The Plug

Dr Cherian gave his suggestion after the meeting. With both kidneys failed and a massive heart attack, there was no chance of survival. Thanks to the ventilator, clinically, he is still alive. The ball was in the court of the family. They were to make the choice. A choice which would decide whether he lives like a vegetable in the ventilator, or...

Kadri Sahib was man of immense maturity and wisdom. I have hardly seen him in real life, but heard a lot about him from my father. My father's association with Kadiri Sahib goes back to his pre degree days in Calicut, where he was not just a student, but a budding businessman. Kadiri Sahib was more like a guardian to him than a working partner. My father still says, "If it wasn't for Kadiri Sahib, I would have been like one of those senseless boys of prominent families of Kerala who went astray with all the fortune their ancestors had made." No doubt he had his respect and admiration for him. And so did the rest of Calicut.

But today, after almost 32 years, Kadiri Sahib lies in the Intensive Care Unit in the Calicut Institute of Medical Science, Calicut, after a massive cardiac arrest. He has been undergoing dialysis for the last six to eight months. And now the cardiac arrest has left him with a body that is nothing more than a vegetable; alive but cannot react, cannot emote, cannot express. A pathetic state which really intimidates. What good is life if you cannot do these? What good is life if you cannot move? What good is life if you cannot feel? What good is life if you cannot live?

The entire concept of life and death has been a very intriguing one for me. Many a times have I questioned myself- if we have to die one day, why do we live? Why do we have ambitions in life if we know we are going to perish and none of these things, whatever we achieve, do not come with us? What use has it been to Leonardo da Vinci that all his genius provided some brilliant paintings, engineering inspirations and invaluable contributions of art when he has dissolved in the soils of wherever he was buried? How does it matter whether the world still talks about his feats; he cannot hear them, he cannot bask in the glory of them!

But somehow, I suppress myself with the age old philosophy,"Whatever begins, needs to end." In parallel, just as every life is gone, there is a new life born. But that still doesn't answer my primary question, WHY?

Its been more than forty eight hours since the cardiac arrest. Kadiri Sahib was being survived with the help of the ventilator which forces him to breath, instigates blood circulation in his cardiovascular system and in plain words, simply survive. A better way of looking at it would be, he is not living, he is being made to live. He is not living by himself, a machine is forcing him to live. Tubes that inject nutrition, tubes that pump air into his lungs, and many other gadgets, thanks to modern biomedical instrumentation, giving life support. But for how long was the question.

The doctor who was administering his case, Dr Cherian, gave his opinion. According to him, there was no chance of optimism for Kadiri Sahib's life ahead, medically. With both kidneys failed and a heart that was stubborn not to respond on its own, only a miracle could save the 81 year old veteran. But sadly, the time was well over the hope for miracles. The nearest kin had to make the decision. The question was not whether to or not to, the question was, when. How could they convey this to the other relatives who thronged outside the ICU?

The crowd was huge outside the ICU. It not just Kadri Sahib's well wishers, but there were relatives of the other patients too. Also, the near and dear ones of those in the labor room thronged in the same place, for the maternity ward was just opposite to the ICU. However, most of the people there did know of Kadiri Sahib's condition, for he was a man known to a good section of Calicut's population. My father found his way through the crowd, a mixture of worried faces, and escorted to the ICU by Kadiri Sahib's son Assu.

The monde outside the ICU waited. Inside, in the presence of the doctor, Assu wetted the unconscious Sahib's lips with the holy water from the Zam Zam springs in Mecca. The kin, including my father, broke into reciting verses from the Qur'an and chanting prayers. And then, when the moment arrived, there was pin drop silence in the room. Everyone looked at each other. Their eyes were moist with tears. Here they were, with tension and sorrow killing them inch by inch, and there lies the man who is going to die, or lets say, clinically murdered. Here were faces that had the frown of the forehead and cringing eyes, and there lies the Sahib, with the expression of inexplicable serenity. If only he moved a muscle, he lifted his hands perhaps, start coughing, or maybe just wake up from this troubling sleep, if only that miracle could happen.... If it could happen now!

"Assu, may I?" asked Dr. Cherian.

The exploding silence was deafening. My father held Assu's arm. He nodded his head affirmative.

The plug of the ventilator was removed. The plots in the oscilloscopes went feeble. Just then, Kadiri Sahib began to gasp lightly, the plots shot up. And then... It was all over. The screens had simple straight lines rather than twisted curves. "La Ilaha Illa Allah! Inna lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Raji'oon! Assu, everything is over."

They came out of the ICU to address the crowd that had thronged outside to know of the developments. The news was let out, the women folk burst into tears. There was a chanting of "Inna lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Raji'oon" in unison. A life had been lost. A man had just died. Sorrow filled the air. Everyone comforted each other at the loss.

"Anwar Saadat? Where is Anwar Saadat?" cried the nurse outside the labor room, which faced the ICU. The man in question gave his attendance from the crowd.

"Congratulations! You have a boy!"

Are You DEAD?

That's what half the junta associated with me have been flooding my inboxes of my email, mobile and even my blogger comments with. Well, can't blame them, for I have indeed been in exile for quite some time. Thanks to a whole lot of pleasing things happening in my life. As it is things are moving really smoothly in my life, when my friends decide to add fuel to fire by bowling me over with quizzes regarding my well being and sanity. So here is for all you curious little chaps and buddies, to my adopted siblings- present and would be ones too, to my lovely girlfriends (do I have any?), to ever caring relatives and family people, to the world on which I am a burden, once and for all, I AM VERY MUCH ALIVE!

The New Year hasn't been so very new to me. Apart from the fact that I always have the bank counter guy giving me weird stares when he realizes that I haven't moved on with the times, signing with date DD/MM/05. I'm pretty lousy at updating you see, and my blog is an excellent exemplary. Coming back, so the New Year, to me, has got nothing so new about it. The celebration in the hostel on the New Year's eve was one of its kind. There was a huge raging bonfire, loud music (read as noise) and rivers of the right kind of beverages flowing. People scaled greater heights, thanks to potted plants with weeds. There was merry in the air and everyone was in this state of strange frenzy. However, I failed to understand why so much of hoopla about a New Year? After all, when you wake up in the morning of January 1, its inevitably going to be SSDD (read Same Shit Different Day).

Despite all these reasons which gave me aversions to the whole idea of a New Year's Eve celebration, I still joined the festivities. It was a different feeling that started bubbling in me. And since then, its been only growing in me. There is this vague steam in me which is building, and I'm afraid, one day, I'll burst...

On 3rd September, 2002, I came to Regional Engineering College Trichy, which was of course, on its way of being rechristened as National Institute of Technology Trichy (NIT Trichy), with the dreams of becoming an engineer of caliber and competence. Since then, there has been no looking back, different matter that its been a really bumpy ride for me. There have been moments in my stay here when I felt extremely defeated. There were moments when I wanted to run away from this place. There were instances when I wanted to commit murder. There were instances when I was applauded and wanted to fly in the appreciation. There were times when some people entered my life and I wished they stayed there forever. And today, I know for sure, that I feel really bad about one truth...

Today, 24 January 2006, as I sit here in the Internet lab which gave birth to a blogger in me, I face that impending truth. In 4 months time, I would be transformed from a wannabe techy, a would be engineer to an engineer with a BTech degree. Of course, that is something to be amazingly happy about. My parents would be proud. My friends would be proud. My community would be proud. And I? I'm proud of course, no doubt, but in the heart of hearts, I'm scared. Will I live with the trade off that I'll be leaving this god forsaken campus, about which I crib about 24/7, yet love it with the same love that I love my house? My friends who gave me the support and reason to fight? My love and passion that I found here in people and things, will they all fade away? Will I lose them all, just for the sake of a degree? I'm scared... I'm scared...

Life is a journey up a hill, some say. Life a river that flows, some say. But I don't care what life is, but this is certainly not the way it has to treat me. In the last 3 years and so, I've found so much comfort and peace in many a person in this place that it really petrifies me that one fine day, a train journey will change everything, from my going to lectures straight from bed to wearing the same pair of jeans for days together.

But then, I guess that is the way life is. A long train journey. From one station to another, meeting new people till their station is reached or yours. And then, they are simply but a piece in memory. Sometimes you have the option of upgrading from the unreserved to reserved compartment, from the reserved to AC compartment and so. And in the process, you meet more people, more experiences, more things recorded in memory. A train of events. The train of life.

To all those whom I met in this train, I'm still alive, thanks to your prayers and wishes.