I was
may be 8 years old. Happy playing with the 3 month old fox terrier
pup, getting scared when my big brother said 'Kashmoooraaaaaa',
embarrassing amma when she took me to her friends' homes by blurting
out 'I am hungry', getting mid night whacks from my sister when I wet
the bed and she had to change sheets as well as my clothes, secretly
dreaming and being thrilled about my fathers green trunk as my friend
told me she thinks it is full of money! Holding Hari's hand (who was
10 and some months old then) while crossing the road and listening to
him say the same sentence every day 'come near my School as soon as
yours is over' and I responded with a big nod while
moving towards my class as unwillingly as a French convict facing the
guillotine.
I did
not yet know real sadness or trauma or drama even for that matter.
One fine day, I was in School and my brother’s friend came to fetch
me. My teacher looked sad and shocked as she spoke to him outside the
classroom and she said ‘Aparna, please go with him, you are excused
from the class’. For me I knew the friend and he told me guess what
jokes when he came home so I skipped away from school happily behind
him. (Guess what! Amma is gummy, appa is thorny but the sons are like Amitabh Bachchan – guess what is it? Answer: Jack fruit! clap clap clap)
He had
come in his cycle, instead of making me sit in the front and pedal
away, he started walking pushing the cycle and told me ‘Little one
(putti) your anna had an accident, one more friend has gone to fetch
Hari (my other brother), we need to go to the hospital ok?’. I said
ok.
I did
not know the meaning of accident and related hospitalization. Till we
reached the hospital, I was happy about skipping School that day.
When I reached, my mother, sister and brother were already there. We
went to see where my brother was. We were taken to the general ward;
all the beds were full with patients and their attendants. We
searched for the familiar face of my brother and someone in the
entourage said ‘here he is’.
All cots
in the general ward were taken so they had made a makeshift
arrangement on the floor with a bed and related sheets. The person
who was on it had a fully swollen face – especially his right eye.
I did not recognise him. He was unconscious. Amma was hysterical
asking people – why is he not awake? what happened? Where is the
doctor? Why is he on the floor? Please shift him to private ward and
so on.
Naanna
was away attending to his office work. He was informed. We were assured that as
soon as the private ward is vacant he will be shifted. He was hit on
the head by a fast cricket ball while playing the match and a neuro
surgeon is coming from Bangalore (or some place) to examine him.
Nanna
came and private ward opened up. He was shifted. I did not yet know the
significance of him being unconscious for one and half days, I was
not around when the neuro surgeon examined him, I did not yet know
how lucky we were that he was alive though the impact of the ball
left a dent in his skull forever and there was internal bleeding.
My
belief then was if some one is sick, they go to hospital, they get
better and they go home. So I was not worried much. Hari and I
skipped school as many days as he was in the hospital, received well
wishers and friends to the hospital room in all the glory of sister
and brother of the patient, received bags full of fruits very humbly
to be divided and devoured by both of us as soon as they left! I do
not remember offering a piece of fruit to my other brother who was sleeping and
waking at random intervals.
May be
children with their strong beliefs and happy thoughts make miracles
happen unknowingly.
