A few days ago I was on my way to the doctor’s office. My head pounded, my eyes were “great balls of fire”, my body alternating between bouts of teeth chattering chills only to dissipate within an all-consuming heat. I knew this was the big one, I was coming down with something and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and be left alone. By the way, I was taking local transport so it was a very jerky ride all the way to town, thus exacerbating the various aches and pains I was going through. And, I felt sorry for myself. Rightfully so, I thought at the moment.

Bundled up in warm winter gear eyes hidden behind dark glasses I tried once again, unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable spot on the hard seat, which on the TTC is absolutely impossible. I tried leaning my head against the window. That was a big mistake. The bus rattled so that it made my head hurt even worse than before. Resigned to a journey of unmitigated pain I closed my eyes willing myself to hang on, for an hour or so before reaching my destination.

All of a sudden I became aware of a man hovering by where I sat. After a slight hesitation he asked if it was okay to sit beside me. Well, of course, what kind of a question is that? Was I not occupying a two-seater? Of course I didn’t say any such thing but merely nodded, thus indicating for him to take a seat. His next question was did I have a family. I nodded again, too sick to actually carry on a conversation. The man said he was glad and wanted to know if I had children. By now I was sick enough to throw up so dared not encourage any further talk and, barely opening my mouth told him I needed to keep my eyes shut since I was very tired. He apologised profusely then lapsed into silence.

Confined in bed I have done a lot of soul searching with this incident taking top priority. How often do we make eye contact with strangers? Not often. Yet there are folks living alone with no one to speak to all day. No family. No friends. Was that the case with this individual? On the other hand, he might have been under the impression, after noting my abject demeanour, that I needed some uplifting conversation. I’ll never know.
I have also been thinking about my own mother, a person whom I never saw falling sick. Or, did she? There must have been days when she would have been tempted to stay in bed just a little longer but she had to obey the clarion call of the one simply defined by the term “duty.” As children, we are so busy with our lives that we have no time to spare for anyone else. Mother got up at the crack of dawn to start the day – making sure we were fed, dressed and sent on our way to school.

I fume and rail against this momentary lapse in taking care of my duties towards my family while they fetch and carry for me. When I mentioned this to my son he simply said it’s his turn to take care of me. But, I said, I am the mother, I am not supposed to be sick. He told me to stop worrying and concentrate on getting better as he placed a cup of hot tea and a piece of toast by my bed. Then with a wave of his hand and strict injunctions not to do anything (meaning – no laundry or cleaning, and certainly not getting back to editing my novel) he was out of the door rushing to catch the bus to the GO station and on to work. This then, is family, the sticking together through thick and thin, caring for each other, being aware of a person’s need no matter how busy life can get.

Throughout the busyness of life there is one thing I have always tried to uphold, that of enjoying each and every moment I have been blessed with. This conviction was put to the test some years back when the company I was working in closed down simply because the American owners felt they no longer needed an office in Canada.
It was summer, perfect time to spend some quality time with family. The best summer ever. I welcomed each morning with relish planning the day with our son who was seven at that time, the gleam of excitement in his eyes was such sweet reward. I even managed to paint the garage door and actually liked doing it, while our son played to his heart’s content with a group of his friends, running around like banshees stopping occasionally to ask for popsicles. Our daughter had just started university in Waterloo. It should have been a stressful time for me but it wasn’t…for I was able to do all those family things I never seemed to have time for.

Looking back to that magical summer, the following lines of Rumi, the great Sufi poet and mystic, seem to make a lot of sense:

Don’t let them think that we have broken down

That we have cracked up

We merely dropped leaves

For a further spring.

Keep Well…..Keep Smiling
Purabi Das