The Scorpioid curse…

About three months back something happened. Something terrible. Although we were expecting it, people spoke of it in hushed tones, but the day it came, it wreaked an overwhelming assault on everybody and left in me a deep, throbbing gash in its wake. All of us who knew him struggled to come to terms with what had happened. I for one, did not want to accept it although I stood outside his room in the hospital looking at his face, still and cold while the paper work was being finished. Fate leaves no survivors.

A boy of eighteen, the son of an acquaintance, someone we had seen growing up over the years into a rather nice, amiable young boy, Guddu had started falling ill very frequently. He was shown to a doctor who naively dismissed his ailment as mere bouts of influenza and one day when things went out of hand, prescribed him a day or two in the nursing home and a barriage of tests for the poor boy to be put through.

It was a rainy evening when Gautam Kaku called. Interestingly enough, I was again the one to answer the call. Its strange that, in the past, everytime my family has received bad news over the phone, I was the one who received it first and had to suffer the ordeal of breaking it to everybody else. Once again I had to walk up to dad and mom and tell them that someone else was either gravely ill or dead.
Guddu had been detected with throat cancer. My head reeled.

The following years saw a desperate battle during which the boy had to be flown between Bombay, Delhi, Ahmedabad and back to Kolkata sometimes for as little as a single injection. It left his gradually weakening body ravaged and endless sessions of Chaemotherapy turned him into another person altogether, someone whom we didnt know, someone who looked totally different from the healthy, plump boy we had known. He started losing hair rapidly and became a bag of bones in some six short months. In between he showed signs of improvement which gave birth to a renewed zeal in his father who had a bone marrow transplantation or some such thing done on him. Then followed pujas and visits to numerous places for divine propitiation. But about three months before it all ended, Guddu started sliding back to the same darkness that his family fought so hard to keep at bay.

The day he passed away he expressed a desire to taste some ice cream. As his mother, frail from the years of mental agony, put the last spoon full of ice cream in his mouth, he held both his parents hands close to him and shut his eyes. Our Guddu was on his way to the other side. I still see the boy's face sometimes when I shut my eyes. As a kid he once told me how much he loved Bruce Lee and wanted to take up Karate classes but his mother wouldnt let him, she was scared he'd get hurt.

The curse took both my grandparents, a few friends and quite a few relatives and surprisingly most of them never smoked or drank in their lives.
What inspired me to write this was, last evening I came to know that an old neighbour of ours was dying of the disease and was in her final stages, the only available cure to which is prayer.

About a century back people used to die of diseases like Tuberculosis and Cholera. Over the years the former became a treatable malady while the latter, eradicated in many countries.
The thought that peeves me is that, about fifty years from now if and when the cure to this scorpioid curse is finally found, a lot of people will wish it had surfaced a few years earlier.

I still remember my grandma lamenting the loss of her best friend who had died of TB many years back. How she wished they had come up with the cure a little earlier.