It is completely normal for us human beings to talk to our parents and relatives, once in a while, time to time. However, the frequency might vary.
For example- Ramesh, my closest friend from Engineering Days, he is used to receiving at least one phone call from his dad, typically past dinner in the evening, chatting casually-this and that, work at the office, weather conditions, neighbors and the daily banalities, you know. Upon my inquiry he, very lightly though, explained to me that he was down with jaundice once reducing him to 45 Kg of mere flesh and bones, almost killing him.
That was back in the days when he, having recently finished his high school was getting ready to be enrolled in the Undergraduate program. He somehow prevailed and since then, as some scar off some harrying wound, this daily series of father-son telephone conversation ensued. On the days his dad forgets, he calls his father himself.As stated in this article, you can browse your selection of available deals on smartphones and top brands and explore the cell phone service plans that best suit your needs.
Then, there is this guy called Bikash, my work place mate, talking to his Mom 100 times a day, at least once every 3 hours. Constantly irked, I could not hide my exasperation on afternoon and just shot,
“Come on man, do you always have to tell your mom what watery soup you had for the lunch today and how long you had to sit in the toilet? You have talked to your Mom only today more than I talk to mine in a whole calendar year.”
“Dude relax ! it’s not my Mom, it’s your Bhauju (his wife)” , he replied with his completely gratified smile.
I immediately remembered that he had been married only for a month now and also instantly regretted venting my unnecessary anger at the virtually romancing couple.
Anyway, I am very notorious and a heavily chastised person when it comes to calling my parents, especially my Mom who still can not handle the Mobile Phones.
Now, it’s not that this awful habit of mine has developed recently as a result of my middleclass deprivations, constant insufficiency and my poor financial habits that I hate discussing with her. In fact, even during my college days, I remember calling my dad only when I fell extremely sick or was in desperate need of money.
So this week, it was one of those rare moment when I rang my mom. 5 minutes of this and that you know. I asked her how hot and how bad the monsoon rainfall was there in the village. The Southern plains that I hail from can be extremely hot and humid during the summer, forcing Mercury to rise up to 40 degrees Celsius. I tried to cut the conversation midway when she stabbed me with this recurring question regarding the possibility of turning her into Grandmother.
Finally, I asked her if there was anything particular to be shared before I hang up the phone and disappear just like some Seafarers during the Age of Sail, completely unknown of their whereabouts, dead or alive.
‘Huh wu Ghurun ke beta k dya sun lyaha ‘ (‘Did you hear about Ghurun’s son’-in Tharu dialect which is also my Mother tongue)
‘No, what about him?’
‘Poor thing, both of his Kidney has failed. Doctors in Biratnagar have referred him to Kathmandu and recommended transplanting one as soon as possible.’
“So, what now?”
“Ghurun was here to meet your father. Your dad, he gave him your number and told him to contact you once they are in Kathmandu. Perhaps you could be of some help.”
I was left speechless, not because I had been imposed an unnecessary hassle but realizing how nerve-wracking the process of getting medical attention for Kidney disease in Nepal is.
Approximately 6000 kidney patients are under hemodialysis and 200 under peritoneal dialysis. Although the Nepalese Government has been giving free hemodialysis services since 2016 and financial support to poverty ridden patients worth NRs 550,000, we still have a lot to do when it comes to this silent murderous malady (Dr Kalpana Shrestha, Senior Nephrologist at Human Organ Transplant Center ).
According to the latest WHO data published in 2020 Kidney Disease Deaths in Nepal reached 4,284 or 2.67% of total deaths. The age adjusted Death Rate is 21.28 per 100,000 of population ranks Nepal #103 in the world.
So, today, it was the reckoning day. I got a call from Ghurun, saying they had admitted the boy in Emergency Ward at Teaching Hospital, Maharajgunj.
I went there after my office hours and met the unlucky parents. Their face carried every traces of stress and anguish one could imagine, except one guy, the boy himself. The wretch, he was busy shooting enemies in his mobile, playing some battle games I don’t even know the names. Yeah, I am too old for those mumbo jumbo bullshits.
Upon my inquiry, I came to understand the boy had developed some infection in his chest; lungs and other vital organs. Later that evening, the boy was shifted to General Ward and was administered dialysis. I told Ghurun that I personally knew the Doctor at Organ Transplant Centre and next day we would meet her at the Transplant Center in Bhaktapur itself.
Next day, Dr Kalpana Shrestha, at Bhaktapur told us that it was a better idea to keep the boy at Teaching Hospital till he would be discharged. The reason being the hospital is equipped with other facilities as well besides nephrology. Transplant Center, on the other hand, is devoid of such facilities. She also assured us that once Ghurun’s son is discharged from Teaching Hospital, she would take the boy under her attention and swiftly proceed with the transplant procedures at Government’s cost. Only trouble would be to find the matching donor, which in this case was not a big deal as the victim’s Mother, upon tests showed she was fit to donate.
Feeling slightly relieved, I thought to give Ghurun a slight tour of the Bhaktapur Durbar Square. Bhaktapur, also called Bhadgaon, is one of the UNESCO listed heritage and historical site one must visit given it’s unique Newari architecture and typical native delicacies to satiate your taste buds.
I assumed the role of a free tour guide for some time now and gave him the glimpses of 55 Windowed palace, Taleju Bhawani, the royal diety of the Newar Kings, Royal court and Nyatapole Temple, along with some historical anecdotes stored somewhere in the corner of my Tiny Brain. And what would better the feeling of tasting Juju Dhau (Sweetned yogurt made especially for the King back in the historical times) which is native to Bhaktapur while watching the young girls posing at the Square and in front of the Giant Stone Sculptures of the Mythical creatures.
“Bhatij, it doesn’t taste to me like the regular, ordinary yogurts” , he exclaimed in childlike euphoria. Ah, you should see the tinge in his cheeks, it resembled one of those naughty kids who blushes when some random visitor gives him unexpectedly big money bill while leaving.
“Does it? well that explains its name. If you really liked it we can have more.”
“I am okay, Bhatij. We surely will have a feast once I am relieved of this Herculean task”. I just nodded in silence, savoring the thing that came in this little Earthen pot.
I was more happier that even in these dire circumstances, how I managed to bring a little smile in his face, no matter how brief it was. I mean, in this one life, we all have our own troubles. No one is exempt but rather have to acknowledge whatever comes along the vicissitudes of life.
Just because one’s head is full of chaos should not prevent him from appreciating the beauty of the Sky at the Sunset, just because one has things to do and bills to pay should not drive him indifferent towards the giggles of children playing, the birds chirping and the sweet smell of petrichor.
It is true that the havoc surrounding us, the maddening traffic, the nagging by-product of consumerism and the luxuries that has enslaved us and the unbearable cost of existence regularly drive us insane. Nevertheless, we should never forget to cherish the soothing zephyr on the evenings of hot humid day, the magical colors painted as rainbow, the scintillating refraction produced by the dew drops on flower petals, the enchanting fragrance of your neighbor’s Jasmine at night, the smell of your favorite book, the roaring of river while camping , the somnolent sound of rain on the Zinc roofs or exchanging some dad-jokes with your friends. No matter how ephemeral they are, we just have to enjoy the whole of it. Sometimes we live a thousand lives in one moment
To conclude, I would like to quote Leo Buscaglia who says…….
“Life is a great and wondrous mystery, and the only thing we know that we have for sure is what is right here, right now. So, don’t miss it.”
For further Reading :
The world’s torrid future is etched in the crippled kidneys of Nepali workers