Page 34 - Masala Lite Issue 169 January 2025

34 MUSINGS OF AN AUNTY TOUCHED BY UNEXPECTED WARMTH

PAY IT FORWARD

Dolly Koghar learns that sharing stress reduces it to small fragments.

the hurry-scurry of those days, I missed
the glimpse of the rising sun peeping in
from between the high-rise buildings
around us, which harked in the sense
of continuity and in that magical
light of dawn, the chirpy chattering
of the birds, unfazed by what the
day might bring, was lost on me. For
now, everything paled and could
wait, even the frenzied urgency with
which I habitually attacked my ever-
ife is about learning and I guess, one is never too
old, nor is it ever too late to finally understand lengthening list of to-dos; I needed to
Lwhat one thinks one knows, but really doesn’t. focus on getting what needed to be
We’ve heard often enough that, “Happiness adds and done for hubby dear, done.
multiplies, as we divide it with others.” But I could never The hospitalisations, the in-between
have dreamt that others sharing in with my stress and appointments, and the follow-ups
worry, helped divide them into manageable fragments, kept us on our toes. During those
and subtracted much of the overwhelming weight I was visits, especially to the government
bravely (pretending) to shoulder on my own. This lesson hospitals, seeing the sheer number of people waiting for started coming in, even from far-off acquaintances:
was needed and came as lessons often do when you blood tests, in queues to pay bills, waiting for radiation “How’s he,” “Let me know if I can do anything,” “Take
least expect them and it goes without saying, that it’s and X-rays, and others sitting patiently outside their care.” I didn’t know he mattered; I didn’t know we
the untoward incidences that best drive in the message. respective doctors’ rooms was humbling. We weren’t mattered. But these messages mattered, a lot; they
special or different; pain and disease are universal. It did kept me distracted. I felt cared for, and I wasn’t isolated
Life was more or less carrying on as usual, mundane
and boring, and me, as always, going about cribbing, not select or skip on the merits of age, gender, colour, to wallow in the probability of an unwanted outcome.
whining, and grumbling about the irks and qualms of religion, or social status. I now know, first-hand, that good intentions ricochet
the day or the week, or life till now or the years to come; The procedures are behind us, with hubby dear and do make a difference; if not in the outcome, then
nothing and no one was or could ever be good enough. reemerged as a ‘bionic man’, with no semblance to at least to help make the difficult period a little less
Lee Majors! Nevertheless, it was during that stressful scary, a little less lonely. My faith is renewed that each
But then, a few months ago, on one of the rare mornings
period, when something out of the ordinary, at least for and every one of us, have it inherent in our DNA to be
that I was slumbering through hubby dear’s customary,
me, happened. We aren’t very social, and neither do I compassionate, caring, and giving. In doing one good
before the crack-of-dawn, noisy exit towards the TV
have phone buddies, but for some vague reason, news deed, which might not seem much, and if every one of
room, he came back really soon, exhibiting signs and
got around pretty quickly about hubby dear’s heart us did something good for someone else and kept the
symptoms that definitely harked a heart attack.
issues, which are as common as the ‘common man’, in cycle of ‘Pay It Forward’ going, we’ll definitely become
Fortunately, it wasn’t; but it became a three-month any household. But what was even stranger, and came a much better and nobler version of ourselves!
odyssey, during which the typical routine took a toss. In as a huge but pleasant surprise for me, was messages