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His mom always believed her son was tall dark and handsome and so did he. He passed with brownie points for the same attributes with my mother who has eyes of the eagle and she commented “ At least the boy is as tall as your father” and partially agreed for my marriage to him after a scrutiny of few more attributes over the years. I myself have never confessed that secretly how much I have always drooled over him in those college days when we were courting.
The shabby mirror was close to breaking by the sheer exertion of answering his single question everyday “Mirror-mirror on the wall who is the most handsome of them all “ He boasted how he was a gift to womankind and most of the times I just found it so entertaining and said “Really “ !! God designed me to be a fuse button in his ego circuit .
He was a natural with ladies not because he was astonishingly handsome but because he was such a sweetheart, nonjudgmental and a patient listener. People just liked him for his simplicity and so did I. A charmer as he was with his pimpled cheek and bad PJ’s I caught him always breaking into laughter with womenfolk. Even the most stern looking nuns in our batch were found collecting his early morning lab samples during internship while he simply slept. He was the only one excused from not learning to deliver that magic number of placentas to get our OBG log books signed. He got a distinction in Pharmacology from the most lovely professor an old beauty-queen because he would compliment her every time. He could get away with anything. Secretly I have harbored many such serious grudges during my college years with him as to how free flowing his life was. He said his mom believed he was the lucky charm and so did he.
With guys he shared fags and drinks over jokes while the dense smoke clouds blew. He was a born sportsperson and he could learn any sport with ease even the ones he never got to play. While he threw Javelins across the college grounds from one football post to nearly the other I proudly scribbled his name on the sports certificate which I knew he would receive anyway the next day. If I was the flag bearer he sat last in the row. I have made him loose so many matches because of my humble, heavy, sluggish presence on badminton courts while he huffed and puffed to get a lead even by few points and we won . Actually he won while I would receive a healthy dose of his angry outbursts post matches I would listen in silence and extremely pleased over his win. Every game was like Olympics and I could never be that serious. He played at nights for long hours in the mess while the whole batch burnt the midnight oil to pass the exams and I often screamed at him what was he doing with his life as a responsible girlfriend.
God helps those who help themselves has never been his philosophy rather he believes that God sends those who helps himself to such good souls and I think that is how he trapped me into being his girlfriend and later ending up as his wife. Once pointing at an enormous cardiology conference poster at the entrance gate of the campus he said , You know when I am forty I won’t be walking by your side. Before I could even show my dissent ask him why he continued mocking me and said because you will be obese after we have kids plus you will have a waddling gait because of arthritis and a Greek God does not walk next to someone like that . I will have more money than today and the number of sexier woman around me will be more too! I was more hurt or jealous at that comment I still have not figured out but little did I realize that I was going to keep a score of that.
Exactly at 40 the leukemia struck. The deadly chemotherapy side-effects were revised together 20 years later and left him with what he looks like today. He lost 40 kg in a matter of months looking skinny, spotty, extra-dark and robbed of his physical vitality completely. His mouth ulcers left him tasteless with little appetite for Karim’s galouti kababs tasting like rubber. Starved yet craving for food he sat glued to the food channels on TV for hours satiating his senses. He could sit on the ground with knees pressed against his chest as his tummy disappeared from his frame while he indulged in woodcraft , sketching, painting aimlessly trying to pass his time in his recovery days. The skin on his hand ,legs and face peeled off a little more every day.Additionally the mad itch drove him to madness and he groped everything available from combs, forks, and the plastic toy claws in an effort to seek relief. His face became more conspicuous and studded with new marks over months while he battled GVHD.Even the vegetable vendor pitied him and handed him a card of the homeopath doctor across the street saying “Sir , bahut ilaaj karaya hamara wala bhi try karke dekho.”
Strangers confused him for my driver and sometimes his old colleagues passed by him without a hint of recognition. He felt hurt and he knew his charm and presence had failed him. He started believing in his reflection and felt gloomy in his heart. He has been suggested camouflage makeups, laser treatments, allopathy and naturopathy. Everybody had a sensible advice but he was not listening .Darkness is silent. He was broken and from there went into hiding.
He had tough times adjusting to his physical metamorphosis that he started hating mirror. His own reflection scared him. As much as a challenge it was for him to love himself we also struggled to accept him in his new avatar and convince him that we loved him never the less. It is easier said than done. He refused to buy that too. I have seen him being refused at jobs and being told to be more presentable and pleasant to the patients. He returned and told me once angrily “ Does a Dr. deliver with his face or skills ?” His male ego to support his family kept him running for odd jobs in the worst of his times even when he could have rested. One of the fastest physical recoveries I have witnessed it took longer time to deal with inner demons of fear, loneliness, anger, self-rejection, frustration, fatigue and depression .He has lost faith in himself many times .When advice failed screaming worked to jolt him out of his self-imposed exile .When he just could not handle it all he just pretended to sleep. He cocooned himself with tough walls around where even I could not reach. Shut out completely, disconnected he became a volatile man when pushed. It was frustrating living with him those moments to the extent that I even threw a milestone memento on which I had painted an A and G on one of my hallmark anniversaries.
I had my own my doubts creeping by then. The irony of love is that in it lies the bondage and the liberation. Depends on one’s perspective completely. Over the years there has been slow and steady progress while the scars have healed. There is a new watermarked copy of the face while the skin has regenerated and patches have merged with the old. The aroma and taste of food has returned and a steady job has ensured that he has income as well as work satisfaction while he plans to catalogue the amazing work he has done proudly in the past two years. I know the doctor in him is hale and hearty. He loves to lie down buried in the sand on a beach listening to the noise of waves percolating through the ocean bed , harbors the dream to be a chef since I still haven’t learnt to cook to his satisfaction . He promised me that he will learn dancing to let me sway in his arms to fulfil one wish of mine in our romantic bucket list. He sips his morning coffee watching the birds swaying in the cage on the tiny little swings he designed using his carpentry skills.
Life is returning in small ways and the demons exist but they come out of the closet less often. I am softening too and shedding my old harsh demeanor which I needed to cope the worst of times. We have more laughter and lighter moments now. There are advantages in looking like that I have told him .His looks have saved him the cost of printing visiting cards for people will need little effort to remember him anyway. My college life insecurity has evaporated as I face no women threats anymore. He has been told about the potential of being next Indian version of Winnie Harlow. I have got my revenge that even though his mom boasted of his solid make she never mentioned that she got him imported from China with no guarantee. Instead of him refusing to walk with me at 40 I am the one who gets the quizzing looks when I introduce him as my husband to complete strangers.
He clicked a quick selfie and checked his reflection in the mirror for the photo to be pasted on his new driving license while discarding the old one he gently asked me again “ Hey babes ! How do I look ?”As I looked up and smiled I heard an echo faster than my own response from the mirror at which he was looking “ Comfortable” …comfortable in your own skin !
