RIPPLES

RIPPLES

The cool, refreshing, summer wind blew beautiful, concentric ripples along the surface of the lake. Ripples that expanded slowly in circles, got bigger, and slowly died down. Watching the ripples, the events of the past few days came rushing back into my mind. Weather to be happy or sad was beyond me. Happy that the suffering had finally come to an end? Or sad that the once so young and energetic being was no more? 

Pandu taatha. That was his name. Or PaTu as I fondly called him - a man who had stayed 18 at heart for 60 years and one of my best friends. Our kinship started way back when I used to stay in my village. Once I was alone in the fields, crying, unable to bear the stress of my approaching 10th standard board exam. He had found me there and had me de-stressed and filled me with determination to study, in a way no other adult had. Needless to say, I was so inspired by him that I went on to do my Ph.D. As the years rolled by and I moved to the city, our friendship only grew. First through letters and then through mobiles, we were constantly in touch. While I confided everything in him, he would share one or two of his few - or so I thought at the time - problems with me. I would do my best to help him out. It continued this way throughout my studies. He was a pillar of support and was there for me whenever I needed him. 

Thinking back, I still feel it's my fault that I had not been there for him after all he had done for me. I feel guilt like no other, that maybe I was too engrossed in my own life. Maybe I should have noticed the changes he'd so casually dismissed, and I had so foolishly let pass. 

During my Ph.D, there was so much work to be done that I went days without sleeping or eating. It was hard to keep in touch with PaTu during this time, but I managed a phone call or two every fortnight. Though I had tried to teach him how to text, he had never caught on. I think, two months into my Ph.D, he once mentioned that he had briefly been in the hospital and it was nothing serious. Me, in the excitement of filling him in with the new chapter in my life, had let it pass. Sometimes there would be coughing bouts and our conversations would have to be cut short. In my busy life, I never gave it much thought. Time went on and my thesis was half complete. I decided to visit my village and spend some quality time with PaTu. 

To put it mildly, I was shell shocked when I reached my village and found PaTu being the centre of discussion of the entire village. He had leukemia. I was distraught and ran towards his house. I found him lying on the bed, his weight had reduced almost by half and his skin had become dark and lifeless with red spots all over, and almost all of his hair gone. The only thing that reassured me even the slightest bit was the twinkle in his eyes. It remained the same as always. The events of that day are still crystal clear in my memory. 

He smiled at me like he knew a secret and called me to sit by him. I almost immediately broke down and sobbed inconsolably, when I should have been the strong one - at least for once. But no, I just cried till PaTu's shirt was wet and dripping. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I had calmed down a little with his constant words of support and encouragement. He told me that he had found out about everything a few months before I had completed my Masters degree. He said the people were all making a big fuss out of it, that he was undergoing chemotherapy and thus the reason of his appearance. He reassured me that it was detected in the beginning stages and he would make a complete recovery. I was somewhat consoled by this and made sure that he was following everything the doctor had said. He chided me for thinking of him as irresponsible and we sort of fell back into the same old pattern where he would listen to all I had to say. The next week passed in a blur and I spent as much time as I could with PaTu, taking care of him when he allowed it. Little did I realise at that time that it would be the last time I would see him. 

Returning to the mayhem I had left behind, I threw myself into work again. PaTu was constantly occupying a large part of my mind. And thus constantly I called him and made sure he was alright. Since I implicitly trusted him, I believed when he said he was getting better and the battle would be over before the completion of my Ph.D. I was overjoyed at this piece of information. With the thesis nearing completion, my work load reduced and I could afford to relax a little. In this new found freedom, PaTu, for the first time, moved to the back of my mind. I did not feel the need for his constant reassurances. At the time, I did not even realise our interaction had decreased to a bare minimum. In this slightly relaxed environment I spent one or two months in the final leg of my education. It was one such day that it happened. 

One of the last few days before my final submission. This is all I remember of that fateful day. Maybe I had woken up early and went for a jog. Or maybe I had slept in and was amidst a lazy day doing nothing. But while talking to someone, I don't remember who, I remember getting calls continuously, one after the other. I ignored it in my happy mood. Then I went out to dinner with a group of friends. After returning to my room late at night, I checked my phone. There were 58 missed calls and a couple of text messages. Quickly scanning through the missed calls I realised most were from PaTu and a few from the people who I was acquainted with in my village. My first thought was that he had dialed by mistake or one of the kids in the village was playing a prank. But nonetheless, I dialed back and cursed when I realised I had no currency. I decided PaTu would have to wait till morning for me to get back, as no shops would be open at this ungodly hour for me to get my phone recharged. 

The next day, I woke up late as it was a Sunday. Then I went hunting for a shop that would be open on a Sunday to recharge my phone. After about shop hunting for an hour, I gave up and decided to borrow my friend's phone. Why I did not do that on the previous day is beyond me. Going to my friend's place, we talked for about an hour before I got around to asking if I could make a call. A call which turned out to be "the call".  

Fate is cruel. Very, very cruel as I discovered. On that much delayed phone call I discovered that the battle was over indeed over. 

I was informed by a sobbing neighbour that PaTu had passed away the previous day. The final ritual was over as well. Everyone had tried contacting me, but me being the stupid person that I was, had not even bothered to recieve or even return the calls. The things I learned shocked me. I wanted to slap for myself for my naivety. His cancer was in the very final stages before he had acknowledged it and went to a doctor. He was beyond the help of chemotherapy and had decided to endure the pain without medication. Only when I had visited did he take the pain medication as he did not want me to be diverted from my studies. That was the best he had been in the past 18 months. By the time I had soaked in all this information in my pain filled stupor, I did not know which emotion overwhelmed me the most - the pain, the sorrow, the guilt, or the self-worthlessness. 

Packing whatever I found, I boarded the first bus I found towards my village. 4 buses, 1 train, a cab and a lot of procrastinating later, I reached my village, only to be welcomed by a sorrow so great that I found myself slipping into an abyss so deep that I wondered if I would have the strength to ever smile again. Everyone had loved and cared for PaTu. He was an easy man to love. Now that he had passed away, everyone, including the birds and the animals that remained so quiet, seemed to mourn for him. The atmosphere was so eerily quiet that it was claustrophobic. I was still in denial and even contemplated that the world maybe was playing a cruel joke on me. I had not even got to see his mortal remains. I knew it had to be true, but still a small part of me hoped that he would come out of his house any moment and ask everyone why they were acting as if someone had died. This thought brought a fresh round of tears to my already tear soaked face. I could not even bear to think of never having another conversation with him again. 

Everyone was polite towards me. Leaving me to myself to grieve over the loss. Finally, after what seemed like just a second, and yet an eternity, someone said that I better have some food. It was already 4 days since he had died. During lunch, someone mentioned that PaTu had left all his possessions to me in his will. By this time I was so overwhelmed with all the emotions that I was numb. Excusing myself, I went for a swim in the lake. I swam so much that my muscles were sore and I was panting and felt as if every single molecule in my body was on fire. Still, the numbness had reduced only fractionally. I sat there, wet clothes and all, watching the ripples, contemplating the meaning of it all. 

We are given something, we grow fond of it, we get attached, we start getting dependant, we finally find peace and contentment, maybe start drifting apart, only to be ripped of it all in the end. What about a person? A child is born, innocent and full of curiosity, he grows up in the confines of what he is thought in school, then goes to college with some idea of what life is and then spends the rest of his life working. Is something as wondrous as life meant to be spent in this monotonous way? After all even it has to end. Everything should end. Why are we given such wonderful things if it has to come to an end? What is the meaning of it all? Or is there no meaning at all? Does it happen just because something has to? Or is there a bigger picture that we are all too blind to see and accept? 

Just like the ripples form, grow, make a small impact in the large body of water, and die down. Only to be replaced by new ripples and new effects. Just like in human beings. The cycle has to continue, moving from one person to the next. Never ending, never pausing, simply continuing just because it has to continue. Is this what life is all about? Is it really that simple?