Post-Op

Exactly a month ago today Sheba went under the knife.

After spending the night with her in the hospital, it was time.  The nurse came and took us to the operation theatre, and Sheba, wearing her blue-checked hospital gown was put on the trolley.  We had already prayed.  Several times.  And the prayers of so many others were going up as well at 8.30 AM as the doors to the operating theatre at Bethany Hospital closed.

I stayed outside praying.  For an hour.  Then Dr. Stephen Alfred came out on his way to another task and gently told me that I could go back to the room until he called me.  I went up to room 506 - which was going to be our home for the next week - and spent some time with brother Jolly from church, who had come to be with me in the mean-time.  

Then an hour later I was called by Dr. Stephen.  He told me that the operation was successful.  A nurse was called and she brought a kidney bowl which included a large 15 cm long mass of the hydrosalpinx - the fluid filled body which had grown in Sheba's fallopian tubes and which had caused the severe pain episode at the end of July.  There was also a large stone which had been removed along with the gall-bladder.  It was a black brute - the size of a small walnut.  It was sobering to see these items displayed on the tray.  But I was so happy to hear that the two operations had been uneventful - that the gall bladder removal done by Dr. Stephen and the complete hysterectomy by Dr. Kannan had gone smoothly.

Samples from all those tissues that I saw on the kidney dish had been taken and sent for pathlogical tests.  By God's grace all the results came back later as being non-cancerous.  We are so grateful for another swathe of mercy.

While we were talking, a young man was brought in and Dr. Stephen advised him on his father's gangrenous leg which was next on the operating list.  Its a 50% chance operation, said Stephen, but we will try our best and pray to God to help us.  I later met the man and found out that the operation was successful too.

And so another hour and a half later I was outside the doors when a conscious Sheba was wheeled on her trolley to the lift and then with me holding her hand while she lay on her guerney we took the lift up to the 5th floor.

A few minutes later Opa came in.  We prayed with Sheba and her first post-operative pain hit her like a hurricane.  It was a hard afternoon for Sheba, but she eventually was given some sedative and managed to sleep off.  The next day was better.  But pain is pain.  As comfortable as the Bethany Hospital is, and as caring as the nurses and other staff are, it was finally Sheba who had to go through the post-op experience.  All I could do was hover alongside.  Humbling stuff.

That was a month ago.  As India celebrated another Independence day.  On the day my brother completed another spin around the sun.

A month has slipped by.

Looking back a month later, I remember the 15th of August 2013 mainly as a blur.  As were the next few days as I shuttled between hospital and home and a bit of Jeevan Sahara too.  Our dear friends John and Nalini and their kids were constant helpers.  As were Jolly and Suma and sister Rachael from church.  And Agnes and, and, and...  Overwhelming to experience the love and care from so many.

Sheba back home from hospital - welcomed by Asha and Oma - our two ladies of the house!

Sheba was discharged early the next week.  We were cared for and spoiled by Mum and Dad who came and camped out with us when they heard that Sheba was posted for surgery.  The kids were jewels.  So many people came and visited and called and prayed.  We have never had so many apples in the home.  Our kids had never had apple pie before.  But their Oma made sure that they were well versed with this till-now-untasted delicacy over the past weeks.

Since Amma and Appa having just left India for 6 months with Daisy and Ramesh and their kids in Arizona, we received their love through long-distance phone calls and fervent prayers on our behalf.

And then - on the 2nd of September - after the staples were removed, and 2 weeks of bed rest completed - Sheba started back at work at Jeevan Sahara Kendra.  She has taken getting back to work slowly, but has already plunged into the challenges of dealing with broken lives.  And with death - as we lost two of our Positive Friends on one day last week.

Sheba is on the mend.  And not allowed bend.  And lift.  And though she wants to do so much, she has to take things slowly.  She has graciously allowed herself to be helped in so many ways.  And continues to press forward.  We appreciate the sheer volume of love that we were blessed with before and after the operation - and cherish your prayers for a full and complete recovery.

Last week Oma and Opa went north - to be with the Delhi Eichers for a few days and yesterday they reached safely back to Shanti Kunj.  These days were golden. We cherish the memories already.

Yesterday Sheba removed the support belt that she has been wearing for the past month when she sits up or walks around.  Today there were some twinges of pain in the main scar.  Its all a mystery, this business of healing.  For a skilled cancer surgeon, the 45 minute procedure to do the hysterectomy was routine.  Something he does repeatedly.  But for my dear Sheba, the massive intentional cut (done to help of course!) just takes so long to heal.

We are aware again of just how good life is.  We want to continue to live each day in joyful anticipation of the next.  We thank God for each other and for our various circles of family and friends who have shown again what a rich heritage we are blessed with.

And so on-wards.  Slowly.  And with the oodles of grace that our feeble frames are washed with.

Two deaths in a day

Tuesday was a hard day.

In the morning - while our morning devotions were going on - ***Tanya died.  We have known Tanya for years.  And have watched her grow from a skinny 13 year old - to a skinny 18 year old - and die.

Tanya's story is almost to sad to tell.  Orphaned along with 3 brothers - she the only one with HIV - looked after the three, keeping house for them as they moved into adolescence and young adulthood.  Our teams met her when an uncle came and asked that she be put in a home of some sort.  Those don't exist anymore.  And with the uncle and other relatives washing their hands of caring for this family it was Tanya who cared even as she went funcionally blind.

In her anger and despair Tanya withdrew from our staff.  They would visit regularly, but her way of coping was to retreat into her shell.  Things did not get easier as she grew weaker and stopped taking her medicines regularly.

The last year saw us admit Tanya a number of times for in-patient care.  She should have died 8 months ago - but for the loving care that our nurses gave her at the JSK centre.  Many people loved Tanya.  She usually did not show much love in return.  Her brothers came and went.  When she became a bit better she would want to go home.  And then our team would meet her in her shack, lying in her filth.  Her brothers dealt with things in their own way - but staying out of the home for most of the day.

It would be nice to say that Tanya's last few weeks were ones of joy.  They were not.  Death is cruel and hard.

But we do know that Tanya received a lot of love.  Though she hardly responded, our staff cared for her.  They bathed her.  Massaged her.  Church volunteers came and gave home-cooked food.  On her final day Sheba fed her soup and sang with her.  Tanya received a massage while she sat curled up - a living skeleton - her glassy eyes staring forward.

When she died her brothers came for the body.  They took it away without a word of thanks.

Farewell sweet princess.  Your life here was short and full of sorrow.  But we know we will meet you on the other side.  And then we will have the conversation that never happened here.

Later in the day a church from Mumbai's western suburbs brought one of their members to us.

Munni had been admitted at the government TB hospital in south Mumbai.  It is a hellish place. She was not doing well and so they asked whether she could be admitted at JSK.  We agreed and they brought her in an ambulance to us.

Later that evening Munni developed gasping.  We tried hard, but her life slipped away.  Her husband Bhaskar was numb.  He had never been tested for HIV.  During that day we counselled and tested him - and found out the next morning that Bhaskar too was HIV positive.

But by the next morning his wife Munni was dead.  She died at 10.30 PM on Tuesday.  Sheba went over to sign the death certificate.  One of the church leaders came in the middle of the night to be with Bhaskar.  Now what to do with the body?  We linked the pastor with a senior pastor in Mumbai who was on a cemetery committee.  He agreed to facilitate her burial in a Christian cemetery.

I met with the young pastor the next day.  He himself had been picked off the streets and helped by a group of people who loved God.  After working with them for some years, he has been groomed by his local church and now is helping people with HIV through his church.  He was wearing a crisp white khadi shirt.  He and his fellow leader husbanded Munni's husband.  They arranged for the undertaker.  The body was taken down to the small hearse.  We prayed and off they went.

The church was grateful that Munni had died with us.  She had been loved too.  By the church members and our staff.  She died in peace.  In a clean place, well away from misery of the government hospital.

We are running on a skeleton staff.  Our single trained nurse had terrible pain on Thursday.  A mild appendicitis?  Sheba's major surgery last month means that she is working through weakness - a wounded healer.  We are all stretched.  Is there an end to all of this?  With so few staff to run our place, we are hardly able to admit folks.  And then when they come they die.  We know that it will happen.  We know that our efforts are not in vain.  We know that eternity stretches before us - and that we have the privilege of being with people who are at the very edge of time.

But when we lose two people in a day it is hard.  One - a very long and drawn out saga of care from us and neglect from everyone else.  An end which almost feels like a relief.  The other a person totally new to us - with only a few hours of care before she too breathed her last on the same day.

Are Tanya and Munni talking together?  Exchanging notes about their last hours in this life?  Or lost in a swirl of beauty?

Time will tell.

Two deaths in a day.  Two lives-as-we-know-it ending with us.  Two-lives-as-we-hope-for beginning.

We remain behind.  With the memories. And with the hope.  And tears we have not shed.

Mapping

For the past fortnight I have been looking at our work from a different angle.  Literally from above.  A ‘God’s-eye-view’ as it were.

Courtesy google maps.

Earlier this year we did our survey of all of our active home-based care Positive Friends.  Our home-based care teams worked hard and tried to meet all 142 of them – we finally managed to interview 135 of them.  Then there were the ‘secondary contacts.’  Folks who we have been actively involved with in the past – but who for various reason don’t need (or don’t want) active follow-up these days.   Our teams interviewed 96.  We ended up with 231 priceless surveys done with HIV Positive Friends whom Jeevan Sahara has been working with.

This was the fifth time we did the survey at Jeevan Sahara – a simple questionnaire that asks our HIV Positive Friends to tell us what their health was like in the past month.  And also how rated their adherence to the ART medications that most are on at this point. 

What was different this year was the quality of the interviewing.  We were able to meet almost everyone and make sure that almost every single question was asked and entered.  And in a wonderfully timed move – a new version of Epi Info – the tried and trusted free data analysis programme that the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) was released. 

My first joy was to use the EPI Info 7 to run through the survey data.  As we explored the figures we found out so many important things about our Positive Friends that we don’t see in the day to day.  We were reminded of the sobering fact that two-thirds of the men are alcoholics or have a history of alcohol abuse.  We saw the good news that most of our folks are now taking their anti-retroviral therapy (ART) and that too accessing it free from the government sources.  We had the sober realization that even though most people rated their health as ‘good’ or better – that a full 4 out of 5 reported at least one health issue in the previous 30 days.  We saw clear documentation that people who are stable on ART enjoy better health than people who are not on ART or have just started their ART.  The list goes on.

Then I did a little looking back in time.  We compared this year’s data with the data of the first survey that we did in 2005.  Striking changes.  Our folk today are clearly healthier than the people we were working with 8 years ago.  And the good news is that we are still in contact with some of them!  An amazing 17 people have been now interviewed in each of the 5 surveys that we did.  There is data just crying to be analyzed here…

So where does the ‘God’s-eye-perspective’ come in with all of this?

Well, it stems from the fact that Epi Info 7 has a mapping function that seamlessly links in with Bing maps (or whatever your favourite mapping utility is).

When I was in graduate school – taking a GIS course meant accessing satellite data which cost a bomb.  I knew that there was little hope of getting high quality sat data for India so I didn’t bother with the course.  

Today it’s all available on line.  A seamless mosaic of images at different levels courtesy of google maps (and their ilk).

 

And so what Epi Info 7 wanted from me for each of the data points was a geographic location.  I toyed with the idea of getting a GPS and asking our staff to go to each home and get a reading.  Then I thought about using mobile phones.  But to my disappointment none of our staff have mobile phones with those functions.  We are team for whom the terms Blackberry, Galaxy and I-phone are still foreign words.  

But then I realized that I could use google maps.  I sat down with our home-based care teams and showed them the virtual map of Thane.  We identified where a particular person lived – often simulating how the team goes to the particular Positive Friends house.  When we agreed on the location we right-clicked and chose the ‘what’s here?’ function.  Up popped the longitude and latitude for that point in space.  I thus had a geo-tag for the person in question.  I just needed to copy it into the data base – into the newly made columns of ‘latitude’ and ‘longitude’ of course. 

When we had done this for 8 folks to start with, we made our first ‘map.’  The 8 data points showed up on the Thane map.  Showing us where these 8 Positive Friends lived.  I could then have these 8 points show me the spatial distribution of any of the variables that we had asked in the survey.  Who had a fever in previous month?  Bang.  Displayed.   Which are men and which are women?  Add another data layer, change the filter settings – and you have a map showing the distribution by gender.  Which folk are being looked by which of our mini-teams?  A change in the data filter and a new set of info displayed.  Want to zoom in and see who is living close to whom?  The internet enabled map allows me to do so.

 

Thrilled with our first 8 folks, we then worked on the other 223 odd ones.  It was painstaking work – translating our teams’ on-the-ground experiences of getting to the homes of our Positive Friends into a specific data point.  Many, many of our friends live in the shanty-towns that form so much of Thane.  We can never identify exactly where a person lives given the maze of tiny alleys and the uniform image of row after row of flat roof that a slum looks like from above.  But we can get a pretty good shot at the general location. Somewhere within 30-50 meters or so of where they live.  And a surprising number of folks we were able to actually identify what was most likely their shack!

And so a blearly 10 days later we now have an interactive map of the dear folks we are working with.

The next steps?

One is to link the current levels of ART adherence – and display them so that our staff can see which folks are in a ‘danger’ level – and which ones are doing well.

Another would be to make a map that would show folks who have missed an appointment.  We have a small component of our work were we are providing free ART for 6 months to a few folks.  A simple spreadsheet which compares their next appointment date with today’s date can show if a person has missed their scheduled appointment – and this could be displayed on the map as a red dot for example.

But what would really be a bomb would be to have a real time adherence map.  One where our staff would enter adherence data via phone – and which would then update and display the current levels of ART adherence for all our Positive Friends!  One of the benefits would be build in early alerts – say a person has less than 90% adherence – we would want their case-managers to do another visit in a week!   To do this would need some basic android programming – and some time.

At the same time, we have the sobering reminder that maps alone do not change hearts.

What we really have going for us, are our wonderfully dedicated staff – whose love and care have developed relationships that cross time.  The dots on the screen are a small testament to the web of relationships our staff and others from local churches have made with the HIV Positive Friends we work with.

I may have a geo-tag for one of our Positive Friends – but that is not 100% accurate – and that person may leave and head off for somewhere else anytime.  But there is one who knows not only my exact location in real time – but also knows the hairs on my head.  Our knowledge – however sophisticated we may feel it is today - is always a rough tool, a crude instrument compared overwhelming omniscience of Father God.  But how He delights when we discover and explore!

Learning from Looking after Hamsters

Hamsters = happiness.

Ok, not quite that simple, but we have certainly had a lot of joy in caring for our three furry friends - Garlic, Pepper and Cinnamon.

Word has got around and almost every evening most of the girls in the neighbourhood come for a visit to see the hamsters.  Garlic and Pepper - our males (above sleeping peacefully during the day) are the most friends and being long-haired they are oohed and aahed and carried and squealed over by the lasses.

Cinnamon is a bit cooler.  A bit of a loner.  Not as quick to allow herself to be picked up.

And then this week we got another hamster!  Madge (short for "her Majesty the queen") is a Syrian female belonging to the Vethanayagam family who were on a week-long trip to Andhra Pradesh and needed a home for their baby.  Madge goes back to her owners tomorrow.

At the end of the day - these little rodents (we were trying to think of a Hindi word for hamster and all we came up with was 'chua' i.e. 'rat') are fully and completely dependent on us.   Asha has been pretty good about helping with the feeding and cleaning of their living bins (we have large open plastic bins for them).  But Sheba and I need to make sure that they get their food and water and have their litter cleaned up daily.

Without our intervention - they are trapped.  And can never provide for themselves.  Take our constant care for them away - and that the end of our furry friends.  At the end of the day I find myself amazed at how much time we spend with and on Garlic, Pepper and Cinnamon (and for this week Madge as well).

This got me thinking.

Thinking about how our Heavenly Father who looks after us.  As I write this, we are just about to fall off to sleep ... and will be awakened at some time tomorrow morning.  By His grace and kindness.   Our food, our safety, the very air that we breathe is a gift from Him who does not slumber.  Over and over again we are protected from harm.  All our needs are met.  We are refreshed and renewed in so many ways.  Our lives are a tapestry of care and grace - amidst the grime of so much around us - and so much of what we do with our lives.

And aknowleging God's grace is key to the near and present future.

This coming week is likely to be a pivotal one for us.  Tomorrow morning Sheba has her ultrasound which should guide our choices on the planned surgery.  When will it be?  Maybe Wednesday Aug. 14th...

Since her terrible pain and hospital admission 2 weeks ago - she has been blessedly free from pain except for one day last week.  And through it all, Sheba has been able to care for patients at JSK - including in-patients.  Truly a wounded healer.

We would love to have a 'miraculous healing' - but last week's pain was a reminder that the issue is still there.  The way it looks at this point is that surgery is the way foward.

We are thrilled that my parents and flying down to be with us - we expect them Tuesday night.  

Lots of things up in the air.

One thing we know - our dear Lord Jesus will look after us far more than we have been looking after our hamsters.  We are very precious to Him - and He knows the hairs on our head (even though mine have been getting easier to count for some time now!) - and He will carry us through.

There is a hymn that Sheba and I like to sing which is apt for this coming week:

How good is the God we adore
Our faithful unchangeble friend
Whose love is as great as His power
And knows neither measure nor end

Tis Jesus the first and the last
Whose Spirit will guide us safe home
We'll praise Him for all that is past
And trust Him for all that's to come 

Airdash

I had woken up to the beauty of a Mussoorie morning.

Half an hour later I heard Dad calling me: "phone call for you!"

The call was from home.  My gut tightened a bit.

"Daddy" said Enoch "Mummy is very sick"

I was in Mussoorie.  Sheba was in Thane.  In terrible pain.  With two very sad children.  2500 kms between us.  Ugh.

The previous week Sheba had not been well.  Abdominal pains at different times.  And then it seemed to settle.  Self-medication with paracetemol and prayer.

On the day I left for Delhi I was in an agony of indecision.  I was pale and sleepless myself and felt vertigo and did a bit of puking.  But then a nap after dropping off the kids at school (and having them rush back because it was a 'rain holiday') got me better.   I prayed and made the call to go.  Sheba bravely let me.

The next day she was taken to the hospital by Suma and Rachael from our church.  A quick checkup and some pain meds were prescribed.  All 'normal.'   Sheba has been suffering for the last 2 years from a gall stone and a hydrosalpinx - a distended cyst in the fallopian tube.  Both can cause discomfort - but which one was the culprit this time?  Sheba continued to see patients over the past week and kept her pain private.  And there were also times when it wasn't there.

Friday was one such day. When I talked to Sheba on the phone as I and my friend Danny were on the train to Dehra Dun - Sheba was great.  That evening she went out shopping with the kids and hosted the Bible study in our flat.  A call late at night - just after Danny and I had reached Mussoorie and everything was fine with Sheba.

Everything, that is, till 4 am on Saturday morning.

Then Sheba experienced exrcuricating abdominal pain.  After an hour or so she called Agnes over for a voveron (diclofenac) injection.  Agnes came over and gave it.  No relief.  More agony.  Suma and Rachael came over immediately.   Sheba did not want to call me, since I had just arrived in Mussoorie the night before, but at 8 it was too bad and Enoch gave me the news. 

I talked to Sheba briefly.  It was enough.

Shaken, I put down the receiver and told Mum and Dad.  We prayed.  I checked the internet for flights.  There were a few.  I prayed and saw a 3.40 pm flight from Dehra Dun.  6 PM from Delhi.  ETA 8 PM in Mumbai.  I could be with Sheba by 9.30 PM if all went well.   Price not impossible. Click click.  It was booked.   

I went up and told Mum and Dad that I was going.  We booked a taxi down.  Mum and Dad decided to go with me to spend as much time as possible together.  I explained to Danny.  We cancelled my parts of our train tickets.  He would continue on as we had originally planned.

Mum and Dad and I left the house.  The greenery of a Mussoorie monsoon is breath-taking.

The love that my parents have for each other and for Stefan, Premi and myself and all our other brothers and sisters and virtually everyone on this planet - is as green as their surroundings.

Being with them - even just for a few hours - so worth it.

At 11.30 we were up at Sisters Bazaar.  Then we were winging it down to Dehra Dun and then out towards Rishikesh to the quaintly named 'Jolly Grant Airport' which services Dehra Dun (and Rishikesh and points East).

After our goodbye prayers and kisses - I was ready to leave.  But where was the plane?  Half an hour before the 3.40 pm take-off time, it was nowhere to be seen. 

Then out of the awesome blue and white clouded sky drops a beauty of a plane.

A few minutes later, the few passengers who had come to Dehra Dun via Lucknow got off.  And it was our turn to board.

Looking at this beauty of a plane, I had a huge sense of deja vu - and it was only afterwards that I realised what it was....

The plane was definitely like the millionaire's private jet in the Tintin adventure Flight 714.   Behold!

 A last look at the magnificent sky with the first range of the Himalaya giving us the horizon....

 ... and we were away - off into the clouds.  A hop and a skip and a jump to Delhi.  30 minutes of flight time - gobbling up the 6 hour 'express' train journey I had started exactly 24 hours before.

My prayers were focussed to Sheba.  I had found out that she had been admitted at Bethany hospital and was sleeping.

In Delhi's swank airport, I tapped in a Facebook status update to let people know what was going on.  By evening an avalanche of prayers and wishes were sent our way.

Then a clear shot to Mumbai and I arrived in the rainy night and blurry traffic of Mumbai.

Just before 10 PM I got home.  Sheba had told me on the phone to meet the kids first.  She was doing better and could wait for me.

I rang the bell and was greeted with hugs all around.  Their bestest friends Nikita and Jasper were with them.  John and Nalini had also been pillars of support over that terrible day.   Agnes was just about to give them supper and so we ate and talked.

The great thing about kids is that even in times of tension - they can relax - when they know things are going to be ok.  With Nikita and Jasper there - Asha and Enoch were so happy.  Having 3 hamsters to play with helps:

 

As does having a friend who is willing to play lego with you: 

Then a goodnight to the kids and over to see Sheba.  Nalini and Rachael were with her.  The kids had been to see Sheba earlier.  Now Nalini was dropped of at our place - and she and John took the kids to their home and to church in Borivali the next day.

I spent the night next to Sheba in the hospital.

She was a peace - but had been through so much in the past 18 hours.   The drips were on and I was given a task to monitor it while Sheba had a blessed sleep.

The ultrasound had shown that the hydrosalpinx had contorted - causing tremendous pain.  By early afternoon - and after much prayer - the pain had subsided.  Sheba said that so many had rallied round her. Rachael was at the home in 10 minutes after Sheba first called Suma.  They were singing and praying with Sheba in the casualty ward - and massaging her when the high-level pain-killers given still didn't bring the desired relief.

As I watched the drip that night, small drops falling through the tube, on the way into Sheba's veins, I had to thank God for what he had done.

For me to wake up in the clear air of Mussoorie - and then to be back with my beloved the very evening was more than a miracle.

For Sheba to have come through her pain and be safe and under control was a blessing.

For us to see just how many people love us and go the second and third and fourth mile for us is overwhelming.

And then we think of the people that we are working with - so many who are just so sick - and have burned their bridges.

A man came two weeks ago to meet Sheba and told her 'even if my sister dies - don't call me - I have nothing to do with her' - that about his own sister who we were looking after at that time in the JSK centre.

How different our lives are.

---------------------------------------------

We are, of course, not fully out of the woods yet.

After spending a night in hospital with Sheba - we were thrilled that she did not have more pain - and so were discharged in the morning - returning to an eerily quiet home (the 3 hamsters were having their normal siesta during the day) as Asha and Enoch were with the Gabriel family.  When they returned in the afternoon - there was so much to be thankful for.

This morning we talked to Dr. Stephen about the next steps.

This is what it looks like.  

Sheba is to be admitted at Bethany Hospital today after 5 PM.

Her surgery is posted for 7 AM on Wednesday morning.  It will be a laproscopic surgery.  Dr. Stephen will first remove the gall bladder.  Then the other surgeon will work on the cyst - probably removing the left ovary as well.  

Sheba should be in the hospital for about 3 days and then another 10 days to recover at home.

Sheba's sister Sarah is on the way - arriving tomorrow from Delhi to be with us for the next 5 days.  

We have been overwhelmed with phone calls, SMSes and offers to help out.  This evening Jolly, Suma and Reneta came over to pray for Sheba - and in their inimitable way brought us a meal too. 

No one likes surgery.  But some things have to be done.  Sheba is so brave about it all. 

And so we step into the next adventure. 

Thanks for being along with us for the journey.  And thanks for the many heart-felt prayers and wishes.

Onwards.

Impact

It happened in a split second.  A sudden sickening unbelievable sight of a motor-bike coming straight at me.  Brakes slammed and the next thing there is an impact and the bike and both driver and rider go forward into the air and hit the road.

I am paralysed.  Then pull over.  People gather around.  The bikers join.

First confused thought:  At least they are still walking.

Blur. Fear. What is going on?

The bikers are angry.  One of them is clearly hurt in his leg and arm.  I ask the locals where the nearest hospital is.  Over the bridge some say.  We agree to go immediately for treatment.

The injured man is put in the back of our car.  The other man drives the bike slowly behind me.  We make it over the bridge.  Up the stairs into a small private nursing home.  The man is put into their ‘ICU.’  The doctor goes in to see.  I wait outside. 

A call to Sheba to tell what happened.   A call to Vasu who I was due to meet.  He tells me he will be right over.  SMSs to a few folks to pray for me.  The ward aide comes out with a list of things I should buy.  I go to their pharmacy and purchase them.  Antiseptic cream, gloves, gauze bandage, tetanus toxoid, some medications.  I give the items back to the aide who goes back in.

Finally the man comes out.  His name is Deepak.  His friend, the motorcycle driver is Dinesh.  Young men.  Working for a computer repair company.  They were driving to a client. 

I was in an unfamiliar part of Mumbai.  Was turning onto a main highway via a small side road, going up a slope.  I had been following a trio of auto-rickshaws.  I hadn’t seen the traffic light.  It was red.  I was clearly in the wrong.  What could I say but ‘sorry.’  What was going to happen to Deepak?

The doctor had done a checkup.  No head injury.  No altered sensoria.  Scraped leg and arm.  Dressing done.  Advised x-ray.  They did not have x-ray facilities in the nursing home.  The ward aide took us over to scan centre for the x-ray.

Deepak was hurting as he walked.  His sandals were broken.  His pant was shredded.  Dinesh – amazingly as I think about it now – seemed unscathed.  He had been wearing a helmet.  Deepak had not.  They talked about how the bike was totaled and that it was their boss’ bike.

While we were waiting for the x-ray to be done Vasu and Devan managed to find us.  They leant a sympathetic ear.  We got the x-ray done.  No obvious fracture.  But the radiologist would only give the final report in the evening.

In the meantime we called a mechanic to assess the bike.  Vasu’s pastor lived near-by and knew a reliable fellow.  We took Deepak to get some new sandals.  Then Devan took him to get a new pair of pants.

The mechanic stopped by and did a quick dekko.  Amazingly, it was minor damage – on an old beater of a motorbike.  A missing pedal, a broken taillight (the other already missing), a broken brake handle, some impact on the fork.  The mechanic told us that he could fix it in half an hour.

Devan came back with a newly outfitted Deepak.  They agreed to let us fix their bike.  We took Deepak with us in the car while Dinesh followed on the bike.

All along the terrible weight of fear.  And the prayers that kept taking things forward.  I found it hard to call Sheba since it all seemed so unclear as it was happening.  A maze.  A fog.  But one made easier by the prayers of the people. By SMSes that came in telling that we were not alone.  By Vasu and Devan being their and patiently helping work through the relationship with these men.

And then at 4.30 it was over.  We shook hands.  Deepak and Dinesh got on their bike and headed off.  Devan took the bus back to work.  Vasu and I went for a long-overdue masala dosa. 

While at one point Dinesh had said that the cost of repairing the bike would come to Rs. 5000 – as the time went on they did not make any direct demand for money.  We worked to get all the treatment done in the best way possible, and provided the modest restoration of Deepaks clothes and sandals.  We also got the medications needed and promised to pick up the final radiologist’s report.  No demand for money came from them.  As time had gone on, they also understood who we were.  I had given my card and address immediately to them at our initial meeting. 

I wouldn’t say we parted as friends – but there was mutual respect and a kind of simple camaraderie.

Answers to heart-felt prayers.

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Even now I am still carrying part of the weight of the incident.  That freeze-second sight of the bike hitting the road and the two men falling off.  The haze of confusion afterwards.

Just a little bit different in any of a myriad ways and I could be dealing with one or both of these young men suffering from life-time paralysis due to the accident.  Or I could be knowing that I had played a part in the death of one man.  Or in the earthly end of both.

We live our lives on the razor edge of destiny.

As I look out on the monsoonal green tree outside our flat here in Thane, as I hear the pigeons landing on the tin awnings above, and hear the sounds of the big city filter in – grinders and polishing machines from a near-by building where someone is doing up their flat – the low groan of cars punctuated by various beeps of horns – as the grey monsoonal sky bathes the house with soft ochre light – all I can say is that I am grateful.  Very, very, very grateful.

The quaking inside me will probably go on for some time.  It must go on.  I was not just skipping stones on a quiet pond.  The stakes were not trivial.  Multiple lives, multiple futures had come together on that day. 

As the rain has now started slanting down from the grey skies outside, I can say that nothing less that God’s own hand was somehow involved.  Whether angelic beings directly intervened is beyond my ken.  But I do see something far greater than chance operating.  In keeping the Dinesh from getting any injury at all.  In limiting Deepak’s wounds to abrasions.  In stopping a mob from forming and executing their brand of ‘justice’.  In building rapport between us over the hours.  In having friends who came immediately. 

The Good Book says that God listens to the humble and opposes the proud.  I experienced the utter helplessness last week – and felt the gracious hand of Jesus on me.  And continue to need His mercies on me as I heal from the shock.  My prayers continue for Dinesh and Deepak too as they heal from their experience.