Eye Care, I Care

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I was waiting nervously in the plush lobby of a leading eye care nursing home in Calcutta, whilst my father was being operated ; this one being the second in a short span of  two weeks. Ideally, I should have been worried to a culpable extent, given that it was a matter of THE ultimate sensory organ, the eye. But I wasn’t petrified and not panicking anyway, as I was extremely satisfied with the fascinating technology and immaculate care provided by the team of doctors and nursing home staff. While care is something dependent on individuals, technology is not. According to me, technology is a boon which heightens to be a ‘life touching and changing ‘ experience and which comes to us in the form of  modern healthcare.

My father being seventy, developed cataract in both eyes which I believe, is a common phenomenon at his age. His case became a tad more complicated as he had a thrombosis in the right eye quite a few years ago and was detected with glaucoma in both eyes. When he informed me that his doctor had suggested cataract removal in both eyes coupled with correction for glaucoma, I was profusely worried, indeed. A simple Phaco-surgery for cataract removal wasn’t going to be the case for him. I could recall the ancient microsurgery experience, which both my grandmothers went through many years ago. There were only a few doctors in Calcutta who conducted the newly invented surgery, in those yesteryears . It was quite expensive and people were highly apprehensive  about the outcome because it was a new procedure. Years have passed by and advances in medical research has led to the easier and technologically smarter Phaco-surgery these days. Lucky to be born late in the era of these innovative techniques, I was far  less worried for my father than his pile of worries for my grandmothers about twenty years ago.

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Braided In Time : 55-Fiction

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The Husband

“You are looking beautiful in this saree, wifey.”

“What is my gift this anniversary?”

Light turned off the man’s face.

He came up silently behind his wife, standing in front of a makeshift mirror.

In the shimmering silver of a full moon through their cracked ceiling, he pinned a gajra carefully on her lengthy braid.

The Father

“Dad, how do I look in these braids?”

“Where did you..How on earth did you get hold of..?”

“It’s mom’s.”

“But..she’s gone for years.”

“She left this as a parting gift because I loved it.”

“You look exactly like her when she was sixteen.”

Mom looked at them smiling from a framed photograph.

The Grandfather

“Bye, Grandpa. I’m getting late for college.”

“Why are you in such fancy dress today?”

“Today is our ethnic day. Not only that, its a pre-independence theme.”

Now grandpa takes a closer look and is mesmerized.

“I see you have braided your beautiful hair, for a change!”

“And I’m also wearing grandma’s silk.”

Smile. Bliss.