The irritating noise of beeping now seemed important, necessary… the heartbeat report flashed on the screen, the oxygen level was down under, the pulse rate abnormally high. My grandma was unwell, suffering with gangrene in her right hand… lying on the bed, begging for just a drop of water. 84 years old, battling for life, fighting with poor health to get out of the bed and see her family and I was beside her, shedding tears so that she could get up, so that people would give her water, so that they would take her home. I just wondered who was a greater warrior, the one who killed thousands on the battlefield, or grandma, who battled against her own body using her will power.
I felt odd standing there. Just a week ago, I was at Kerala, enjoying the beaches, the trees, the nature, the company of friends. And I was unaware that the very same weekend when I was celebrating, my grandma was in hospital, lying there, asking nothing but water. And my mother didn’t tell me. And I was hurt, my family didn’t trust that I could take it, but maybe they were right, I couldn’t take it.
“She is sinking”, the doctors had given up, but I wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t leave us. She was our everything; she meant the world to me. The thought of her, smiling, joking with us hurt me. Just before going to Kerala, she blessed me and prayed that I would enjoy my trip and come back safely. And now... she couldn’t recognize me.
I felt like I would burst. I would cry till my eyes would be dry, yet, I had to stay strong, but why? Everything had lost meaning. She said she didn’t have strength to live at one point of time, and maybe that was the worst moment of my short life of 14. I went back home praying… praying that he would save Paatti (granny). If he ever cared for us humans…
The one who meant everything to me, the one I love so much wouldn’t leave me, she just couldn’t.
God came… He didn’t desert us. He came. Till now I do not know whether he came as Mrs. Prasanna Kumar or she was his messenger, an angel. She gave us her blessing, in the form of Vivudhi, which is a holy powder which we put on our forehead as a custom, to bless us each day and keep us safe, forgive us for our mistakes. And this we put on granny’s forehead, this was our ray of sunshine in that period of darkness.
And…
And she recovered. Her gangrene was receding. People who believed in pure reasoning would say “It was not diagnosed correctly. She had dry gangrene.” But I say no. I say this was not diagnosed wrongly; it is neither a Scientific nor a Medical Miracle. This was just… a miracle. The Miracles that happened long ago, the Miracles which were the doings of a power beyond us. This something cannot be reduced to mere reasons, “facts”. This something made everything meaningful. This something made life come alive. This something aroused faith in us. This something…
Some call Him Jesus, others Allah, yet others call Him Hari… But for me… he’s everything, he’s God. He is the sweet Lord who proved the docs wrong, he the compassionate one who heard our pleas, the Great One who makes miracles happen but never takes the credit for it. The One who gave Paatti back to us…
