It
has never been an easy life; whoever said it was is delusional. I am not saying
it has been a particularly hard life. I was born into a comfortably middle
class family. My parents always provided and we have never had to struggle to
achieve material things but we all struggle in our own ways; we struggle to be
brilliant and we strive to achieve better things in life. It is human nature to
always want more. Nothing is ever enough. Some of us live through our lives
constantly in motion, the fluidity of our lives may astonish some but we live
on, flowing towards better things. Most of us live through life never having
experienced kindness or love, only being witness to the brutality and demeaning
nature of reality. We are constantly on show, subject to the eyes of the world
and the touch of illusions. We escape to wherever we can.
I
believed that love would shine through all kinds of darkness and I do not mean
love purely in its romantic stance; I mean the kind of love that a blade of
grass feels when the rain drizzles caressing it or the kind of love that
our skin feels when touched gently by the morning rays of the sun. I am talking
about the purest form of love, unadulterated love. We are lucky to witness it
in our eternal lives. It goes beyond everything. I saw it in its most potent
form and it took me a while to adjust my senses to it. It was so piercing in
its nudity that I almost missed it, overlooked it. It was on the day that I
accompanied my granduncle and his wife to the hospital. She has been paralysed waist
down for over 7 years now. That day she was coming in and out of reality and it
almost seemed like her soul was wavering above us mere humans. She could not
speak or recognise anybody that day. It turned out she had a physical reaction
that resembled a stroke and was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
Sitting in the backseat of the car with her and
my granduncle, I tried not to look worried or intrusive. I just stared outside
the window and thought to myself that I am never getting old,I refuse to let my
body get the better of my mind. It was
then that I heard it; the faintest murmur. It was so soft that it barely grazed
her ear lobe. He was talking to her and tucking her hair behind her ears, she
was completely oblivious to his actions. Her mind, copulating with the sedative,
had procreated another world itself. She was not in motion, had not been for
over 7 years. Her life, along with his, had been static. They were frozen in
this reality.
He has never been the kind of person you would
consider sensitive or gentle; I would not be overstepping myself in stating that
many might have considered him rude and almost obnoxious. Everything about him
screamed hardship, his voice was like sandpaper and yet here he was gently
mumbling to her, making her comfortable. The love that flowed through him
towards her grazed my arm and I recoiled in shock. It felt like the sting of a
cactus. It was strange and yet I seemed to be a part of that love by default. The
whole way to the hospital he held her hand gently and whispered in her ear
while she drifted in and out of consciousness. It was the start of the end.
The days that she spent in the hospital, being
poked and prodded by doctors and nurses went by in a blur for her but for him
it was as clear as seeing in the light and as difficult as finding one’s way in
the dark. He never left her side, his home and his life were all shunned and he
was back to his sandpaper self. His stooped body hardened by his years in the
army and his life devoted to his ailing wife had shielded itself from fellow
humans. He had channeled all the love his body possessed and directed it to
his soul mate, he shunned everyone else. While she lay on that bed, saline
dripping into her ancient veins he looked on silent and numb. His eyes
accustomed only to her face, everyone else was a blur.
The days when he sneaked in love letters to her
through a friend seemed archaic; her blushing care-free face now a repressed
memory. His happiness seemed wholly entwined with hers. He knew no other life
than the one in which she was his to protect. Long gone was the time when he
dreamed, when he rushed to catch a glimpse of her. His everyday was outlined to
serve her; he cleaned her, fed her, held her, talked to her and saw only her.
He had forgotten, somewhere down the line, to look for himself. He existed only
for her and she existed. Her legs lay limp; their life had been slowly drained
out with the brutality of disease and old age. Her eyes wandered for more but
rested on him alone. Their comfort lay in their existence and their solitude.
They want no more than each other in their world. Their love did not touch
others, his was directed to hers and hers was slowly fading. He struggled to
save her and she struggled to live.
They were here now and here there is no dream
and reality to outshine. Here he took care of her. Here she was confined to the
four walls of her disease. Here they are together but here they no longer
lived.
