A STORY OF HOPE

The most intriguing part of my life, certainly the part that changed me the most was the period of time I spent in the hospital. Sometime around the end of fourth grade, I was diagnosed with a type of jaundice, which led to the discovery of some sort of aberration in the behavior of my white blood cells, which in turn led to a chronic kidney failure. The next two years took place nearly entirely in hospitals. I remember shifting from hospital to hospital, from ward to ward and from bed to bed. One would not be far from the truth in saying that it was the darkest phase of my life.

For a kid of around nine years of age to be taken terribly ill so as to spend his days in a hospital with an assortment of tubes and wires going in and coming out of his body, being denied any sort of junk food and with no friends to play with is a sad thing indeed. The only company I had was my parents and a few relatives, and the occasional grown-up I never managed to recognize nor remember. They did their best to make me feel comfortable and loved, but that did very little to shake that feeling of loneliness and unjustness that constantly assaulted me, not for want of trying on their part though. And the doctors who came for my blood (literally) every day didn’t help either. I had never been inclined towards the religious side, apart from the occasional visit to a temple, but I vividly remember wondering why God was so angry at me so as to put me into such a state. This was a period which was filled with all sorts of rants and curses directed towards God, for the injustice that He had done me. It was a part of my life filled with pain and suffering, not just for me, but for all of my relatives, and especially my family. The sadness and worries that they experienced can never be put to words. I especially remember the one time I saw my father crying outside the room; he didn’t realize that I couldn’t see him. I didn’t understand back then, but it still felt like a stake driven through my heart.

But, like an angel appearing from the heavens with a solution to my misery, my father one day entered the room with a book in his hand. It was the second book of Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. I was not much of a reader before, some Enid Blyton and perhaps a bit of Satyajit Ray were all I could boast of having read, but from the first page of this wonderful world created by The Queen, I was hooked. It didn’t matter that I read the second part first. All I knew was that this piece of art by that great lady provided me with an escape. My days were still for the most part, filled with pain, but I now had something to battle it with. This world of magic and beauty gave me my “happy place”.

Having exhausted those books, I proceeded towards others, though the books escape my memory. It was only that beginning which lingers in my mind. I can safely say that it was this decision by my father that truly changed my life. When I look back now, I find a world filled with pain, misery and anger, but also a world of joy and beauty. I remember the numerous times that I wished for it all to go away, the times I wished that I were someone else, someone normal and healthy so that I could lead a happy life, but I realize now that every happy story must have a low point. It is this dip that moulds that person into what he is to become. Had such a thing not happened to me, I would probably be studying my butt of for an exam tomorrow in a subject like engineering graphics. That certainly makes for a scary thought. But I look at myself now, and I realize I am happy. Needless to say, I still have problems to face, obstacles to overcome, but the important thing is that I am surrounded by people I love and who love me back, doing something I love and just enjoying life. Every cloud has a silver lining. Every dark tunnel has light at the end of it. Every rainy day gives way to sunshine. There is always hope. If there is one thing I learnt from those Dark Days, it’s that life is like one of those kung-fu masters we see in movies. It makes your life a living hell, robs you of everything that makes you happy and makes you wish you were never born, but all that is only to make you a better person in the future. In the end, it is to your sensei that you owe your identity to.