I say a little prayer for you.. for you're a Jolly Good Fellow

It’s Krishna Janmaasthmi, a Monday morning, early Sept 2004. An all too familiar pall of gloom has set in amongst us and it seems like never ending, has been that way for the past 2 months.

Dr Anupama calls me into the ICU at Bangalore Hospital around 7 am (outside which I've been pacing all night)and lets me have a glimpse at the comatose figure of my dad, who wouldn’t feel a thing even if a sledge hammer were to be deployed on him.. She then proceeds to take out a sketch pad and draw an outline of the gastro-intestinal tract and how the liver is connected to it, how the duodenal ulcers have bled profusely and given the condition of his liver, why it wasn’t able to handle this blood loss and hence ammonia went to his brain, resulting in the coma, and muses that the prognosis of his condition is not too good at all.. "Your dad is caught between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" are her exact words, admitting they have been completely taken by surprise by the recent turn of events, having treated him so well just a week back. He's in a state of Grade 4 Hepatic Encephalopathy, a coma condition from which many never come back and is bleeding profusely internally. Ideally when I should have been learning Informatica, Cognos and other IT jargon, I am learning what is gallstone disease, how it affects the liver, what a hepatico-jujenostomy is, what causes obstructive jaundice et al..


I find myself bracing for yet another ordeal, this time a much bigger one, a final one perhaps..? A 6th admit to the hospital within 2 months, with 4 of them ending up in being confined to the ICU for long periods can take its toll on anyone's nerves, mentally and physically. The hospitals had become like a 2nd home, such was the frequency with which dad used to take sick each time after being sent home and go back for further treatment. Invariably, I became privy and accustomed to the whole gamut of activities that transpires at these places, new borns being ushered in with bonhomie and proud parents feeling on top of the world, and yet not very far off cadavers being wheeled out
to their final resting places, causalities being brought in, bleeding profusely, lesser by a limb or a finger perhaps, people recuperating and on their way out… Here’s one place where we can both ends of the spectrum. I feel very fatalistic and realize how fragile things are or can get to be within a few seconds. It’s all pre-ordained, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die.. Who said that now!


The main doc, Dr Naresh Bhat, a brilliant GI surgeon, promises nothing, but states that he is confident dad will come out of it once the bleeding stops and he has to carry out a risky endoscopic procedure to enter the GI tract and plug the bleeding ulcers etc.
Seeing him in such a state in the ICU with tubes jutting out of seemingly everywhere is depressing. At 71, what he’s been going thro from 4 yrs, I can’t fathom. And for no fault of his, to think a simple laparoscopic procedure to remove his gallbladder, should result in surgical faults and damage his bile duct and liver … Why, why ? Karma Philosophy?


It’s a sombre Janmaasthmi that night and we just pray. 3 days later, Dad is showing signs of coming out of it and is responding to oral commands and stimuli and starts to moan and groan, not having got back his speech as yet b’cos of some brain lag. A day later, he responds to my queries, the voice sounding like a robot though, but one I will take gleefully! He blinks continuously like a new-born and berates the nurse for not understanding his moaning. Apparently he was asking for coffee from one day, but no one understood him ;)

A week later, he’s back at home and recovering, though much of the liver has been damaged and cannot be salvaged, we have to leave it at that. He’s been better since then,
but the ramifications are present. Still, today as he sings “Hari Kunida” and “Sreenivasa Neene Paaliso” ever so sweetly and chimes in with mom during our evening prayers, we realize there’s probably a reason for him to be with us, a reason only a force unknown to us is aware of. And we are ever so grateful for that.

I can rewind back in time to the years gone by, easily 20 of them. How he used to hustle and bustle with activity, being one of the main support lines for the 18 member strong joint family we lived as for years together, always sacrificing for the house, helping out monetarily when kith and kin were in trouble, always the most sought after by kids to get pampered or to take them out. A hardy Bajaj Chetak served as his faithful companion, taking him into all the gullies and alleys in bizarre areas we never knew, for buying quality stuff, be it vegetables or exotic electronic supplies ;). The Chetak also served as a handy accomplice to take us kids out ( 3 of us at a time) to nearby KrishnaRao Park or Bugle Rock and hit balls miles high in the air for us to catch and then bowl us gentle offspin for us to thrash it all over the park. I was told that I used to be adamant to eat food only if he made me eat it and the trick was to take to me the window sill and seat me on it and show me an eagle in the sky and while I gazed at it, he would slip in many morsels!

Much before the scooter came though, there was the bicycle in which he used to take me to the swimming pool at 430 am for the coaching batch, and it never failed to be a magical ride for me as a 10 yr old to wind thro deserted Gandhi Bazaar at that hour and see all sorts of people getting ready in the dark to ply their wares! Not too confident about the swimming coach’s skills, he would jump into the pool after a while and practically taught me swimming finally. He’s an expert diver and swimmer and I still cannot quite get the fluidity with which he breaks water while diving /swimming! I thought Dad was a champion then, and use to look up to him with awe. My other cousins and friends loved him as well, for he taught them swimming, played cricket and carrom with them, took us all out regularly to the movies, parks and tiffin. Kamat, Ullas and Lakeview were places we looked forward to be taken as well as all the Disney Movies that used to come up in Galaxy and Rex…. Aah, what lovely days, them. I remember how he got the first color TV, a SONY from a friend from Singapore, for the house in 1985/86 to watch the Seoul Olympics and it was simply delightful! The whole house would assemble together on Sundays at Ramayana and Mahabharata time, intently watching the good prevail over the evil and listen to the morals being imparted to us by 2 cute grannies, while chowing on Mandakki Puri and Rave Unde and all sorts of delicacies that would be up for grabs. The house would be the rendezvous point for all functions, weddings and ppl coming from out of town and never short of a crowd!

Realms can be written about dad, but it would never end. I have learnt since that he was a socially active fellow in his young days and had done a whole lot of things from chopping firewood when they were poverty stricken way back in the 1940’s to pulling chariots during festivals at many places and clambering up coconut trees to pluck a whole bunch of them. He was also called to sing bhajans at a few houses, was no mug at cricket, football or the street games and was quite good looking, who couldn’t tolerate people disrupting his well combed hair or wrinkling his carefully, ironed 1 set of good trousers and shirt ! I can recall the ease with which he used to spin a top (bugri) on his palm or strike marbles so accurately and an accounts officer career at HAL gave him an eye for detail for things. An all-rounder in short and an immensely popular fellow with friends and relatives alike, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Today though, as he comes up to me frequently, during the nights or whenever I am at home and tries to find succour in me to ward of the depressions and sleep disorders brought about by the state of his health, I feel life has come a full circle for him. It’s the circle of Life, it’s the wheel of fortune goes the popular song. And I feel bad for being away when he took ill and suffered for 4 years, but never called out to me. What parents endure for their children, the unconditional, unrequited love they always have to offer!

You’ve been terrific, Appa and nothing less. And I would be glad if I can give back even a lil bit of what you have done. I know I can’t. I love you, TMD.