Three Hugs

#1

I visited India during October, 2017. It was the first time I was meeting my family after I learned about my mother’s condition. She had carcinoma — stomach cancer. By the time we diagnosed, it was stage 3B already. She had undergone multiple chemotherapy sessions to fight it.

The night of my arrival in Hyderabad, our driver came to pick me up from the airport. After an hour or so we reached our home. It was already past midnight and my family was waiting for my arrival. They could not sleep. Having heard the door open, my mother came from her bedroom into the hall to see me. She was not even one fourth of what she used to be. She was wearing a red sari with polka dots, which used to suit her remarkably — then, looked like a piece of cloth that draped her. She hugged me, burying her head on to my heart. I wrapped my arms around her, with tears flowing down. Held her as though she was my baby. She was very fragile. I did not want to apply too much pressure but just enough to exchange our warmth for each other. Tenderly. Compassionately. I could touch my left shoulder with my right hand with her in my arms. She got that thin. There was not any hair on her head. Just enough strength to speak a few words. I could feel her bones, as though it was all she had. I got to spend one month with her during that visit. I promised her I would visit her soon and probably stay for a couple of months. I came back to the US in December 2017. My mother was getting better. People felt it was me who brought this remarkable change in her. I knew I had very little to do with that. She was getting back to her normal self. Things started looking positive. When we accept things as is, life seems to be good. There arises a conflict, if we wished for something else.

Creation wanted to remind us of its existence. Two beautiful months of happiness came to an end. Cancer had resurfaced in February, 2018. This time, it was stage 4. There was no going back from here. We all know we were gonna reach the end line soon, but none of us knew when. There was not any time frame. Every morning if her chest goes up and down, it was a blessing for us and misery for her (because she had to bear the pain). My mother trusted my father to get her out of that misery. Trust, not faith. Faith is not based on any rational tangible evidence. It is pure belief or you may call stupidity. Whereas trust, is based on some tangible evidence. My father stood by so many people during their dire situations and helped them get out of it. My mother knew that. She knew he would make the world upside down, if that is what it takes, to get her out of this. She was so consumed by love, she forgot he is merely a human being, just like her. Sooner or later, he would also have to hang up his boots. He tried his best.

I wanted to rush back to India as soon as I learned the new situation. My father asked me to stay back in the US and asked me to visit if things got worse. I obliged.

I was talking to my mother over the phone and during the conversation she said she was scared and broke down. We all knew it was all gonna end soon but we did not want to acknowledge it. I booked my flights to India immediately. I spent 10 days with her during that visit. I visited India again in June, 2018. She was taking Kerala medicine and we stopped chemotherapy because she could not take it anymore. At the same time, she was contracted with Jaundice and we had to stop giving her Kerala medicine too. She was not on any medication during my visit. She was only eating half a idly a day. Puking whatever little food she had. She underwent an operation which gave her an additional artificial body part, a tube with a bag that collects the drainage caused by Jaundice. She felt a little comforted by that. I shared stories of Buddha, Yuvraj Singh, Malala and others to keep her motivated. I read and explained verses of Bible. Fear and hope make you do impossible things. For a person, who was religiously so involved it takes a great deal of hope and fear to believe in something so different from their normal. Fear of death and hope of life erases our boundaries. They lift our veils which make it hard for us to see things as is. We played Ashta-Chemma. Watched Mahanati movie at home. She loved it but was disappointed how Savitri’s life turned out. I got to spend quality time with her.

I have decided to come back to the US for a month so that I could spend couple more months during my next visit. My family was supportive of this decision. Jaundice was under control. With situations like these, no one can predict the next minute — forget about a month. I took a chance that she is gonna be alive until I return.

It was the night of my departure. My mother was wearing a white nightie with flowers imprinted on it. The nightie was altered on the right side for the tube to pass through. She was sitting on a sofa while I was collecting my things. When I was done, I sat on a table in front of her. Rest all were standing around me. I told my mother I was gonna be back in a month and that we were gonna have more fun. I asked her to be strong and bold. I asked her to have trust in herself because trust can make you do wondrous and stupid things. In this case I was hoping for the former. During the entire conversation she was looking down to her right, nodding her head in acknowledgement. She was moving her yellow eyeballs from left to right continuously. This was the first time she was not looking in to my eyes. She did not even shed a tear knowing I am leaving — which also never happened. Maybe she would have restrained me from going back to the US if she had looked into my eyes. I shook her hand, kissed her on the head and left. I did not hug her because she had to spend a lot of energy to stand up and I did not want to do that. I knew I took a chance. I gambled. That could have been the last time I would have seen her alive if things went any other way. It was not easy. Did she curse me because I was selfish? Was she really fine with me leaving? How can one be so selfless?

I came back to the US and visited India after 20 days when things got much worse. My mother was weak and unconscious most of the time so we did not get to talk much. She passed away on September 4th, 2018. I wonder if she knows she is still alive.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -* — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -

#2

I had applied for my H1b visa later in April, 2017. It got picked and I was waiting for the approval. I should not leave the United States until October 1st,2017. I had to wait for the processing to complete.

My mother was diagnosed with cancer in March, 2017. My father told me it was a benign tumor and a small operation would suffice. He did not disclose to me nor my mother about her situation. He thought my peace of mind is much important than the news because he knew there is nothing I can do apart from carrying the burden of the news. They were around to take care of her needs.

Next day , after the surgery, he told my mother a white lie that he had taken a vow to give my mother’s hair as an offering to Lord Venkateshwara if the operation went smoothly. There was not any reason for her to disbelieve that. She happily did as requested. My father knew once my mother undergoes chemotherapy she would lose her hair. He planned this in advance so that she would not learn about her condition.

When I was told that my mother had tumor, I called up my dad and asked him about the situation. He told me rather nonchalantly that there was nothing to be worried and promised that he would intimate me if things got worse and hung up. My sister later told me that he was crying before my call and bottled his feelings so that I would not get any ideas to screw up my H1b and he cried immediately after hanging up. He told me about my mother’s situation when I visited India in October, 2017. It is unfathomable what he must have gone through- seeing his best friend and the only companion he ever wanted in life to go through such a phase in life. My father and I never had any other conversations about how we felt on what was happening around us. We had other sources to share. Even after her demise, we looked out for each other but never openly talked about it between us.

After all the rituals, I decided to come back to the US. My family was waiting for me in the garage to see me off. We loaded the luggage in our car and the driver was ready to push off. I hugged my sisters and brother-in-law and walked up to my dad. He was not looking at me. I hugged him but could not feel the hands on my back. I told him to be strong. During this visit I observed him keenly. I know my mother’s getting prepared to go to a safer place. I was worried about my dad. His body was getting weaker. His voice was mostly brittle. His eyesight was deteriorating. I still remember how I used to be amazed looking at his biceps and hard hands when I was a child. Now, his arms ache if he drives. I know he wanna go with my mother but that is not how it works. You gotta live and spend her part of life too.

He did not hug me back. I do not know how to interpret that. He must be shattered to send me back to the US. Was not hugging me back, his way of asking me to stay back?

We had a conversation about how we felt about my mother after I came back the US. We had that conversation over the phone. At last, we did.