Neha' s Journey

Neha and me met at our workplace and we instantly hit off. Her story, I am sure will inspire anyone and also motivate them. today she is the marketing Manager of a large organization. till date she inspires me with her courage and vivacity. She never ceases to amaze me.  And if this inspires you then pls do comment and wish her all the best for a wonderfulr life.

Her Story. written as it is by Neha . 

 

In my faintest memories , as a child… I mostly remember this crazy laughter i was famous for. And now with time i realized that in this entire period of fighting life , that is my biggest asset.

Born in a small village in Bihar, amidst a lot of greenery, families the size of  a battalion, 7 cows in my cow shed, a garden you could play soccer in, uneducated relatives, and a forever busy kitchen. Thank god for a father who was a Senior Cambridge education system product..

I created a crime as soon as i was born.. first child that too a girl.. and to top it all blind from one eye. Acceptance … zero! But lucky to be born to a father who could never take his eyes off me. Who with every injection, every surgery, every downfall would just stand up and not let any one enter that space where I could be maligned. And yes my laughter bit!

But we all know our parents are not around all the time, there is  money to earn, other siblings to be taken care of..etc etc. and so the fight began. Comments which I could not understand but later on learnt what those words meant. Looks of pure disgust from people I would make bouquets for. A second family grand father who thought I looked worse than his maid’s child. An aunt who would say :”ohh! u will never be married, oh! You will soon be totally blind!.. and some how those tears which so easily fall now ( I cry even while seeing sentimental advertisements!) were hidden behind that crazy laughter I am still so famous for.

It was in my teens , post three miserably failed eye surgeries, away from home since the age of five, rejected from stage shows, acts.. and yes those ever haunting comments… that I felt negative for the first time. Blame it on the hormones.. I was a teenager after all!

I stopped talking, stopped participating, I don’t have a lot of pictures from those days. I hated the camera because the out come caused a lot of  smotherd giggles and hurtful comments.

And to top it all doc said  my other eye will not be healthy long.. I might have to quit studying. My father had put me in one of the most prestigious schools of Asia “ Mayo College girls school( Mind you i am freaking proud of it and i mention it to every new person I meet). I always was a good student and my parents gave me the best of education.. even better than my younger brothers. At that point of time my education was the most important thing to me and this guy , my doctor says I should not study?? Where is god?

I broke and how… and my father put his head in my lap and cried like a baby.. and kept saying “ I am sorry “ . where was my daddy to be blamed? My parents had to send me away when I was only five because they never wanted the negatives of my home town to cause me any pain. In a family where there were mostly non educated women I was studying in the best institution ever.. going back to all that was more pain of a father who stayed away from his baby just so that this place would never haunt her.

I am sure life is not a bed of roses for anyone.. we all have our own battles, secrets, break ups, lies.. etc etc. but you can choose what to do with your life, if god wants me blind than why not study till I become so??  I made up my mind at the age of 13, I go blind or no? I marry or no? I will never ever let my parents feel that they didn’t do enough. I will never ever make myself feel i didn’t do enough. I will never scorn the relatives who called me names.. i blame it on their illiteracy. I will dance , study,love,fight,cry, and never pity myself.

Dr. batharia is dead now.. but well my other eye is totally safe! I am a MBA – Marketing and at this moment four years working. I have won several best dancers awards. Debated, traveled, yes each bit was difficult but remember science ? “fight” or “flight”.. I chose to fight.

Yes I am 26 now, six surgeries ( it just looks slightly better now)and going.. but never losing hope for that one successful one.  Yes, rejected by an oberoi hotel four years back termed as “ physically disabled” but taken by a world leader in the same segment!

Yes the taunts our some where.. hidden behind my crazy laughter and compliments from guys I crush on;) it still is difficult for me.. but not impossible.

Now when I go back to Bihar, they respect me, hear stories from me… I am their favourite!  I am most people’s favourite (all smiles)!

Still I am asked whether I will spend my life single … for no decent family will bring home a blind bride.. and i smile an answer “will you sit bothering about my future or plan a holiday with me to goa???”

It would never have been possible without a family who loves me beyond imagination. Believes in my passion for life. A father who never stopped me when I wanted to explore.. A mother who believed her daughter was god sent. I don’t know when  a disability became a blessing in disguise.

I am not allowed to drive, swim etc etc.. but isn’t there much more to life than just that?

I read some where that when you are in pain  - 80 percent of people are glad that you are suffering… 20 percent just don’t care. True or not the pain you feel is yours alone and the choice you make is yours and yours alone.

I am still looking at so much more to do. I  am going to begin dancing again too.. a lot of plans. And fully ready to execute it all too. I dreamt.. I dream and I will always dream. The surgeries have become a part of my life. And I just treat it like a swollen gum problem.

The word disability can mean different things to different people. You choose your meaning.. define it.. believe in it.. nurture it. Positivity can turn things around.

So, yes I am 26, awaiting two more surgeries(remember the swollen gum bit). I still have to wear a surgical tape before sleeping… and yes i still laugh uncontrollably!! yes there are difficult days but your lives have that too.. right?

Dilli. Dilwaalon ki.

It’s so true going by this incident. I was working for Interpub advertising then( for a short while) and I was posted for 3 months in Delhi to look after the creative dept and restructure it completely.  It was a cold winter night. And I was on my way home with my colleague on his bike.  Obviously being new to the city I was a bit apprehensive taking a taxi home (especially hearing that Delhi is never safe in the night for women). So I jumped on to my colleague’s bike happily. As we drove towards my brother’s home, where I was staying. My colleague suddenly realized there was hardly any fuel in the bike. We drove on searching for a fuel station. But we couldn’t find any nearby fuel stations.  Finally we came across one and with a sigh of relief we entered the petrol pump but our happiness was short lived. The guard there, covered head to toe in winter clothes, with just his eyes visible, muffled – “it’s shut”.  So again we drove off looking for the next petrol pump. By now it was really cold on the bike and I just wanted to reach to the warmth of my brother’s home. We drove a long lonely stretch and there was not a single petrol pump nearby. Just as I started panicking, we ran out of fuel completely. We halted and pulled the bike to the road side. My colleague decided to take help from strangers passing by or hitch hike whatever came our way. I Had no choice but to go along with whatever he said. Well as usual nobody neither stopped nor bothered. And those who did would slow down to see me, as if I was out in the zoo to be watched. lol

Strange but true. Finally a Sardar in his 50s (and no it’s not a sardar joke) stopped by in that long lonely stretch and asked us what happened. When we explained him, the guy turned round and said – “koi problem nahiji. You take fuel from me”. (no problem brother, take fuel from my scooter) I was taken aback. Obviously thinking the worst as to why would a strange man help without a reason?  But there was no filmy drama to it.  The gentleman removed most of the fuel from his scooter and left a little bit as he had to go nearby and hence didn’t need much. And he drove away quietly. He didn’t take any money either. Nor did he ask us where we stayed or make any other demands. 

Moral of the story: There are still a few good Samaritans in the world who help people for the sake of humanity and without a reason. True Dilli Dilwalon ki hai. 

Not a poem. Just what I live everyday.

And here I was…

I see a small child with a little dog nibbling from the same thrown away food on a dirty street

And here I was… thinking which exotic restaurant to go and have a delicious meal.

I passed by an old cart puller tugging loads, his bare feet and body immune to pain and scorching heat

And here I was …driving in a car and thinking when will I buy a bigger car

I watched the factory workers working in extreme conditions day in, day out 

And here I was... Thinking when will I be back in the AC room and cool myself

I watched a group of poor people with just enough cloth to cover their privates

And here I was...thinking when I am going to buy a new set of clothes

I saw a so called hammock, made out of a torn, tattered saree to cradle a poor baby

And here I was …thinking it’s time for a holiday in an exotic location with a sexy hammock

I observed an old man lying on the pavement, wounded badly with blood gushing out and flies on it

And here I was…One scratch and I want to be treated in the best hospital by the best of doctors.

As it poured, I watched the old, nearly half bent,  poor lady covering herself with a plastic sheet

And here I was thinking when to buy a transparent designer umbrella

How much am I going to turn a blind eye I wonder

How much pain of others am I going to ignore

How much is it that I see and yet don’t want to see

How many times am I going to ignore the reality that I see everyday

And when will I wake up and do something.

What’s the point just feeling the pain and not doing anything?

A chilling experience of a drunken father

One summer evening, my sister planned to visit me home with her hubby. Since it was a last minute decision, we decided to go and shop for some poultry products. We took the car and went to a nearby sabzi market . As we were returning home,  it started raining. My brother in law was driving. Next to him was my hubby and behind were my sis and me. As the market was crowded we drove slowly. Alongside us drove another car, few bikes and bicycles. In front of us was an auto rickshaw. As we looked ahead, we saw a small little head popping out of the rickshaw. With a little hand up in the air. I did not give it much of a thought thinking that the baby was obviously with someone and they were aware of it. And hence would pull her/him back in.

Suddenly my husband who was in the front seat said – “Slow down immediately. The baby is about to fall”. As he blurted out those words, the baby fell off the auto on the ground and my brother in law immediately braked. Next to us another car braked and it was a spiraling effect as cars rickshaws bikes cycles etc screeched to a halt. The baby had fallen in the middle of the road right in front of our vehicle. Had we been a little faster I shudder to think that we would have run over the baby. Of course had it not been for my husband’s strong intuition or his prediction we would have been in deep trouble. The baby must have been a year old.

I was shocked and rushed out of the car to pick up the baby in my arms. To my horror the auto rickshaw drove off. I picked up the baby and didn’t know how to console her as she was crying loudly. People ran after the rickshaw but the rick guy drove off. Luckily there was a police station nearby and we took the baby there.

As I my brother in law told the story to the cops, suddenly there were zillions of thoughts that rushed within that 1 hour that I was holding this tiny little baby in my arms at the cop station. - she was a girl child, maybe the owners did not want her and so got rid of her.. Had I done the right thing by picking up the baby? There were so many other people around, yet nobody had picked up the baby so why did I do it? What if those guys didn’t return? What would we do? I would be stuck with the baby. The cops sure wouldn’t keep the baby and knowing the cops they would harass us. It was then that I started praying like crazy for the baby’s owners to come back. As I rocked the baby she stopped howling and crying a little less.

The cops helped us by giving orders to stop all rickshaws in the nearby locality at the few signals ahead, assuming that the rickshaw would have not gone too far. We were still waiting, wondering, praying, what to do next as we had to go home and this was going to be a burden now. I have never prayed so hard and never felt so scared. I think all four of us were thinking the same and we looked tense and troubled at the same time.

But to my relief the cops came shoving in two drunken men, hitting them really hard. Their eyes were blood red and they were returning from some wedding party. One of the guys grabbed the baby from my arms and started crying. I don’t know whether it was real tears or an act, as it was a cop station. Well whatever it was, we quietly rushed out amidst the commotion and drove away.

Apparently both the guys were so drunk that they did not know the baby had slipped and fallen down from their arms. And one of them was the father of the baby. Moreover they had 2 more little girls with them.  Jeez..Can you beat it?  Even now when I narrate the story I grow cold. Why do parents give birth to babies when they can’t handle them or can’t take their responsibility. I failed to understand it. But sometimes I think they might have wanted to get rid of the baby as they were poor people.

Well whatever be the reason, drunk or getting rid of the baby, it was still about a little helpless baby lying in the middle of the road with rain pouring down on her. 

Life is a story

I believe that life is one huge book of stories. A book without an ending, Because everyday a new chapter is added. Chapters that speak of zillion and trillions of people who have a story to tell. It’s not just words. It’s their personal story. It’s our personal story. Stories that are lived, Sometimes shared and sometimes not shared.

We face life everyday with many challenges. Sometimes these challenges can be a turning point in your life, sometimes it can be the cause of utter depression, sometimes it can be an inspiration for somebody, and sometimes it can change your perspective towards your interactions with others. These are real stories without any fizz. Told to you the way it is with feelings without bothering about grammer, jargons, adjectives, proper sentence constructions or all those fancy English connotations. Because these are real stories of real people.

Every day the number of suicide cases and psychological problems that are increasing in the world is really a cause of concern. There are many individuals out there who are lonely as hell. Or simple those who have built a wall around them. Or those who seem to have it all yet have nothing at all. And those that have lots to share but don’t have the platform for it because they are neither writers nor journalists.  And then there are those who resort to the net as their only outlet, as their only friend. Net surfing, chat rooms, face book, twitter are a good platform. But how real are they? How connected do you feel?  

Here is a blog where you should feel free to share incidents that have happened in your life and reach out to people. The blog is all about sharing and connecting to people. And even listening to their stories and being participative.  

Not necessarily a touching incident. It could be an experience, it could be an article.  It could be about a road mishap, a funny real life incident, a stupid candid moment, a brand story or a foul job experience, a doctor- hospital experience, a creepy lizard in your house that refuse to go away, the pigeon that laid an egg in your balcony or just about anything that you are comfortable with but with a story to share and not some inane notes.

 Share Share Share. But let’s keep this blog real and interactive.

And sure every face has a story but if you want your story to be faceless then I respect your privacy. I would prefer people to give their names and where they are from along with a picture of themselves.

I want you all out there to come out and open up and share what you feel. Good bad ugly. Rich poor healthy, introvert, extrovert, funny, eccentric, genius, foolish, successful, average, sportsmen, couch potatoes, lazy, aggressive, young, old, crazy,  - whoever you are, whatever you are, just share your story and inspire everyone living out there in this huge but lonely world. But let’s keep this blog real.

Every individual has a story to tell. So what’s yours?