Your legacy lives on

This is the day we lost you mummy. And our world fell apart. As we were trying to make sense of what happened, we lost papa too. We still miss the vacuum you both have left behind. This post is to let you and all your well wishers know that your legacy will live on.

It's been a little quiet on this blog-not because your memory has faded but because my career has pivoted. I have now moved to your space my dear parents and I am here to stay-to expand your influence long after you are gone. Your work continues!

When past defines future

As I complete my first week at my new company, I cannot wait to hit the ground running. This is my first foray into the healthcare industry.

It might seem that this journey began when we first lost our mother in 2013 and my resolve strengthened after our father's passing in 2015 but if one looks closer, this story dates back much earlier- to my growing years... (I will fill this section another day).

In retrospect, while I helplessly and hopelessly looked for answers in my parent's untimely death-scouring over medical journals, I finally found hope when I looked closer into their life and how that has come to impact ours. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything that they bestowed on us-love, laughter, knowledge, inspiration and so much more.

Now it is my turn to carry on their legacy. So payback time begins!

The Man of STEEL-my Papa!

Papa-then and now

The Christmas of 2016 was any anything but a celebration. Our dear father was fighting for his life while we dreaded the worst-losing our only parent. It took us some time to look beyond papa's passing and celebrate his life instead-a life that he so lovingly shared with us.

As we fondly reminisce the life of a father, doctor and husband, we recognize he was so much more: a loving and generous  son, father-in-law and uncle.

My parents met during the third year of medical school (MBBS) in SCB Medical College. After they both completed post-graduation (MS) from PMCH (Patna Medical College and Hospital), papa went on a foreign assignment to Algeria as an Orthopedic specialist. His impeccable work ethic and upbeat personality earned him the respect of his peers and patients alike. Although he humbly credited some of his best learned skills to his mentor and renowned Swiss surgeon of the time.

My parents with their colleagues in Algeria

After returning to India in the late eighties, papa joined Capital Hospital, Bhubaneswar where he continued  to expand his experience with different procedures, surgeries, etc. He was a phenomenal team player, who thrived in the face of adversity and loved to learn and grow while constantly encouraging and inspiring everyone alongside. He was passionate about his profession  and strove to find creative solutions in both life and work. His patients believed his vibrant and jovial demeanor was half the cure.

In his last years, following the death of our mother and his beloved wife, Dr. Sabita Mahanti, papa missed her absence tremendously. Nevertheless, he refused to succumb to that. Instead he took it up a notch with physical activity. He proved that true strength is in the soul and spirit, not in muscles. As they say once a sportsman, always a sportsman!

Papa stood strong,  independent and continued to work in the same clinic, which they both passionately established and grew during their life time. He will always be fondly remembered him for his larger than life personality. A man of steel indeed!

Heart always wins!

Once upon a time I was an idealist in the matters of heart. Later Life happened and I transformed into a pragmatist. Then by a sheer streak of luck, I found myself ready to fall in love but in hindsight I feel I might have taken this thought a tad bit too literally.

Water Fire- Providence

Besides, I am sure you would agree that falling head over heels on your first date is rarely a good idea. What I did was quite the contrary!  As I was about to meet my husband for the very first time-where do you think I found myself? On his feet- literally! I tripped and fell flat on my face. Now since my sense of elegance is in question here, let me clarify- it wasn’t my fault of course-it rarely is, is it? The culprit was the new pair of high heels that I had adorned to impress upon this tall man. So much so for first impressions!

Fast forward a few months-things seemed to be going unexpectedly well (note: with the same date and yes- he did call me back)! The cynical I was still unwilling to believe this was really happening. So I figured it was

time to beard the lion in his den. I flew down to meet Siva in Houston. As I came down the escalators in the airport, I breezed right past the concierge surrounded by agents and limo drivers carrying placards. One of them even continued to offer me a ride in spite of my repeated denial explaining that I already have one. Not for long though-only moments later when I glanced back, realization finally dawned on me that the rather persistent soul was none other than my ride-Siva.

He drove me to this beautiful hotel, helped me with my bags to my room and as he was opening the shades to give me a glimpse of the famous city line, I somehow caught an edge of the bed, and landed flat, this time on my back. Fortunately for me, Siva had his back to me-and I thought to myself "what a golden opportunity to course correct!" I hurriedly got up and straightened myself up like nothing happened, joined him next to the balcony and followed his gaze out. 

Biba Dushi- Aruba

In fact we continued to follow each other on our respective paths and before we knew we were on the same path-this time on our honeymoon in Aruba. Love was certainly in the air, my heart was filled with such joy that it's it hard to even describe. And as I admired the magical ocean outside, my husband called out to me-"be careful, will ya? Don’t fall off the bed this time". I suspiciously turned out and gave him a puzzled look which was returned by an equally amused wink.  As it turns out, he had after all seen me make that ungracious fall on that fateful evening in Houston-apparently he caught that happening on the reflection on the TV from the corner of his eyes-if you ask me, I’d say what an unnecessary coincidence! Sometimes I thank God and other times I wonder, why and how did he chose me. My only explanation-The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.

A Birthday To Remember

As I browsed through the photo album with my mother, I paused at the pictures of my friends circled around my birthday cake: they all looked so excited –probably in anticipation of the chocolate treat awaiting them- so was I. Suddenly I remembered that my birthday was just round the corner and my smile faded. Seeing that, my mom inquired what was bothering me.

On one of our trips to India

I told her how much I missed my school, my old friends and everything I loved and how I had to leave all that behind when my parents decided to move back to India-a new place for me then. I went on to complain about how life was not the same anymore. I nostalgically gave the picture one last glance and concluded with a deep sigh- “I will never be that happy again”; to which my mom gently responded “of course you will be, in fact you will be happier than you have ever been-you just wait and watch”!

What followed in the days leading up to my birthday was very heartwarming. My parents started browsing stores to look for party supplies. They had a hard time finding the typical stuff. But that didn’t deter them. For instance, in the absence of preprinted invitation cards, my dad got some blank cards from stationery and used his typewriter to print each invitation himself. Then my parents put themed cartoon stickers on the cards and added glitter. At the end of that project, those birthday invitations-oh boy looked far more adorable than store-bought ones. 

Anyway not so long before, my dad had helped put a cast on a kid’s fractured hand. When my father started prescribing some medication, he noticed the young patient’s father looked very anxious. It didn’t take long for my dad to realize why.  The man as it turned out, was an electrician by profession: he was a man of modest means who had just used up most of his money buying the plaster (for the cast) and paying for the doctor’s fees: he was afraid he didn’t have enough money left to buy medications. On hearing this, my father waived his fees and returned the money to the man urging him to buy medicines with that instead. Fast forward a few weeks, the same man had returned with his son for a follow-up: this was the morning of my birthday. On learning that the clinic was closing early that day, he insisted he wanted to help out later that afternoon with setting up the chairs on the terrace.

A birthday to remember indeed!

A few hours later when my mom went upstairs with the cake, she stared at the terrace in disbelief. The setup looked anything like that of a birthday party-it looked like a mini-wedding venue! What had apparently happened is shortly after helping out, this kind man had returned to the terrace and set up colored tube lights encircling that area.  Suffice to say the whole place looked surreal! Now that birthday did turn out to the best birthday I have ever had, just like my mom had promised. I had my parents, my grandparents, a few of my favorite cousins and last but not the least my new friends then, some of whom went on to become my bosom friends. 

Although what made that occasion so memorable was not the delicious menu, the dazzling setup or the delightful games; it was much bigger than that-it was something that my mind was probably not matured enough to perceive then. But now over two decades later as I recollect the events of that day I know: I know how deeply I have come to appreciate the value of that love and determination which compelled my parents to creatively overcome materialistic challenges;  the significance of a kind deed followed by an equally moving act of reciprocation!

I somehow feel that those experiences have something to do with who I am and what I stand for today. It has instilled in me the conviction to never undermine the power of people, oneself included, and to never overestimate your challenges. For the problem is rarely the problem- it is our reaction to that which makes or breaks us. So I believe the trick is to not react to life but to respond and to respond with love, faith and fortitude.

Reliving my glorious past..through writing!

My memory of writing fondly goes back to my grandfather encouraging me to write from a very early age. I would write short stories and he would promise to narrate me Indian mythological stories in return. As I wrote one particular story, I remember drawing pictures accompanying some highlights of the story, one of them being that of the protagonist-a little girl discovering a clay pot of gold coins under a banyan tree.

Another recollection is that of a trip to Lake Chilika with family. My sister and I were gifted a diary each and asked to pen down our thoughts about the vacation and share it at the end of the trip. As my sister read out her journal entry, I heard her in awe and felt an ardent desire to someday be able to do similar justice in capturing an immersive experience amidst vivid imagery.

Lake Chilika during sunrise

Fast forward several years: through the decade that followed, I would write several poems, or rather pieces of memoriam as I lost some of my favorite family members, starting with the passing away of my grandfather and most recently with the loss of my mom. 

In the past few years, I found consolation in writing blogs which enabled me to revisit heartwarming memories from childhood and growing years among family and friends. Writing gave me an opportunity to embark on a healing and bittersweet journey-it kept me strong and calm during some challenging times.

And now –since I met my husband last year, it has been such a beautiful experience that I hope to steal some time away from the fast pace of Life  and capture these extraordinary moments in my own words before time wipes these memories away.

Memoriam

In the Toastmasters meeting today, I presented a speech from Project 2 of the Advanced Storytelling manual. The project requires the speaker to create and tell a story based on a personal experience. The speech time is required to be 6-8 minutes. I narrated a childhood incident. This and many other incidents inspire me to reminisce special moments spent with my wonderful family over the years. 

The Speech Transcript

After my parents spent several years on a foreign assignment, we finally returned to India. Since my birth, this was the first time I was going to live in my country of origin. There was a lot of anticipation. There was some apprehension too! I was starting to settle into the new environment, the new school, the new faces and the new food.

It was one sunny afternoon in February. My grandparents had just arrived to spend the next few weeks with us. Like any other kid, I was very excited to see them not to mention super energetic. My Jejema (Oriya name for grandma) had got some homemade Ras malai. For those of you who are wondering about this mysterious thing that spiked my energy levels: Ras malai literally means juicy cream. It is a very popular dessert in the Indian subcontinent. It consists of cheese balls soaked in sweet cream and flavored with cardamom: suffice to say it tastes delicious.

Going back to my story: while Jejema was trying to feed me this savory desert. I was jumping around the dining table, playing with the chairs: don’t ask me why. Suddenly, there was a loud thud. My grand mom turned her head in concern: she noticed that my facial expression changed from one of sheer joy to that of  sudden pain: this was followed by a shriek scream. The heavy antique chair had somehow tripped and fallen on my toe which was bleeding now. My mom who was in the clinic then probably heard me wailing: she rushed upstairs to see what was going on. She immediately bandaged my toe. Later both my grand mom and mom pampered me with sweet nothings. To distract me from the pain, they offered me an idea: whether I would like to consider  the thought of finishing up the rest of the dessert. I nodded in complete agreement. By the way, I continued to cry but still, that did not stop me from relishing the dessert at the same time.

Soon after, my dad came back from the clinic too. It was time for lunch. My mom showed him the injury and asked whether he thought it could be a fracture. He inspected my toe briefly and dismissed any such possibility. After we were done with lunch and dessert of course. I continued sobbing. Later I snoozed off. Meanwhile my mom noticed that my foot had swollen. This time she took a more assertive stand and urged my father to take me for an X-ray: she was increasingly getting suspicious of a fracture. And lo and behold: it was a fracture indeed, a hairline fracture to be more specific. A joke that makes the rounds till this date is that although my father was a well-known orthopedic surgeon in the state and was supposed to be an expert in the field, he misdiagnosed me that day. In fact, my mom guessed it right! Dad's argument was that in fracture cases, the patient is supposed to be in intolerable pain. But when he saw me continuing to wipe off the last semblance of the dessert, he banned any concerns he had of such a possibility. Fair enough! :)

Changing gears now: not long ago, I came across an interesting article titled "Mother, doctor, wife. The author, J. A. Hammond talks about how women physicians often play a triple role: mother, doctor, and wife and how these individuals need to strive so much harder if they wish to make each role fulfilling and wish to balance their career and personal life.
Looking back at my mom's life, I believe that my mother did a phenomenal job in all these three roles. She is my role model: I have learnt so much from her on a personal as well as professional front. And I miss her much.  

In closing, I want to leave you with a poem-a memoriam that I wrote for my mom last year. I would like to share that with you.