by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 26, 2006 | Uncategorized
My mother died of cancer. Many do. The difference was that she stubbornly refused all form of treatment. She bore her excruciating pain with rare courage. Life had to be lived till the very last breath was her leitmotiv, and she did, remarkably alive as she quietly died.
She could have had the best treatment and at least the most sophisticated pain killers, but somehow she refused them all. For many years after her death I battled with ifs and buts and ceaseless torment. My demons were only set to rest when I met a leading oncologist who shared his view about terminal diseases with me.
Dr de Souza had been with Bombay’s leading cancer institute for many years and has held a unique discourse to many patients and their families who come remote parts of India. Strangely enough he has ofter sent them back, counselling them not to spent their meagre resources or sell their last possessions for a treatment that will never cure the disease. One must remember that the poor only come to such specialised institutes when the disease is too far gone. His advise is to take care of the living and their future rather than fight a lost battle. Instead of hospitals he set up hospices so that the terminally ill could be cared for, and the family find some support.
All this came back from some recess of my brain as I made sense of our poor little Nanhe’s mom was trying to convey. She had just been told that both Nanhe’s kidneys had packed up and that his only chance of survival was a kidney transplant. I wish he had just taken the Dr de Souza way and sent her home with the right advise, no matter how harsh and cruel it sounded as what awaited her was even worse.
The doctors who gave her this unreachable ray of hope knew Nanhe’s condition and what awaited him. They were aware of the fact that even if he got a kidney he would never walk, never comprehend the world and never be able to survive. One is not even thinking of the innumerable obstacles that exist on the way to an organ donation. To rid themselves of the constant nagging of a loving mother, they just told her to buy a kidney at the cost of Rs 100000. Maybe they thought she would be scared away by the astronomical figure, but they forgot they were dealing with a mother.
But we know we are.
But how does one tell a mother that there is nothing much that can be done for little Nanhe. How do we tell her that her son is slowly getting ready to move on to another and hopefully better world. How do we explain to her that what the doctors have said were empty words, and that for this one time ever a mother’s prayer will not be heard.
We have had many a difficult moments, bu this is one that defies them all as where does one find the words to say that Nanhe’s smile is today in real danger?
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 25, 2006 | Uncategorized
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The world celebrated Xmas. In a tiny lane of an urban slum in Delhi a bunch of very special kids did too. Just like children all over the world they wanted a Xmas tree and nothing could stop them.
Nothing to write home about, some would say, but what if I told you that each and every child in this little group is different: some have remarkable minds locked away in useless bodies while others try to make sense of the world with limited means. Some are condemned to a world of silence while others live in immobility. Oops I forgot to tell you that all of them have never known the thrill of opening a present and have only survived on hand me downs!
But somehow the Xmas spirit is such that it breaks down all barriers so we were not surprised when we saw them storming to the terrace in search of a potted plant, any one would do. In the most remarkable example of cooperative effort and armed with bits of papers, cloth and heavens knows what else, they set out to create the most beautiful tree I have ever seen. True it broke all conventions, but while doing so it set its very own and these seemed closer to the Xmas spirit.
This tree was imbued with the purest form of joy, it was one that needed no borrowed trimming or expensive decoration, even a discarded old white sock looked pretty as it dangled in the blowing wind and as they proudly posed for the customary picture, the air was redolent with the abundance of giving that emanated from this humble tree.
I do not know whether anyone of them knew about Xmas and its significance, but somehow they had intuitively grasped its ever essence.
Isn’t that what xmas is all about!
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 16, 2006 | Uncategorized
Imagine my surprise when a mail dropped by this morning from another land asking me whether I would give a motivational talk to the staff of a big organisation. The reason stated for choosing me was my can-do-never-say-die spirit.
The idea was daunting, particularly for one who has never liked centre stage. In spite of what some may believe, my tryst with the media was short lived as I realised that for most of them, one was just a good story, and my illusion that it had a role to play in making a difference was just that: an illusion. I just carried on my work strong in the belief that there was a reason to it, and as long as the reason remained, solutions would come.
Project why has been a one day at a time saga, often making it difficult if not impossible to really define its ambit. True we are an education support organisation but we also.. and the list becomes endless, as one takes on every challenge that comes our way and find a way out.
I wonder whether this is what comes out as a can-do-never-say-die attitude.
When I look back on the seven years of pwhy I must say in hindsight that there are many times when normal circumstances would have made one give up, or say no, or look away, I just know that I could not have.
How do you turn away from the wondrous eyes filled with pain that look at you from a scalded one year old baby, how do you send away a limping brave but worn out father who desperately seeks your help to fix his son’s heart, or a mother who knows her child is dying?
Do you walk away when you know that your detractors want just that, knowing that in doing so you are trampling the dreams of so many children? Never mind the allegations, the broken tents, the bulldozed classrooms? Do you leave children to the jaws of predators lurking to suck them into their dark world just because of a threat? Do you give the complex administrative machinery the satisfaction of wearing you down to the point of saying, I am better off not doing anything.
It is not a never-say-die attitude. To me it is simply the only way worthy of anyone one with a modicum of a conscience. Anything else would have been not acceptable. So if I am to go and share the last seven years, it would be simply to say that sometimes it is not easy to be true to the little voice you hear inside you, one just has to and the doors open for you.
That is what the miracle call life is all about.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 9, 2006 | Uncategorized
A few days back we had made some courtesy calls, to find out about the well being of some of our children.
This morning, little Deepak made his return courtesy call. It was a very special moment for all of us. He came in his grand mom’s arms but soon decide to show us all he could do with his brand new heart!
He pranced around, giggled and even marked his territory. Our thoughts went back to the days where we could see his tiny chest heaving as every breath he took was a almost Herculean effort.
As I watched him I wondered what would become of him in the years to come. I really cannot imagine as in spite of all odds a host of possibilities await him.
I can however visualise what would have happened if his surgery had not been done. He would have lived a few short years, heaving and panting till his tiny broken heart would have given up.
It took very little to make the difference, just a few caring hearts.
To all those of you who have helped us repair broken hearts a big thank you.
by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2006 | Uncategorized
In times when nets and cell phone proliferate, making courtesy calls is almost an aberration. There was a time when paying a call was the only way to get the news you sought. Oddly, in some cases it remains at times the only way at our disposal.
Three calls needed to be made: one to enquire about a lost smile, the other to our cerulean boy, and the third to a mother who needed to be admonished.
So we set off in the watery sun of a winter morning. The first stop was at Nanhe’s in search of the elusive smile. We found him a tad better, but no sign of the smile. His body was less swollen though the pain was still visible on his face. On checking the hospital papers we were horrified to se that his weight was a mere 15 kilos, a stark reminder of the fact that he had barely eaten for the last two weeks. His brave mom filled the silence by telling us that the doctor had asked her to come by this afternoon to get a date for the operation. We realised that what was comingin the way of the surgery was the poor condition he was in.
A few mental notes were made by all of us: get some liquid food supplements, provide transport for the hospital visits, get his teachers to come by and sit with him. None of us spoke as we left him. We had not found the smile.
The nest stop was to see deepak who we were told had come home. As news of our arrival traveled fast, we were met by Deepak himself in the arms of his much relieved grandma. We were happy to see him as gone was the blue hue that had worried us so much. He was as pink as can be and gratified us with a huge smile. The only reminder of his 7 months ordeal was a scar that began almost at the base of his throat.
Next we had to meet sapna and monty’s mom, as the two kids had plaid truant for far too long. We found her sitting at her tea shop. She was looking weary and dragging her feet and told us that she had not been able to get them ready in time. We did chide her and extracted a promise that she would make the effort, but in our hearts we knew her problem. Sorry for being graphic but this poor woman has lived for over two years with a prolapsed uterus. When we had tried to get her operated it was discovered that she had a heart condition and needed a valve replacement. That had been done but somehow the uterus had been forgotten.
We told her to get to the hospital and fix her surgery and that we would help in whatever way we could remembering that the last time the operation had not been done because she had no one to donate blood.
The calls were over.. we returned back in silence
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by Anuradha Bakshi | Dec 6, 2006 | Uncategorized
You may wonder why this silly pictures of plastic bags. Actually they are not just plastic bags. They are bags full of hope.
As I write this post they sit patiently under my ironing table, in the very corridor where one little bundle of joy ran blissfully pretending to be Krish just a few weeks away, charging themselves with the good energies that surround them.
In them is what is needed to begin a new life on a winter day: warm bedding, toiletries etc. In a short time they will bundled into a car and taken across the city to fetch their owner, the brave mother of a spirited child. For the past 8 months that woman has waged a lonely battle against the bottle and today she comes out of the rehab centre a little frightened but determined to begin a new life.
The bags will then travel to another part of the city and even cross a border to land in a happy place where hope abounds. waiting for her there is Durga born of a loveless union , who finally found a safe place. Mother and daughter will be reunited and will rediscover each other and make up for lost time.
In a few days a little man will join his two ladies and finally the little family will be reunited. he never gave up on them, even when all else did
As I watch these bags sitting patiently under the ungainly table, I wonder what would have happened if I had not held on to hope.
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