Date with Fate

One of the very senior sisters asked for my prayers for her younger brother who is fighting a fierce battle with cancer; the doctors have given him three months, and then he would be no more. There is no medicine which can really give him relief, and so he is counting his days. Just imagine a man counting the 90 days the doctors have given him. Given that he had remained single whole of his life, now entering into 75th year, what would be the kind of feelings he might be going through. I feel frightened to imagine such a situation; what can you do with the 90 days left on earth, and what is it that you would carry with you when the clock strikes at your last breath parts?

I was told that this gentleman told his 12 years senior sister that he was not afraid of facing death; he would be happy to be united with Jesus, his Lord! I shudder even as I imagine the man uttering these words rather joyously and courageously. Sometimes we have no other explanation in life than to resort to spiritualization of the fate we are pushed to. If we are pawns in the hands of gods, what is it that we can really do, than to resign to what they would wish for us? The situation might be quite different if he had had a family to care for; he would not have been left alone in the hospital ward, with friends occasionally dropping by, but this is a different kind of end than the one we are used to.

Science and technology have improved to such an extent that physicians are able to diagnose most of the ailments, though they may have to get a dozen blood tests to be done, and provide appropriate remedy, so that the doors to death are kept locked for many more years to come. But still there are certain doors which humanity is unable to keep locked for too long; they do not have much control over death, coming through the back door. Cancer and heart attacks are the two modern agents of death, and if cancer kills a person slowly and steadily, heart attack kills the person soon, if not diagnosed immediately. We lost our brother-in-law on the spot; we could never think the end would come so soon.

Sometimes I do this exercise : imagine that when I get up the next morning, I am no more; in such a situation, how should I handle myself. Sometimes while doing this exercise, I automatically arrange my table neatly, keep my room a little neat and tidy, and put a little order in the room, so that if I die, I do not leave a mess behind. But I need to do this exercise more often in order to complete the unfinished works soon, constantly make effort to put an order in my room, especially in keeping the things in their respective places, completing the unfinished tasks, so that the person who may look for things may not curse me then!

But deep within I feel so terrible for this man! How can life be so cruel to him? 90 days may pass by so fast, and one fine morning the physicians may tell him his final hour has come. I secretly hope that the word of the doctors does not come true; if only this man has got desire to live and not die, then probably no ailments and cancer can really take away his life. I have seen a few religious Sisters fighting with cancer joyously, even after the doctors had given them the number of years and months they may live; but they have disproved medical science, because their zest for life is so strong that death cannot approach them. The beauty of these people is that they have managed to defeat death, and that is the reason why these people are so very joyous and enthusiastic.

Life's Cruel Laughter!

I did not think that Motiur would call me up; he was the employee of the office I had managed for about a year some years ago, and I had built such a rapport with the staff that many shared with me their personal stories. His call came out of the blue and I was for a moment wondering what favor he was going to ask me. I thought it was a courtesy call just to keep tap of the people who have some say in his job, and that is what he too mentioned that he just wanted to keep in touch with me, though i hardly visit his office. But what he said surprised me on several fronts. He is a young Muslim, who is struggling alone both within and without. In the office, he finds himself helpless like all the others, but now has decided to show that being helpless is not going to help anyone, and has volunteered to be the public relations officer to tie the loose ends.

I had a lot of regards for this young man, who had a flair for writing lyrics, and in one of the modern Bengali songs album that i coordinated to produce, he contributed lyrics for four songs, with my ideas given flesh and blood. He was happy to get an opportunity to explore this field of lyricism and was happy about it. He was a creative person who did not want to waste his life in useless, worthless thinking and talk. But the circumstances did not much favor him, and he was often downcast because he would think one and something else would happen to him, and so he would be chased from pillar to post often. He did not want to get married, because he thought to feed another mouth, and yet another in the later years, might become a herculean task for him, but he could not avoid compulsion from the family.

But while talking to me, he said that he was trying to accept all that life offers him with open heart; including the fact that his wife had ran away from the house they were living in with their daughter, threatening to commit suicide by jumping from the train. I could not believe this would happen to him. The issue is silly though. He wanted to repair the small house, where he had been a tenant for several years, and at the death of the owner has come to own the house. He took his benefits from the Provident Fund and decided to repair the house; but his wife wished him to get a refrigerator and a micro-oven. He could not compromise, and that resulted in his wife running away.

Just one of his phrases caught my attention - that was the cruel laughter of fate! He does not believe in fate, but sometimes could not help but console himself that what is destined for him would happen, whether he likes it or not. Life is cruel, often it is so. What can we do when bad things happen to good people? Or when good things happen to bad people? Is there any place where we can complain and get justice? Unfortunately it is the same story with each one of us. In my mother tongue, there is a proverb which says, there is a door-step to every house; each of us have our own stories of confronting the bitter realities of life. It gets filled with riddles for which we have no clue, not to talk about the solution. We find ourselves going in circles!

Today I would like to pause for a while and think of the hundreds of Motiurs I come in touch with each day; I would like to look at their faces, and read the stories that their faces betray. I will not have any answer to them, may not even a sympathetic word, or a pat of approval. In such circumstances, even my silent presence with them can be a great source of consolation. If they are able to get a feeling that in this battle with life, they are not alone, then they will get enough strength and courage to face the tempests that may sweep through their lives. Often I find myself in situations, where I am just helpless, and cannot look up for help from any known quarters. Let me in those moments look up to the endless skies and feel the millions of stars giving me company, whispering in my ears that they too had not much option than be what they are!