By Anindita Baidya
Anand, Gujarat, India
Pansy, my little Pansy. I first noticed her bundled in white sheets, with eyes shut tight. Her wrinkled skin was as pink as a blooming rose. She looked so delicate that I was afraid to hold her in my arms, lest I hurt her.
Pansy. She is born with a complex medical situation termed as Hydrocephalus, which means in simple terms, she has cavities in her brain filled with water. This condition has posed challenges before this little soul more than I could have any day imagined. She cannot stand, she sits with support, she cannot chew solid food and depends on liquid diet, she cannot speak, cannot feel, cannot emote. No one knows what she sees when her eyes move around the room. After her birth, the doctors had said that she would not live for long. A week’s time may be, or a month but not more than that.
Pansy was in such a hurry to see the world that she took birth during the seventh month of her mother’s pregnancy. With all the complexities her mother had faced, no one could have believed that Pansy would take birth, alive. And then her family was sure that she would have a short life on the earth.
I am her full-time nurse. I hold her with extra care, in the softest of sheets I can. When I hold her, I feel like holding my entire world in my arms. I see the little bosom going up and down and tell myself, she is breathing. The ballet of life is going on. She is still alive.
So convincing were the doctors about her short span of life that she was not given a name. The family, I could see, was always fighting to free themselves from the emotional bondage Pansy was taking them into, they were trying hard to be rational and stoic. When I saw her, I named her Pansy.
Pansy came into my life at the time when I had found my world being meticulously broken, by providence, piece by piece. My near ones, most of them bid me goodbye and dear ones informed me that the accounts have been settled and there remained no dues in life’s balance sheet. So I started a new journey, at the age of 60, all alone, with Pansy in my life.
I have witnessed doctors being unsure about administering her immunusation, she will not live, after all, they said. The family organized no festivity to celebrate her birth, she will not live, after all, the family feared. They did not name her either. But she has been living. I have seen the little body breathing, day and night; I have seen the eyes sleep and wake up, every morning for days, weeks, months and past four years! Four years, she is still alive! And since four years, I have been her soldier. I have fought for her right for immunusation; I have fought for her right to have a name and fought hard for hosting a homecoming celebration. And this soldier has been a winner all through.
No one knows how long Pansy will live. Her parents are caught between the two ends and her siblings are eagerly watching over her. I have explained all of them, how special Pansy is and have ensured that the siblings are protective about her.
If only God could let the family move on, that is what everyone says. Yes, of course, the family has a future to move to. Pansy’s siblings have future to be secured.
Only Pansy and I do not have one. We have no future. We have only this moment, a moment to love. To bask in each other’s company, to watch as life passes by till it comes to a quiet halt some day.
Till then, we have a reason to live!
Anand, Gujarat, India
Pansy, my little Pansy. I first noticed her bundled in white sheets, with eyes shut tight. Her wrinkled skin was as pink as a blooming rose. She looked so delicate that I was afraid to hold her in my arms, lest I hurt her.
Pansy. She is born with a complex medical situation termed as Hydrocephalus, which means in simple terms, she has cavities in her brain filled with water. This condition has posed challenges before this little soul more than I could have any day imagined. She cannot stand, she sits with support, she cannot chew solid food and depends on liquid diet, she cannot speak, cannot feel, cannot emote. No one knows what she sees when her eyes move around the room. Pansy was in such a hurry to see the world that she took birth during the seventh month of her mother’s pregnancy. With all the complexities her mother had faced, no one could have believed that Pansy would take birth, alive. And then her family was sure that she would have a short life on the earth.
I am her full-time nurse. I hold her with extra care, in the softest of sheets I can. When I hold her, I feel like holding my entire world in my arms. I see the little bosom going up and down and tell myself, she is breathing. The ballet of life is going on. She is still alive.
So convincing were the doctors about her short span of life that she was not given a name. The family, I could see, was always fighting to free themselves from the emotional bondage Pansy was taking them into, they were trying hard to be rational and stoic. When I saw her, I named her Pansy.
Pansy came into my life at the time when I had found my world being meticulously broken, by providence, piece by piece. My near ones, most of them bid me goodbye and dear ones informed me that the accounts have been settled and there remained no dues in life’s balance sheet. So I started a new journey, at the age of 60, all alone, with Pansy in my life.
I have witnessed doctors being unsure about administering her immunusation, she will not live, after all, they said. The family organized no festivity to celebrate her birth, she will not live, after all, the family feared. They did not name her either. But she has been living. I have seen the little body breathing, day and night; I have seen the eyes sleep and wake up, every morning for days, weeks, months and past four years! Four years, she is still alive! And since four years, I have been her soldier. I have fought for her right for immunusation; I have fought for her right to have a name and fought hard for hosting a homecoming celebration. And this soldier has been a winner all through.
No one knows how long Pansy will live. Her parents are caught between the two ends and her siblings are eagerly watching over her. I have explained all of them, how special Pansy is and have ensured that the siblings are protective about her.
If only God could let the family move on, that is what everyone says. Yes, of course, the family has a future to move to. Pansy’s siblings have future to be secured.
Only Pansy and I do not have one. We have no future. We have only this moment, a moment to love. To bask in each other’s company, to watch as life passes by till it comes to a quiet halt some day.
Till then, we have a reason to live!
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