Shankar is no more...
I finally hit the send button after managing to type the entire thing out with trembling fingers - a few hours after he was declared. Two months of merciless hospitalization had come to an end. His decade-long pain had finally stopped.
I was there yet not there. I knew yet not accepting. The doctors had been telling for over a month 'to be prepared,' I had heard it all but I KNEW my man would battle it out & we would be home. Now indeed, it was time to go home WITH HIM.
We had got on to a habit where we would write notes to eachother as ICU visiting time was limited...5 min at 5 p.m. in the evening. Queue up outside the ICU & only one person would be allowed to visit just for 5 minutes. If the staff was in good mood & there was nothing urgent that they had to tend to, we would sometimes get double the time.
That morning as I was about to head to Gastroenterology in an attempt to do all we could, he had sent out a note that made me go pale. It felt like my legs gave in, I didn't know what to say...he had said his ordeal wasn't going to end & that I shouldn't be a part of it anymore, that we shall have a discussion in the evening. How, how could he say that? Did I hang on for 10 years to hear this from him? I wrote back a note almost yelling at his cruelty and trying to pump in courage at the same time before dragging myself to meet the Gastro doctors.
In the evening as he took a few sips of tea, I caressed him like a baby, ran my hand across his face & chest, held his hand, assured him all shall be well. He kept asking what the blood pressure reading was, I lied, said it was getting better... it was at 40/20 and hadn't improved for over 36 hours despite being at the highest dose of Noradrenaline...I knew it, yet far from acceptance, hung on to hope & gave him some. We discussed it had been 2 months and maybe we should terminate the rental agreement on the house...it was a place that he chose despite it being slightly heavier on the pocket because he had fallen in love with it. He agreed to it, and I regret it being one of the last things we discussed...it wouldn't have been easy on him. The nurses asked me to leave...he hadn't been eating well, so I told him I needed him to eat everything that I would send him and focus on getting better.
At about 9, in the dinner basket, I sent a note asking him to smile as it would make me smile more, to hang in there & that I loved him.
I went to fetch a bottle of water for myself, got a bag of crisps along to cater to the stressed nerves. When I returned, the housekeeping staff said ICU wanted me. It was about 9.15. I ran down only for the security to say, 'nope, no one called.' The security and other staff had gotten familiar and were empathetic...I trusted & walked back. As I began to unlock the room, the housekeeping staff again said, 'what happened, you didn't go? They rang us here, security wouldn't know, please go.' My heart sunk, ran down again, told the guard, he rang the nurse station to inform & offered me his seat. I politely refused...and watched the doctor walk towards us. He said, 'pls sit down...is there anyone with you..can you please call them?' I knew...but he wouldn't tell me anything...I rang my brother..they spoke & doctor went back in. It would take time for Munna to reach...a brief call to my best friend from college 'where are you?..Okay come over.' She was there in ten...my brother was there soon after. I began to shake my head vigorously, meaning to ask if it was over...he said 'No No Nooo'...the guard rang for permission and let my brother in. When he came out, he came shaking his head indicating Shankar was Gone...he was gone!!! I stared...Munna pulled me up into the tightest of hugs & I let out a scream & went numb again.
They asked if I wanted to go see him...what was the point? I met him in the evening...he could have told me he was going...what would I go see him now for? He left me...half way through...he just left.
I sat, not feeling a thing... thinking of how would my parents take it...dads wouldn't express much but both my mothers would be inconsolable...how do I handle them..my little sister will need Sorbitrate...Munna was alone, who would come help him manage everything that needed to.
Friends came like angels and stood by, helped, stayed until we drove Shankar to his favorite place early next morning - His House.
I held my hand above his head so it wouldn't bang against the driver's seat and get hurt. I repeatedly kept whispering, calling out to him...maybe he would wake up?
Right from diagnosis in 2013 to the previous morning, this man had fought hard & brave...no one could tell he was sick & under treatment. During his last month, whenever he would get to be on the ward, he would call up colleagues & family & say 'hey, I am absolutely fine...I will be back soon.." One of his texts to a colleague read 'Devil will be back.' Doctors would come tell me, he is talking about meetings & work, he is not doing good..he is shutting down. He never was informed of any of it, and I kept telling myself 'they don't know him.' As an afterthought, he probably gave up that morning....he had mentioned at teatime that he felt a huge sense of guilt in the morning which resulted in that note asking me to leave.
He smiled through all adversities, few that even I wouldn't want to remind myself of. He taught me through his battle. It wasn't an ideal romance, far from the dreamy ones from books and movies, but we stuck together, getting mad at eachother, planning our absolutely uncertain future, dreaming, dancing, playing, celebrating every small thing with limited resources but great joy, being eachother's babies...He would say I was a 13 year old stuck in an adult body...& he was literally my baby that I mothered, nurtured, & tried hard to protect. I would often say to him evil couldn't reach him until I stood guard...that He was Shankar & I was his Kali. The last two months, for some reason, the thought of a prayer didn't come anywhere near me...I was going around crazily, checking what could be done, & doing all that could be. I wasn't on guard...is that why???
I know what happened to me as he breathed his last, but nothing about what he must have gone through. Did it hurt? Did he want water to drink? Did he ask for me? Did he say anything? Should I have realised & gotten him to the ward or home? But then would it not be like giving up on hope... his courage...or him?? Questions that will haunt me forever & wound me each time.
Just before he could embark on that final journey, I gently removed the plaster off his mouth - he was intubated when we saw him at the hospital - & there he was, smiling again!!! He looked sooo handsome. In that moment, my hands involuntarily did the 'nazar utaro' thing. I frowned at the same time, how could he do this? Smile when he knew he was leaving me? Smile at death??
The smile stayed as we had one last drive together, him surrounded by others & me holding the pot that would then hold him. It stayed as I sat lifelessly watching people chant, cry...got off the vehicle, followed instructions & completed the rituals. It stayed as I lit the camphor placed on his chest...setting him on fire.
It tears me apart to relive these moments over & over again....but I choose to believe he had managed to read my last note asking him to smile so I could smile more...
& to honour his love, I shall continue to smile...more.
