The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything
Birthdays are as much about life as it is about death.
I turn 34 - healthy and alive. Murphy is dead.Ā
I spent the later half of 2013 rooting for Murphy, after his then family abandoned him (Murphyās story back in 2013). A family friend of theirās was watching out for Murphy, but once you abandon a dog who has given you his precious 7yrs of loyalty, youāre pretty much handing him the death sentence. Ā He died this evening, aged about 9yrs, of low platelets. He was not responding to any treatment, I am told.Ā
I am shaken to the core, oscillating between despair and determination. Why? Was it my mistake? If thereās anything to learn from my time with Murphy and finding him a home, it was to never ever give up even if everyone else has. To not give up when all sorts of unscrupulous people are exploiting the situation. That it is OK to be confused and lost occasionally. It is OK to lose your head sometimes. It is OK to be pissed at others if they are being pricks. It is OK to be defensive a little. There maybe someone out there who will still have your back and surprise you. I tried my best to have Murphyās back.Ā
2013 wasnāt my best year. My business lost a lot of money. I lost bags full of hair due to stress. I was anxious to conceive. We conceived twins only to have to go through fetal absorption and a traumatic abortion. In addition to my supportive husband and family, I strongly believe that being so focussed on Murphyās wellbeing saved me in many ways.
2014 didnāt get any better. I had to make a tough decision - to shut down the studio. My studio cat - Momo, who would never venture too far from the area - ventured onto the busy main street of Richmond Town and died in an accident. On my day off. I didnāt see her, or got to say goodbye. I spent the rest of my time at the studio hoping it is her when the curtain would flutter. That pretty much began to cave me in.
I couldnāt sleep a wink on many nights, couldnāt focus on anything of erstwhile interest, apart from my dogs. At times even that was way too much effort. My husband started getting on my nerves. He struggled to understand what I was going through and in that, heād push me away. Heād accuse me of being irrational and refuse to help me even when I would ask for it.Ā
This seemed to go on forever.
Tried focussing on the garden that I love so much. Worked really hard at home. Swam 50 laps an hour in the pool... daily (thatās 100 lengths of a 25m pool, mind you). I would be lying staring at nothing on most nights while my husband snored aloud.Ā
Got my 1st book illustration gig, for which I was grateful and happy, but I wasnāt thrilled. Usually, anything good/creative, success of any measure, anything positive - big or small, always had me jumping like a jack rabbit. Here, it felt like it was happening to someone else. Nevertheless, I gave it my best in those circumstances.
The fights were mounting and each time, something within me died. I would wake up one morning, determined to make the most of the day, to be deflated by mid-day, insomniac by the night.
Till that day when I was driving to get a cup of coffee with my dogs in tow, and for a flash, a few milliseconds maybe, I wanted to crash my car into the median to end it all.Ā āNo one, NO ONE deserves dead babies, failed businesses, dead pets, sleepless nights, unsympathetic spouses.ā, āNO ONEā, I said to myself. āLeast of all me!ā.Ā
It was perhaps the realization of the happy, grinning faces, full of warmth and hope, heads poking out the window, ears flapping in the air - that stopped me.
U-turn. Back home. Non-stop sobbing.
My husband looked like a lost puppy. I begged him to help me again. To take me to a counsellor. He had no idea what to do, while I kept lamenting, and he promised to drive me wherever Iād tell him to, and stay by my side!
Early next morning, we left for NIMHANS around 8AM. Throngs of people that waded through, but never really noticed until we walked in and a toddler pulled at my sleeves. Big, blank, staring eyes, but that smile... My gut twisted and I ran out, husband in tow. While catching my breath outside, I kept on about how there was too much suffering around here and I canāt be here any longer. I recalled someone mentioning āParivarthanā on a Facebook group. Googled, called, begged them to give me an appointment the same day. I remember, the receptionist there asked me who the appointment was for to which I responded āfor meā. He paused a short while before resuming to take my details and giving an appointment for 10AM.
It wasnāt until the drive to Parivarthan when my husband mentioned what I missed - that despite being a poor country, we do have places like NIMHANS where even the poor have access to good care for mental illnesses. It maybe a tabboo in the society, but it isnāt any different from physical illness. And thereās accessible, affordable treatment.
The next month was an intimate journey at Parivarthan - in coping with losses and rediscovering self. Of rekindling hope, much like Murphy and my dogs do for me.
Thereās perhaps a lot more to despair about, and very little to hope. There is perhaps a lot more agony to death. But, thereās also a tiny ray of hope.
I deeply, deeply cared for Murphy. As did Karthik. As did Amrut. He was betrayed and abandoned by those he considered his own. But at least the 3 of us cared deeply for him. And that should matter, I tell myself. There are so many dogs who are left on highways to die a cruel, painful death, and no road to a new home. For Murphy, I would like to believe, the road led to some hope, even if his life was cut short by 3-4yrs.Ā
At some point, all of us need to learn to stop going in circles. I am learning to draw circles - a precious advice from my father-in-law. I am drawing priority circles, containing my solar system - a shrinking one, thankfully. Deep breath.
For the 1st time in decades I counted my friends. The last time I did so, I must have been 8 or so. I just did so again a few weeks back, learning to let go, to draw circle, to be unforgiving of betrayals. I donāt have that kind of time to waste. The society pegs a lot of natural emotions as negative, but I am learning to allow myself those guilt-free... disappointments, anger, to cry, to feel helpless.Ā
I choose now. To be saved or not. To save someone or not. No explanation owed to any two-bit,Ā self-proclaimed, damaged good-for-nothing unsavory saviors or abandoners.Ā
Ah! I am now openly dissing and scoffing at the silver spooned strutters. Everyoneās judging, and I donāt normally do so, but I am allowing myself to pass judgments too. More efficiently, mind it.
So, today, when I am symbolically turning the pages to a new chapter in my life, at 34, I may not have the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but I am grateful to have rediscovered my privileges. Caring deeply is my privilege. As it is to hope, to shed tears, to agonize, to hurt for others. I have the privilege to try and to keep trying.
And I am very very grateful for that on my birthday.
