Burn Baby Burn

Burn Baby Burn

“This is my Year! It’s going to be All Mine! This is My Year!!”
Proclaimed Lucy Van Pelt, of the Peanuts Comic strip.
And so did I!!

2015 will be my year. That’s what I kept reiterating as 2014 came to a meandering end. I heaved a sigh of relief as I bade it a hurried good bye.

Was greeted by a very wondrous beginning to the New Year with a vacation tucked in at “love you to bits, Mumbai” and “play if you must Pune” with the DH and girls. We spent glorious moments with a bunch of crazy pals who give our life that extra zing. On the 5th January morning we returned to our cosy nest. Gurgaon, the Millennium city was in the grips of the treacherous claws of a harsh winter. But we were relaxed knowing that this was time to make merry before the kids winter vacations got over. After all they usually translated into more late nights, endless soaps on TV, a movie thrown in here and a movie thrown in there, mindless banter with friends over a glass of cheer, or sitting with the family huddled in the quilt and talking endlessly as Joan Baez crooned Diamonds & Rust.
After a rather lovely date night with the better half on Friday, the next morning looked more than promising with a long-due visit planned to the in-laws in Noida. I woke up early and enjoyed the comfort of my cuppa. I was very inclined to chant but ended up calling my folks and had a long chat with them- more gratification to the soul. It was almost time to chant and connect with the mysticism of Nam Myo Ho Rengey Kyo so I went to wake the little one and Alok. My help had put the tray next to where Aarshia was lying on the bed and in a bid to save the little one I lifted the tray and lost my balance. In a fraction of second the hot tea and milk were upon me, scalding my skin as I let out a war cry. My loudest!

My leg was scalded beyond recognition, and the skin had been torn off as I pulled off my tracks. I was not only burning from the outside but also from the inside. The only thought that came to me then was how do people immolate themselves. How! How! How! It could qualify as the highest form of torture.
Arusha my 16 year old and Alok were by my side; comforting me and helping put my legs in an ice bucket. Arusha kept soothing my spirit by giving examples of the Buddha and his ignorance to pain when he meditated in the storm, in the rain and in the cold. I just felt the excruciating pain, but also blessed at that point of time. How many 16 year olds would dispense out such pearls of wisdom?

After a while we rushed to the ER at Artemis, wherein the wounds were attended to. I clung to Arusha as she comforted me, and the doctor and nurses, cleaned and bandaged my legs.

It’s been 7 days since my plans for this month changed their course. From being a month of new beginnings, new workplans and so on so forth, it’s turned out to be a month of healing and staying positive depsite the odds. The intention is not to brag, but to pat myself on the back and say, I did it and I’m going to do it. The scalded skin is healing slowly but well. I need to visit the hospital every alternate day for the dressing of my left leg, which is bandaged in such a way that it comes acrossas a cast. The leg’s not broken, neither is the soul!
I can barely walk, mostly with assistance or mostly on my own; grabbing the walls, the tables or whatever comes my way. I walk less. Period. Today is the seventh day of this debacle and I am beginning to hobble around a bit. It’s nice to get burnt in the winters. So I believe. The healing is faster, and one can sit under the quilt and sip coffee and eat, chat and listen to music, and write, and order family around for all the help.
But wait, somebody just told me that it pains a lot more in winters. So I grin and bear the pain. Though I have been gettinga bit edgy the last two days. And my family has been wonderfully patient with me. I have been able to send out the second draft of the UN, World Food Programme project. I’m glad I work from home as a writer.
Today I started worrying about the scars, on my leg. When summers come, how will I wear cropped pants and short dresses and chappals? But who knows, liberal application of coconut oil will my dull the scars in time. And the other lop side to the story is the burn just missed my Carpe diem tattoo by a whisker. Guess I should draw courage from that tattoo and remember to seize the moment and not worry about what the future will hold. The humming bird on my Carpe Diem tattoo is saying, “Cross the bridges when you come to them”. Also, so said the doctor attending to me. For now I’m counting my blessing for the abundant love and TLC that I have from friends and family. And a good set of doctors attending to my wounds.

Time to forge ahead with hope and gratitude in my heart. Amen to that!

17 January, 2015



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