My heart was heavy. Had been since Little Springsteen had the dastardly accident. One place the mind went was what if this has all happened because I have started my music again? It's an extremely silly thought and completely illogical, but when the heart is heavy it behaves irrationally. And while I knew this at an intellectual level, I needed reassurance. To voice my fixated baseless worry I called Her, the one who understands me as much as Mother does. Her immediate revert to me was, "เคธंเคीเคค เคคो เคเคฐाเคงเคจा เคนै เคฌेเคा, เคฏเคน เคญाเคต เคคो เคธ्เคตเคช्เคจ เคฎें เคญी เคจเคนीं เคเคจा เคाเคนिเค|" And just with Her saying so I felt relieved.
Her words are so true; music is devotion, it's pursuit is a prayer and it reaches the soul. In fact it's the only universal constant. The note can be called a Sa or a Do but will sound the same. It can be sung as Pa or So but the frequency does not change. Nothing else; not colours, not wind, not water, nothing retains its consistency across the universe. Probably that's why memory is also aided by music. From mythology to reality we know of how music helps retention and memorisation. It was the reason that Lord Shankar asked Ravana to set the Vedas to music and expecting mothers are asked to listen to music.
As my classes have progressed I can hear my own improvement, slow but audible. I am more confident in my singing and I am enjoying trying unknown songs. Most importantly I am experiencing peace and calm. It is what has given me the strength through the happenings of the last ten days and helped me relax over the last twenty four hours when the doctor called to say that the first green shoots in Little Springsteen's recovery may now be visible.
Four days ago I stood outside the ICU waiting for Bruce to come. I was feeling vulnerable but had to be strong; afterall Bruce is the father. I looked around and my eyes could not hold any sight for more than a few seconds. On a stretcher lay a young man in pain, unable to get up. His ailment I did not know but this was a plastic surgery and burns ICU that I was outside, so I probably did not even want to know. Next to him, on the steel chair, sat a man with an arm in the sling having had the hand amputated. Further ahead was a young girl with a facial issue that had caused the left side of the face to swell up as if there was a tennis ball inserted. As she sat outside the ICU, there was an IV connected to her hand. Further down was a few months old baby, crying mildly. What caught my heart was the cannula on his tiny little hand. How tormenting must this be! And all between these patients sat the attendants and relatives of those inside the ICU. The agony in that room was overflowing and yet there were smiles and laughter, empathy and sympathy, and mutual caring and sharing.
The lady manning the entry to the ICU was stern but in a while she softened and herself mentioned that while Bruce was with Little Springsteen she would see if the ICU doctor would meet with me. A kind and patient individual, the doctor walked out and with a smile on her face greeted me. In detail and in simple terms she explained the nature of electrical injuries and burns, how they progress and what could be the consequences. She then went on to give me Little Springsteen's prognosis and the assurance that they were doing all and more that they could. Then came the HOD, a man who is a personality and he guided me to the treating doctor. As the gentleman approached me, he saw the agony and asked me to take a seat on the couch inside the ICU entrance. He sat beside me and began to explain the treatment thus far. He also said that the full extent of the injuries would not be known till the blood markers start to stabilise but in his experience "children and more resilient. They pull through. The cardiologist is of the same view." At that point in time a tear rolled down. I could not hold that one back but then composed myself. I folded my hands and told him how grateful we were for all their efforts and generosity and ultimately we were at their mercy. He immediately corrected me to say that we are all the mercy of the Lord!
Having spoken to the doctors I wanted to meet Little Springsteen but his wounds were being dressed. It had been a very early morning and so I decided to go for a cup of tea. Bruce and I walked to the little hole in the wall that dispensed sugary and milky tea that had been cooked for a long time on an open fire. We both sat discussing the blessings that we had encountered. He said, "เคฆीเคฆी เค ीเค เคนो เคฐเคนा เคนै। เคธเคฌ เคฌเคนुเคค เคเคฐ เคฐเคนे เคนैं। เคธเคฎเคฏ เคคो เคฒเคेเคा।" I was humbled by his strength.
The campus of King George Memorial University is huge. So as we walked back to the ICU we had time and I understood the challenges Bruce was facing. He could not sleep as in the middle of the night he was sent with blood samples to the Trauma Center for testing. Then they sent him to the chemist to get items needed for dressing the wounds. In case Little Springsteen was in pain they would call out to him again. The emotional and physical toll that he was soaking was not showing. I felt so helpless at this situation that all I could do was hear and be there as a moral support, be the elder sister he treats me as.
Once at the ICU entrance we were told that a patient had passed on and so we needed to wait till the formalities were over. I waited. Then one individual was allowed to go suddenly and meet their patient at which the security lady got upset. If they were allowed why was I being made to wait. She asked me to quickly remove my shoes and follow her inside. Not caring about the cleanliness or sanitation I followed her. I wanted to see Little Springsteen. Keeping my eyes on the floor I followed her. I wanted to ensure that I did not step on anything sharp or into a puddle.
As I reached Little Springsteen he looked at me with full awareness. The nurse next to him told me how good a patient he was being. I saw the amputated arm and the other one in bandages. My heart was thudding. I requested Little Springsteen to eat well and promise me that he would eat orally every day. I explained that oral nutrition was critical to his becoming healthier. Telling him that his recovery was all we wanted I was heading out when I saw a completely burnt man lying on the bed next to the child's. I reverted my gaze back to the floor and moved out. If the injuries were not sufficient the atmosphere was enough to scare the child. What sadness!!
I came out, thinking of this when I bumped into the treating doctor again. He asked me I had met Little Springsteen. I said yes and that while he was completely aware, alert and coherent, there was visible psychological trauma. The doctor smiled gently ," of course. It's the pain, the reality and then the ICU atmosphere." And in the next breath he cautioned me that ICU is where Little Springsteen needed to be so we had to deprioritise the psychological trauma. He was right. That had to be the course of action.
It was almost noon and I decided to leave Bruce to rest and attend to things that needed his attention. I told him I would be back before heading to the airport. With that I made my way to the car. As I sat inside I realised I was numb. There was so much pain that I had seen, so much agony and Bruce and Little Springsteen were in the midst of that day in and day out! How were they expected to be strong! It was not fair and a feeling of deep helplessness embraced me.
That's when I turned to the only solace I know, devotional music. I put the music on shuffle and the first Bhajan that played, praised the kindness of the Guru. I bowed my head to the Benevolent One and another tear escaped. He has always heard me and been the kindest and the most generous. I called out to Him for the same once more. The next one is an all time favourite, it's a Bollywood song that talks of surrender to the almighty. The music is deeply touching. Picturised on children, it has been dear to me since I was a kid. Hearing it a couple of times I felt strength return to my body. The next one that I heard was the prayer of Lord Hanuman and it describes all that He did for Lord Ram. Finally came the Bhajan that off late is one I sing often. It asks the Lord to keep me in his sight always. By then I knew that He was listening and with that my breath came back to normal. As the rest of the songs went on playing I could feel peace return to my being and very soon I was calm, controlled and could think of buying myself yet another Lucknow Chikankari salwar kameez! I was in Lucknow and how could I not; even though I have multiple already!
Music has held me strong through the most turbulent times and how right is She is to say that music is a prayer. After all the Benevolent One had wished that I learn Hindustani Classical. His wish is always in my best interest. Maybe I have restarted music to become a better person...
On that note, I go to my daily practice and request that all you dear readers continue your prayers for my little fighter who seems to be improving. Signing off till the next post!
