Deepshikha and a day

Why Deepshikha? I asked Devashish.

Because it means a small lamp and you need just a small lamp to light big fires, he replied

I've known Devashish for a long time. His son Reyann and Ninad studied together since prep school and parted with sadness when D was posted to the Assam House, Vashi. I have written a book about myself. Several blogs too. And on innumerable occasions I have talked of me and me, everything parroted because the contents are 'mukhosto' (by heart) by now, as someone so eye 'openingly' pointed out. The entire Assamese community knows about D's passionate work towards care of cancer patients. I knew it too. But I needed to read an article in the Assam Tribune about him for achieving the 'Eureka" moment of  understanding  how small and self centred I have been.

I spent a day with Deepshikha. Cancer patients and their attendants are helped in several ways by Deepshikha. Deepshikha is Devashish's baby. And the teenager it has grown into is due to the efforts of his team, as D again and again emphasises. But a team is as good as its leader. I know that very well. Deepshikha has acquired 4 buildings which house patients going for treatment to Mumbai, besides the Assam House. The Assam House, whose actual purpose was to accommodate visiting VIPs from Assam now accommodates only cancer patients and their attendants. Dewta and I wanted to see how they function, having heard so much. The first thing that struck me on the visits were the expressions on the patient's/attendant's faces. They all looked happy. The accommodations were bright and cheerful and on being asked by Dewta how they felt there, 'better than home' one patient answered.

A blog entry does not give much scope to write about the story of Deepshikha and Devashish. It will need a book. 'Every room has a story,' Devashish told me. And these stories teach us how insignifant we actually are. I want to write a book. It is one of my greatest desires. I was looking for a story, and the Lord directed me to this one. Deepshikha's story will be my book.

Deepshikha has now decide to serve all populations and not just limit their services to North East Indians. We also met some Bangladeshi patients/attendants who had run out of money and were accommodated there. Devashish is a Deputy Commissioner, and it was humbling to see his interactions with patients/attendants. They all could relate to him and it was obvious that he was deified. I believe he is just one of those lucky souls who has discovered his life purpose very early in life. 

Deepshikha runs on funds donated by several persons. The funds pay the rents of all its buildings in expensive Mumbai, the heavily subsidised and often free food that is served to the residents of Deepshikha, treatment of patients, most of whom run out of funds after a few weeks of their treatment. The funds are given in kind and money. Deepshikha has made the funding process completely transparent and as direct as possible. The house rent is paid by the donor to the landlord directly; an estimate of the requirement of food per month is made and the raw food material is donated by some; money is transferred to the patient's hospital account and deducted by the hospital authorities as and when the services are used. Majority of the donors are not people from the North East.

I have decided to donate Rs 500/- to the Deepshikha account every month. It is a very small amount but 'even 100 rupees is useful' according to Devashish. He made us eat the food served for Rs 10/- in one of the residences. It was more wholesome than the food we ate at home; and delicious. The Gujarati 'Maharaja' (head cook) came to ask us about the food and we commended him. My sister calls Devashish 'Mum Teresa.' He has Mother Teresa on the screen saver of his phone. Jumi had hit the truth. *satisfied smiley*

of coming out and going back

Each of us was a step in the evolutionary process of marriage. E was at the top, the modern human, the analogy being made was with the status of the marital life. E was on top as she was divorced, had moved on and was with a new wonderful partner. P was divorced and footloose, not yet having hitched up seriously with any one. J was on the verge of a divorce and the other P was still in a deceptively proper marriage, but the mental divorce had set in.

We got together for a nice afternoon of liquids and solids. Stories unfolded and the pretty woman in the mini dress regretted wearing the short dress as it forced her to sit proper and ladylike. Shorts next time, I advised her. E, model thin, and with a sense of style which was almost iconic, considering she is a very fine and sought after doctor, asked me if she had put on weight. I ticked her off by telling her not to insult the rest of us by asking such questions.

J has a weak metabolism. Her liver was unable to breakdown too much at a time. The glass of water with several slices of thinly sliced kazi lemon and a few drops of the water like beverage soon got her drunk. She was the hostess but her drunk status gave the guests no choice but to do the menial work required to prepare for lunching. Laying the table, re-heating the food and stuff. Oh, and even clearing the table and transferring leftovers into smaller bowls and putting them into the refrigerator.

The menfolk confined themselves to the bedrooms, only coming out occasionally to whisper suddenly remembered instructions to each other. And then coyly disappeared into their respective cocoons.  E said the day should go down in history as significant. The reverse was what happened in the days of yore. We all saw the point and had epiphanies. The marital statuses (or rather lack of it) was the reason why they could be merry today. Holi was being celebrated perhaps a little differently but the soul of the festival was intact. There were liquids, good food, laughter and colours. The colours were in the clothes, the room and the flowers displayed in the room. And in the conversations. And in the laughter. *winking smiley*

We toasted for more successful and happy marriages in this world where nine out of ten marriages seem to be cracking up, but also realised for ourselves that freedom is better than being in a miserable bond. It was nice not to be told what time to come home and who to go out with. We toasted to freedom. We were ready for the new life.

And yet, the picture below made sense *naughty grin smiley*