“God is everything.” I have grown up hearing this phrase a hundred, maybe even a thousand times. Ironically, this was all I could think of when I was lying there, on a bed of broken glass, racked with pain. It felt like someone was driving a knife in and out of my head. Black spots danced in front of my eyes as I drowsily raised my hand to my head. It came away red.
“God is merciful.” I hear my mother’s voice say. I try to fight the pain, but I can’t. Ragged, shattered breaths filter out of my chest. The feeling of teetering between life and death feels almost peaceful. Blackness prevails. Pulsing headaches and red vision. Somewhere in between, the rational, working part of my mind goes through what just happened. It was sudden. I had just remembered that I had promised my mother that I would be back from my friend’s that afternoon. It was already late, and I knew she would be worried. There was no taxi available and I had already learnt how to ride a scooter, so it was quick. An impulsive, crazy decision. I boarded the scooter without a helmet. A slip of the mind that could prove fatal. The rest of it was too fast for me to comprehend. A steep turning, a truck that did not stop fast enough and then the pain. High pitched siren. The sensation of being moved. The pleasant ding of an elevator, the feeling of cool wetness at the back of my head. The sorrow in the voices around me. The fading splendor of reality buzzing in and out of my mind. And, of course, the pain. That knife. The relentless, pursuing laser sharp edges, cutting out a piece of me with every strike. My whole body tensed for an everlasting minute and I decided I couldn’t hold on to it anymore. I screamed. A horrible, unearthly shriek that even I couldn’t believe was my own. It seemed that no one could hear me. I was going to die alone. “Help.” I choked out. It wasn’t just words that left my mouth but also the last remnants of the hope I had left. Drifting thoughts, scrambled voices, dizzying hallucinations. “Have mercy.” I wished to say, to plead. I hear my parents saying to have faith in God but why does it feel like I am losing faith in him instead? If god is all merciful, why doesn’t he help me? What have I done to deserve this? Nothing else counts. Only salvation. There came a point where I decided it no longer mattered. ‘It’ being my life. I was done. Spent. Wasted. At least if I died now, I would die in the arms of God and not through some sinister forces dragging me to the clutches of death. Suddenly it stopped. A small prick on my arm amongst all the pain stopped it all. I felt light. If this was death maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Some thing was pulling me away. I resisted. It was so peaceful here, who would ever want to return? With a huge gasp, I opened my eyes. ******** Beep. Beep. Beep. The steady clicking of the heart monitor is the first thing that greets me back to life. Bright, blinding lights glinting on the array of silver instruments. Trays of red liquid being carried from here to there. Then came the voices. Always angry, always sorrowful. Mostly coming from a group of white-clothed, masked men. “she had a whole life ahead of her…” “Not wearing a helmet, seriously? The report I read said that she had been in a hurry to meet her mother…” “Honestly, I don’t know what we are going to tell her family.” “Nearly hysterical, that one…she’s a fighter though… hope she pulls through.” “Aaaaaaah…ahhh!” I screamed. A blinding hot, searing wall of flame shot through my skull. So hot, so painful, so enflamed. “I can’t take it anymore,” I think to myself. “Guys, Guys! Something’s going on here!” I hear a voice say. The world distorts, and my vision goes blurry. So much heat. Something wet is pressed to the back of my head. “Life support! Life support!” I feel hands fumbling around my neck, but its too late. The last thing I notice is that the heart monitor stops beeping. ******** Bliss. Absolute pure bliss. I have been feeling so much pain that it is difficult for me to remember what it is like to not be in pain. I take a minute to just revel in that moment of peace, of being there just normally without a trace of pain running over my head. I am lying on something soft. Earthen piles of dust, softly pressing over my cheek, like a blanket. I get up, marveling at the fact that nothing hurts, no body parts ache or feel broken. There is no blood, no pain, no gore, but there is this. I am standing on a battlefield. Armies of great sizes, horses snorting impatiently, kicking up great clouds of dust with their hooves and men with bloodlust written all over faces sitting on battle-honed elephants. Something about the whole scene that was powerful and was strange somehow, but I couldn’t place it. Then it hit me. Nothing was actually moving. Nothing except two men in the middle of the field who appeared to be arguing with each other, gesticulating urgently with their hands. One of them was sitting on a chariot wringing his hands in distress. “Hello?” I asked. None of them appeared to have heard me. I moved closer and tapped the leaner man who appeared calm and composed. “Can you tell me where I am? Hello?” No one moved. Only a solitary peacock feather floated in the strong, dust-filled air. Panic. Undiluted, raw panic. Panic that fills one’s chest to the brim and makes them forget all rational thought or action. “Where am I? What should I do?” I thought fearfully. It felt like I was the only one left in the world. Some thing inside of me just snaps. “I am done,” I sob. “I don’t think I can go back to my family, but I don’t think I can stay here either.” I am hit with a different type of pain this time. It is heavy, filled with defeat and loss. I don’t want to return to that heavy pain. It is peaceful here. A voice resounds over the battlefield, beautiful and untamed. It echoes with sympathy, with understanding, with gentle force in its unparalleled story. “You are mourning for what is not worthy of grief…those who are wise yearn neither for life or death, my son.” The voice seemed to reach out, to say that it was there for me. “But, my family, my uncles, my teachers…. What about them? “ another anguished voice asks. “Surrender unto me. I shall deliver you from all sins and sorrows. Do not fear.” The calm voice continues on. Who was telling the story? And whose story was it anyway? The words fluttered and flew in the wind. Whatever the voice is, what it speaks is true. My soul is eternal. I am eternal, and my life is not finished and there is lot to accomplish. Life may be full of pain and suffering but now I have the strength to fight it. Fear is nothing. When you move past your fear, you feel free. I take a deep breath… ***** sarva-dharmān parityajya mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja ahaṁ tvāṁ sarva-pāpebhyo mokṣayiṣyāmi mā śucaḥ A melodious voice traces prayer through the air. The words have resounding quality about them and I cannot help but to think that I have heard them before. I hear a familiar, warm loving voice filled with hope and trust. “maa?” I ask. I open my eyes and her smile is the brightest thing I have ever seen. Her eyes fill with tears. She believed in me, she knew I wouldn’t go down without a fight. She goes on to explain what she was chanting. “This phrase means that just surrender to God. He shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear, my child.” My mother says. Shock is a very strong emotion and now it hits hard for those were the exact words I heard in my dream. But my mother sobers up. “You almost died several times…your heartbeat stopped many minutes at a time. Everyone has been in to see you. We thought you were going to die.” “I’m okay now.” I say. And I mean it. “How long have I been……unconscious?” I ask tentatively. “You’ve been in a coma for eighteen days…but, all is well now.” All is well indeed. There is no pain. The heart monitor is beeping regularly. I am off life support and they say I will be able to walk soon. I wonder if all of it was just a dream until I see the title of the 18-chapter shloka book my mother said she had read to me every day. It is called the Bhagavad Gita.
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AuthorAnanya Raghu . Archives
March 2017
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