have packed it immaculately. She has always been brilliant at gift wrapping; so
much so that you wouldn’t feel like opening the gift. I had no idea whatsoever
about what lay ahead. As I opened the door to the lobby of my apartment there
stood two of my friends beaming smiles and next to them she stood. I screamed “
MOM” and gave her the tightest hug I’ve ever given anybody ever in my life. I didn’t
say a word for as long as I can remember; Neither did she. Tears flowed freely.
That moment moved even my friends and I was tempted to give them a hug as well
but NO. This moment was fiercely MINE and MINE alone.
She had taken on
travel assignment from her employer (the British Deputy High Commission) despite
having had a Kidney Transplant Operation a few months ago. Her Doctors has
advised against long distance travel for at least a year since she was prone to
infection which could easily be transmitted in Public areas such as Airports. A
new country also meant she could be susceptible to virus there. She had put
herself in a precarious situation by agreeing to travel for 3-weeks across the
length and breadth of UK to promote trade. All this, JUST to be with me. That meant we had Three weekends together.
Three memorable weekends together which changed everything.
During the
course of her stay, my friends and I were treated to her trademark masterchef
recipes. We walked all over Southampton, celebrated my birthday by going out to
one of the most posh restaurants in Southampton, visited the grave of Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle, and had many more such fantastic experiences. I realized just
how much had gone into sending me here. The sacrifices she made. The pain she
had undergone. The sheer loneliness she had to deal with. And the huge health risk
she took by coming to see me. The health worries weren’t all. In that same
year, my brother got married. For the uninitiated, Indian wedding are more
drama, pomp and superficiality than substance. But Mom being Mom, kept all of
that to a bare minimum and single-handedly took care of our family’s share of
the expenses. If that wasn’t stressful enough, imagine this: Soon after
marriage, my brother moved jobs, and as a result, moved to another city which
meant that for the first time in her life, she returned to an empty house. The
very thought is disturbing. But she did it.
As a parting
note, let’s jot down all the events that occurred in the year 2002.
a)
A Kidney Transplant in February
b)
My brothers marriage in August
along with a fracture to her right hand during the wedding
c)
My departure to the UK in September
She dealt with
all of that and of course, the trials and tribulations of daily life. And came
out on top. But then I always believed that she was Superwoman. Mere mortals
are not that capable. Ask me, I’m one J . A
mere mortal J .
