Pang

By Dr. Shrikant T. Deshpande

Religion and spirituality constitute the integral part of most of the Indian families. Upbringing the children in the family then becomes an easier job as the children are imbibed with the teachings from the family members. Nachiket, eighteen years old, got the same rearing from his parents and mainly from his grandparents. He learnt and memorized stories from Vedas and Upanishadas. Why should he write and maintain a diary? Well he followed the footsteps of his parents and grandparents. The diary consoled his parents while they faced the toughest time. It also relieved Nachiket once he could finish writing what he wanted to. Have you ever seen any child consoling his parents?

The diary offered sequential surprizes to his parents who never expected anything of that sort was going to happen to them. They wondered what must have triggered his spirituality. And why?

The mindboggling and yet thought provoking novel makes anyone contemplative about life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Sep 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9789384381882

Book preview

Epilogue

Reviews

Excellent literary work! It makes an indelible impression at both the levels, cognitive and emotional. The author Dr. Shreekant Deshpande, a noted paediatrician, deserves all the compliments for coming out with a marvellous book which will surely find its way to a prominent place not only in one’s library but also in everyone’s heart.

I was fortunate to be closely associated with Dr. Shreekant Deshpande and his family for more than two decades. His habit of maintaining diary meticulously seems to be at the root of this manuscript with intricate details. I understand that it takes immense hard work, dedication, courage and spirituality to come out with such a great work even in the face of adversity.

It seems like a reference book in the medical library! It goes a long way to nudge medical professionals for in depth study. Stupendous efforts of Dr. Shrikant certainly offer one a pearl of wisdom. Great amalgamation of science and the spirituality!

Dr. Narendra Rathi

Paediatrician,

Akola.

Reviews

‘Pang’ is a beautiful piece of literary work from Dr. Shrikant, making it a perfect book written with superabundance. It will certainly open doors to a never before heavenly experience that remains fresh for the life time, offering you more than what medicine books offer. The epilogue makes you so contemplative; one gradually understands the true meaning of life. A stupendous task by the great Nachiketa!…The true hero of this book. Hats off to him. A must read book to everybody.

Dr. Alka Mandke.

Chairman, Mandke Foundation,

Practising Cardiac Anaesthesiologist,

Mumbai.

I might fall short of words while expressing my views on ‘Pang’. Yet to see any medical doctor doing the feat absolutely scientifically though in an altogether different way. One has to be a brave heart to write such a book. I am sure the reader will remember for years my friend Shrikant and his beloved son, Nachiket, to whom I personally knew. Even to a non-medical person the book will remain as a life time guide. Bravo Nachiketa!

Dr. Uday Bodhankar.

Paediatrician. International President,

Commonwealth Association for health and disables, UK.

International Council Member, ASPR-Japan.

Nagpur.

PROLOGUE

Grandma, Marathi teacher taught the word PANG today in the school. Can you please explain me the word? Nachiket asked one day.

Well Nachi, this means you are not attentive in the class. Look, rarely you get such an important word while studying. May be we never speak the word that often so you do not know about it.

No Grandma, I was attentive but the teacher didn’t explain in details

Well then tell me what you heard from your teacher.

She told, once we grow and start earning, we have an added responsibility to look after our parents during their old age. In a way we repay, to some extent, what our parents have done for us while we were small children. Whatever we repay once grown up is called PANG, so we repay the PANG, am I correct?

Absolutely correct Nachi. After my prayer you tell me how you apply the word. OK?

Grandma was busy and Nachiket had enough time to think over. He saw the Oxford English dictionary over Papa’s table. He smiled to himself and straightaway opened the dictionary to look for the meaning of PANG. Sudden Sharp Pain, was all that he got. He remained thoughtful for quite some time when Grandma approached him.

Yeah Nachi, tell me now. How will you use the word?

Grandma, if we do not repay the Marathi PANG then our parents would get the English PANG, you got it? Grandma could not resist her laughter though she liked what was projected by Nachiket.

Nachi, you really are a different breed and know how to apply the meaning differently.

No one resists you from doing that stuff, provided the things look justifiably logical. Nachiket’s interests, apart from routine studies, many a times took Papa by surprise. Papa, you know there is nothing like ‘death’? It’s a life after life. No one dies; either we get recycled to get a rebirth or progress for further soul journey. Isn’t it amazing? This happened when he was hardly eight years old. Nachiket was a critical analyst and there is no doubt about that. Very fastidious and meticulous! How and why he was more interested in occult sciences and meta-physics, no one understood, except me. His prophetic perceptions and experiences surprised me many a times.

My humble request to the reader, please read the book seriously and sincerely. Not like you read any other novel. Else you would miss the sequential surprises.

My wife Dr Pratibha, her younger sister Dr Shobha almost forced me to write the book in English. That was after they read Marathi PANG manuscript, now due for publication. My artiste friend Satish Pimple helped me in making the cover design as per my choice including the sketches inside the book. My daughter Ketaki insisted me to write the English version with a different format. She suggested me and I could write the book.

I am indebted to my friend Nikhil Rajhans for happily doing the computer printing job.

With a firm belief in God, I dedicate this book to Dr Omprakash Ruhatia, my physician friend, and the Dr Vaishali Solao, specialist in critical medicine, for supporting my family during our tough times. I hope, once I dedicate the book to all the patients of Idiopathic Dilated Cardio-Myopathy (IDCM) anywhere in the world, the cardiac physicians everywhere should make this book a medical reference book. I studied; rather I had to study the IDCM in depth. Nowhere could I see the sequential evolution of the case. This book certainly helps my friends from the medical fraternity to understand IDCM and hope they help minimize the burden on the families of such patients, financially and psychologically as well.

Dr. Shrikant T. Deshpande

1

It was a rainy day in Mumbai. Mount Mary Church stood as gracefully as ever. The spires were glittering in the incessant rains. It was an afternoon, the church looked quite deserted. Occasional visitor attended the nearby make shift shops in the church campus. The crows were quietly resting over the tree tops. There was no other sound audible except the constant downpour. Dull yellow light lit the church inside. At a suitable place near the isle sat Isha peacefully, though the angst and pangs surfaced on her beautiful, young face. She lit a candle in front of Mother Mary and watched it burn till the end. She looked tearful now; her face quite humid, she kept on wiping it.

Excuse me madam, do you want to offer prayers? The attendant asked. Isha suddenly came to her senses, looked inquiringly at the attendant who appeared from nowhere. Oh, you can go to the confession room right now, as nobody is here at this hour. Pastor is waiting all alone to hear somebody. He is good at communicating the departed souls if you are interested."He said. Isha ignored the fellow. She got up and went towards Mother Mary and offered her prayers, weeping all the time. She looked somber though her aura was quite electrifying. She sat near the deity on a wooden bench, looking at nothing. Her green kurta over white salwar suited very much to her over the white marble backdrop of the church walls. The silence of the church was disturbed by the tick-tick of the huge wall clock and distance dripping of the drizzle. The candle gradually dimmed off, emitting a smoke line that rose towards the ceiling, merging with the smoky air up the ceiling with the smoke of incense sticks, exuding a peculiar smell. Isha looked once again at Mother Mary, who stood vividly high up on a platform in the sanctorum, with innocently smiling baby Jesus in her hands. She knelt near the altar; it was time to offer prayers.

Why should he? What Next? Isha muttered, and looked expectantly for any answer, which she didn’t get.

Oh, come on young lady, the pastor was talking, whom you are missing? Please come to my chamber, follow me. He said authoritatively. Isha waited for a moment and went towards the office with him, wiping her tears. Pastor offered her a chair. She sat comfortably. A huge mahogany Burma teak table stood between her and the pastor. Pastor looked very peaceful, soothing and consoling.

Yeah, you are missing anybody? He asked…

Hmm…

Missing to whom? Tell me,

It’s personal, Father.

Then you are asking for trouble. Did Mother Mary answer your prayer? Isha didn’t speak. She simply preferred to be all alone, waiting for her inner voice to suggest her something. She was stuck up now. She landed in Mumbai from U.S. to get some answer to her questions from Mother Mary, whom she believed and respected most.

As a bio-technologist, she was working in U.S. doing some research, though she was not settled well since last six months. She dismissed the thought of confession, looked towards the pastor, regarded him and left the church. She boarded a taxi to Lilavati Hospital. In the waiting lounge of the hospital she prayed to a huge Ganesha idol, offered some money in the charity box and looked around. Everything was the same when she visited sometimes back. She sat for a while, and was looking too depressed. She went to sixth floor I.C.U. and approached bed no. 616. A small child was hospitalized for congenital heart surgery. The family looked quite poor. She unknowingly offered them some money as a small help. Dr. Anil Sharma, I.C.U. in-charge, who knew her, watched her doing a favour to the poor patient. Isha waved at him with regards and left the I.C.U. after patting the small child. Dr. Sharma was watching her with a serious face but avoided to speak anything. With a sickly feeling Isha entered the waiting lounge. All hospitals are like that, she thought. They all are very chilly inside, have very smooth walls, dreadful silence and a peculiar smell of disinfectant. Do they offer panacea to all? Do any miracles happen to the seriously ill patients? Isha thought watching the serious faces around. She doubted if the huge Ganesha idol was helping them really. Destiny is to be answered and never to be questioned… she recollected her beloved friend telling her sometimes in the past. She looked at the helpless faces, the helpless God and left the hospital with a heavy heart.

Isha asked the taxi driver to take her to the Gate Way of India, bought a bunch of flowers, boarded a ferry, had a ride deep in to the sea, and tearfully offered the flowers to the sea God. She kept looking towards the drifting flowers in the sea when her mobile rang. Nachiket flashed on the lighted panel, she looked a bit surprised and fidgety too.

Yeah, who is it?

"It’s me, Aai, hello Isha, why didn’t you inform us about your visit to India?

Hello Aai, first you stop using Nachiket’s phone. Anyway I landed last week.

Isha, are you ok? Pratibha asked. She appeared a bit annoyed. And why do you still retain his number? it was time for Isha to reciprocate. There was no point in contradicting. Nachiket was her very good and intimate friend. Intimate, still too far. Isha was to stay in Mumbai for a fortnight or so. She was to go back to US thereafter.

Aai, I am sorry for being a bit cross. Anyway, how comes you know I am here? she asked Aai looking a bit surprised.

Papa had an intuition. He asked me to call you and you are there! That really is a happy surprise Isha

Aai I am more surprised about Papa’s intuitions.

He is always like that. Anyway Isha where are you now? I want to see you right now.

Aai, if you are with the Prem (Driver), then can you come to the Gate Way of India? She hung up after knowing Aai had already left to receive her. She reclined against the baluster railing though the nearby cacophony was unbearable. She straightened her hair band, wiped her face and looked in the sky. It would rain any moment she thought keeping the umbrella at hand. She felt hungry now. It was 5.00p.m and she hadn’t eaten anything since the breakfast. She ignored the road side eateries, sipped some coconut water to keep away exhaustion from hot humid and sultry July in Mumbai. Nachiket always warned her from eating out, she remembered while looking at so many people waiting smilingly for a ferry ride even in such odd season, though monsoon was not settled well. She looked at the high tide; far away from her, boys were playing football in the sandy beach. A young fellow stood in the knee deep water, enjoying shifting sand under his feet with every wave. Nachiket would do the same … She thought. He used to watch the sunset for hours to get her, totally absorbed. Why was he so fond of the Sun God? She recollected so many inscrutable things of Nachiket. Apart from being a very good friend she was in love with him. Why he was so much interested in spirituality? That appeared to her very abstract and obstruse. She knew nothing of that sort though she belonged to a puritan, conservative Bengali family.

At 6:00p.m Pratibha spotted her. Isha embraced her with love and joy and openly gave way to the tears. Pratibha consoled her. Prem took them to the main road towards the car parking. They boarded the car.

Isha, ring your parents. You will have dinner with us at the Grand Central. Pratibha said.

No Aai, I will have dinner at home. They are waiting. I am too hungry right now. Can we get a snack? Isha preferred to avoid going to Jayant Mama, Pratibha’s elder brother. It would be too late to reach back, she thought. Pratibha asked Prem to take them to a coffee shop at Chembur. Isha had a sandwich with the coffee. It was already 6:30 PM. That moment Jayant called. Reach early. We proceed at 8:00PM.Contact your hospital in Akola. Someone rang here two-three times. May be one of your dear patients Pratibha asked Jayant to let Shree, her husband, to look after that business.

We are busy with the pre-dinner happy hours. Any way I tell him. Come early. Jayant said. Isha felt quite fresh after a hot coffee. They planned to see each other tomorrow. Isha agreed to spend the day with her. Both had endless topics to talk. While on way to Ghatkopar where Isha stayed with her parents, Isha told Pratibha about the ferry ride she had.

You should have called me for that. You offered flowers? Pratibha asked.

Yes, off course. But Aai, I really wanted to be all alone. We will go there tomorrow or day after. I was getting a bit bored in U.S. I am there since last six months. I feel better now Aai. Pratibha wiped Isha’s tears and calmed her down.

You are not as strong as Nachiket. In fact he taught us so many things. Be tough. He may feel bad if you cry like that. Isha didn’t speak anything. The melancholy had almost built a nest over her head. Prem pulled up the car near her apartment. Isha left the car waving at Pratibha. They drove back to home. Pratibha felt good meeting Isha, though she was yet to achieve normalcy. While on her way back home Pratibha was thinking of the phone calls, about any emergencies, and about any patient in labour. But she had made all arrangements at her hospital at Akola before she came to Mumbai. Her phone rang, this time from Ketaki, her daughter, a software engineer in a reputed firm at Pune.

Aai, I am on my way to Mumbai. Hopefully I should reach Jayant mama’s home at around 8:00p.m. Are you going out? Wait for me. Tomorrow is Sunday. I thought better to see you and Papa there. Ketaki said. Pratibha’s face was full of joy now. It will be a nice get to gether, she thought, and next moment she called upon Isha, asking her to join them for dinner and that Prem will take her back home. She told her to give company to Ketaki too. Isha was somehow not willing to join them… not without Nachiket … She thought.

Aai… I am too exhausted now to join you. I prefer to sleep early tonight. I am sorry Aai. Isha somehow managed to say no. After dinner Isha went to her bedroom, leaving her parents showing a worried face. They were unable to establish a good dialogue with her ever since she landed in India .She had simply lost her easy laughter and pleasantries and her parents miserably failed bringing her back to a normal rhythm.

Next morning at 8:00am Isha was sitting with Ketaki in the patio of Jayantmama’s palatial home. They discussed so many issues together. The ambience in the patio was too congenial so was their chit chatting in full spate. Isha was five years junior to Ketaki, almost the age of Ketaki’s younger brother and her best friend, Nachiket. Any plans Ketaki regarding your marriage? Isha

Aai, Papa would decide over that issue.

That’s better. My parents just keep on prodding about my marriage and I think they won’t let me get my degree. They simply want to get rid of me, that too when they know much about Nachiket and me. Isha said. May be that was yet another reason why she left India for higher studies. Time had almost flung in last 6 months, since Isha was in US. Still her mind was the same, a bit irritable, always lost somewhere. Her mind was full of past in the present world. Melancholy was the dominant note of her temperament. She was helpless to bear the several bends in her life, totally unprepared to sustain the jolt. The one time triumphant life with Nachiket turned out to be a night mare which upset the equipoise of her sensitive nature. What was it that stood in her way? Her misfortune or was it her unfortunate timidity to face it? She wished to vindicate herself to Ketaki, which would help her gather. Thinking so she felt an agreeable chill in the pit of stomach… Yes… she thought… Enough time to discuss with Ketaki … about the past … The hideous yet the blooming past!

While in the fifth school standard Nachiket and Isha came closer, being in the same class in Holy Cross Convent school of Akola. One day the class Teacher asked all the students to write an essay on ideal parenting. To the utter surprise of the teacher, the essay written by Nachiket and Isha had a great similarity.

Nachiket, you copied it together? Teacher asked.

No Teacher.

Then why the essays look similar?

It’s a sheer coincidence teacher. May be we have similar wave lengths. All the students including the teacher broke in to laughter. Isha was smiling, looking at Nachiket, for a funny but a precise answer. In the lunch recess they were together.

Got any thing special for the lunch?Nachiket asked.

Mom asked to share fresh fish fry with you. Isha

Will it be enough for two of us?

Certainly

Good they know ideal parenting, isn’t it? Nachiket commented. Isha enjoyed that comment.

But Nachi, Don’t you think we are similar in so many ways? Nachiket couldn’t resist his loud laughter.

What’s that for now? Isha asked

Are you telling we are made for each other? Isha spanked Nachiket and shared the laughter. She registered that day the most memorable one, while Nachiket wrote the incident in his diary, the one he started maintaining since almost a year, like his Papa and Grandpa. Isha adored him for that.

Nachiket was in the habit of reading, watching anything to fulfil his fancy for the general knowledge, always in the quest of getting the same through various books, video cassettes, cd’s etc. He was always updated regarding history, geography and social sciences. His friends knew that and always appreciated him, though a few avoided him as he always played a dominant role and had an upper hand during school events. Jayant mama, his maternal uncle was his ideal, who always spoke with logic and reasoning while facing any situation boldly and astutely. A boy in his teen age was many atimes difficult for Papa and Pratibha in satisfying his questions. Grandpa helped him know many things from the great Indian epics …Ramayana and Mahabharata. Nachiket, since then, developed a penchant for Vedic sciences.

Why your parents named you Nachiket? Isha’s mother asked him once.

Do you know anything from Katha-Upanishada? They named me Nachiket as the hero of that Upanishada was the great Nachiketa! Nachiket answered.

"But why they opted for