Living on an island of isolation is creating an existential black hole.

Living in a private world of your own is an extremely isolating experience. Each of us does have a private world inside our head. And then, we grow- physically, mentally and emotionally.

We begin to share our private world and include friends, lovers and family into it.
We begin to become a paradise of inclusion and shared living with many hued leaves and flowers, with multitude of scents and aromas.

There may still be nooks and crannies in this Garden of Eden that may remain private. These are few and far in between. And they are dark corners where, sometimes, we ourselves do not want to enter.

The sun of love can only shine into the garden if we drop the walls and break the fences. The flowers and the grass can grow only if we nurture them, water them, care for them and donot walk all over them when they are delicate tiny tendrils.

We must learn to communicate and include. Communication joins people and allows the sun to shine through. Loving in your own private world isolates. It breeds darkness and loneliness and cobwebs.

Even if one enjoys isolation, one cannot survive as an island of humanity. Even in the deepest of oceans, life that survives is either that which captures light from other sources or one that gives out light of its own.

Gravity, too attracts. Gravity holds people and even planets together. One does not experience negative gravity anywhere in the universe. It is a force that attracts and holds together anything and anybody that comes close enough. Light, and thoughts are the only two entities capable of escaping this private garden, and entering it at will.

Light- that we shine.
Thoughts- that we share.

If we refuse to share our thoughts and our light, we refuse growth. We refuse and reject the very purpose of our journey in this world. We are here for a reason. And that reason cannot be isolation and death. It has to be growth and eternity.

We do need to say and show what we want to be able to include people in our private gardens. These gardens can become beautiful only by including not excluding.

The only thing known to survive in the Universe in isolation is a black hole. And even a black hole allows entry... It has an immense gravitational force that attracts- and attracts EVERYTHING that comes close to it. A black hole is isolation is not on account of not allowing inclusion but actively excluding escape.And at the core of a black hole is Singularity where space and time merge and where everything ceases to exist - no time, no space, no light.

Finality. Death.

Till we are alive and vibrant, we take in and give out air; we take in and give out light; we take in and give out sound. We maintain a two directional flow of energy to and from our bodies, our private gardens.

When we begin to revel in not giving out, we can only become black holes. Not gardens of Eden in paradise of vibrant life.

What really happened that day?!

The whole chain of events started rather early in the morning. It was 4:00 AM as I discovered hitting the night light on my bed-side time-piece.

something had aroused me. I was trying to make sense of it in the foggy zone between sleep and sleep and wakefulness. If I was up at this godly hour ( In Hindu mythology, 4:00am is brahma kaal...) there had to be a good reason. I wanted so much to sleep on that wakefulness itself was a mighty effort for my brain. It was a phenomenal effort my mind was making.

Was it the dull throbbing ache I was just about beginning to perceive above and behind my right eye? Or had one of the children moved? How long has it been that I have slept a full night without a thought to or a check on how the children are at night? Are the covers on? Or have they found their place on the floor having been kicked unceremoniously? Are the children sleeping comfortably or are they huddled into an uncomfortable bundle because the chill is getting to them? Or may be that mosquito... For a mind that is struggling to sleep on, mine is in overdrive!

I flung my feet down the side of the bed. I must check if the children are fine... Ouch! The floor is cold! This pushes me a step further toward wakefulness from the twilight I am in. I reached for the kids. Sleeping. Soundly. Instinctively, I also checked for wetness on my little one's clothes. He is dry. I congratulate myself. Then I remind my sleepy brain that it is time to take him to the loo. I pick him up gently and take him to the toilet... he relieves himself and I am relieved and proud of my judgment.

As I get him back to bed, and gently lay him down again, I think back to the past few moments.

drifting back to that feeling, I wonder that there HAS to be something that woke me up... By now thw dull ache has become a definite discomfort. I sit for a while. Then I try to lie down and catch up with the missing tail end of my sleep. A futile attempt. By now, it must be time to wake up and get the children ready for school. Sure enough... the alarm goes off. I drag my hurting head and the accompanying body out of the bed, off the pillows. By now slightest of movements feels like a jerk that is directly hitting my brain. I tried hard. But I cannot go on. So I request my better half to help me- a combiflam would probably put me back into the driving seat.

To give him due credit... he did get up, go out for a glass of water, and even hand me a combiflam. Further... he told me he would drop the children to school if I could get them ready. I am fighting a losing battle now. My head feels as if it is in a vice like grip. The slightest movement hurts. I carry on. I have this feeling that the kids may not be able to make it to the school if I donot get them ready. By now, husband dear has hit the pillow again and is in blessed slumberland.

Having got the children ready, I cast one final glance at the sleeping figure on the pillow, pull myself up and ignoring the pain that has by now transformed itself into a veritable sledgehammer, I reach for the mobile phone on the bedside table and take the children to the car. Moksh also picked up his DS. He thought he could play in the car- that would wake him up sufficiently. In the car, I realise it is Sanjay's phone I have picked up! I make a mental note- I must remember the carry it back inside with me upon return. I drop the children to school, drive back home and pick up the phone, take it back inside and place it on the bedside table. Sanjay is sleeping on. On some level I am feeling teh poor me feeling and at some level I am very irritated. He did say he would drop the kids off. My head is still hurting, I have dropped the kids to school and here he is- still sleeping!

Well... I got ready and back into the car driving away, the faint resentment is still lingering on.
I try to relax, doing my deep breathing and my chanting. And relax I did. Suddenly the phone rang. I wonder when I changed my ring tone. And also that teh ring tone sounded familiar. The traffic signal at the Zoo is red. I look for the phone in my bag, take it out- and- it is off! Oh! My god!!!! Sanjay's phone... in my car... my worst nightmare is being played out. I take the call. Apologise that I have mistakenly taken his phone.

Then, I call back... "Hello! your phone is with me..." He does not let me finish. He is like a roaring thunderstorm," Why the hell you don't pick up your own phone? No! I cannot survive without my phone! Do you know how to call transfer?" He is angry- would be an understatement. The traffic cops are on the prowl. I am irritated and hurt. I want to just cut the call but I tell him, "I have almost reached the hospital- I shall come back!"

And I do go back...

Return the damn phone.

MAke a U- turn from the gate itself.

Drive back.

Do we even think what is happening to the person we are interacting with when we are busy with our own problems? Do I think? Did he?

Each word we say, each glance we cast, each sentence we leave unsaid, each promise we break, each missed moment- can change lives. It does.

Perspective is always our own. Sometimes... we ought to donn someone else's looking glasses.

My husband!

I, me, myself, originally uploaded by heartthatbeats.

What would I call him? What can I call him? I ( and he, too!) are not given to endearments of Darling and Honey! That is the refuge of those who may be comfortable making their affections and feelings an object for public consumption. Not him. And definitely not me.

He is foremost an Eye surgeon. I still remember the time he had to have a forearm surgery on his right arm... he was worried sick what could happen if they injured a vital nerve?!

Sometimes I have to drag him out of that role and remind him to be a father and a husband.

He almost defines his existence by his professional role and lives and breathes the dedication and care he lives each day. With a hand that is rock steady and a confidence that is as unshakable he operated on his own mother's eyes, my father's eyes and now, on the eye of my brother's mono eyed mother-in-law. The anesthesiologist standing by for my mother-in-law ( she is prone to cardiac arrhythmias) remarked, " were we able to monitor your husband's pulse, I am sure we would be able to set the watch by it. His hand did not waver even for a micro second during the surgery. And I had to remind myself that this surgeon is operating on his own mother!"

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the doctor.

He has been a builder, a dedicated worker and a leader who has always led from the front. He has been open to teaching his skills and techniques to all those who may want to learn. He has done donkey's work and carried mule's loads for the departments he has built in the past.

Sanjay Dhawan, the lone pioneer.

Always the people's man... he has lost sleep over the doctor who seems to have a personal or a professional problem; as well as the patient who needs his skill but cannot afford it. He has just picked up a street urchin simply because he saw that the girl was blind, taken her and her father to a state-of-the art facility, examined the child and not only provided medical care but also picked up his own daughter's clothes and given them to a girl who will not be able to see what she is wearing. Because he could not bear the idea of a girl child who is unable to see wear torn clothes that expose her dignity to the harsh eyes of a community that refuses to see.

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the man.

He has been an admired teacher and a loved tutor by students at all levels. Concepts that flummox seasoned teachers flow very easily from this unassuming and passionate man! There are many who still look for and study from the notes that he once released to make difficult concepts understandable. He still goes out of his way to impart his hard earned skills to those who are willing to learn. Whether it is the revolutionary concept of eye drop, no injection anaesthesia or the minimally invasive techniques of blindness allevaiting surgery, he is willing to let his skill live on long after he is gone.

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the teacher.

The man who can come home looking as if he needs to rest... eyes nearly closing... and his face lights up at the sight of his daughter- hugging her and joking with her to lighten the load on her tender shoulders. And the son who he holds in a bear hug and revels in... Saniya has started to work out things on her own. She watches keenly. She wants to try hooking the laptop to the Sony Bravia simply because she has seen her Chacha do it. And Sanjay will smile, knowing she can. Moksh asks questions endlessly... and 'eats our heads'. But Sanjay smiles indulgently ( and rather proudly) and says, " I love him to ask! I will serve my head on the platter and invite to be eaten. I love to answer whatever questions he may ask. And explore together if I cannot answer!"

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the Father.

The man who comes back from the hospital and finds his friends and family waiting for him to light up their evening with a medley of Karaoke singing and soulful music. And he gladly obliges. He will sing on. ( A very recent phenomenon, this! He was one reticent guy! In all of our fifteen years together, I have not been able to make him sing more than twice. But in the last six months, he has broken through that reticence and hesitation)

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the singer .

And then, at the end of a fruitfully lived day, this man suddenly realises that his laptop is not working optimally or that his CD player is beginning to act up or that the Dish washer is being a little obstinate or that the Refrigerator is being too noisy for his comfort. He will set up any system to his satisfaction and open up the CD player ( Its head needs SHAMPOOING!). Or a little bit of tinkering and " Let us see if it doing OK now?" with the dish washer. And the Refrigerator? Oh! That simply needs to be moved a little here or there. Viola! No more noise. Ah! Do not miss the little wooden piece that dampens the vibrations of our ventilator in the drawing room... You see, this glass used to add a little unwanted noise to his musical experience!

Meet Sanjay Dhawan The fixer! ( My kids... his kids call him that!)

And not to forget the man who carries at least twenty five kilos on his back comprising three to five cameras of various specifications on any vacation! We were held up at the Srinagar airport for over an hour because no one could believe that a single man could use all the equipment in that bag. Each piece was checked and cross checked. We have holiday photographs and family shots that we all love to watch. His photographs have even made it to heritage calenders. Photography is a driving passion with this man. It would be difficult for an onlooker to imagine that the man loaded with the cameras is really an eye surgeon.

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, the photographer

And then there is a rather private part of my heart and life that this man inhabits. He loves me and he irritates me. He cares for me and recklessly tramples over my feelings, too. He is worried sick if I am away without information and yet thinks nothing of doing the disappearing act himself. He smiles and still makes my heart do flip flop and makes my knees go weak. He speaks without having to say a word. And refuses to speak when I really wish he would say something! Sometimes he really obliges and says something," Something!" And he says it with the same naughty smile that took my heart away more than twenty years ago. Thank god for that day he called me back from the gate of the college to rag me!

Meet Sanjay Dhawan, my husband!