‘I Love You in the ICU’

“I Love You” in The ICU 

[I wrote this article way back on 24th August, 2014 when I was teaching at Chhukha Higher Secondary School, Bhutan. I have not shared it on any platform other than Facebook till date. It is not exactly a story, rather it is a narrative based on stark reality.

But I am sharing it for the first time with the readers of ZorbaBooks as my late Ma, an exceptional woman of great substance and sacrifice, used to tell me often, “sattyi ekdin galpo hoye jai” (Truth becomes a story one day). The message I have tried to convey to one and all through this piece straight from my heart, is that one must not forget to be appreciative of one’s parents. Show your love, admiration, respect to them, Dear Reader, while they are alive for tomorrow you might not have the chance.

“I Love You” In The ICU ( A Son’s Tribute to His Ma)

Right at this moment I have a second thought if I should go on writing about an incident that has left an undeniable imprint on my mind. I am not even sure if I can do justice in giving expressions to a memory that is a parting gift. I am equally skeptical that in trying to write about this incident, I might get emotional and as a result, be disrespectful to the memory of a person I have always admired, adored, loved and respected like no one else.

It is difficult for me to recollect right now when I got into the habit of massaging my late mother’s feet every night before retiring to bed. Whenever it might have been, it was always quality time for me. I used to share about everything under the sun with my Ma at the time, while she egged me on with her remarks and wisdom. You may be surprised to know, Reader, that I shared all my problems and worries with her in the 

sincere belief that once they were made known to her, they would tumble down like nine pins eventually! And they often did! I never tired of saying those words in front of her, behind her ………. here, there, everywhere. Those words were :

“The best mother in the world, I love you, Ma.”

I did not say that to flatter her, or make her happy. I uttered those words as they were, each of them, from the depth of my heart. I truly believe that the parents, especially The Mother, play a vital role in the upbringing of the child, physically, mentally and intellectually. Thanks to my maternal grandparents, my Ma was raised to be a genuinely good human being.

Agreed, mothers the world over are precious gems for their children. I guess my Ma was no exception. Now, to come back to that incident in August, 2006, I was just back from school, when I received an emergency call from my hometown Kolkata. It was my spouse, Jaya, calling. She sounded worried in informing me that my aged mother was suddenly taken ill and was about to be hospitalized. My youngest sister, Tapasi, who was there beside my spouse, having taken over the cell from my wife’s hand in the meantime, hastily informed me that everything was under control and Ma was going to be fine soon. But beneath her calm, composed voice, I could detect the worried soul and did not waste any more time in running out of my quarters to seek our Principal, Mr.Yash Bahadur Ghalley (God bless his soul), out. I have already written an article about Principal Sir’s magnanimity for the help he rendered to me at that time ( published in Business Bhutan,Vol I, Issue 6 dated Oct 31,09 ).

I had to do a lot of running around before someone directed me to the Boys’ Hostel. Sir, as was his nature, most graciously consented to my going down. Some half an hour later, as I was on my way to Kolkata, I ran into one of my colleagues, Mr.Bijuman Scaria (the world is a better place if you have friends like him), out on an evening walk with some friends. One look at me and he was taking a 500/- note from his purse out and into my hand, without asking, telling me that it might be handy on the way, and to give it back after my return from Kolkata..

I was down to the Zero point in a flash, though getting a lift from anyone at that time was like hoping for the rain on a bright, sunny morning! It is no surprise therefore, that I could go no further than Gedu, a distance of some 50 km from my place, Tsimalakha that night. I had to spend the night with my good friend, Mr.Thupten, the BoD Manager, another blessed soul. I remember having some intimate and personal talks with him that night over some intoxicating drinks! In the wee hours of the next morning, Mr.Thupten woke me up as he had already arranged a vehicle for me. To cut the long story of my journey from Phuentsholing via Hasimara to Kolkata short , let it suffice to say that I reached my native place at around 10.30 the next morning. My wife was ready with some eatables and having hastily gorged them down, we were breathlessly on our way to Peerless Hospital, Kolkata, said to be one of the most advanced and expensive hospitals in the city.

I could not meet my Ma straight away and it was nearly evening when I was finally let in the ICU. Someone must have told the well-dressed yet cool guard at the door that I was the youngest son of the patient in a coma, come all the way down from the neighbouring kingdom of Bhutan! As I slipped off my chappals near the door and walked up the carpeted way, the dusking evening outside seemed to recede to a distant darkness, to be replaced by the brightness of the room inside with a strong medicinal smell. Hers was the first bed I noticed on the left. She was lying still and immobile, covered with a white sheet up to her neck, tucked around her body and under her feet.

I did not look around. My entire attention was focused on the motionless body. As I willed myself into looking up to her face with her eyes closed, lots of thoughts were racing through my mind. The nurse standing near by, handed a lotion tube to me.

She asked me to drywash my hands with the lotion. Any contact with the outside world and its harmful germs through a visitor, I was told, might turn out to be fatal for any inmates of the ICU. I pressed the tube and applied the lotion to my hands. Only then I dared to remove a corner of the sheet to touch the feet which brought me sheer joy and happiness every time I held them.

Ma had been in a coma for some days. As I touched her feet with a trembling hand, I looked up to her face again for any sign of recognition, of the close bonding we had had over all these turbulent years. The face that has always given me the strength to fight against all odds; the face that has kept me going through Life’s turbulent journey; the face that has taught me to love Life and Living. And then, then something miraculous happened! Under the glow of the halogen light, I noticed a muscle in my

Ma’s face twitch or may be the eyelashes. It was like a miracle as I wasn’t exactly hallucinating. She had been totally immobilized for the last few days. I was worried. Was she disturbed by my touch? Was it very painful for her? What if she was in her senses? Wouldn’t she definitely try to convey her parting words to her youngest son?

I did not find the answers to all my questions at that time, nor will I ever. But at that precise moment the rest of the world came to a standstill when I saw the miracle happening once more. My touch on her feet, brought a tear through her closed eyes out and sparkle down her cheek! I felt as if a stone, a weighty guilt was being lifted off my chest. I heard someone, far away, whisper out:

“The best mother in the world. I love you, Ma. I always will.”