Showing posts with label Sorrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sorrow. Show all posts

Wednesday 5 May 2021

Fireflies

|| Hari Om ||

Fireflies

It was a cold and silent night. The village was silent and still. The Child sat at the porch of his house, looking at the gentle mist descending on the fields. Everything was bathed in a gentle moonlight.

He shivered, and not from the cold. A chill ran down his spine, as he thought of the horrible things he had heard on the radio. A scary new disease, a virus. To him, it sounded almost like one of the Asuras from the stories His grandfather used to tell him.

A living entity, full of malevolence, causing pain and suffering wherever it went.

Theirs was a remote village, far removed form the world, a place where you could still see the stars at night. But, the fear was already creeping in from the outside world, taking root in their little community.  People were falling sick, supplies were starting to fall short. He understood none of the details, but felt the chill in his bones just the same.




As he thought of all this, a single tear rolled unknowingly down his cheek. It fell with a soft splash on the porch, where it glistened in the faint moonlight.

A sudden creaking of the floorboards woke him from his musings.  He turned, and suddenly felt a little warmth creep into his chest, somewhere near where his heart must be. There stood his beloved Grandfather, with His white moustache and unkempt hair, a gentle twinkle in His eyes. In a second, those wise old  eyes saw the tears that the child thoght he had so effectively hidden. Grandfather smiled even wider than before. “Let us take a walk my child”, He said. “ I want to show you something”

 

Hand in hand, they walked towards the fields. The clouds had moved and had totally hidden the moon now. Everything was dark. The rows and rows of crops were barely visible in the gloomy mist.

“ Are you scared, little one ? “,  Grandfather asked. “ No!” said the child, clenching his fists to hold on to his bravery. He turned to face his Grandfather and saw such warmth and understanding in those dark eyes, that he melted.

“ Yes, I am scared! I am so small, and all alone and the world is such a frightening place. I am worried for you, for me, for our family, for all of us.

 

Grandfather swept the child into a tight hug, held him close till his fear melted away.

He cleared His throat, and the child looked at him expectantly.


“Well,” said Grandfather, now that we have accepted that We are afraid, lets do something about it !’

He stepped forward and touched the crops with a gentle hand.

The child watched with wide eyes, all his fear forgotten. A single glowing light rose from the gloom. “ A firefly !” , he exclaimed with amazement,  all his fear forgotten. 


 

“ Yes my child, and that is the answer to your fears as well”




 “ How ? , asked the child, still watching the little dot of light, spellbound.

 




“ Well,”  said Grandfather, “ when we are surrounded by so much darkness, all we can do is spread a little light ourselves. If there is someone you can help, help them in any little way you can. Brighten their day a bit.

Care for your loved ones, take care and keep them safe. And as you care for others, as you give someone a little bit of hope, you will start glowing like this too!

Above all, keep your Faith. Fear is real, suffering is too. Just remember that He is there with you, through all the darkness, you are never alone”

 

The child, being a child, was still not convinced. “ All this sounds correct,” he said, “ but what difference can one little firefly make in so much darkness. See, even now, the field is dark and scary !”

 

Grandfather laughed. There is great wisdom in the innocence of a child.

“ Close your eyes my child, let us call out to Him, He will answer your question”

 

So they stood together, hand in hand, the soft voice of the child joining the deep voice of the Grandfather, as they chanted:

 

रामा रामा आत्मारामा त्रिविक्रमा सद्गुरुसमर्था

सद्गुरुसमर्था त्रिविक्रमा आत्मारामा रामा रामा

Rama Rama Atmarama Trivikrama SadguruSamartha SadguruSamartha Trivikrama Atmarama Rama Rama'. 

       

A gentle breeze started blowing then, bringing with it the subtle scent of flowers.

“ Now open your eyes!”


The child opened his eyes, and couldn’t find the words to speak.

The field was lit up with a thousand fireflies, woken from their slumber by the breeze.

He watched entranced, as they danced among the crops, their collective light banishing all traces of the darkness.

So they watched this magical transformation, this light emerging from darkness, and somewhere, the prayer moved from the child’s lips, to his heart.

 





Grandfather understood.

 

“See, how one tiny light can inspire so many others.. A single person, firm in his faith, working hard to give some light to others, will wake many others who were sleeping. Soon, you will have a whole swarm of fireflies!

 

There is great power in a single good deed, in a single act of kindness, in a single prayer. This is a light that comes from within.  And when so many fireflies gather together, there is no need to fear the dark. “

 

They sat down in the grass, watching the little dancing lights. Soon, the child was asleep in his Grandfather’s lap. When

 he awoke, the Sun had risen and everything was bright again...


 


These are difficult times for all of us. There is so much stress and fear. There is no denying the darkness everywhere. The best we can do is to hold on to our own little light, keep faith and brighten the path for someone else, if possible.  

 

One little light can give hope to so many others;

all of us, together, can bring back the light of hope,

tiding over the night,

till the Sun rises again

as it surely will


                                || तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय ||





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|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

 

-Dr. ArnavMHT

4/5/21

  

 

 

Saturday 23 January 2021

Ward Stories- TMH Tales- The Healer


 

|| Hari Om||

 

For those of you who do not know me personally, a brief introduction:

 

 I have completed my MD in General Medicine from KEM Hospital in September 2020.

I joined Tata Memorial Centre, Mumbai as a Senior Resident in Medical Oncology in December 2020.

 

This is a collection of my thoughts at the end of a month of Oncology residency. This is a branch that not many are ready to step into. A branch everyone, patients and doctors alike, associates with suffering. But where there is suffering, there is hope. And in the midst of darkness, we appreciate the light even more.

At the end of the day, there is a lot more to learn from the patients than the diagnosis and management of their disease! Now, on to the story.

 

 

The Healer


He rubbed his weary eyes. The blurred passageway came back into focus. It was 6am. Much earlier than his usual waking timings. He wasn’t even sure what time he had slept the previous night.

In residency, adequate sleep always seemed like the horizon: beautiful and desirable, but never quite within reach. So he walked on, in a semi-trance of his own. He reached the ward before he even realized
where he was. He took a moment to compose himself. He was The Healer. It was his duty to look happy and warm, so that the patients felt the same. 

  

As he stepped in, the nurses announced: “Doctor, there’s a new admission in room 3” . His heart skipped a beat. A new admission meant new investigations and a tonne of new work. He blinked a couple of times. Then a voice inside spoke softly: that also means there’s a new life for you to touch. Keep going.

So he restored his smile to its previous quality and knocked gently on the door.

“Come in” said a frail voice. He opened the door. Stepped inside.. She lay there in bed. Emaciated and frail, with pillows propping her up. Her eyes closed, blissful. As she heard him approach, she looked at him, and she smiled. And in that moment, everything changed. Like the  Alchemy of legend was said to turn metals into gold with its very touch, so her smile transformed her face, her very appearance, from one of misery to one of pure energy. There was a light in her eyes, something that no disease could put out.

And as he spoke to her,  his world shifted like a kaleidoscope. Here was a person who had been through a lifetime of suffering, or so it seemed to him, but she still found a reason to stay happy. She could still smile like that. She was at peace with her present, and the future, the prognosis which seemed so bleak to him, well, she was at peace with that too. He carried the strange magic of that encounter with him throughout the day as a Talisman. If she could smile, he really should be able to work with a smile.

 
He ended up spending more time in room 3, he learned about her family, her interests and small joys. A simple thing like being able to speak to her loved ones, brought so much joy to her. It brought new light to his eyes. While the world saw only her suffering and how the treatment would only prolong the inevitable, he could see how much joy a person could fit into each stolen moment.

Just a year’s survival benefit was after all a year spent in the company of loved ones.

He ended up spending more and more time in each room. For each person there was more than a bed number. They and their families all had stories to tell. And The Healer, far away from his own family, found peace and solace with them, recovering little pieces of himself that he had lost along the way. He joined Room 8 in their prayers, he laughed with Room 2 when they spilled their juice, he watched silently from the corner as the family in room 4 hugged each other, slowly understanding the gravity of the diagnosis. He saw the power of a simple touch when Doctors started their rounds by keeping a hand on the patient’s pulse,  forming a bond that cannot really be quantified by science.

And so it was for all the Healers. They began to appreciate the smallest joys in their own lives, began to understand how to make their patients smile. And that was the most fulfilling thing of all,  for there is no feeling like watch a critically ill person forget their pain, just for a moment and smile. Slowly, part by part, their weariness melted away. And they Healed. It was not work anymore. It was truly their calling. The disease and its treatment would always be a formidable task. The least they could do was face it with a smile, together, as best as they could.

That evening, they gathered at the balcony. Doctors and patients together, to watch the sunset.

The sky was awash with a thousand colours. The Healer looked around, until his eyes found her. There she was. The Lady of room 3. Looking the picture of calm in her wheelchair. A pint of intravenous fluid solemnly dripping from the stand, her husband by her side, holding her hand. She saw him, and she smiled that smile. And as the colours changed from the vibrant oranges to the cool blues of evening, it became clear to him. She was the Healer. She had brought him back to life, helped him understand his purpose, to find himself again.

And so it was for all of them.

 


 

( This story is a work of fiction, based on my thoughts, feelings and ideas. )

 

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
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|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

 || I Love you my Dad ||

Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

22/1/21

 

Sunday 2 June 2019

Poem: The Burning Forest


|| Hari Om || || Shree Ram || || Ambadnya || || Naathsamvidh || 


 
The Burning Forest


There was a forest great and green,

A beauty to behold,

Filled with colour and beasts and birds,

And trees noble and old.


Untouched it was, far out of time

For years steadfast and same.

A fortress mighty, a haven safe,

Until the fire came …


At first it was a humble spark,

That did begin to feed.

Until none of the forest dwellers,

Could sate its endless greed.


I watched the fire as it ravaged,

The lush green forest floor.

Green to black, black to ash

 And the beauty was no more.


The beasts did flee, the birds did fly,

The ancient trees they fell.

As the haven, so lush, serene

Became a fiery hell.


Now the creatures have no home

All is consumed by the blaze,

In its hunger, devoid of mercy

The forest it did raze.


But is the fire the sinner here,

Guilty of this vile deed?

Nay it is the fire starters,

Arrogance, contempt and greed.


They are the ones that spark the flame,

Within the human mind.

That causes men to lose control,

Become selfish and blind.


Not the fire but man indeed,

Does leave the Earth so sore.

A single spark of greed, of lust

And the beauty is no more.


Now I see an empty plane,

Where ash does stain the mud,

And the sky is lit a fiery red,

Or is it the red of blood ?


 -Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
If you liked this post, do read the others as well ! All comments and feedback are welcome.

|| Hari Om || || Shree Ram || || Ambadnya || || Naathsamvidh || 

 

Tuesday 17 July 2018

Poem- The Pianist

                                            || Hari Om || || Shree Ram || || Ambadnya ||



This poem is inspired by the magic of music and its power to cross all boundries of time and space.  


The Pianist

The morning of
That fateful day
His final song
He sat to play

Eyes shining bright
His smile so wide 
His beloved, she sat
By his side

He started slow
A soulful piece
Deep as sorrow
And soft as fleece

The chords and scales
Rose on above
Rich and full
Just like his love

He rose, he stood up
With a start
Incomplete he left,
The final bar.

" My love,
It is now your turn
Complete our song
Till I return "

But his life reached
It's final turn
She was alone
To long and yearn

Never were they
Again to meet
For years, the song
Stayed incomplete.

She was broken,
No longer whole
Music had left her
When she lost her soul

She tried so hard
To bring him back
Played till the keys
Did start to crack

Music could not
Start his breath
There was just no way
Back from death

That last day was different
With hope she woke
As though the Pianist
In her dreams, he spoke !

That last day
She stood up tall
Heart and soul
She gave it all

Once again that
Melody grew
Full of his love
So strong and true

And as she reached
That final bar
The music healed
Her pain, her scars

She saw him now
Within her soul
She was him
And they were whole

She smiled in peace
And closed her eyes
He welcomed her
Towards the skies

The last notes played
The song was done 
The Pianist and 
His love were one.






|| Shri Ram ||
|| Ambadnya ||
|| Nathsanvidh||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

-Arnav H. Tongaonkar

( Charcoal sketch courtesy- Devanshi Doshi)

Click here to read my Short Story: 'The Pianist'- http://arnavht.blogspot.com/2016/05/The-Pianist-Story.html

 If you liked this post, do post your comments and provide your valuable feedback. And do read my other poems and short stories. They are listed at the top of this page. A list of my blog post topics is also provided in the column on the right. Happy reading!)