For Aruna Shanbaug
19/05/2015.
Tuesday.
There are clouds in the sky tonight. It’s blocking the view of the stars. My mother used to tell us when we were children that when anyone died, they looked over us every day from the sky. They would become stars. Tonight, I’d like to see the stars. I’d like to see if Aruna is watching over us tonight. But I am sure she is up there. After so many years, she has definitely found her righteous place among the stars.
The glass of gin I keep on my side, I dedicate to her unerring spirit. She didn’t give up. She never stopped trying. Even God sided with her and allowed to live a full life, even if 42 years of that life was spent in the confines of a hospital bed. She never spoke after that day of horror. I wanted to know what she thought about it. I wanted to know what she thought about me. But I believe somehow her silence has told me more about myself than any feedback or soliloquy.
She would’ve wanted to say so much after that night. Knowing her indomitable spirit, if that chain wasn’t tied around her neck, she would’ve fought back. If he hadn’t pulled on it so tightly, he would never have seen a free life again. Aruna’s testimony would have put him behind bars forever. But he did pull on that chain too tightly. The last sensation she felt was not the love and warmth she deserved, but the cold harshness of his member inside her, before all the reactionary senses in her body ceased to function. Those hours when she lay in the pool of her own blood, waiting for help that would come several hours later, would’ve stretched on to eternity. But her spirit wouldn’t break. Her will unflinching.
This tear from my eye is not of sadness, but profound gratitude for my good fortune. Aruna gives me strength every day. To be around her brought me an endless fountain of happiness and belief. To know her was the greatest gift I have received. On this balcony tonight, alone with my thoughts… actually I am wrong. I am not alone. Aruna is here with me. When I first met Aruna, I was scared. The strict instructions from the other nurses who cared for her made matters more strenuous. But Aruna accepted me without prejudice or judgment. I can’t say that about many others I have known in my life. As time went on, I’d try my best to find ways to make her move again. When the other nurses said they had tried, I’d say they hadn’t tried hard enough. When the doctors would tell me nothing more could be done other than just caring for her, I’d cry at my helplessness. When Aruna finally moved a finger by a centimetre, my belief was reinvigorated. When the supreme court ruled against euthanasia, we celebrated like we had won a war. When I asked about Aruna’s family, I learnt that family is not measured by thickness of blood, but solidity in loyalty. When she died and everyone gathered to pay tribute to her, I felt humbled.
Through the clouds, she watches over me tonight, as she will watch over me every night, from the Kingdom of God. She moans differently when happy. She moans differently when sad. Her moans were and will always be mine to decipher. Tonight, though, I don’t hear moans. I hear laughter. I hear the joyous singing of an angel who has finally been unchained. I raise my glass to you Aruna. You were my life. You are my inspiration. You will be my guiding light whenever I am in darkness. Here’s to you and your unstoppable spirit.
The author of this diary entry is an oderly who cleaned, looked after and spoke to Aruna from 2007 till her passing on 18th May, 2015.
DISCLAIMER: The above diary entry is a work of fiction, inspired by the story of Aruna Shanbaug. Read about Aruna Shanbaug here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aruna_Shanbaug_case
