Because I could not stop for Death
Warning:This is rather dark.Read only if you wish to.I write because I need to.It's cathartic.You,on the other hand,have an option not to read:)
I was 4 and she was 1.My mom had asked me to take care of her.She lay in the cradle,sound asleep.I sat by her,watching her.Suddenly, she rolled over.The jerkiness of the movement tilted the makeshift cradle and almost overturned it.I realized,in horror,that she would topple to the ground any moment.I tried to hold her,but she was too heavy for me.I frantically called out for my mom,all the while feeling the strain in my arms.She immediately came running and took over the baby from me.She smiled at me."Your sister could have been hurt very badly if it weren't for your presence of mind."I looked at her and smiled.I realised that I loved her.My sister.
She has a vacant gaze in her eyes.I hand her a cup of coffee.Her hands shake a lot.She ends up spilling half the coffee.She drinks what's left of it and tries to stand up.I see that's it a huge effort.Her limbs refuse to cooperate.I watch silently,with a feeling of dread in my heart.I know something's not right.
She's 6.She comes into the kitchen.She says in a petrified voice:"Ma,there's an insect in the bathroom amidst the logs.I'm scared to bathe." My mom thinks this is yet another of her pranks."Stop this nonsense and go bathe.It's time for school"she says.My sister walks off, albeit reluctantly.She's back in two minutes.This time,her huge eyes are brimming with tears." The insect hisses when I go near it.I'm scared.I won't go back there." Her voice gets shriller at the end.She's the strongest in the house--she's never cried.We instantly realise something's wrong.We go to the bathroom to find a huge king cobra.In a few minutes,a snake-charmer is called and the snake disposed of.Then,mom consoles my distraught sister and apologizes to her. "I'm glad you disobeyed me",she says,shuddering to think of what would have happened had she listened to her.
I try to make conversation.She replies,but it doesn't make sense.She seems to forget things easily.I figure the depressants she's taking must have this effect on her.I check her medication and see that it's 1g everyday.No wonder! I resolve to make her strong again.I lecture her insisting that she has to walk everyday.I scold her for being so careless about her health.
She's always been a rebel.Had different ideas.All of us would listen to Mom.Except for her.She'd blatantly disobey her.My mom was known for her fierce temper.All of us dreaded her punishments.Not my sister.She would defy her and then accept the punishment gladly.You could never get to her--You could punish her,but not change her ideals.She'd only do what she wanted to do.I liked that in her.Stubborn as hell.My sister.
I take her out for a walk.Her gait is unsteady,shuffling at best.Her pace is dreadfully slow.She seems to have a problem with recognising and avoiding obstacles.My medical instincts kick in.I'm silent throughout the walk,trying to come up with a differential diagnosis.Could be early onset Parkinson's,I think.We're almost home.I want to test her reflexes.My mind is in overdrive and I walk a couple of steps ahead of her.Suddenly,I see her stumble over the concrete step outside.She struggles to regain balance.I hurry to catch her.But,I'm too late.She falls face down onto the sidewalk.
We came from a poor family.Many a time,our parents couldn't afford things they asked us to bring in school.We got punished at school.We bore it quietly,sensing the futility of bringing up the issue at home.Once,the games teacher asked us to bring something for sports day.Of course,none of us did.She yelled at all of us and we took it silently.Not my sister.She retorted.The teacher got annoyed and slapped her.My sister wasn't intimidated in the least.She walks into the principal's office and complains.She's only 12 but very vocal and clear in her opinions.She explains.He's immensely moved by what he hears.Not only was the teacher reprimanded,but there was a new rule enforced.Thereafter,none of us were punished when we didn't get things we couldn't afford to.I was proud of her.My sister.
I help her get up,all the while horrified at what I'm seeing.She notices the expression on my face.This isn't the first time.It's happened many times in the past month.That's why I stopped going out,she says with a smile.But why didn't you tell me?I kept calling you every week and all you ever told me was "I'm fine".The words rage in my mind.I know now isn't the right time.There are more important things on my agenda.After her wounds are cared for,I ask her to do a few things--like touch her nose with her eyes closed,move her hands in a Classical-Tala like fashion.These things,though simple,are an indication of cerebellar function.She's able to do these easily.Now,I'm all the more confused--Parkinson's would definitely show signs of cerebellar degeneration.But there are none.This leads me to the frightening possibility that it's something else.
I need to consult a neurologist.Someone who specializes in this field.I tell her,reassuring that it's a casual check-up.She smiles at me. I'm going to die in a few days.I feel it.This is going to be the thing that kills me.You needn't try and hide things from me.I lash out in anger at her.You act like you're geriatric.You're just 56! Look at our Dad.He's 88 and doesn't talk of death even now.Her smile is the only reply I get.The feeling in my stomach turns from bad to worse.My mouth tastes bitter.I don't know what it is.I'm scared.
We all grew up.She completed her Masters' in Engineering with many a gold medal.Her thesis was published in acclaimed portals.She was called to Delhi for the conference.My mom,being overtly traditional(rather narrow-minded),didn't let her go.She wanted to pursue her Doctorate; both my parents put their foot down.For once,she listened to them.
We have lunch.She seems to relish the food.I can see it in her eyes.She seems to think this is one of the last meals she'll have.All of a sudden,tears prick at my eyes.I blink furiously,lest she see me cry.But she's seen it and the floodgates open.She weeps over her food and the sight tears at my heart.I tell her that things will be fine.Tomorrow is the hospital visit.
She always wanted to be a teacher.She became one.She's inspired many students--they're all eternally grateful to her.There are thousands of people whose lives are better today because of her.She's the principal of her college now.She's brought the college from the nadir to it's present zenith.She's already achieved a major portion of her goals--the college has received accreditation and will soon be granted autonomy.She has the vision to do a lot more.
We spend an entire morning on all the routine tests.By afternoon,the brain MRI results are back.The neurologist calls us in.He shows me the report and then tells us :There's a strong possibility,probability actually that it's brain cancer. My entire world shatters.How could he be so callous? She's sitting right here! I look at my sister.She sits there calmly,as if this was what she'd been expecting all along. Of course,there's a small possibility that it could be non-benign or something like vasculitis.Let's get a contrast MRI and then we'll see ,he continues.
A lot of tests are done.Her whole body is scanned to see if there are primaries or secondaries anywhere.The contrast MRI comes back.He calls me in this time.There's no doubt about it.Cancer it is.Primary at the mid-brain.The thalamus and hypothalamus show extensive swelling.It's progressed very quickly.The last time I saw her,a month ago,there were virtually no signs.At this rate it could soon descend and then..he trails off.Mid-brain cancer is very,very rare.When it does occur,it's mostly always malignant.People live for a maximum of six months.My brain supplies the facts,and I almost hate myself for knowing them.If I didn't know,I'd probably have a little hope.
Let's get a biopsy done tomorrow.That should tell us what stage she's in.If non-invasive doesn't work,we might have to make it open.But don't worry,we have the best people here.They'll take care of it for you.His words fall on deaf ears.My mind is still frozen.
She spends literally nothing.Saves even lesser.Her entire salary goes to charity.She sponsors the education of many a kid.As many as she can afford.She's haunted by the thought that these kids may not be able to study even though they want to.She does all she can do to help them.They all thank her.They have a life today because of her.In addition,she sponsors other organisations.Orphanages,old-age homes.My eyes fill up.My sister.
My sister,my little sister,has cancer.She's probably not going to be alive the next year.I go into the room where she's admitted and tell her about the biopsy.She seems unperturbed.She jokes about dying.I'm furious.This time she's serious.I've lived my life.Had my share of experiences.I've done almost everything I wanted to do.I have no one who cares for me.She pauses.Yes,I know all you people do.But,your life isn't dependent on me.I'll die.You'll mourn me.And soon,you'll get over it.I'm ready for death.I'm not scared,you know.She smiles at me yet again.And now,I can't bear to see that smile.I hate her.For being so resigned to death.All her life she's been a fighter.She's accomplished what we all deemed impossible.And now,she's giving up so easily.I want her to fight.I want her to tell me that she'll make it through this.I want to shake her till she comes to her senses and tells me that she wants to live.And yet,her words ring true.She's really accepted this.When did she grow up and become so wise?
She's sleeping.I watch her sleep.It's oddly reminiscent of a time nearly 5 decades back.Suddenly,she jerks--her eyes are still closed.I know my sister.She puts on a bold front for everyone;but she's probably having nightmares.When you know death is close,you start wondering what it's like.That fear is one of the most haunting things in life.Her body jerks again and my tears are unstoppable now.Unlike 50 years ago,I can do nothing to prevent her fall this time.The agony is unbearable.I look at her,and I see my 1 year old sister.So vulnerable,so fragile.I would do anything to protect her,but ironically there's nothing I can do.Maybe there is.I place my hand on her head and stroke it.She seems calmer now.More peaceful.My sister.I weep on and on.
I have cremated my brother and mother.Am I to see the death of yet another loved one? The thought torments me.Sleep is just a dream now.Life has turned into a nightmare overnight.
P.S:The title,if you didn't get it, was a reference to Emily Dickinson's poem.The one that's always given me goosebumps.
I was 4 and she was 1.My mom had asked me to take care of her.She lay in the cradle,sound asleep.I sat by her,watching her.Suddenly, she rolled over.The jerkiness of the movement tilted the makeshift cradle and almost overturned it.I realized,in horror,that she would topple to the ground any moment.I tried to hold her,but she was too heavy for me.I frantically called out for my mom,all the while feeling the strain in my arms.She immediately came running and took over the baby from me.She smiled at me."Your sister could have been hurt very badly if it weren't for your presence of mind."I looked at her and smiled.I realised that I loved her.My sister.
She has a vacant gaze in her eyes.I hand her a cup of coffee.Her hands shake a lot.She ends up spilling half the coffee.She drinks what's left of it and tries to stand up.I see that's it a huge effort.Her limbs refuse to cooperate.I watch silently,with a feeling of dread in my heart.I know something's not right.
She's 6.She comes into the kitchen.She says in a petrified voice:"Ma,there's an insect in the bathroom amidst the logs.I'm scared to bathe." My mom thinks this is yet another of her pranks."Stop this nonsense and go bathe.It's time for school"she says.My sister walks off, albeit reluctantly.She's back in two minutes.This time,her huge eyes are brimming with tears." The insect hisses when I go near it.I'm scared.I won't go back there." Her voice gets shriller at the end.She's the strongest in the house--she's never cried.We instantly realise something's wrong.We go to the bathroom to find a huge king cobra.In a few minutes,a snake-charmer is called and the snake disposed of.Then,mom consoles my distraught sister and apologizes to her. "I'm glad you disobeyed me",she says,shuddering to think of what would have happened had she listened to her.
I try to make conversation.She replies,but it doesn't make sense.She seems to forget things easily.I figure the depressants she's taking must have this effect on her.I check her medication and see that it's 1g everyday.No wonder! I resolve to make her strong again.I lecture her insisting that she has to walk everyday.I scold her for being so careless about her health.
She's always been a rebel.Had different ideas.All of us would listen to Mom.Except for her.She'd blatantly disobey her.My mom was known for her fierce temper.All of us dreaded her punishments.Not my sister.She would defy her and then accept the punishment gladly.You could never get to her--You could punish her,but not change her ideals.She'd only do what she wanted to do.I liked that in her.Stubborn as hell.My sister.
I take her out for a walk.Her gait is unsteady,shuffling at best.Her pace is dreadfully slow.She seems to have a problem with recognising and avoiding obstacles.My medical instincts kick in.I'm silent throughout the walk,trying to come up with a differential diagnosis.Could be early onset Parkinson's,I think.We're almost home.I want to test her reflexes.My mind is in overdrive and I walk a couple of steps ahead of her.Suddenly,I see her stumble over the concrete step outside.She struggles to regain balance.I hurry to catch her.But,I'm too late.She falls face down onto the sidewalk.
We came from a poor family.Many a time,our parents couldn't afford things they asked us to bring in school.We got punished at school.We bore it quietly,sensing the futility of bringing up the issue at home.Once,the games teacher asked us to bring something for sports day.Of course,none of us did.She yelled at all of us and we took it silently.Not my sister.She retorted.The teacher got annoyed and slapped her.My sister wasn't intimidated in the least.She walks into the principal's office and complains.She's only 12 but very vocal and clear in her opinions.She explains.He's immensely moved by what he hears.Not only was the teacher reprimanded,but there was a new rule enforced.Thereafter,none of us were punished when we didn't get things we couldn't afford to.I was proud of her.My sister.
I help her get up,all the while horrified at what I'm seeing.She notices the expression on my face.This isn't the first time.It's happened many times in the past month.That's why I stopped going out,she says with a smile.But why didn't you tell me?I kept calling you every week and all you ever told me was "I'm fine".The words rage in my mind.I know now isn't the right time.There are more important things on my agenda.After her wounds are cared for,I ask her to do a few things--like touch her nose with her eyes closed,move her hands in a Classical-Tala like fashion.These things,though simple,are an indication of cerebellar function.She's able to do these easily.Now,I'm all the more confused--Parkinson's would definitely show signs of cerebellar degeneration.But there are none.This leads me to the frightening possibility that it's something else.
I need to consult a neurologist.Someone who specializes in this field.I tell her,reassuring that it's a casual check-up.She smiles at me. I'm going to die in a few days.I feel it.This is going to be the thing that kills me.You needn't try and hide things from me.I lash out in anger at her.You act like you're geriatric.You're just 56! Look at our Dad.He's 88 and doesn't talk of death even now.Her smile is the only reply I get.The feeling in my stomach turns from bad to worse.My mouth tastes bitter.I don't know what it is.I'm scared.
We all grew up.She completed her Masters' in Engineering with many a gold medal.Her thesis was published in acclaimed portals.She was called to Delhi for the conference.My mom,being overtly traditional(rather narrow-minded),didn't let her go.She wanted to pursue her Doctorate; both my parents put their foot down.For once,she listened to them.
We have lunch.She seems to relish the food.I can see it in her eyes.She seems to think this is one of the last meals she'll have.All of a sudden,tears prick at my eyes.I blink furiously,lest she see me cry.But she's seen it and the floodgates open.She weeps over her food and the sight tears at my heart.I tell her that things will be fine.Tomorrow is the hospital visit.
She always wanted to be a teacher.She became one.She's inspired many students--they're all eternally grateful to her.There are thousands of people whose lives are better today because of her.She's the principal of her college now.She's brought the college from the nadir to it's present zenith.She's already achieved a major portion of her goals--the college has received accreditation and will soon be granted autonomy.She has the vision to do a lot more.
We spend an entire morning on all the routine tests.By afternoon,the brain MRI results are back.The neurologist calls us in.He shows me the report and then tells us :There's a strong possibility,probability actually that it's brain cancer. My entire world shatters.How could he be so callous? She's sitting right here! I look at my sister.She sits there calmly,as if this was what she'd been expecting all along. Of course,there's a small possibility that it could be non-benign or something like vasculitis.Let's get a contrast MRI and then we'll see ,he continues.
A lot of tests are done.Her whole body is scanned to see if there are primaries or secondaries anywhere.The contrast MRI comes back.He calls me in this time.There's no doubt about it.Cancer it is.Primary at the mid-brain.The thalamus and hypothalamus show extensive swelling.It's progressed very quickly.The last time I saw her,a month ago,there were virtually no signs.At this rate it could soon descend and then..he trails off.Mid-brain cancer is very,very rare.When it does occur,it's mostly always malignant.People live for a maximum of six months.My brain supplies the facts,and I almost hate myself for knowing them.If I didn't know,I'd probably have a little hope.
Let's get a biopsy done tomorrow.That should tell us what stage she's in.If non-invasive doesn't work,we might have to make it open.But don't worry,we have the best people here.They'll take care of it for you.His words fall on deaf ears.My mind is still frozen.
She spends literally nothing.Saves even lesser.Her entire salary goes to charity.She sponsors the education of many a kid.As many as she can afford.She's haunted by the thought that these kids may not be able to study even though they want to.She does all she can do to help them.They all thank her.They have a life today because of her.In addition,she sponsors other organisations.Orphanages,old-age homes.My eyes fill up.My sister.
My sister,my little sister,has cancer.She's probably not going to be alive the next year.I go into the room where she's admitted and tell her about the biopsy.She seems unperturbed.She jokes about dying.I'm furious.This time she's serious.I've lived my life.Had my share of experiences.I've done almost everything I wanted to do.I have no one who cares for me.She pauses.Yes,I know all you people do.But,your life isn't dependent on me.I'll die.You'll mourn me.And soon,you'll get over it.I'm ready for death.I'm not scared,you know.She smiles at me yet again.And now,I can't bear to see that smile.I hate her.For being so resigned to death.All her life she's been a fighter.She's accomplished what we all deemed impossible.And now,she's giving up so easily.I want her to fight.I want her to tell me that she'll make it through this.I want to shake her till she comes to her senses and tells me that she wants to live.And yet,her words ring true.She's really accepted this.When did she grow up and become so wise?
She's sleeping.I watch her sleep.It's oddly reminiscent of a time nearly 5 decades back.Suddenly,she jerks--her eyes are still closed.I know my sister.She puts on a bold front for everyone;but she's probably having nightmares.When you know death is close,you start wondering what it's like.That fear is one of the most haunting things in life.Her body jerks again and my tears are unstoppable now.Unlike 50 years ago,I can do nothing to prevent her fall this time.The agony is unbearable.I look at her,and I see my 1 year old sister.So vulnerable,so fragile.I would do anything to protect her,but ironically there's nothing I can do.Maybe there is.I place my hand on her head and stroke it.She seems calmer now.More peaceful.My sister.I weep on and on.
I have cremated my brother and mother.Am I to see the death of yet another loved one? The thought torments me.Sleep is just a dream now.Life has turned into a nightmare overnight.
P.S:The title,if you didn't get it, was a reference to Emily Dickinson's poem.The one that's always given me goosebumps.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
P.P.S:If I'd read this entry a week before,I'd never believe it.It sounds too cliched for real life.However,now, I know all too well what it feels like.No movie/book could ever do justice to the emotions that such a catastrophic announcement evokes.
Such is life though.We have to find strength,however hard it is.
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