Nobody Thought I Would Survive (2)

Before I started losing track of time:

Coming to office was a mistake today – I realized within half an hour of reaching office on Tuesday, August 29. I was not being able to keep my head straight. My eyes were watering.

Colleagues, who had turned friends, were worried. Good old Joseph, always a well-meaning friend, went out, in the absence of a peon, and brought paracetamols for me.

I tried to complete work as fast as possible. My team did their best to assure me that even if I left early they would manage.

The sky was clouded since morning. Around 1:30- 2:00 pm, it darkened.
I received a call on my intercom. It was Amrita, our manager. She enquired about the month-end figures. After I had given her a detailed status, she asked me to leave for home.
“Thank you for coming in for work, my dear. Go home. Take rest. I would need a fit Paromeeta tomorrow.” – were her exact words.

Joseph had something to do with this, I realized, as I saw him open the swing-door of the back-office.
“Its going to rain, Paro! Pack up fast. I will call a cab for you. Don’t go by bus today!” – he himself was packing up my desk into my drawers. Good old Joseph!

By the time the elevator took Joseph and me down to the ground floor of Delta House, it was raining fiercely. Standing in the passage that faced the elevators, we could not see a thing on the road outside. We knew the signs. If rain like this continued for ten minutes, Dalhousie would again be flooded.
I did not have strength to worry. I let my body drop on the stool left empty by the caretaker of the building.

The roads, as we had anticipated, were waterlogged in minutes and the water level was touching the steps at the main entrance of Delta House. Rain had subsided a bit, though.

Joseph took my umbrella and went for a cab. Within minutes he returned with one. I descended the submerged steps, my shoes and trousers getting soaked yet again. When I boarded the cab, I realized I was shivering.
“Take care, Paro.” – Joseph said.
These were words my colleagues kept texting me throughout the next one month.


I didn’t feel like having dinner, that night. My mother made mashed potatoes seasoned with fried cumin. I loved to have this when I fell sick.
Dino had come down for dinner that night. (I get confused when I need to introduce Dino. He is a dear and dependable brother, a childhood friend and my brother’s brother-in-law.)
They had chicken with rotis.

I gulped a few spoonfuls of the potato mash and went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night. My stomach was troubling me a bit. I went to the toilet. I felt a bit relieved and returned to sleep.

My alarm beeped. Time to get up and get ready for office – it is the 30th today – my mind told me.
As I tried to sit up, I could not. My body felt as heavy as a rock. My throat had something stuck inside it, which refused to come out. The feeling was miserable – something I was not able to describe to anybody, even later on.

I don’t think I can make it today. I am so sorry. – I texted Amrita.
Take Care. Try to be fit by tomorrow. – she replied.

Ma, something is stuck inside my throat! – were my first words when my mother came upstairs from her bedroom.
Have some tea. Acidity makes us feel like that sometimes. – she said.

She made me a cup of black tea, which I kept sipping for the next hour. She had given me a couple of Marie biscuits, which I did not feel like touching.
My mobile phone kept ringing – colleagues, team members, clients!

Around 12 noon, Ma literally coaxed me into having the biscuits. I threw up within minutes.

I did not eat anything throughout the day. My sister-in-law returned from work and made me a glass of “lebur shorbot” (homemade lemon juice).
If you ask me what is the most delicious thing I have had in my entire life, I would say it was the lemon juice that she made me that day- Maybe, because, I kept craving for a drop of water in the days to come.

Nobody Thought I Would Survive (1)

How it all started :

It was August 24, 2006 – a Thursday. The sky looked threateningly overcast from the sixth floor windows of Delta House. It seemed we were about to have another heavy shower.

The rainy season and a heavy shower no longer seemed romantic to us. We had had enough in the past ten days. Leaving office to hit the heavily waterlogged Council House Street, with all the garbage flowing in from all directions of Dalhousie, was an idea we had started hating.

A heavy downpour started around 5.30pm and by 6pm we got the news that the roads were already flooded. We decided to stay back till the water subsided. But it was not to be. Around 7-30pm, I left office with a few of my colleagues and found the water level on the road touching my chest. Somehow we managed to reach the BBD Bag Bus Depot and board our respective buses.

The hour-long journey from Dalhousie to Ballygunje Station half-dried the soaked clothes and shoes. After reaching home, I took a bath in lukewarm water to which I did add a few drops of Dettol in an attempt to ward off infections that logged water might bring in.

The next morning, I woke up with a severe headache. I soon discovered I had cold and fever and called up office to inform that I would not go for work. I was not feeling like having breakfast. But I had a medicine to take – the one that had been added to my routine since the past two weeks after I had been diagnosed with hypo-thyroidism.
(My TSH[thyroid stimulating hormone] at that point of time was 39, the normal maximum level being up to 7. The doctor who had done this investigation was alarmed to know that I was totally unaware of this condition and that I was able to lead a normal, active life without any medication.)

I had my breakfast, had Eltroxin (the thyroid medicine) and went to sleep. I slept the whole day.

I went to work the next day, feeling much better. I did not have much time to think about my health, at office that day.
I found myself a bit under the weather, the next morning, but did not think of taking another leave, Saturday already being a half-day for us.

By the time I headed for home on Saturday afternoon, the cold and headache were back. I had high fever by the time I reached home.

I spent my Sunday in bed, taking medicines for the cold and fever. I knew I had to be in office on Monday. It would be 28th of the month. My team would not be able to handle the month-end pressure, with the team-leader missing.

It was willpower that took me to office on Monday. I slogged the whole day and returned home quite late.

My mother did not like the look of me when I got home.
“Cant you take a leave?” – she asked.
“Let me complete the month, Maa – then I will take a leave for a few days.” – I assured her.

I did not know that I would take a much longer leave. Neither did I know that the month-end of August at the insurance department of Dewar’s Garage that year would have to do without me.

What a Wonderful World!

We forget what we have got! Counting our blessings is a thing we seldom remember to do! We do take our daily blessings for granted and think the world around to be so insignificant that we miss out on all the beautiful offerings we are gifted with.

Let me share with you a wonderful song by Louis Armstrong :

I see trees of green ........

........red roses too

I see em bloom.....

for me and for you

And I think to myself....

what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue.....

clouds of white

Bright blessed days....

dark sacred nights

And I think to myself .....

what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow.....

so pretty ..in the sky

Are also on the faces.....

of people going by

I see friends shaking hands.....

sayin.. how do you do

Theyre really sayin......

I love you.

I hear babies cry......

I watch them grow

Theyll learn much more.....

than Ill never know

And I think to myself .....

what a wonderful world!!