🌄 The Journey That Never Began
Fresh from my Nepal pilgrimage in April, my heart was still
echoing with chants from the Himalayas. I was ready – bags packed, clothes
washed, every thread folded with anticipation – for my first-ever Chaar
Dhaam Yaatra. The dates were set, 10th to 20th of last month, and my spirit
was soaring.
Reservations were locked in – flights, chopper rides to
Kedarnath, pooja slots – all meticulously planned. My luggage stood proudly by
the door, like a loyal companion waiting to march alongside me.
But sometimes, life whispers a different script.
💔 The Midnight Alarm
Late one April night, the silence was shattered. My mother
fell. In that moment, the world around me collapsed into urgency. We rushed her
to the hospital, hearts pounding, prayers tumbling out faster than words.
The tests came back normal. Relief washed over me like cool
water, and I clung to hope – perhaps my pilgrimage was still possible. But
destiny had only begun its play.
⚡ The Breathless Battle
A week later, during what was supposed to be a routine
follow-up, the ground beneath us gave way. Her oxygen levels plunged from the
90s to the terrifying 60s. I watched helplessly as she gasped, her body
fighting for every breath.
The ER became our battlefield. Doctors moved swiftly, stabilised her, and moved her to the ICU, where they placed her on a Non-Invasive Ventilator. That night in the ICU was one
of the longest of my life – every beep of the monitor felt like a drumbeat of
fate.
By morning, she was stable enough to move to the ward. For
the next week, we lived in the rhythm of hospital corridors – hope rising, fear
lurking, gratitude clinging. When she was finally discharged, we took no
chances. The hospital ambulance, oxygen support, wheelchair – all became
symbols of our cautious love.
🌿 Choosing Home Over Himalayas
With this storm at home, my Chaar Dhaam Yaatra dissolved into the background. I cancelled everything, bowed to providence, and chose to stand by my mother. However, the other members of my travel group completed the Yaatra sans yours truly. I was in touch with them throughout their 10-day journey, and their travels and travails is stroy for another day. My folks at home kept reminding me that I was physically present in Bengaluru and mentally I was with my group travelling all over the Dhaams in Uttarakhand.
Watching her slowly regain strength, each smile became my
darshan, each breath my blessing.
🎬 Curtain Call
And so, the lesson unfolded with gentle irony:
Son proposed… but Mom disposed!
