She waits outside the ICU. The nauseating smell of the medicines,
the sole shade of white all around, the countless emotions-some of sorrow, some
of joy, some of hope, some of grief, while some of acceptance- the unperturbed
emotion when you have lost all hope but are waiting for that silver lining. Hers
is the latter. I give her a reassuring smile. She tries not to be rude,
immerses herself back into her diary and continues to write. I assume it is the
list of medicines, diet charts and all the other formalities that come with a
hospitalization. There are kites flying outside, I try to remember the date. They
call out her name. She moves inside, like a daily routine, without a spark in
her eyes, without a smile on her face. As she hands me over her diary, it doesn’t
have any lists or charts. Instead, it reads:
14th Jan,
2017: I was 5 then. It was Makar Sankranti. I ran up the spiraling staircase,
up to the highest point in my Nana’s terrace- balloons in one hand, doctor
tapes bandaged on my fingers-lest the manjha
cut through them and gazed at the bright sun-naked eyed, feeling its warmth on
a chilly winter morning. I was the 1st one up there, the entire
terrace to myself. I ran around in excitement; a big, red kite in one hand,
flying a little above me as I ran and the balloons in another. Suddenly, I left
the balloons-intentionally or accidentally, I didn’t know. And as I saw them
fly up in the sky, higher than any of the kites, trickled down a tear- a
realization that those balloons were never to come back to me. They were gone
forever. I don’t know what forever meant for me back then-an hour…or 2…or maybe
4…maybe 1 day.
20 years have passed since then. Colourful helium balloons
still remind me of that 14th of January when I first learnt to let
go-to cherish happiness till it lasts, to deal with anger, denial and sadness;
when I learnt to accept the circumstances.
Circumstances-face
them, they say. They only make you stronger. But somehow, today, I don’t want
to face them. Today I want to be free. Just for today, I want to be free. Like
my kite soaring high up in the sky-I want to be free. I want to free myself
from the shackles of responsibilities, expectations and duties and fly
free-reach the clouds, shout out loud-whether in mirth or in grief, I don’t
know; laugh without any worries that bind me; I want to cry out even louder to
lighten the burden off my shoulders. Today I want to be free. Is this escapism?
Am I shirking away from my duty? Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But today I wish I
don’t have to think about it. Today, I only wish to be free. Today I don’t want
to pass a smile because I must, I don’t want to forgive because I am obliged
to, I don’t want to talk because I have to and I don’t want to listen because I
don’t have a choice. ‘Be brave’, ‘Be
strong’, they tell me in times of despair. ‘This too shall pass’, ‘Take care of yourself. Don’t worry’, they
console. But today, I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to hold back my
tears and I don’t want anybody to say ‘it
will be all right’. The uncertainty frightens me-it holds me down, it ties
my feet and forces me to wait. It is like the winds gushing, pushing my kite in
all directions as it tries to rise higher, they refrain it from flying higher. But
I hold on…I don’t want to let go…the manjha
cuts through my fingers, I don’t want to use those doctor tapes today, the pain
doesn’t bother me anymore-I just want to reach the sun. Today, I just want to
be free.
The kites have a tough fight up there, the strings are
entangled like our thoughts- each trying to prove himself, each trying to win. My
mind travels back to the ICU room. She lies there, stable, unresponsive, in a
deep sleep. It’s been 5 days since we came here. How many more? It was almost 3
years ago. It was a class debate- ‘The
Agony of Aruna & the Law of Euthanasia’. Imageries of that day flash
before my eyes. ‘Who decides?’ I had questioned. ‘Who decides whether a person
has a right to live or to die? Who decides whether a person is leading a life
worth living?’ My stance was firm. In a poised, unperturbed manner, practical
manner, they retorted. That day, emotions won over practicality. That day we
won. But today, as I see her lying there, still, motionless, the numerous devices
chiding her, I ask them, ‘What if we withdrew them all? What if we decide to
leave her here? What if we simply stop the treatment? What are we achieving by
dragging this longer?’ As I fight the battle between the head and the heart,
dreading to say that word, they ridicule, ‘Euthanasia is still a crime. Let nature
take its course.’ With tears in my eyes, I pray, ‘Put an end to this forever.’ This
time, however, forever does not mean 1 day. Today, I don’t want to win. Today, I
wish her life was like one of those gas balloons that I could let go of. Today I
wish they tell me what I don’t want to hear.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a peaceful sleep. It’s
been days since I have fallen asleep staring at the starred sky and dreamt of
the fairies. I wish to sleep that way again. I wish to be free again. I will do
all my duties tomorrow. I will fulfill all my responsibilities tomorrow. But just
for today, I wish to be free. Just for today, I wish to sleep beside her,
holding her hand tight, like I did when I was a kid. I had woken up from a bad
dream, I was scared. She caressed my forehead, told me that it would be morning
soon, that the darkness would soon go away, and that as long as she held my
hand, I had nothing to fear. Today, I am scared. I want to hold her hand. I want
her to speak to me. Just for today, I want to run with my kite flying high,
without the fear of it getting entangled. Just for today, I want to be free
again.
As she stepped outside the ICU, her face was still
unperturbed. Words were too meager to give her comfort. As I handed over her
diary, I couldn’t help but notice a small note that she had written 5 days ago.
It read:
10th Jan, 2017:
‘It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a
single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime’
-The Kite Runner
-The Kite Runner
I didn’t ask her anything;
neither did I want to know anything more. I couldn’t reassure her anymore.
The boys yelled loudly in victory,
their kite had won the battle. But hers was still entangled in that little room
of the ICU.
