IF ITS YOURS
IT WILL FIND YOU.
I t was a bright, crisp, sunny morning in Leh Ladakh. The winter chill had nearly set in with smatterings of snow on the higher reaches of visible peaks around. As I busied myself getting ready for school, packing lunch and getting the kids ready, I stopped in my tracks when I experienced a sharp shooting pain in my abdomen. Just another case of indigestion? It came again and subsided soon enough. Ok..just a figment of my imagination maybe! All packed up and looking forward to another school day, I bundled the kids bags and all, and sped off in my car. The drive always rejuvenated me. I marvelled at the bounty of nature with the flowing Indus running alongside. Surrounded by majestic mountains, resplendent in all their glory, Ladakh is a place one either loves or hates! Theres no in between. As I drove through the winding lanes with gurgling springs, crossing small bridges with crystal clear water below, I had forgotten all about my stomach pain. The school started at 10 am till 4 pm keeping in mind the extremely cold weather. It was going to be a long, severe winter. The day passed off fast, surrounded by chubby, red cheeked kids amidst beautiful locales. Vacations were fast nearing and we were looking forward to going to the plains.
By evening it came back, the funny pain now travelling to my back. Ok, time to visit the doctor, I guess! So after having ignored it previously, I drove to the Army Hospital a few kilometres away, to rule out any major cause for concern. The doctor there advised an ultrasound next day suspecting gall stones. Well the prognosis alarmed me and my family a bit and true enough it was diagnosed the same. I had stones in the gall bladder.
Flashback.Childhood
I ts true we make our own destiny. But its also true that destiny makes us who we are. When we are born, we have no inkling to where or what we are headed towards. As we grow, we go with the flow, hoping things will turn out well. Those small falls and scratches of early days, toppling from the cycle, tripping from the swings, breaking a tooth, are all growing phases, preparing you to tolerate pain, increasing your threshold with each passing year. Childhood days are those memories which are few but precious, where you live in your own fantasy world. Childhood days are always filled with innocence and imagination., with wonder and fascination, with awe and enchantment. As we grow our innocence and wonderment keeps fading slowly, like old ink on paper and one day it just vanishes making us cynical. Who doesnt miss those carefree days where you only ate, played and slept!
Generally happy, pampered and loved, my childhood was pretty much a normal one. There was no TV, no computer, no video games. Childhood happened before technology took over. The games I played were in my moms lap and the TV for me was the animated stories that my dad narrated. Holidays were spent in my grandparents house, where I travelled by train. The journey got me all pepped up as the ride used to be an exciting life event. The slow whirring of the steam engine, the cacophony of the station with hawkers enticing you with sweetmeats and savouries, still rings in the happy memories of those days. I got all the comforts of a good army officers daughters life. I have very faint memories when my dad went for the 1971 war with me being all of two years old. My mom took care of my brother and me by herself, staying in separated family quarters along with other officers wives. Im sure the whole atmosphere would have been shrouded in tension and anxiety for my mom. But as a kid it never bothered me. My routine was fixed with school, play and birthday parties. I do remember going to visit my dad in Poonch where he was staying in a bunker made of mud. Families had been given permission for a couple of days to visit and I along with many other kids of varied ages, all bundled up in an army truck called one ton travelled to Poonch in Jammu and Kashmir. Just being swung in dads arms once again, just seeing him there in front of you was so exciting and poignant. My mom pretty much brought me up single handed in my kindergarten years, as dad was always on duty. Small pleasures would made me happy. A trip to the local mela, a wrist full of gleaming glass bangles, moms old dupatta wrapped up as a sari, preening in front of the mirror, playing teacher with a chalk in handpretty much made up my day.
With my father being in the Army I changed school every 2 years, made new friends, grew new interests and saw new places. Yes, indulging in food was my favourite pastime, that by the time I turned 10, I was overweight with a borderline high sugar. My parents worked towards my wellbeing by locking up all the things I loved to eat. Chocolates, butter, cheese, chips all started disappearing from the house. But at that age one cannot comprehend why you are being denied food. I mean, you do live to eat, right? And not always the other way around! Apart from a few falls, a foot in the cycle fracture and other minor hurts life was pretty much normal.
So far, so good!
By the time I reached my teens, dad had a lot of peace postings and was around most of the time. By the time college happened he had retired and I spent a decade in a small town near Nagpur called Kamptee. Teens were a breeze. I was never deprived of anything. I was an all-rounder, good in academics, dance, drama, debates, hosting events in school and college. I loved to embroider, stitch, cook, bakeall things womanly! Though they were never forced upon me, I just naturally bent towards creativity. Here again, apart from a few wisdom tooth extractions, a couple of stitches on the knee, the usual flus, are all I can remember. I was groomed and brought up with an independent and fearless spirit by my parents. I was given the freedom to explore, to do all kinds of odd jobs, take the scooter to the mechanic, drive the car alone without a GPS, have a beer on Sundays, attend jam sessions and travel alone. That in the 80s was empowering.
Fast forward..
M arried in Kamptee itself, just after my graduation, my husband was also an officer in the Army. I chose to marry an Infantry officer, knowing fully well the implications of being wedded to the olive greens. No one in my family dissuaded me and the exciting army life beckoned me. Like all newly wed brides, I too settled down slowly in the homemakers routine, taking pride in cooking and cleaning! Since I was the youngest lady in my husbands unit, I was looked after and pampered by all. Of course, protocol was always followed and my grooming as an officers wife began. A year later I was expecting and everyone was joyous and elated. I just listened to elders on what to do and not to do. 5 months into it, I started spotting. An ultrasound showed no growth of the foetus. I was not too vocal and was too shy to openly discuss these things. There was no means to get any kind of information other than what your doctor told you. My first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. At that age I had no idea what it entailed and there was a lot of suffering and pain involved. The whole thing was surreal, strange. But I was sure it was no fault of mine even though I did blame myself initially. So, things fell back in place and I got over it soon. I was young and healthy and thats what mattered. I did my Bachelors in Education and kept myself busy.
After my elder daughter was born, my husband got posted to war stricken Somalia as part of the Indian Army contingent. There was a lot of tension as everyday papers would scream of attacks and bloodshed. Each day with a heavy heart I would read of some disaster keeping my fingers crossed and prayed for it to be over soon. A year and a half later he returned safely and I moved with him to his new place of posting. After my younger daughter started school, I picked up a teaching job too. With two beautiful girls to fill my days with laughter and chatter, life was happy and happening. Smooth and settled. Or so I thought.
