How I survived a fatal paralysis (GBS Syndrome) & lived to tell the tale!

It all started with a horrible diarrhoea. I had to visit the toilet 30-40 times a day for 2 days straight. I took a lot of ORS and a couple of injections to cure it but the fluid content in my body had already drained to a large extent & I should have visited the hospital to replenish the same. But since I was feeling pretty well, I didn’t (Mistake 1). And the very next day, I decided to order Chicken Biryani from Swiggy, so that I can feel energetic again (Hit Wicket).

The chicken was a little raw but I ignored, as usual!

The next morning, as I got off the bed and tried to stand on the floor, I fell flat on my face. My right knee had stopped functioning and there was heavy tingling sensation in my right thigh. I was very confused, and a little scared. I hopped on 1 leg & went to the kitchen to take ORS again. I lied down to rest but nothing improved. So, I hired an Ola & somehow descended 4 flights of stairs and got inside the cab for Sir Gangaram Hospital. They added fluids, Potassium salts but instead of improving, even my other leg had completely failed. I called 2 of my B.Tech friends who lived nearby (Prakash & Daya Shankar). The emergency doctors tried everything but nothing seemed to work. By now, the tingling sensation had completely enveloped my lower limbs; Right thigh, left ankle, right ankle, left thigh in that order. I was completely immobile, waist down.

The doctors then consulted their senior and I was asked to undergo a Nerve Conduction Test (NCT). Here, they pass current through different areas of your body to check how the nerve cells are responding to the external stimuli. The result: Nerves Responding Perfectly! The senior doctor used all his experience and told me that I was suffering from a very rare disease called GBS (Guillain-Barre Syndrome). I had never heard of it before, so I called home but no one had ever heard of it either. The raw chicken contains a virus whose biological structure resembles that of the human nerve cells. When the antibody goes to kill the foreign virus, it fails to distinguish between the two. Hence, it starts killing its own nerve cells. And one by one, all the organs start failing. If not treated on time, it can be fatal. 
By now, the tingling sensation had spread to my upper limbs and the only thing still moving was my head.

The senior doctor told me that, sometimes the effects of GBS can’t be observed in the NCT in the initial days. He told me that I had to be administered a lifesaving drug called IVIG and I had to be transferred to a semi-ICU ward immediately. The drug alone would cost close to INR 2 lakhs. I was shocked beyond belief. He gave me the option of shifting to Ram Manohar Lohiya hospital (a govt. hospital) so that the overall cost might reduce. But he also told me that the admission procedure there would be extremely tedious & time was a luxury I could ill afford at that time. I had to deposit INR 50,000 immediately, apart from the IVIG drug. The 2 friends worked frantically to somehow arrange a bed because it was all full. Oh and by the way, the cost of the drug was approx.. Rs. 15k per bottle (10 gm) and I had to be administered 13 bottles (twice my weight). And it had to be administered continuously, which would take approx. 3 days. When I asked the doctor if this would completely heal me, he said that was the last of his concerns. As of now, his only concern was to stop the virus spreading to my central nervous system (brain & spinal cord). My father arrived after taking the first flight from Ranchi. He was almost in tears looking at my condition.

At night, I suddenly started experiencing breathing difficulty. The doctor told me that the virus had spread to my lungs & I should be shifted to the ICU. So I was. I was immediately put on a ventilator. By now, I could only move my eyes, little bit of neck & my voice intensity had reduced to 20%. My dad was stopped outside the ICU and now, I was on my own.

The ICU was scary. The nurse was very sweet though. She kept encouraging me to not panic, as that tends to happen when people encounter the ventillator for the first time (they called it the NIV machine). It took the machine about 15 minutes to adjust to my breathing rate. The mask of the NIV machine is so tight that my nose started aching very soon. Since the nurse was nearby, when I moved my neck, she noticed. She tried very hard to understand what I was trying to communicate. After about 5 minutes, she finally understood, and added some tape on my nose to cushion the pain. But, just when you think things would improve, they gets worse.

11 p.m. - The sister told me that the staff were leaving for dinner and would return in about half an hour. I nodded. Ten minutes later, the pipe connecting the ventilator to my mask popped out! I tried to scream frantically but my voice could barely reach as far as my own ears. The fear of death made me reach out to crazy depths of my being to summon every last ounce of strength just for the next breath, and the next. I did this for at least 20 minutes! Finally, the sister came. Needless to say, she was stunned to see me. She apologized profusely. All I cared about was the oxygen. Nothing more.

The next day, my breath shortened further. And I could not swallow food or water. So, another pipe was inserted through my nose. By now, I had a pipe in all sorts of places, but I still wasn’t getting better. I could count till 5 in one breath, which is extremely short. A normal person can easily count till 30. For reasons I cannot fathom till date, I was shifted to an isolation ward within the ICU. I asked the sister how I would call her in case I needed something. She gave me a buzzer and said, “Press this button.” Excuse me?! Finally, it was decided that if I needed something, I would shake my head continuously, which would move the ventillator pipe just enough for it to be seen from the outside. I didn’t think it through though. Obviously, nobody would be staring in my cell 24/7 to notice the movement of the pipe. I could lay in a particular position for 20 minutes at max, after which my bones started aching very sharply and I needed to change my sleeping posture immediately. Sometimes, I would have to shake my head for half an hour for anyone to notice and other times I got the feeling that they had started getting frustrated at my repeated requests and hence, started ignoring me. One of them clearly told me that they have other patients to tend to, and they cannot cater to my needs every half an hour. The days would somehow pass, with the doctor visits & my father staying for around an hour. The nights however, were a nightmare. All night, I had to stare at the ceiling with nothing but empty thoughts and pinching questions flooding my brain. The first thought, why me? And the last one too. Tears had dried out.

Just for info, an ICU can be a scary place. But an isolation ward is hell. After I conveyed my pitiable condition to my father, my sister used to call the ICU ward every hour at night and would ask them to check on me.

When my breathing hadn’t improved even after 4 days, the doctor told me that a lot of mucus had gotten deposited in my chest. And I didn’t have the strength to cough it out, which was severely hampering my breathing. He was right. Even after desperate attempts to cough, I could hardly move my chest. He said he would have to operate my neck and insert a small tube to suck out the cough. The incision will be the size of a coat button (known as tracheostomy). After that, I would be completely dumb for around 15 days. My already stunted voice would be reduced to zero. This thought frightened me no ends. He asked the physio-therapist to use a vibrator on my chest to loosen the cough. But he said, he would anyhow perform the operation next morning. That night, I asked the nurse to keep tissues on both sides of my neck, so that I could spit out whatever comes out. And then, I mustered all my strength from every inch of my body and spit out whatever came out, all night long. I did not sleep a wink. The next morning, I was mentally prepared for the operation. The doctor had set-up his team & the equipment. And he came for one final check-up. What happened next was unprecedented. My breath had improved. My pulse had improved. My heart-beat had improved! The doctor couldn’t believe his eyes. And then he did the un-thinkable. He took me off the ventillator! And monitored me for the next half an hour. I was breathing naturally now. My breath count had increased to 8. He told me he had never seen this in his career, and never in the history of the hospital had an operation been cancelled after making all the arrangements. After that, at least 15 doctors came to check me. All of them wondered what I did in one night that my condition drastically improved. That night, I had made a desperate, soul-filled prayer to my lord, and she had responded. My sister had done the same (which I came to know later.) I was witnessing providence first-hand, and the joy that I experienced at that moment after undergoing 8 days of hell cannot be described in words. It was indescribable, surreal. Back home, my mother & sister couldn’t stop crying. They had held back their tears until then. 2 days later, I was shifted to the general ward! My mother & sister had also arrived.

Then, the pain started! My muscles had separated from the bones with which they were attached, and were hanging. My body structure had reduced to a mere skeleton with traces of muscle here and there. I went through another round of Nerve Conduction Test, and this time, the result showed GBS (AMAN variant). The doctor had pre-empted my disease for which he deserves a lot of credit. It was the 2^nd worst type of GBS after AMSAN, the only difference being that I still had touch sensation in my entire body throughout. Thankfully, that was not lost.

The pain was so intense that, sometimes, I used to faint. I dreaded nights the most. As soon as the clock struck 8, my pain would triple in intensity. I could hardly sleep for 1 hour at night as a result. I had started sleep-talking. I would eagerly wait for the first rays of the sun, as it would bring much needed relief.

This continued for the next 10 days, after which the doctor said that I could be discharged as there was nothing else he could do. My physiotherapy would continue for as long as it takes to fully recover. And that would be the major medicine apart from a daily injection (blood thinner). My right hand fingers had started moving slowly by now. My parents decided to take me home, as staying in the hospital was very troublesome (and expensive). After a lot of thought, it was decided to take me home by train. The hospital arranged an ambulance & with the help of a bedsheet & 4 people, I was transferred from the stretcher on the platform to my train berth. Similarly, with the help of some people, I reached my home. A LOT of people came to visit me & after a while I started feeling like a museum artefact. Hehe.

My love affair with the pain continued for approx.. 2 months, during which time I slept for an average of 1 hour per day. My right hand had started moving by now & a little bit of my left hand too. The physio would come every day to my home. My dad somehow arranged a hospital bed which had lifting mechanism because my mother & sister had developed intense arm pain as they had to continuously lift me from the bed & insert several pillows underneath me, whenever I had to eat or brush or sleep differently. I must tell you that even though I was a mere skeleton, I was damn heavy. Think of a dead body! During the next 5 months, there were occasions where I would get severe breathing problems, as some water would get inside my nose or due to gas build-up because of lack of any body movement. The pain would slowly reduce but the recovery was very slow. I took a bath after 4 months, when I was able enough to be transferred to a wheel chair. It was blissful, magical. It took me 7 months to stand on my feet (with the help of a walker).

Unfortunately, I developed a curved spinal cord (tends to happen when you are in lying in bed for eternity) and a foot drop in my left foot. The usual 90 degree angle between the leg & the fingers had got extended to 150 degrees. Both of these happened due to the money minded physio who did not cater to every part of my body, so that my ailment could be extended.

It has been 1 year and 3 months since. Today, I walk by myself (though for a short duration) even though the strength in my left feet & right knee are yet to return. The foot drop has reduced to about 120 degrees. Back pain is quite regular, and even though my fingers are shaking, I am able to write this long blog. I visit the physio everyday on a bike (sitting behind my dad). Overall, the scars have mostly healed. God forbid, if you have someone suffering from the same disease, this blog might be of some help. Because, even I have benefitted from talking to people who had already been through this, or worse.

But I would like to re-iterate 2 things: first, GBS is a family disease, it’s not an individual one. The lives of entire family get disrupted & you need a person to take care of you 24/7. Being on bed, with someone cleaning you, feeding you, and looking after you is the worst feeling in the world. You always feel like a liability. But there is nothing you can do about it!

Secondly, I have lost a lot of friends in the process. And that’s a good thing! Adversity is the biggest test of any relationship. And I am happy that I have been able to identify the strong ones (& the useless ones).

Lastly, even though my world has turned upside down, I am happy to still be a living part of it, with the constant support of my family & my loved ones. If you have any close ones suffering from the same disease, you can contact me anytime at the below mentioned number. Be safe. Be healthy. And don’t take your health for granted! :)

Mob – (+91) 8376064127

Solo Sikkim Safari

The holidays of Diwali bring with them an opportunity to meet loved ones, rejoice, gain weight, and of course, burn crackers. For me, it brought an opportunity to fulfil my long cherished dream of going on a Solo Trip. After having read about it in many posts, I was all excited to embark upon my journey.

It was 2014, mid-October. After landing on the Bagdogra airport from Delhi, I boarded a helicopter. That’s right; u heard it, a Helicopter! A brief flashback: the very thought of travelling on serpentine roads in a closed vehicle turns me into a Pukeymon. It’s something about the smell of the seats or the deep-rooted visuals of the past experience, which forced me to look for alternatives. I enquired a lot, but there are no 2 wheelers available from New Jalpaiguri or Bagdogra to travel to Gangtok, unless you happen to know some localite who can lend you his personal vehicle in good faith. Suddenly, my friend-in-need Google popped up an option of taking a Helicopter. It was simply god-sent. My initial skepticism about the cost vanished into thin air when I saw that taking a cab would cost me Rs. 2500-3000 and a heli would cost me Rs. 3500. Wow.. Thank you almighty!

Ok, so back to Bagdogra. The heli was parked at some distance from the main runway and its first view is still etched in my memory. A red, compact, and elegant Pawan-Hans was waiting to take me to an adrenaline-filled ride. After sorting out some issues with the baggage compartment (very less room here), we were all set. The machine set the big fans and also my enzymes into rapid motion. Very soon, I was 200 ft. in the air and the view of the gorgeous, zig-zag, and green Teesta became ever so visible. The breathtaking views of snow-clad mountains lit by sunlight and the diverse flora spread all across the landmass were a welcome sight for someone seeking a change from the omnipresent pollution and the deafening traffic noise of Delhi.

And after 35 minutes of non-eyelid blinking odyssey, I, finally reached Gangtok. As I went outside, I found an idle Omni van on the roadside. It was already 3:30 p.m., and since I was on a short 4 day round-trip, I wanted to make the most of the short daytime that I was left with. The driver told me that I only had time for paragliding, post which he could take me to a nearby waterfall. After a little bargaining, he settled on Rs. 400. For paragliding, I chose the option of a 10 minute ride for Rs. 2200 (without camera) as I was carrying my own. I had to board an Indica which would take me atop the mountain from where I was supposed to jump and hence, was forced to leave my luggage in the Omni purely on good faith. After de-boarding on a high ground, the 3 people who had accompanied me got started untangling their stuff and I got busy taking selfies from the mountain top. After ~10 min, I finally saw the parachute unfolding in all its glory. One of the guys got me behind the bottom-end of the ropes which connected the chutes. There was a provision to sit but the seat wasn’t open and he asked me not to try so. The instructions were very clearly communicated to me: “I am right behind you; you need to run very fast & jump off the cliff without hesitation and the seat will open by itself.” And he politely added a gentle warning, that if I didn’t follow his instructions EXACTLY how he had given them, the chute won’t open and both of us will fall off the 400 ft. high cliff. Simple!

C’mon buddy, c’mon you can do it. You have come this far, you can go all the way! Yes! Just breathe..

I just ran with all my energy and thankfully the seat opened in the nick of time. I was flying! Here I come over the trees..woops, I flew past a bird, wohoo! And here comes my video cam. “Say Hello Bhaiya.” And then, he sharply changed the direction of our flight causing a deep weird feeling in my lower abdomen resulting in a minor scream. Ok, it was slightly more than a minor one. After a few such twists & turns, we were soon flying over the river. It was dreamlike. 10 minutes flew by in the blink of an eye and we soon landed in a football ground. This was the most bird-like experience that one could get in a lifetime, probably only bettered by a sky-dive.

After landing, we headed for the Ban Jhakri waterfall, which took us ~45 min to reach. The waterfall followed a stair-case route and there was plenty of water for the splashes to wash the faces of tired visitors with pristine droplets. It was selfie time again. I delicately placed the camera on an unstable rock and set the timer for 10 seconds, and rushed to take my position right in front of the falls. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for some nasty, giggling visitors, I slipped and fell knee-deep in the water. And that was the last selfie in that location, though a few visitors did show interest, but I politely ignored their offer for pity snaps. No thanks, I’m good! After having some maggi in the parking area, I asked the driver to take me to a cheap but decent hotel. The stay cost me 1500/- per night and I was way too tired to wander around and look for alternatives, so I checked-in.

Hoping against hope, I casually asked the hotel manager if I could rent a bike for travelling. After the failed effort of calling & enquiring his friends 2-3 times, he offered me his scooter, which was in a manageable condition. My eyes, subconsciously, got fixated on its tiny wheels. However, after weighing the option of enjoying a pleasant ride on the slow but open 2-wheeler against puking relentlessly in a closed cab throughout my journey, I chose the former. However, since I was a complete stranger, I didn’t know which parts of Sikkim could be best covered in 3 days on a scooter. After dinner, as I was discussing my plans with the manager, a girl standing nearby overheard my conversation and politely stepped in. As she had the entire map of Sikkim engraved in her brain, I intently listened to each word that she had to say. Well, that she was cute helped. I could feel the intense desire of hers to explain things in as much detail as possible so that I didn’t mess up. Her mannerisms, the innocence in her voice, the utter selflessness with which she was explaining things to me totally gullible to her suggestions. After the brainstorming session, I asked her one question, “Where do you think I should go?” She replied, “West Sikkim” and my destination were set!

DAY 2:

It was 5 a.m. The excitement of an adventure filled day was palpable in the air. I had a bowl of noodles for breakfast and got ready by 8:30 a.m. With my newly purchased backpack firmly tied on the back of the scooter, camera loosely hung in the vacant leg-space, guts and adrenaline tightly stuffed in the belly, I was all set to roll. But alas! The scooter won’t start. I checked the tank; it was full. I kicked the starter for 45 minutes like a maniac but it just won’t start. I asked some shopkeepers who told me that the nearest mechanic shop was 3 km downhill, however, for about half a kilometer, it were uphill and it would be impossible for me to drag the scooter. I locked the scooter near a shop and hired a cab which taking me to the mechanic shop and one of the mechanics accompanied me back to the scooter. After trying for an hour, the mechanic gave up. He concluded that there were some issues with the engine which could only be fixed in the shop. It was already 11 am by then. Pushing the scooter on the half a kilometre stretch cost me double the energy that I had gained from the tiny bowl of noodles. Why on earth did it have to happen today?!

The scooter was finally repaired but it was already 3 p.m., and my entire day was ruined. There was no way that I could have started travelling to West Sikkim that day. As it was just 3 kms away, Hanumantok was the only option left with me which could have been visited in the meager time that I was left with before daylight started fading. There was a Buddhist monastery and a bird park on the way which I wisely decided to skip. The serene atmosphere of the hilltop, the pristine atmosphere of the Hanuman temple, and the raw, spellbinding beauty of the orange rays of the setting sun reflecting on the snow-clad Kanchenjunga, was enough to momentarily transcend my experience to other-worldly. I was happy that an otherwise horrendous day had ended in such an amazing way!

DAY 3

Eager to make amends for the lost day, I started my journey at 3:30 a.m. It took me 2 hrs. to just exit the main city (as I had initially lost direction). Pretty soon, I found myself driving parallel to the marvellous Teesta River. A few kilometers ahead, I found a narrow, hidden trail on the side of the road, leading to the river. It was exactly the kind of stuff that you find while travelling on a 2-wheeler. I parked my scooter on the road-side and began ambling along the mystic, unused path which ultimately led me to the gorgeous, pure, and green beauty. I wasted no time in taking off my shoes, folding my jeans knee-height and rushing up to a depth where the smooth and shiny pebbles provided a safe territory. The gushing water was as pure as it was cold and, as it was 6 a.m., the sun was at its pleasant best. A few splashes of the crystal clear water in the most perfect of winter mornings were enough to rejuvenate me from deep within my soul. 15 minutes and a few customary selfies later, I was all raring to go.

A few hours into the journey, I came across a view which was so stunning that I felt as if I was staring directly at the wallpaper on my laptop. Gorgeous red & yellow Oak & Pine trees on the side of the road on which flowers were spread like a carpet, cool breeze brushing my face ever so softly, clouds filtering and allowing only the gentlest of sun-rays to pass through, quiet & serene environment whose concentration was breached only by the melodious chirping of birds, and a mini-waterfall from the hill on the roadside flowing right across the road in the background; in summary, the ambience was as though god had handpicked his choicest of objects to be delicately sprayed with the perfect mix of colours on the canvas of his imagination! And I am ever so grateful that he decided to make me witness to one of his finest art-works. I was also the reason for the extra-large eyeballs of many passing visitors, when I decided to take a few gutsy selfies by keeping my camera on a random rock on the roadside and then running upstream for the perfect shot with the fountain.

On my way to the destination, I encountered countless such fountains, acres of mustard plantations with a lonely hut in the middle & snow-clad mountains in the far end. However, it was already 1 pm and I was beginning to tire, both out of hunger and the drive. I had been driving continuously for 9 hours with mini-breaks in between and had already come 100 kms. from where I had started, without having any breakfast. I stopped at a small bakery shop in the hope of finding something to eat. The girl on the counter informed me that everything had been sold out. After looking at my dejected face and the big backpack on my scooter, she asked me if I had come from some far off land. I subconsciously replied, “Yeah, I’ve come from Delhi” Her jaws almost touched ground and she emphatically enquired, “Delhi se scooter pe!!”

“Ohh.. no.. no. I’m from Delhi but I’ve come from Gangtok. Actually I’ve been driving since morning and haven’t had much to eat. So I’m kinda starving.”

After a few moments’ pause, she politely told me, “We have some Maggi in our home which I had prepared in the morning. Some of it is still left. I don’t know if it will be enough to satiate your hunger but if you want I can bring it for you.”

I was dumbstruck!! Generosity of such an extent is something that won’t appear even in the most generous of dreams of a person coming from Delhi. I wondered, “First the hotel girl and now her; is everyone in Sikkim this pure at heart?!” I felt like proposing to her at that very instant but she was surrounded my her relatives and I was already so tired that taking a beating at their hands didn’t really feel like a lucrative option, so I dropped the idea.

From a place where money-minded people are perennially on the lookout for easy prey to a place where people offer their own food to a hungry, random stranger, I had indeed come a long way!

Little was I aware that this would be the last pit-stop of my pleasant journey. The last 30 km stretch of road leading up to the Kachiopelri Lake, crossing Peling on the way, was an embodiment of hell and nothing short of a gruesome nightmare, esp. if you were on a 2-wheeler. Narrow road running parallel to a tiny 1000 ft. chasm, an array of sharp pointed stones reminiscent of those present along the railway tracks, and to top it all, thin, small tyres which skidded randomly at the drop of a hat made me regret the moment that I had decided to hire the scooter. It took me 4 hrs. to travel 25 km. and when I finally reached at 4:30 pm., I was exhausted to death. 13 hours of drive had completely enervated me, more mentally than physically.

However, the ambience surrounding the lake was so quiet and pristine that for some time, I lost all consciousness of my fatigue. Clear blue sky embracing the divine lake through its crystal clear reflection and the lush green forest surrounding it, as if to protect the crown from any untoward threat, were forming a spectacular alliance to add to the already existing beauty of the waters. The monks were chanting prayers and offering biscuits to the fishes. It was truly ironical that even after being surrounded by so many trees, there was not a single leaf on such a huge lake, truly living up to its reputation.

It was getting dark very fast and my legs and hands were cursing me for being deaf to their requirements. I thought of staying in a hotel next to the lake but somehow the secluded hotel which was devoid of any guests gave it an eerie appearance and I couldn’t muster up the courage to stay the night in such a remote location. So, after having some Maggie, I decided to stay in Peling, but for that to happen, I would have had to drive through hell for 35 kms., and that too, on a new moon night. After giving another round of 3^rd degree punishment to my bum, I was forced to stay in a hotel to which I would not have given a second glance on a regular night. It was smelly, the bathroom was leaking, and the bed-sheets were dirty. But I was way too tired to think of the perks, I just needed a bed and I needed it right then!

DAY 4

At 8:30 a.m., I woke up feeling all drowsy, still reeling from the happenings of the previous day. After two days, I had a full breakfast, i.e. a Chicken Biryani and fresh fruit juice. Slowly, I motored along the back-to-normal road. Someone had suggested me to visit the hot spring glacier (though the water won’t have been much that time of the year) on my way to Gangtok and considering the fact that my return flight was the next day and I had an entire day to myself, it felt like a decent plan to follow.

I encountered a petrol pump but even after repeated attempts to open the lid of the petrol tank, I failed miserably. Just for information; when the scooter was in the garage for repair, due to some misfit at the time of refit, the lid became very tightly jammed. I assumed (Blunder! Never assume while travelling) that there would be enough petrol to take me safely to Gangtok. I went a little off-track in search of the hot springs and eventually had to give up the search as it was already 2 p.m. and I wanted to reach Gangtok before sunset. I enquired a few local people about the direction, although so few people lived there that I had to travel 4-5 kms just to witness human habitation and also the lack of any road-signs didn’t make my life any easier. Just as I was crossing a tunnel, the scooter gave a few jerks. I was well aware of the disease which was about to take me in its dreaded grips considering the symptoms: Petrol Empty!!

Holy shit!!! What on earth am I gonna do on this scary land with mountains on one side, the god-forsaken trench on the other, and with no human in sight?!

After a few vehicles passed unnoticed, a noble biker stopped by to enquire. He told me that there was a village ~3 km away where there might be a chance to get petrol in black. I was a little skeptical in leaving my scooter in the middle of the mountains but he quelled my fears saying that Sikkim was a “No theft state”, which really was an eyebrow raising statement. So, I parked my scooter near a small mountain curve & went with the biker to his village. I scanned each and every shop for possible traces of petrol but had to be disappointed every time. The villagers told me that the nearest petrol pump was 14 km. away. I thought of taking a vehicle till the petrol pump and bringing back petrol in a bottle. But, (And it’s the ‘but’ which will be omnipresent in the event of a crisis, courtesy a gentleman named Murphy) it was Diwali (Bhaiyadooj) and just about everything was closed. I asked innumerable people to lend me their bike but they were in no mood to deviate from their festive mindset. After a while, I saw a passenger jeep coming my way and a flower of hope started blooming within me. However, that bud was crushed ruthlessly before it could blossom into a flower, as the jeep came to an abrupt halt right next to me. When I put forward my request to the driver saying that it would hardly take 20 min of his precious time, he dismissed it saying that his sister was hungry!!

“To hell with you.. to hell with your stupid sister.. and to hell with your damned festival! I am stranded in an alien land with the sun on the verge of setting and people shutting their shops, and this guy is so damn worried about his gluttonous sister, who just can’t seem to wait for half an hour to fill her filthy pot!”

Fortunately, these words didn’t leave their source of origin or else it would have endangered that of mine! I got so drained by the fruitless searching and the futile pleading that I went and sat on a rock which was a few metres away from the small village. There was no solution in sight.

“Where will I spend the night? Is my scooter even there where I had left it? How will I reach Gangtok to catch my flight tomorrow?” These were the questions which refused to leave me for even a moment. The entire episode spawning right in front of my eyes completely punctured my spirits and was emotionally so draining that a nonchalant tear fell quietly on the light coloured rock. I somehow gathered the last iota of courage, which is probably stored deep within everyone and is released when your survival instinct is activated, and headed back to the village.

A policeman sitting outside a nearby police station (I noticed it late!) was silently listening to this entire hullabaloo and called me to enquire about my problem. He kept giving me the stupidest of suggestions for half an hour until I finally told him, “Please give me some petrol from your own bike at double the price.” I was carrying a 600 ml Maaza bottle with me and offered him to fill it with petrol. After a lot of deliberation, he finally agreed. “Double the price” was the deal clincher, I guess. He finally got up, turned the nozzle of his petrol pipe and inserted its other end in the bottle. With each drop of petrol entering the bottle, life energies within me started breathing again after being battered for a sustained period of despondency and dejection. He filled the bottle only till 500 ml and asked for Rs. 100. I didn’t waste a single second in paying him that amount. Frankly, I was ready to pay him Rs. 1000 considering my mental condition. 

I hastily ran with all my energy and was extremely relieved to find my scooter in the exact condition that I had left it in. He was right.

I took a nearby stone and broke the lock of the tank lid in 2-3 angry hits, poured the petrol and headed towards the petrol pump, waiving off the policeman on the way. Driving at a constant speed of 45 km/hr for maximum efficiency, I finally reached my destination and was so invigorated to find it open because all along the way I was continuously dreading the fact that even this pump would be closed due to his hungry sister. I got the tank filled till the petrol started flowing on the ground. It was pitch-dark and I was on my way to Gangtok, finally!! During the journey, on many occasions, the scooter would shut off (thankfully not break down!) and the resulting darkness that would prevail with the added flavour of a horrendous road supplemented by the steepest of valleys would literally send chills down my spine. Never before had I been to a place so devoid of a living existence. It was scary, trust me. I did manage to reach Gangtok after which I had the longest shower of my life. I did catch my flight back to Delhi the next day but I was dearly missing Sikkim. I so wanted to go back. The highs and the lows of the entire trip is so vividly entrenched in my mind that it seems it was just yesterday.

I have only heard people say that a solo trip changes the way you perceive yourself and also your outlook towards life. I don’t know how many of them had had an experience of this intensity but it did open more than a few logjams in my head. The entire experience was unbelievably overwhelming and even though it tested my patience and determination to the very limit, I won’t trade it with the grandest of treasures. In the end, I would just like to suggest a few things which every traveller must keep with him, at the minimum: a litre of petrol, plenty of cash, some fruits & a torch. Closing comments: I had deliberately not taken my smartphone on this trip as I wanted to use my human skills to manoeuvre my way throughout the trip and not use any GPS! In the end, it was all worth it!

Bucket List – Check.

YAADEIN...

Na jane aaj kaise tumlogo ki yaad si aa gayi,
Gumsum yun hi baithe the dil me ek khushi si cha gayi,
Dilli ki garmi me tarap rahe seene ko,
Yaadon ki barish ek thandak sa pahuncha gayi;

Magn chal rahe the apni raahon par,
Ek mod pe saath hum mil gaye,
Kaaton bhari rahon pe aisa laga,
Maano phool kahin se hon khil gaye;

Ghar se nikle the hum manzil ki talaash me,
Soche kuch seekhne milega zindagi ki class me,
Par doston ne zindagi ke maayne aise badle,
Ki saari kadwaahat ghul gayi rishton ki mithaas me;

Dil khol ke yun galtiyan batana,
Besharam hoke fir lunch churana,
Janmo ke punya se naseeb hota hai,
Zindagi me aise doston ka aana;

Naach gaa kar humne manayi khushiyan,
Aaansu poch kar baante sabke gham,
Khud ki manzil paane aaye the yahaan,
Aur khud ko hi kho aaye hain hum;

Haqeekat thi ya koi sapna tha woh,
Har pal paas hamare jab koi apna sa ho,
Waqt ke dhaage me tumhari yaadon ke moti,
Maano saans lene ka mujhe ek wajah sa mil gaya ho!

Smartphone - New Generation's Soft Killer

It was a pleasant Thursday evening. I was having a casual conversation with one of my colleagues. Some of the excerpts:

Mr. X – Hey, do you know that Snapchat is on the verge of overtaking Whatsapp?!

Me – Generally tend to avoid such questions. *Perplexed look*

Mr. X – You don’t know? Ok just think about it.. How many hours are you on Whatsapp & recently how much have you been using Snapchat?

Me – God please kill me.. Not much idea about these things bro.

Mr. X – *Eyes & nostrils expanding* *forehead contracting* What are you talking about?

Me – *hesitantly* I.. I kinda don’t use smartphone!

Mr. X – *Time stopped* *Eyes and temple veins popped out* *Nose disappeared* How on earth are you alive dude??!!! But why??! Why are you not smart yet?

Me – So you’re telling me that you’re smarter than me because you have an Iphone?

Mr. X – HELL YEAH!!!! I am always aware of the entire world.. 1000s of people at my fingertips, all the time!! It’s like my soul now..

Me – Woh.. Your soul..!? Big revelation that!! What if I steal it??! As the secret to most of your smartness is granted to you by that device you flaunt so pompously, will you be a dumb human being if I or anyone for that matter steals it?

Mr. X – *Long pause* *Perplexed & blank look*..

Let me be very frank here. Technological advancements in most of the fields have been at such a breathtaking pace in the last decade that most people can’t even imagine how their predecessors used to live without it. Technology has made life simpler, enhanced the productivity of work, and has enabled people from any part of the world to be connected to one another. So far so good.

My problem starts when Mr. Tech (smartphones + internet) gets all too personal. The magnitude of control that smartphones have over each and every aspect of people’s personal lives is mind boggling. The addiction with smartphones is worse than that of Nicotine. At least, people consuming Nicotine know that they have an addiction & that they can be cured if they really wish to be. But, smartophobics (forgive me for inventing this word) have no freaking idea; either of the fact that they are addicted or that it is seriously harmful to their own identity!

In a 2011 experiment published in Science Magazine, college students remembered less information when they knew they could later access it easily on the computer.¹ The brains of very frequent surfers or smartphone users don’t store much in their long term memory (because they know that they can easily access it on Google), which the brain uses to facilitate critical thinking. Our brain needs these memories to understand and interact with the world around us.²

And I am not even including the medical hazards on our eyes and spinal cord.

Picture this – How common a site it has become to see youngsters with their necks bent, pupils dilated (harmful light from phone), & restlessly banging thumbs. In recent times, there have been many reported cases of girls’ deaths because they couldn’t notice the incoming train while crossing, as they were busy in wonderland. Just imagine the price you might have to pay for not being aware of your surroundings! Go to restaurant, pub, discotheque, birthday party, morning walk, bus-stand, railway station; be it travelling, sleeping, walking, eating, relaxing.. you name it; people today are so busy being busy that they forget the fact that these moments can be utilized to build crucial human (face-to-face) relationships, which sometimes might last a lifetime. They seem totally oblivious to their surroundings, while living in a parallel world of their own.

As such in today’s busy schedule, people hardly get time for themselves. Every such opportunity should be utilized in appreciating the beauty that nature has bestowed us with. Albert Einstein once said, “There are 2 ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, you can live as if everything is a miracle.” Frequent travelers or people whose homes are closer to nature (hilltop, river-side, forest etc.) will tell you what a deeply soul-enriching experience it is to be with nature, to appreciate the magnificence, the beauty, the purity of the world that is around us. Throw away that goddamn gadget, go and have a one-on-one interaction with nature. Introspect, understand the purpose of life.. just be with yourself. The greatest inventor ever, Nikola Tesla, had this to say: “The mind is sharper and keener in seclusion and uninterrupted solitude. No big laboratory is needed in which to think… Be alone, that is the secret of invention; be alone, that is when ideas are born.” Magical words these!! Love being alone, embrace your imperfections, soak in the grandeur of nature and lose yourself in it. Because only by completely surrendering yourself, can you find your true identity.

However, the most deep rooted problem and biggest fear of smartophobics is being alone! The avalanche of social networking sites in our daily lives has meant that people are, practically, never alone. Ever flashing status updates, pics changing every hour, senseless portrayal of one’s desires/ambitions/feelings to the outside world, has meant that people are never actually living in the moment. They are more worried about “showing” people that they are living, that they have problems, or that they are cool. This intense desire for appreciation is the root cause of all the deterioration in our society. Unless people share their daily lives with the outside world, unless they are appreciated, they feel left out. This breeds frustration & consequently a life full of misery, which, ironically is also put up as an update! Jean-Paul Sartre once said, “If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company.” What a powerful thought!

There is no denying the fact that being appreciated is a basic human trait. But that appreciation, however tough it may sound, has to come from oneself.. for oneself.

I neither want to be nor like being in touch with everyone all the time. I don’t want to know which airport others are currently waiting on, which restaurant they ate yesterday, which book they have been reading, which movies they are watching etc.. 2 reasons why:  i) It completely breaks my concentration from whatever it is that I am focused on at that moment. ii) It wrongly makes me feel as though it’s only I who has to go through the problems, everyday rigours, moral dilemma, career dilemma etc. in my day-to-day life, whereas, it’s all hunky-dory for the others.  According to a recent survey, the pressure to “Always be Available” is the most significant cause of stress, anxiety, hypertension etc. which are the major side-effects of excessive smartphone or internet usage. People have stopped using their brains for minor everyday requirements because they have their loyal companion always by their side. People who should be spending their free time acquiring wisdom through the innumerable, life changing books that are freely available to us (a very positive aspect of the internet) waste their precious time aimlessly chit-chatting or playing innumerable games available on their smartphone for this very purpose.

I would like to state again that I am all for technological advancement, but we should try to demarcate our professional & personal usage. Limiting its interference in your personal life allows you to slow down the maniacal pace of life. We have often heard that “Life moves so fast, you hardly realize it before you are old.” Slow it down. Bring it down to your desired pace & the perception of time will enhance. You will feel the moment & explore the opportunity that every moment brings with it. 6 years old kids these days, who should be getting muddy in the playground are navigating through muddy terrains in Temple Run. This is setting a horrible foundation for our future generations. The age when kids should grow naturally, explore their surroundings, make deep friendships, get drenched in the rain, all of which arouses their curiosity, now get excited by top-scoring & getting an extra life. What an utter waste of childhood; what a sheer trampling of innocence!!

I would like to state another observation here. And let me clarify that I don’t mean any disrespect to the professional photographers here. The cameras are undoubtedly one of the greatest inventions of the modern era. However, the growing eagerness to capture every instant of our lives on camera has a very bad implication. Whenever we visit a memorable place, there is always this tendency to take as many pictures, record as much as possible so that others can appreciate it too. This prohibits us from “just being” in the moment, soaking in every tiny bit of detail that is available. When we have no-one, and I mean no-one to please but ourselves, life begins to unfold its mystical & magical layers in every moment. We always enjoy things much more if we know we might never get the chance to be there again. Scenes which used to be etched in our brains are now part of a database. People have stopped “living in the present” because they can always “re-live the past.” Confession: I, myself might never stop taking snapshots if I encounter a picturesque location, but I do try to finish it off fast so that for the remaining duration I can absorb its essence.

Just imagine what Galileo would have achieved if he had worried about getting appreciated by the church, which was the “authority!” Living for other’s approval & appreciation is leading to the death of creativity, the death of risk-taking, and the death of self-respect & self-worth. I have a deep feeling that in today’s age, we will never find a Tesla, but only a Steve Jobs; never an Einstein, only a Zuckerberg; never a Ramanujan or a Shakuntala Devi, only a Bill Gates or a Jack Ma! How can a Maths genius be born if there’s the omnipresent Excel to “facilitate” his/her thinking. All of it sometimes makes me wonder.. Where are we heading towards? What is the purpose of our technological advancement? Is it making us happier or turning us into a bunch of slaves & addicts? Whatever happened to friends meeting/talking after a long duration & sharing long anecdotes?! Nothing is excitingly new now because everything has been shared with everyone. Stories replaced by updates, achievements recognized by the magnitude of likes & comments. A long hug to a close friend replaced by hug-smileys, a self-made  shabby birthday card from a close one, which meant more than a diamond, replaced by meaningless b’day wishes on our wall!

The meaning of brain-drain used to be the emigration of human talent offshore. It has a whole new meaning now, a more literal & a more perilous one! We have been taught to live with our heads held high; we are living with our necks bent down. Let’s bring back the humanness in humanity. Switch off your phone.. Switch on your life!

¹ Small, G.W, T.D Moody, P Siddarth, and S.Y Bookheimer. “Your Brain on Google: Patterns of Cerebral Activation During Internet Searching.” 

² http://academicearth.org/electives/internet-changing-your-brain/