As I sit here to pen down my story, I find myself staring at this blank sheet of paper. I play some music to sit in the mood to write. Jonita Gandhi’s rendition to “ Suhani Raat” and “Chaudhvi Ka Chand” gradually blends with the quietness of my room. As I try to indulge in deep thought trying to open the pages of my life’s story. I am suddenly taken back to the year 2007 which marks as a very important year in my life.
I cannot recall the exact moment still but can only visualize my old bedroom with walls painted in pink and purple, my bed, the wind chime with a boat made of clay and gloomy breeze hitting my window pane. I am lying on the bed, unable to move, my back pinned to the mattress of my bed. It has been nine long months of my prolonged illness and my mind feels numb. After months of doctor hunting, wrong diagnoses of my chronic abdominal pain. It was a relief when I was finally operated out of appendicitis. But this relief seemed short lived, as God decided to continue the thrill until I was hit by a football, a week later after my operation, at school. The consequences were astounding to me, as I could not sit for more than five minutes, from the very next day.
I can still feel the gloominess in the warm air of those days, when I was bed ridden for almost three months again. My body felt like a corpse, all settled to the hard wooden planks of my bed, without mattress. It was not the physical pain I was going through but the mental trauma that seeped in, through my brain to the rest of my body. It was not easy for a daughter to see her parents weep almost every day. It was not easy for her either to bear with the fact of knowing how the financial flow of her family was draining in her treatment. The guilt of being an unproductive being, enclosed within four walls killed me every moment. The schedule those days would be very monotonous. It started with my parents going to their respective workplaces, my brother would leave for school and I would settle down on my bed with my hot water bag, with a care taker to serve me if needed anything.
I have never been quite a thinker all my life, until the almighty decided to present this finest episode to my so-called normal life. I was not realizing how the nasty hands of pessimism were gradually choking me hard into the tunnel of hopelessness. I had hours, days, weeks and months of complete emptiness which was enough to feel worse about my state. It was no less than being vegetative in nature. I was uprooted from a hyperactive life of dance, music, swimming, chatting, and studying to a complete inactive, stagnant state. It was not easy for me to accept this unusual offering.
I considered myself lucky to have a bunch of good friends in school, who would dance along, take part with me in any assignments and co-curricular activities during my healthy days. I never could imagine a day without them around me. But a day did dawn upon me, when they appeared to have betrayed me from all possible sides. This doomed on me, when I had received a phone call from my so-called closest friend from school. I dragged myself out of the bed towards the phone receiver, hoping to listen to the updates from school. To my surprise, my friend had called to inform me that everyone in class was conspiring against me. Now, to the question why they did so, I myself was bewildered to learn the reality. My classmates did not like the fact that I was not attending regular classes, but was allowed to get promoted based on my previous academic performance, which was consistent throughout. According to my batch mates, I was a coward to have taken advantage
of the fact that I was a “teacher’s daughter” in school. This struck me real bad at that tender age. I went into this cocoon of depression. For an adolescent’s heart, this was enough to take and my physical inability made me a handicapped person mentally as well.
I would spend hours crying alone, it was hard to swallow the bitterness of losing my friends, of being misunderstood. At the heat of that moment I finally decided to appear for my exams despite being bed ridden. By then, I had already missed six months of classes from the beginning of my abdominal pain, appendicitis operation until this corpse-like state of being. My family played a major role in preparing me for my upcoming exams which was almost like a challenge to overcome. My mother and my little brother would read out every subject to me while I would listen to it, trying hard to concentrate on each word spoken. Until then, I was a terrible auditory learner, but by God’s grace I managed to brace myself. The auditory lessons would include all possible subjects, from the rule of Hitler, to Sylvia Plath’s poetry and to add cherry on the top, it would also include mathematics! And finally the day had arrived when I was taken to the examination scheduled in the sick room with a bed for me to write my papers. I was blessed to have all my teachers around me, who came to see me with flowers and chocolates. They were quite empathizing to a teenage soul which would induce great courage while I would write the papers. My eyes would constantly roll towards the door, looking out for at least one friend from my group. To my utter surprise, none of them turned up to pay a visit. There would be a handful of them, whom I never considered so close, but they stayed with me forever.
The distress even worsened when I found myself stagnant for a long time after that. My passion for dance and singing was at halt. I could not appear for my dance and singing examination. Doctors prohibited me from continuing dance in the near future. Being inactive was never my cup of tea, and this fact broke me into pieces every moment. As my body was firm to stiffness of the wooden bed, my mind had taken its rough course. It would just not stop working. To my surprise, it could never welcome anything optimistic. It was then, when I began to reach any possible worse conclusions to any life event that came my way. I was feeling helpless, unable to do anything, was this it? Was this my end? As my friends were out, breathing the fresh air of their teenage years, dancing, singing and having fun, I was left with my own thoughts which never grew on time. I felt I had missed out a lot in the past few months. I never knew that this psychological turmoil would trigger the physical pain to such an extent. I was blinded; I couldn’t see a ray of hope rising from optimism. After a while I was taken to Hospitals in the town where my actual diagnosis was done. They concluded that the football that hit my lower back had caused major muscular spasm out of the sudden shock I had received. I was thereby, advised some weeks of physiotherapy and had been given a portable therapy kit for regular use. This did not end my pain. I was undergoing the same pain when I was suggested homeopathy with acupuncture. This treatment worked wonders to great extent. My back had lost sensations to needle poking me from all directions, but the regular conversations I had with my doctor worked as Talk Therapy to me. He would tell me about his passion of writing scripts for movies and I would tell him how I liked dancing and singing. I never knew, I had been so quiet about my psychological conflicts with my family and friends. I never spoke my heart but the regular sessions of seeing someone else describing their passion was a good change for me.
My mother, during that time had been a constant support. She would read out stories of great people and their lives.Like any girl of that age, I did have fantasies of my prince charming. Though I missed out a lot of time being inside the house, always under supervision, this certainly had to happen to me. And then, it all started very unusually. I used to know him since I was in my 8th standard, when I would get to see him in my Math tuitions. Oh! I really was scared of numbers at that point of time but I don’t regret it further because you know, I would miss this opportunity to meet him in life. Well, I was the one bullied around in tuitions as I was the only poor girl soul in a group of almost ten boys. And those days, I would be those geeky, anti-boys sort of a person and he would be the only one I would talk to. He would have this different side to him, when he would be so gentle and caring towards me. Our friendship started when I started helping him buy gifts for his so-called girlfriend whom he had met only once in two years. Well, that was a great deal at that time! Sadly, even after knowing each other for three long years, we never did realize we had some feelings for each other. It all began, when I gradually started missing on my tuition routine because of the sudden decline of my health. Those days, we never had the privilege to own a cell phone to keep in touch nor were we brave enough to exchange our landline numbers. One fine day, after three months of missing tuitions, I receive an email from some random email address. Surprised was I to have learnt that it was from him. And the story continued from then. We would keep in touch through emails. Every single day I would drag myself to the computer and read his emails. This kept me going for a very long time. It was this sudden ray of hope, care and a happy feeling to know that someone did care for me or there was someone to whom I could talk to. Gradually, I started attending school and finally appeared my boards from the same class were I would notice betrayal from all sides. But I won’t deny that I had made a handful of close buddies who are still in my life. Luckily my childhood friend Liza was with me in the same class and we turned out to be the best of friends till date. While I was breathing in some fresh air finally in my final year in school, some story was also cooking in my tuitions with him. We had only three month left to part, as we would be ending our math tuitions for good and the realization was gradually seeping in. It was sad how we finally told each other our feelings only on the last day of tuitions. I thought he hadn’t told the other girl about us but to my surprise he had ended things a year ago. I was so overwhelmed and blessed with the feeling of loving someone for the first time. The three years of writing, meeting in stationery shops to have a glance of each other, or perhaps meeting at a friend’s birthday party were all such beautiful moments I did enjoy.
As I left home, I promised myself to deny all my worries, pain and health issues for a while. I wanted to do everything I had missed in those gloomy years of my past life. I wanted to dance, sing, write, act and do everything possible. And I really immersed myself into it. By now I had learnt how to cope with my pain. I still hold regrets of the past, but I don’t feel like an under achiever anymore.
People now, complain of me being anxious, or a workaholic. But within me, I know they cannot be blamed as they would never understand what I have lost in life to be this way. I know I have perhaps undermined my peaceful instincts in this course, but you cannot satisfy or get everything the right way, can you? Today, when I look around I see accomplishment, I see joy and I see what I will do further because I know I have grown as a person, self- reliant and independent as what I always wanted to be. I still have my wonderful parents, whom I could finally prove myself, a loving little brother, a genuine group of friends, that same love of my life and I have myself. It feels so great to know, and learn from our pasts and nourish our present. I still feel that I am a learner, a curious explorer who would take every opportunity to live life my own way and in my own little world. At the end of the day, it is only you who can become the architect of your own life and your conscience will guide you everywhere when you follow your own dreams. Life is indeed very beautiful so far, and I consider this to be the prelude to a new beginning…….
You too need to learn from your past (as though coming in terms with your past isn’t work enough.) But one must also learn to make the best out of worst. Life is not always a bed of roses, there will be thorns there will be cuts and wounds and you will bleed, but instead of sobbing over your wounds, make them your life’s lessons and use them as a ladder to climb up to great heights. Let no failure put you down, let no one be able to command over you.
I cannot recall the exact moment still but can only visualize my old bedroom with walls painted in pink and purple, my bed, the wind chime with a boat made of clay and gloomy breeze hitting my window pane. I am lying on the bed, unable to move, my back pinned to the mattress of my bed. It has been nine long months of my prolonged illness and my mind feels numb. After months of doctor hunting, wrong diagnoses of my chronic abdominal pain. It was a relief when I was finally operated out of appendicitis. But this relief seemed short lived, as God decided to continue the thrill until I was hit by a football, a week later after my operation, at school. The consequences were astounding to me, as I could not sit for more than five minutes, from the very next day.
I can still feel the gloominess in the warm air of those days, when I was bed ridden for almost three months again. My body felt like a corpse, all settled to the hard wooden planks of my bed, without mattress. It was not the physical pain I was going through but the mental trauma that seeped in, through my brain to the rest of my body. It was not easy for a daughter to see her parents weep almost every day. It was not easy for her either to bear with the fact of knowing how the financial flow of her family was draining in her treatment. The guilt of being an unproductive being, enclosed within four walls killed me every moment. The schedule those days would be very monotonous. It started with my parents going to their respective workplaces, my brother would leave for school and I would settle down on my bed with my hot water bag, with a care taker to serve me if needed anything.
I have never been quite a thinker all my life, until the almighty decided to present this finest episode to my so-called normal life. I was not realizing how the nasty hands of pessimism were gradually choking me hard into the tunnel of hopelessness. I had hours, days, weeks and months of complete emptiness which was enough to feel worse about my state. It was no less than being vegetative in nature. I was uprooted from a hyperactive life of dance, music, swimming, chatting, and studying to a complete inactive, stagnant state. It was not easy for me to accept this unusual offering.
I considered myself lucky to have a bunch of good friends in school, who would dance along, take part with me in any assignments and co-curricular activities during my healthy days. I never could imagine a day without them around me. But a day did dawn upon me, when they appeared to have betrayed me from all possible sides. This doomed on me, when I had received a phone call from my so-called closest friend from school. I dragged myself out of the bed towards the phone receiver, hoping to listen to the updates from school. To my surprise, my friend had called to inform me that everyone in class was conspiring against me. Now, to the question why they did so, I myself was bewildered to learn the reality. My classmates did not like the fact that I was not attending regular classes, but was allowed to get promoted based on my previous academic performance, which was consistent throughout. According to my batch mates, I was a coward to have taken advantage
of the fact that I was a “teacher’s daughter” in school. This struck me real bad at that tender age. I went into this cocoon of depression. For an adolescent’s heart, this was enough to take and my physical inability made me a handicapped person mentally as well.
I would spend hours crying alone, it was hard to swallow the bitterness of losing my friends, of being misunderstood. At the heat of that moment I finally decided to appear for my exams despite being bed ridden. By then, I had already missed six months of classes from the beginning of my abdominal pain, appendicitis operation until this corpse-like state of being. My family played a major role in preparing me for my upcoming exams which was almost like a challenge to overcome. My mother and my little brother would read out every subject to me while I would listen to it, trying hard to concentrate on each word spoken. Until then, I was a terrible auditory learner, but by God’s grace I managed to brace myself. The auditory lessons would include all possible subjects, from the rule of Hitler, to Sylvia Plath’s poetry and to add cherry on the top, it would also include mathematics! And finally the day had arrived when I was taken to the examination scheduled in the sick room with a bed for me to write my papers. I was blessed to have all my teachers around me, who came to see me with flowers and chocolates. They were quite empathizing to a teenage soul which would induce great courage while I would write the papers. My eyes would constantly roll towards the door, looking out for at least one friend from my group. To my utter surprise, none of them turned up to pay a visit. There would be a handful of them, whom I never considered so close, but they stayed with me forever.
The distress even worsened when I found myself stagnant for a long time after that. My passion for dance and singing was at halt. I could not appear for my dance and singing examination. Doctors prohibited me from continuing dance in the near future. Being inactive was never my cup of tea, and this fact broke me into pieces every moment. As my body was firm to stiffness of the wooden bed, my mind had taken its rough course. It would just not stop working. To my surprise, it could never welcome anything optimistic. It was then, when I began to reach any possible worse conclusions to any life event that came my way. I was feeling helpless, unable to do anything, was this it? Was this my end? As my friends were out, breathing the fresh air of their teenage years, dancing, singing and having fun, I was left with my own thoughts which never grew on time. I felt I had missed out a lot in the past few months. I never knew that this psychological turmoil would trigger the physical pain to such an extent. I was blinded; I couldn’t see a ray of hope rising from optimism. After a while I was taken to Hospitals in the town where my actual diagnosis was done. They concluded that the football that hit my lower back had caused major muscular spasm out of the sudden shock I had received. I was thereby, advised some weeks of physiotherapy and had been given a portable therapy kit for regular use. This did not end my pain. I was undergoing the same pain when I was suggested homeopathy with acupuncture. This treatment worked wonders to great extent. My back had lost sensations to needle poking me from all directions, but the regular conversations I had with my doctor worked as Talk Therapy to me. He would tell me about his passion of writing scripts for movies and I would tell him how I liked dancing and singing. I never knew, I had been so quiet about my psychological conflicts with my family and friends. I never spoke my heart but the regular sessions of seeing someone else describing their passion was a good change for me.
My mother, during that time had been a constant support. She would read out stories of great people and their lives.Like any girl of that age, I did have fantasies of my prince charming. Though I missed out a lot of time being inside the house, always under supervision, this certainly had to happen to me. And then, it all started very unusually. I used to know him since I was in my 8th standard, when I would get to see him in my Math tuitions. Oh! I really was scared of numbers at that point of time but I don’t regret it further because you know, I would miss this opportunity to meet him in life. Well, I was the one bullied around in tuitions as I was the only poor girl soul in a group of almost ten boys. And those days, I would be those geeky, anti-boys sort of a person and he would be the only one I would talk to. He would have this different side to him, when he would be so gentle and caring towards me. Our friendship started when I started helping him buy gifts for his so-called girlfriend whom he had met only once in two years. Well, that was a great deal at that time! Sadly, even after knowing each other for three long years, we never did realize we had some feelings for each other. It all began, when I gradually started missing on my tuition routine because of the sudden decline of my health. Those days, we never had the privilege to own a cell phone to keep in touch nor were we brave enough to exchange our landline numbers. One fine day, after three months of missing tuitions, I receive an email from some random email address. Surprised was I to have learnt that it was from him. And the story continued from then. We would keep in touch through emails. Every single day I would drag myself to the computer and read his emails. This kept me going for a very long time. It was this sudden ray of hope, care and a happy feeling to know that someone did care for me or there was someone to whom I could talk to. Gradually, I started attending school and finally appeared my boards from the same class were I would notice betrayal from all sides. But I won’t deny that I had made a handful of close buddies who are still in my life. Luckily my childhood friend Liza was with me in the same class and we turned out to be the best of friends till date. While I was breathing in some fresh air finally in my final year in school, some story was also cooking in my tuitions with him. We had only three month left to part, as we would be ending our math tuitions for good and the realization was gradually seeping in. It was sad how we finally told each other our feelings only on the last day of tuitions. I thought he hadn’t told the other girl about us but to my surprise he had ended things a year ago. I was so overwhelmed and blessed with the feeling of loving someone for the first time. The three years of writing, meeting in stationery shops to have a glance of each other, or perhaps meeting at a friend’s birthday party were all such beautiful moments I did enjoy.
Well,things were fine until my parents had finally discovered my love for him. I never did realize this feeling would turn into guilt every moment. Perhaps, that was parental apprehensions, but I still believe they could have been little gentle on me. I was torn between loving someone and proving myself at every sphere of life. It did leave scars on me, of carrying the guilt of being a bad daughter. I had always looked up to my parents. Be it their own beautiful love story, their struggle behind it and how they managed to live their lives as they always wanted, together. I was weaving my own such dream at that tender age, and I thought they would understand me but they had failed. This might sound not a great deal from an adult perspective but it did have a grave impact on a teenager, who had already faced a lot in that age. I was in turmoil of what to do and what not to. I wanted to prove myself through my results, co-curricular activities and I certainlydid. I guess it wasn’t enough for them and they always had this apprehension in their minds that I might go wrong in life if I welcome such a feeling to grow. It would hurt me bad when they would blame me, question me for no reason but I did not have an answer to it. Somehow, I would be patient, sobbing deep within, hoping for things to get better in the future. My little brother would always be on my side, caressing me, assuring me for a bright day that will come very soon. All this while, the love never stood halted but grew mutually in time. We both grew up as matured individuals and built our mind strong to reach heights and make our lives beautiful together.
I wanted something real for myself. I was looking for something that I could start from scratch on my own. It was then, when I decided to step out of my comfort zone. While all my friends were going for Delhi University for their degree courses, I decided to choose a path not taken by all. I found myself in Bangalore, which is my second home now. Life has taken its own course since then. A girl who had been so dependent in life, always under supervision, narrowed in her thoughts was now willing to explore her new world. I learnt every inch of my life since then, on my own. I had bitter and sweet experiences throughout. But my life would not have been this beautiful without either of it. Being in the hostel taught me a lot. I had had experiences of fighting rats, gulping local food for breakfast to making good friends in and around me.
I wanted something real for myself. I was looking for something that I could start from scratch on my own. It was then, when I decided to step out of my comfort zone. While all my friends were going for Delhi University for their degree courses, I decided to choose a path not taken by all. I found myself in Bangalore, which is my second home now. Life has taken its own course since then. A girl who had been so dependent in life, always under supervision, narrowed in her thoughts was now willing to explore her new world. I learnt every inch of my life since then, on my own. I had bitter and sweet experiences throughout. But my life would not have been this beautiful without either of it. Being in the hostel taught me a lot. I had had experiences of fighting rats, gulping local food for breakfast to making good friends in and around me.
As I left home, I promised myself to deny all my worries, pain and health issues for a while. I wanted to do everything I had missed in those gloomy years of my past life. I wanted to dance, sing, write, act and do everything possible. And I really immersed myself into it. By now I had learnt how to cope with my pain. I still hold regrets of the past, but I don’t feel like an under achiever anymore.
People now, complain of me being anxious, or a workaholic. But within me, I know they cannot be blamed as they would never understand what I have lost in life to be this way. I know I have perhaps undermined my peaceful instincts in this course, but you cannot satisfy or get everything the right way, can you? Today, when I look around I see accomplishment, I see joy and I see what I will do further because I know I have grown as a person, self- reliant and independent as what I always wanted to be. I still have my wonderful parents, whom I could finally prove myself, a loving little brother, a genuine group of friends, that same love of my life and I have myself. It feels so great to know, and learn from our pasts and nourish our present. I still feel that I am a learner, a curious explorer who would take every opportunity to live life my own way and in my own little world. At the end of the day, it is only you who can become the architect of your own life and your conscience will guide you everywhere when you follow your own dreams. Life is indeed very beautiful so far, and I consider this to be the prelude to a new beginning…….
You too need to learn from your past (as though coming in terms with your past isn’t work enough.) But one must also learn to make the best out of worst. Life is not always a bed of roses, there will be thorns there will be cuts and wounds and you will bleed, but instead of sobbing over your wounds, make them your life’s lessons and use them as a ladder to climb up to great heights. Let no failure put you down, let no one be able to command over you.
30th June 2014
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