I was thinking of what to write for the past six months... Started with many things but nothing ended well... What should I say about? My life? Who need to know my life? Those who need to, they do know that. Love? Who am I to say about it? Friendship? Well, I am yet to learn it! Humour? It is a kind of lost friend to me. May be the cause of all these was that I stopped reading. There were days when I had never left a single piece of script that came across me undigested. Now I rarely read even news papers. This is the time of transition, I believe. This is the stage where I change from 'me of now' to 'me of future'.
Today I came across a post from my friend. It says like this:-
Today I came across a post from my friend. It says like this:-
'The three magic words these days are no more sorry, please and thank you.. they are replaced by 'it's ur view, i can't help it!', 'is it a problem for u?' and 'i appreciate it!'..'
The word 'sorry', when do I say? I say it almost every now and then. Its after 'I am sorry' that I think if I had done anything that was unacceptable to others. For me sorry means 'I deeply regret for the reason that I hurt you'. More than 'I have done a mistake', it more often means 'I understand, I have done something that hurts you'.
When I was doing my graduation, I used to be an active member of Pain And Palliative NGO. We used to visit patients who suffered from diseases like cancer and AIDS. We used to talk to them, their families and people who know to talk well used to make them feel better and good. But the feeling of losing life is the biggest fear that one can have. And in every house we visited, we used to see that in everyones eyes...
Dhamodharan, he was a carpenter. He was diagnosed cancer. And since that day, income of family stopped. He had a mother, wife and three year old son, Ashwin. We visited their house at a late evening of November. A small house of bricks and in courtyard, Ashwin was playing in mud. It was so gloomy inside the house as it was getting all set for death to come. As normal we talked to them, made them aware of different policies and helps they can avail, about treatment, about nursing and little 'pre-learned jokes and funs' to make them happy and simple tricks to take the whole family out of this gloomy atmosphere.Well our 'task' got completed and we returned.
One week later, I went to the same house with some medicines that our facility provides for them.. Dhamodharan was in courtyard watching his son playing in mud,
I gave medicines to Dhamodharan's wife, Sheela and told about the medicine courses. Then I talked all about current affairs, politics, sports and funs that happens in college. His mother gave me a cup of black tea with little sugar. For them, I am the only person who visits and never talk about the ugly disease,cancer. And for the same reason, they liked me. For me, I am trained to do that! While I was returning, I gave a chocolate to Ashwin, which made him so happy. Since the day his father was in bed, this kid had never tasted chocolates. Again nothing to praise me.
I became a frequent visitor to that house.Everyday I had a chew gum for my new little friend. Later, his Mother used to scold me of giving chew gum to her son:) I used to bunk college to visit Dhamodharan and his family and to have rice with curd and pickle they used to cook! I became a part of them, they became a part of mine too.
It was incurable for Dhamodharan. Cancer brought worse days and less worse days but there were no better days. He used to suffer with pain and discomfort when his wife and mother cried staying beside him and my little friend playing in mud.
On the day when Dhamodharan was taken to hospital for the last time, I was there at their home. I called my friend to get a taxi and we were waiting for it. I saw Dhamodharan in immense pain and still smiling at everyone and chanting 'I am fine. You people don't worry'. And he kept on saying that for next five minutes and at the end he suddenly burst into tears. He cried out loud, as loud as even his neighborer rushed to his house. He said, in fact the last time he spoke was this:- "I am sorry amma, to leave you alone at this age, I am so insane to leave you Sheela, widowed at this age, and my son, I am so sorry, I could do nothing as a father in your life"
Well.. now when I work for this giant IT company and on every third Wednesday when I wear the check shirt which was gifted by this poor family, I think of my role model, a carpenter, who taught me sorry means 'I care you'.
