End of the Tunnel – Rashmi
Gowda
The dog wags his tail at me and bounds towards the car as I drive into
the garage. 'Hi Charlie', I say wearily, as I get out of the car. Charlie is a
He whines, recognising that I am not in the
mood to cuddle him. I bend down and give him a quick pat and I walk inside. Although I would rather not step in at all.
Charlie sniffs around the packages in my hand and then gazes at me imploringly
when there isn't even a faint whiff of his favourite
biscuit. A pang of guilt. 'Oh Shit, I am sorry
Charlie, I will get them tomorrow. I promise. Good dog' I add, as he seems to
understand. I seem to be forgetting a lot these days. The strain is taking its
toll on me. I can barely get through anything that is 'normal'.
There is nothing normal around here. How can it be? My eldest son is in
Intensive Care, in a coma. And we have to make a pretense of normalcy for the
sake of our sanity, and for the other children. God knows, we have been through
enough without each of us now quietly falling apart by ourselves.
Nikhil and Nisha wouldn’t have come home yet. My mother picks them up
from our gate after the school bus leaves and takes them to her house. An
advantage of having family stay in the same town is that they can always hop
over. I don’t dare remember the many times I had cursed the very same fact. Having someone or the other in the family looking over your
shoulder every single time.
Memories come unbidden.
‘Sanjay, Nikhil
and Nisha as very young children, playing around in
our garden with their cousins.’ Both the
brothers always doted on Nisha as she was the
youngest. She is in the first grade now. Understanding very little of what was
happening to Sanjay, she was withdrawing into her own private hell. All of us
are in our own private hell.
‘Sanjay running about, playing with the older children, but making sure
that the younger ones didn’t feel left out.’ Always the charmer, he could coax
any kid to play with him. The sudden smiles he would throw in my direction,
when I was watching, would make my whole life seem worthwhile. Couldn’t he
grant me just one more smile?
I don’t know how to console Nikhil, he’s old
enough to disbelieve my ‘It’s gonna be alright’. He
has always been in awe of his older brother. I used to wonder if the pressure
of having a brother who was brilliant on and off the field, would adversely
impact Nikhil. But I have never seen anything but
adoration in his eyes. He probably looked to Sanjay for inspiration.
Our kids were so perfect, well brought up and well mannered. I wonder
if this is God’s way of showing us that nothing in life is ever smooth, and
nothing can be taken for granted. Life pulls at one thread and the whole
picture unravels. I wonder how much of our past life was real. Maybe we deluded
ourselves into believing an illusion of reality.
I have been leaning on the doorjamb at the threshold of the house. Rahul wouldn’t have come home yet, which gives me the whole
house to myself. A feeling of incredible loneliness envelops me.
I think about the time when Rahul and I had
first met. The dashing entrepreneur, he called himself. He was that too, I
always admitted, albeit only to myself.
We had met at a common friend’s party, and instantly hit it off.
Everyone said we were perfect for each other. I wonder if that still holds good
for us.
He had made a bundle of money and now stayed at home doing freelance
consulting. He wanted to smell the roses. Be there when the kids were growing
up.
I was the worrier in the family, and wanted to keep myself employed.
And since Rahul stayed so much at home, I was free to
work. I am a software engineer. Everyone knows what a demanding job that can
be. But I was trained only for it and it paid handsomely, so I kept at the job.
I always knew I would give it up one day, but that was always in the distant
future.
Sanjay’s admission in the hospital has made me rethink every decision
of my life. Lots of ‘Maybe’s and
unanswered questions. I had applied for a month’s leave immediately
after the accident.
Looking at my poor child in the hospital room everyday, covered by so
many wires and tubes, makes my heart bleed. I wish there was some way I could
be the one lying there instead of him. Was this a punishment for something I
had done? The crimes of the parents revisited upon the children.
I take a deep breath and look around the house. The house had five
bedrooms and was a spacious one, with a lawn out front and a small garden in the
backyard. Rahul and the kids had gotten together last
summer and built a white picket fence around it because Nisha
loved it in a book she had read. I walk over to a picture of the five of us,
six of us; I amend, including the dog. Picture perfect; our family.
It used to be.
I can’t stand like this forever, looking at something frozen in time. I can only hope it will become better. If not for hope, there is nothing else left.
I turn away and walk into the kitchen, to give me something to do.
Rahul looks up at
me when I enter. I didn't know he had left work this early. He had started
taking refuge in it, unable to come home and face...everything else.
'Hi' I venture.
'I spoke to the doctor'
My heart skips a beat. No matter how you much you steeled yourself in
preparation of bad news, the raw fear always grips your heart. I gulp.'What did he say?' My voice comes out as a rasp.
He looks down. 'They want us to consider...'
'Pulling the plug' I complete, harshly.
He meets my eyes 'if nothing works out...' He looks away. 'God, I hope
he pulls through'
I feel a tear forming. 'So do I.. ' I whisper. 'I wish all of this would somehow go away. That
I wake up from this nightmare. But I never do.'
Rahul looks hurt.
'I wish I had found him a little earlier'
'It was not your fault.' I answer, after a brief pause.
The silence is filled with questions. It rises up in the air pointing
an accusing finger at both of us. Each feels the accusation of the other,
probably not just imaginary.
I am his mother. I should have stayed at home instead of working and
letting Rahul take care of the kids. There is no
saying that would have helped, but maybe Rahul felt I
should have been the 'conventional' parent.
I sigh. This was definitely not a moment where I cherish the fact that
I am anything but conventional. The life of your child is not the price you pay
for leading a busy working life. And you definitely can't blame your husband
for something he didn't have any control on.
Like not noticing that Sanjay seemed a little
more subdued than usual. Well, he did notice that, I
amend. Sanjay brushed it off to the accident he had been in that day. We
wouldn't normally call it an accident. It was just two cycles ramming into each
other. Who would have guessed his liver would bleed internally and he would
slip into a coma. I wouldn't have done any better. I guess. I wouldn't know for
sure. If I had not been out of town, maybe I would have looked in on him.
Perhaps I would have noticed his pale face.
'Stop blaming yourself!' I scream. Silently.
But Rahul seems lost in his own thoughts. Why
doesnt he notice my turmoil? Can't he see that I need
his support?
Crisis brings a family together. Well, it certainly didn't seem to be
happening here. We were drawing further apart everyday. It is exactly 29 days
from the day of the accident.
I turn my back to him and go and stand next to the window. I can see Meena's kids playing in their yard. I close my eyes. I
cannot bear to see kids running around right now.
Strong arms envelop me. 'Don't look, it
doesn't help us to look at them now.'
I lean back against his chest. He feels solid. My
grip on sanity when everything else is falling apart.
'We will pull through this, Rakhi, but we
have to do that together.'
'I have missed you.'
'So have I. We will do our best with Sanjay..
The rest is upto the force above us.'
I feel the comfort of his strength and a rising conviction that we
would be alright. There was light at the end of the tunnel, after all.