Most of us are called upon to play a role akin to God, twice in our lives.
The first time is when we have children and as parents we have to train the infants about when to eat, how much to eat, how to go to the potty and such issues; all of which become laughable when they grow up. The second time around is when we have to parent our parents in their old age. This time, it is not laughable at all.
For all of us, our fathers were the strongest men on earth, when we did not know better. They could run faster and bowl better and hit harder than anyone else. And now, to have to gently guide your father to a hospital ward, and sometimes lift him, makes you incredibly sad as you realise what time reduces us mortals to.
It is the same with our mothers. They were the ones who gave themselves selflessly, and tirelessly, to their children for years on end. Many was the time when they put their own needs on the backburner, so that their children could afford better things and better times. I know my mother, she did all these things for us, and I am sure yours did too and so did millions of mothers everywhere for their children.
From making hot rotis and feeding us, to seeing that our clothes were clean to seeing that our homework was done… all of us have grown up well because of our mothers. No wonder there is a saying which goes: God made mothers as He could not be everywhere at once!
I am in my car with my father and I recall that all of last week I have been playing God to him, as he refuses to eat or drink anything substantial. He has always doted on me, and has always sought my advice; but in the past few days, he does not heed my solicitations. Initially we tho-ught that it was a stomach infection. But gradually the doctors realised that they were dealing with a person who was paranoid of taking anything internally.
How does one deal with anyone who has been surviving on two teaspoons of water for days? He cannot even be given medicines to pull himself out of this mental anguish. Like many senior citizens, he does not take kindly to hospitals, yet should we hospitalise him and feed him through a tube?
This is a time when all existential thoughts come to me. We love our parents, but must we compel them to live be-cause we want them to live for our sake? What about their choice in the matter? Is the length of life more important than the quality of life? I draw strength from the words which I had written in an earlier column.
“Hope, together with love, is the most powerful emotion known to us… Hope keeps us alive… and gives us the courage to face all odds.”
My mind is made up. I hug my father and tell the driver to head to the hospital.
