At stake : ~life~ hope

“Thirty three, thirty four, thirty five..”, I counted my each step as I wasn’t sure if I could ever do it again .The muffled whispers turned inaudible as my steps progressed. Each footprint dug a little deeper as my pace lost its will to move forward. My right hand found its place in my mother’s grip. Her tender look couldn’t hide the fear, yet there she was, stroking my hair as she walked alongside. My father had trailed off and was now slowing down to catch up with us. His grim face nodded slightly indicating us to walk faster.

The 100 m walk to the entrance never felt so tiresome until today. Finally the steps halted at a faint reflection of ours and for a moment, we stared at ourselves. The mirror image of my family on the glass doors, slided down several picture hurricanes through my mind and never did I recollect one without a smile. And now there it was, the gloomiest that I have ever witnessed.

Opening the door, I took a step, what almost felt like the biggest leap of my life, with the tremendous heart pounding. Stretchers wheeled past us, nurses paced along. The lounge were filled with people, some with a weak smile, some faces panic stricken, some soaked in anxiety and tears. Yes, I’m at a place where humanity weighed heavier than religion, caste or colour, where lives either mattered or shattered.

My post biopsy results were due today.

“9”, I replied to my mother when she asked what our token number was. We took our seats in what looked like the most dreaded place on earth. I scanned the people around me. Most of them had their faces buried in their hands. My mother clutched my hands tightly to relieve her anticipation. The nurses went in and out with a huge pile of records. Records that determined our future. Records which prove whether our life was at stake. The heaviest pile of papers, I realised.

The tense atmosphere became sturdier than diamond at that moment. The intensity was quite high to crack open even a narrow grin. Swiping between applications, Facebook to Snapchat then to Instagram, everything failed to distract me. While flicking through Instagram, this was the only post that got imprinted among all the hustle going on in my mind. Was it because I could relate it better now, I didn’t know.

Was it coincidence? Forever was a virtual concept, yet why do people struggle to stretch their lifespan rather than living their best today?

Ironically, the fear in me made no sense. Yet, the hunger for a “happily ever after” never satiated.

“Token no. 8”, the nurse called out. Numbness enveloped me. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at a painting of the crucified Christ.

The invisible spirit. To pay respect to this divinity every Sunday, felt uneasy every week. Today, everything else seemed hopeless. Only an inhuman energy could lift my soul. God or fate. I didn’t know which to rely upon.

The narrow source of expectation wasn’t a piece of cake. I wanted to live. Everything in my life, that were taken for granted, seemed more meaningful. Time, to be precise. I clasped my hands and shut my eyes closed. A teardrop streamed down my cheeks. Slowly composing my posture, I opened my eyes. A streak of light glowed beneath that picture. The ray of hope was lit. I silently wished that it was mine.

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This excerpt is a shout out to all those survivors out there. Not just cancer victims, everyone who held onto their precious life and lived to their best. Perhaps, courage isn’t defined by feats like bungee jumping or paragliding.

The strength to scrape together all that’s left and still choose to move on — that’s what courage is all about.

I would also like to thank a good friend of mine, who conveyed this plot with such depth and perception, which was my inspiration behind this post.