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Just Saying

Friday, 21 February 2014

Shaurya Forever... A Real Story. Part-1


“Mom I don’t think that I am coming back home.” He probably said his last words.  The pillow supporting his head had also supported him emotionally. All his tears, all his never ending pains of losing every living person has been soaked by the white pillow. When someone close to us dies, we all the living ones, lose just one person. However, we never think about the pain of the person who is dying, who knows that the clock of his/er life is racing and when it will stop, it will steal away everyone. Not even a single person will manage to comfort him/er after death. S/He will be all alone. Shaurya was thinking the same. The havoc created by cancer cells inside his blood constructed the prolong silence in the intensive care unit of Fortis Hospital. He was on the verge to end his fight. Fight not of survival but of life..

Fight to return back home.. Fight to live back those 'Old Times'

“Chikoo…” His mother gripped his right hand with her both hands and sobbed. From last one year, she was angrily shifting the pages of Dictionary of Life to find the excessively vulnerable synonym of life, hope. ‘Hope’ undoubtedly became the synonym of ‘Life’ for Shaurya and his mother..

He smiled, listening to his name from his creator. He was there, all alone, struggling between its creator and destructor; his mother and Cancer. One created him with much of her love and care and other was eating him softly with the time. Shaurya somewhere knew that it was never a fight. He was slave to his death and was a companion to his creator. He could just give company to her, until his master asks him to stop breathing and become palpable. 

In last one year, Shaurya has lost nothing except his hair. He had just gained everything. Life looks much transparent from that bed of ICU. There was no rat race. There was just observance and wait of the final recovery or the final goodbye. 

He was waiting too..

The Wait was for the order of his master, the death, the cancer. 

The clock on the ground floor of the same building was showing 1:25 am. The Calendar hung inside one of the doctor showed 4 January. May be it was the time… They say you recall all your life in the last seven minutes of your life. Shaurya recalled everything… from his birth to the yellow T-shirt he had in his childhood, from his school friend Shekhar to meeting Aayushi.. 

Every single memory just came and shrugged him for a while. 

Everything was right there in front of his weak eyes, his family; a picture in which all of them was together. His dad, Bunny and they were wearing white suits and his mother was there.. Looking forever gorgeous in that red outfit.. They all were together and were smiling at the camera. Those were the pixels of happiness. .
Who knew the smiles would be so short lived.. The smiles were trying hard to remain.. Trying hard..



It was not his fault actually. He could have survived and lived. It was the fault of doctors from Medanta Hospital. The urge to live in his inner shell was so strong that he underwent 11 chemotherapy.  Doctors kept failing and he kept fighting. After the 11th attempt, the doctors finally accepted that they were not capable enough to cure him from the monster called cancer. 


He was shifted to a new hospital, Fortis. It was a new hope but when it is destined to fall wrong, it never falls right. He was treated well there. He was happy that he would be able to survive now. He recovered. The healthy stem cells that were taken out of his body before his therapy at Medanta hospital were now to be placed back in his body. 

A strong chemotherapy was given to him to reduce WBC to the figure of zero and then to place the healthy stems back. However, it was found that the cells were not stored properly and had been destroyed beforehand. All this concluded to make his condition more critical. 

“You will be all right.” His mother lied as she passed him the glass of water. 

“I don’t want this glass of water, I want the other one.” He said with moist voice. There was a story within him, which was making him heavier. He wanted to fly up to the ceiling of the room and then ceiling of the rooms of all the other floor and then to sky, to the universe. He wanted to fly where the life ends…

'Jai Guruji', he finally said with a smile on his face..

Cancer died at last but...

HE DIED TOO.. 

He could just leave. However, he couldn’t. He had to leave behind his story for that. He did so. He left the story behind, story of his journey from his life to death. He left his story in every heart who knew him, the every person who loved him.

And… The story was. “Hiii, I am Shaurya… I.. am..”




Written by:

Himanshu Appie Chhabra
Parul Parihar
Venu Pandey

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