She Lived Life
My wife, Upasana, was a stickler for keeping the household organized. I, on the other hand, was disorganized, mostly. Just before we left home for any occasion, she would attend to the sofa covers and cushions, and the cover-sheet on the divan in the drawing room to set them to order, and even rush to the bedrooms to stretch the bed-covers to de-wrinkle them, and de-clutter the rooms by removing any items like books, etc., left behind by children, or by me. Her opinion was that she liked to enter her home to find everything in order, including her kitchen.
She would often tease me with her favorite query, “koyee aaya tha kya?”, meaning did anyone come to visit us at our home, and point to my chappals lying before one of the sofa chairs in the drawing room, left there by me inadvertently, after I might have walked away in my thoughts. She was upset at my habit of leaving my slippers just about anywhere. Apart from a source of disorder, it did present unsavory moments on an occasion when a number of guests arrived at our home suddenly and one of them found my chappals lying in front of the chair that he was about to occupy. Hence the teasing!
She had a habit to make tea for me and herself frequently, and place my cup on my Table, if I was working on my laptop, etc. After a few minutes she would tiptoe stealthily to reach a spot just behind my chair, to check if I have finished my tea. Usually, she would find that I had hardly consumed even half of the cup. But if I looked up to know why she came, she would say gently, ‘take your time’, and go away to come back again after another five minutes or so, a signal to remind me that I am letting my tea go cold, while absorbed in thinking or writing.
She took great care of me, over the years. While at a Food Court, she loved to bring items of our mutual choice for eating, asking me only to occupy a good table. After we both finished eating, we would follow it up with filter coffee brought by her, from stalls as I sat watching her. At home, she was known to make some Indian sweets and dishes immaculately. Famous among them were the gulab jamun, nan khatai, dahi-vada, chana masala and salty mutter (look like French fries and are made by frying strips of fine grain wheat dough).
During 2021–22, while sitting in the balcony of our bed-room in our high-rise flat, she would often look at the Goregaon East train station underneath, which was one among the several stations under construction on the new Metro no. 7 line of Mumbai, also called the Red line. Around September 2022, this station was nearly ready, but the safety testing of this new Metro line by running empty rakes on it was pending before it could be thrown open to passengers. This Metro line was finally inaugurated on January 21, 2023, about three months after Upasana’s sad demise. During her last two months, she would ask me often if we would be traveling by this Metro train, when it starts. Goregaon East station has all the facilities like elevators and escalators for convenience of senior citizens like us. I would say YES, but would ask her to remain patient till the Metro line starts operating. I guess she hardly believed I would fulfil this promise. I had also not taken her on a ride on the Chembur-Jacob Circle monorail, when it started operating in 2013.
She also knew the reason for my reticence. In 2012, we two together ended up in an unusually difficult situation when, the local train by which we were travelling from Charni Road station to Jogeshwari station, halted suddenly about 300 meters short of Jogeshwari station, our destination. It was due to a technical fault. Minutes went by, but there was no sign of any movement of our train. Many commuters jumped off the doorways and walked to Jogeshwari station. But the train floor was at a height of about 7 feet from the level of the ground, and the tracks. Jumping from that height was quite daunting for both of us, being in our mid-60s. Anyhow, I made a valiant attempt and jumped, landing safely despite my knee-problem. But Upasana declared absolute NO for jumping. Standing at ground level, I kept cajoling her to try, stating that I would ensure that she wouldn’t fall down on the rough ground below, by ‘catching’ her as soon as she jumped. But she declined. Soon, the train was nearly empty, with most passengers having jumped off and left. It was about 4 pm, and not yet dark. I argued with her that from among those still left in the train, if someone were to forcibly snatch her purse, or the gold-chain she was wearing, then I would be a helpless onlooker as I had no way to climb back into the stationary train to come to her protection. She agreed to come down, but didn’t have the nerve to jump. I asked her to first sit in the doorway of the train, and lower her legs first, to soften the jump. In addition, I asked help from a passing young passenger to lend support to me in case I slip while catching her. She did the soft jump, and we reached home safely, but the incidence left a mark on my mind.
Upasana had a melodious voice and could sing well. During the last few months of her life, as if she had an inner call, she would hum devotional mantras for hours, daily. Two of her favourites were the famous Shiva chant, ‘Om Namah Shivay’, as sung by Anuradha Paudwal, and Gayatri Mantra by Suresh Wadkar, both available on YouTube. She used to think very highly about the singing style of Suresh Wadkar. Once while in a hotel in Kolhapur, we came across Mr. Wadkar. I talked to him and introduced Upasana to him. She was so impressed to see Suresh Wadkar being so modest.
While visiting a college in Baramati in Maharashtra in February 2022, I and Upasana were presented with a sapling by the principal, a botany professor. It was thriving in a pot in our balcony, but about two months after her death, the leaves stated developing yellow spots, wilted and fell off, leaving just a barren stem. I linked this plant with her memory. Though upset, I persisted with my usual care of watering, sunlight and added fresh soil to this plant. After a gap of six weeks, green shoots appeared which developed into large leaves, which now number 20, or so.
Upasana had original and innovative ideas, sometimes. A year ago, my rheumatologist advised that to alleviate my knee-pain, I should press each knee over a folded towel, repeatedly for a few minutes. She went over to a chemist and bought a roll of surgical cotton, sealed in a plastic sheath, as a replacement for the towel. It works fine, till date.
Upasana had been through some tricky medical conditions in her life. She was hospitalized due to a terrible back-ache in early 1980s, and after discharge from hospital, she had to lie flat for a month to aid the recovery process. She became diabetic in 2006, and had to remain on insulin injections, thereafter. Once in 2014, she made the mistake of injecting insulin at dinner time but forgot to eat anything. At midnight, her glucose levels fell to as low as 35, and she went into coma. We rushed her to a nearby hospital, where they revived her with a glucose injection, but she had to get examined for any kidney or brain damage. Luckily nothing! Lastly, she got Bell’s Palsy in January 2022, for which she was hospitalized for a few days, but she did all physio-exercises systematically, as advised, and could recover fully in five months.
Recently, I met a doctor, who had been a member of the doctors’ team attending to Upasana in ICCU in October 2022, when she was admitted for acute abdominal pain. She died less than 24 hours after being there, due to two cardiac arrests, despite all efforts to revive her. The doctor said, they discuss often that my wife gave little time to them to save her. My reply was, ‘She lived life… she didn’t want to live death!’
