Death, I assume is insanely, tranquil. Just as calm as her beautiful pink lipstick.
Minutes before the bed is pushed into the Operation Theatre or just prior to being shifted to the operating table, comes a point when reluctance pushes through to a reluctant acceptance. The innate fear transforms to a strength to survive.
If you have been through a surgery that requires being under the effects of general anaesthesia without much pain post surgery, you know what Im talking about. After two C Sections and now, two D and Cs,anaesthesia isn’t too new to me. However, one can’t help but feel the fear creep from below the feet right upto the eyes, even when everyone around keeps chanting, “Relax, Its going to be ok.” You must be on that bed to know what exactly spins in the head when the bed is pushed out of the room with everyone looking you in the eye.
With the last tablet the nurse handed over to take in sips of water, she too, like all around said, “It will help you relax.” Little did it do that, instead, it put me on a boat. From that point on I felt the light wooden boat I was put on was left in the big wide sea. I could hear my heart beat rocking my body. However hard, I tried to relax, It only got me closer to more restlessness. The nurses pushed the bed into the operation theatre when I last saw the face of my husband. I tried guessing for maybe less than a minute what he must thinking of in his head only to leave it at that,engulfed by my own fear. Slowly, the boat was wobbling harder in the ocean and they pushed me behind a closed curtain, I assumed was the waiting area while the room was being prepared. My heart beat began rocking me harder when Dr Nidhi came in there with her face covered behind the Doctor’s mask. How do you feel she asked me removing her mask. I remember very clearly I said I was a little scared. As I said this my half dazed eyes fell on the beautiful pink lipstick she had worn. She said, “5 minutes, It l be over in 5 minutes. Let me see if they have prepared the room.” She walked out and I was pushed in to the operation room. In there, the nurses were too busy discussing the day’s happening while they were shifting me to the operating table till the anaesthesiologist asked them to stay quiet for the patient was now inside the room. One of them childishly bit on her lips to try stay quiet but it was too much of an effort. They continued. From the corner of my eye, I saw a calm Dr Nidhi. Just before another nurse helped her change into the operating gown, The pink lipstick rounded to tell me “Close your eyes” And I did. But I did open them again, It was all getting blur now. I said a little prayer and closed them again. I opened them another time and saw on the ceiling of the room the faces of my little boys, who were back home, playing, oblivious to anything their mother was going through. I slept.
When I opened my eyes again, the clock showed 3:30 pm. One and half hours had passed by. I remember none of what happened in between. My stomach cramped for a bit, the result of whatever happened in that time. The sounds, smells, faces.It was all gone and stayed at null moment. Even when I opened my eyes, the pink lipstick stayed vivid in my eyes. Sometimes you think of so many things and least realise the littlest things are those that engulf the mind. Who knew in the whole time, it would be her pink lipstick that made the profundest painting within me.
I know my father who waited outside counted every second of the one and a half hours, my mother must have made many a silent prayers. I know my husband who could have played his favourite pool game on his phone the entire time, yet wouldn’t sop thinking about how strong I was.
Some fear the emotional attachment one makes with individual and instances around. Sometimes, its a newborn, a 2 year old toddler, a 6 year old son, a darling husband, a beautiful marriage, a sweetheart mother, an emotional father, a soulmate sister, a doting mother in law, a scared sister in law, a new home, a happy tomorrow… Some others fear the anticipation of their meeting with the Creator. For most it is both. Kept aside, Death in itself perhaps offers nothing that more than a black, a tranquility unmatched in this materialistic clutter.
some stories are big.some,heavily small. 