October is the festive season in India. You don’t have to be particularly religious to join in the exchange of good wishes between friends and family members all over the world on the day of “Vijaya Dashami,” which literally translates to “the tenth day of victory” and signifies victory of good over evil after nine days of hard-fought battle.
This year the celebrations were contained due the pandemic, but that was all the more reason to escalate the virtual exchange of greetings, because people are more connected to one another now to compensate for the social isolation. I am no exception. I was dispensing Vijaya Dashami wishes generously to my cousins in India---I come from a big and well-connected family, so lots of cousins, uncles, and aunts to wish---when my phone rang. It was one of my cousins. I was pretty sure she was calling me back to wish. But I was not at all prepared to hear the news that she shared. Apparently one of my other cousins, a thirty-something-year-old youngster, suffered a cerebral attack and needed brain surgery!
My heart sank. Not again! Four years ago, almost on the same date in late October, we lost another cousin and her son to a gruesome road accident. At least they did not suffer long—both passed away pretty much at the scene of the accident. This year has been more cruel. My father-in-law was struck by a motorbike and suffered severe brain damage. He was in the intensive care unit for two months before coming home, but never recovered. After four months of pain and suffering, he finally passed away in late August. We are still mourning his passing. Now we have another crisis!
Picturing my cousin under ventilation, his skull open for the surgery, made me feel nauseous. I forced myself to think of the recent happy memory, when he and I sang a karaoke duet—assisted by technology, i.e., we sang separately and then my cousin mixed the two tracks—he is a budding musician. As I often do when faced with a crisis, especially one where you cannot physically be present at the scene to be of any use, I distracted myself with work.
But work cannot be a substitute for the comfort that you get from human interaction. I totally cherished the unplanned moment when both my husband and I came downstairs from our home offices to microwave our lunch. We caught a glimpse of our son playing with the dog in the backyard—it was his lunch break too. Suddenly I was thankful for this far-from-normal circumstance that forced all of us to be at home on a normal workday.
I had tennis coaching scheduled in the afternoon that day. I considered skipping the lesson. But then I realized if I am looking for a distraction that is even more effective than work, that is most definitely tennis!
In the last two and half years, tennis not only brought fitness and pure joy to my world, but also created a whole new family for me. Family is who you shelter with when you have to weather a crisis. My tennis family (and a few other close friends who do not necessarily play tennis, but follow the game closely enough to chime in on tennis talk) has been essential to keep my soul nourished through this strange year, even when the courts were closed for two months, and since the reopening of the courts in mid-May. The collective sense of belonging with a common purpose—to me that is the definition of family!
Thankfully the latest update on my cousin’s condition is promising. The brain surgery was successful and he is regaining consciousness. I count my blessings that I have my families—here and in India—to draw strength from, and make the journey with my cousin as he embarks on the long road to recovery.
