“Aunty, will you cry when I die”

What an absurd title?

I am sure this is what crossed your mind. I also felt the same when I heard it. A young woman below the age of 30 asked me this question. “Aunty, will you cry when I die?”

At that moment like you I was also shell shocked and brushed it aside as idiotic but this question has been haunting me for the past 6 months.

After the incident that happened 6 months back, these following questions are frequently raised in my mind:

“Are we pushing our youngsters a lot without heeding to their warning cry?”

 “Is pain and agony not the same at every age?”

“India is a young country, are we oblivion to the fact that we are losing the young—the most valuable human resource for unexpected reasons like accident, illness, and suicide.”

These are very uncomfortable questions but it surfaces in my mind quite often.

“Stop crying Asha, if your “butterfly” is alive she would have felt relieved that you listened to her, if not be happy that you helped her to outpour before the dreadful event that she was talking about. Either way you have helped her Asha.” Sudhakar (my husband) is telling me for the nth time.

It is almost 6 months now, the tear drops have reduced, and it is just a few drops now which I am sure will vanish over time. But the hangover continues.

What an idiot I have been not to ask my “butterfly” -- her name and residential address.

I would have visited her house more than once and consoled her ……My visit to the park today was also in vain.

My name is Asha, a home maker, Sudhakar , my husband is working in a private company. My daughter is married and settled in Poona. My son is doing his project work. My in laws stay with me but now they have gone abroad to be with their daughter for a change.

I have crossed 50, struggling hard with menstrual issues. This is compelling me to go for a walk everyday in a park nearby. I have been religiously walking for 45 minutes in this park for almost a year now. I feel light and nice after the walk.

I chat a little with my co walkers. But remain focused with my purpose in the park. …..that is walking for 45 minutes. I have to reach home before Sudhakar returns home.

6 months ago……..

As I was walking a young women smiled at me, I smiled back. I observed she was walking slowly and found that she needed more effort to walk. She sat down for few minutes and also coughed occasionally.

She came into my life like a “butterfly” and vanished like a “butterfly”.

I don’t know her name so I have named her “Alice” though my pet name “butterfly” for her continues.

Alice just goes one round every day, wave’s bye to me and goes away, a very pleasant woman.

I used to wonder why she did not want to walk another round, any way I did not want to be poking in to her privacy, and satisfied myself with a “hai” and “bye”.

One day it was too hot, for some reason I was feeling very tired, so sat in a bench after 2 rounds. I had few sips of water from my bottle. As I was wiping my sweat and looked up I found “Alice” was sitting next to me and breathing heavily. I touched her shoulder and asked her whether she wanted water. She nodded “no”.

She was coughing very badly, for a moment I got scared. Of course I am mother of 2 children but at that moment I felt how inexperienced I was to handle these situations. I rubbed her chest and back. A few Mamis joined me. After some time she smiled and tried to relax. She bent her head on her knees. The Mamis left. Her coughing had stopped. I decided to be with her some time and then send her home, if necessary drop her at her place.

After about 15 minutes I touched her, she lifted her head, she had been crying. I presumed it was tears of exhaustion. Amidst her tears she looked at me and asked: “Aunty, will you cry when I die.”

I was taken aback and shocked by this raw statement.

“It is only a cough, ma, it could be a pollen allergy why should anyone die because of a cough.. Come on, do not think and imagine the extreme.”… I said.

She replied:

“No aunty, I have a rare disease—a genetic—auto immune decease—wrong mutation of my DNA which I have inherited. The disease has become progressive and I am unable to bear the chronic pain and inconveniences. I have been fighting it for almost a decade. Now I am loosing courage, physical and emotional strength to fight it. I am the cause for my parent’s misery and want to just die. They are struggling hard to create a space for their only child in this world to live, but my body is not listening to my brain. It is just that every organ, blood vessel, skin and lungs, brain is all shrinking. I am not getting enough oxygen. I come to this park to breathe easy, get some oxygen see new faces other than my parents and try and enlarge my lungs. I find it is not that easy now. Do you know how many people below 30 are dying in India due to CAD ---coronary heart Disease--- 900 every day?”

“As my blood vessels are automatically shrinking my death is not far off. I know that. When you are born you have your parents, extended family, school-college friends, colleagues, spouse, his or her relatives, their children, children’s friends, their spouse their relatives…..grand children ……on on and on…..thus your relationship circle expands. But for me the circle of relationship is shrinking. Everyone is getting so irritated with my mood swings but nobody accepts that it is because of the multiple chemicals that is either injected or administered orally. The doctors warn us with the side effects and insist on checking for blood count, urea, creatine, liver function, and cholesterol etc….every month. It is a cruel ritual to go through every month. My parents are immensely patient and that is the only circle of relationship I have for the moment. The doctors are also worried about them and hint at times: who will take care of me after them, they prompt my parents are melting candles. I am trying hard aunty but I feel so helpless, with no physical, emotional strength. I am tired of this ordeal. This is a debilitating condition. The supportive system sympathizes with the aged when they fall sick due to their age …because that is the social structure.  Every child of theirs, relatives goes that extra mile to help them relieve pain. But when these rare diseases attack the young, everybody just says and scream “fight it out, fight it out.” It is just not possible for everyone aunty. The number of youngsters who fight, and conquer their disease is just a minuscule percentage in this world. Nobody understands that there are diseases like mine that is more debilitating than cancer. Pain is unique to every patient. Everyone just taunt, advice, criticize and keep saying you have not done enough………try more. I am finding it difficult even to do my normal chores. My mom helps me in that. The bitter lesson I learnt from my illness is that you should not get chronic illness when young, you will be left with just your parents……everyone has a busy life to lead….if they do not run they will miss the bus……not a minute to call and check how I am. That’s ok aunty it is all my inherited fate…..I have to live, endure and depart when the time comes….Oh My God…it is becoming dark , my parents will be worried, thank you aunty for listening …I rarely get anyone to listen to my woes. Thanks a ton dear aunty…I love…u”

Alice gave me a tight hug and moves away.

I sat there shocked, she comes back and whispers, “do not forget to come for my funeral aunty.” And quickly walks away.

I was blank sitting like a stone not knowing how to react but by then she was out of sight. My head is reeling. I am not aware how to handle these shocking outpours, a tube light of course. She spoke so fast like water flowing from a broken tap, non-stop…..wiping her tears and coughing intermittently.

The sun had set and it was dark. I had to rush home. I walk back quickly and find Sudhakar waiting outside. I opened the door and served him coffee and snacks.

While sipping his coffee he asked why I was so late today. I narrated all that “Alice” told me non-stop like her. He was visibly moved. He asked me, “what is the name of the young girl and where does she stay.”

A slap on my face!

OMG I never bothered to ask. After some time I confidently told my husband, I shall find out tomorrow, and we will both visit her home.

It is 6 months after this incident, tomorrow has not come till date…. I have not met her after that. I anguish every day wondering “is Alice alive?”

I close my eyes to sleep believing “yes she is alive, I will meet her tomorrow.”