RETIRED after a coveted career in Defence, Samarth and his ever smiling, wife Asha (names changed deliberately) were happily settled in their new flat, had planned to travel, abroad and around the country till they can. After all, fauji families hardly get to live together during service tenure. Never short of jokes and undoubtedly one of the most entertaining host, she would tell friends and visitors that every fauji wife serves the nation without the rank, stars and salary. Their home had become a celebration spot, envied by all. It all started six months back when she would get extremely tired and exhausted even with slightest efforts. They consulted a doctor friend, who referred her to another, then another and the chain continued. After many tests and all possible investigations, doctors finally confirmed an aggressive type of cancer and couldn’t give her even four months. Doctors assured all possible help and started treatment right from Day one. Samarth by now, had studied everything about the decease but he still hoped for a miracle. After first chemo, installing the port and lengthy process of chemo, made her suspicious. She hadn’t ever undergone such medical procedures. Their daughter dashed in from Bengaluru and son too flew down from US was enough pointers for her to know the reason.

 

Few days after the first Chemo she suffered loss of hairs, appetite loss, awful nausea and giddiness. Though none had revealed it to her but she knew that her time is up. Hurriedly she wrote down every single thing she wanted to tell Samarth. Right from ‘masala’ in the kitchen to his purse, hankies and clothes etc. Her diary filled up fast. She had been discharged but had to follow strict restraints at home and relatives or visitors weren’t allowed to visit. Diet wasn’t to her liking but there wasn’t any alternative. Bouts of blinding headaches and severe indigestion would numb her, but she decided to smile and make everyone laugh at home. she would joke about her being bald. She braved second Chemo all over again. The after effects, were even more frightening and painful. By the time she overcame the trauma it was already two months since the first hospital visit. Fully aware of the outcome, she would smile as usual, make travel plans, joke with children and daily tasked them to cook new dishes.

 

She was already bed ridden before the scheduled third chemo. She didn’t want any visitors around except Samarth, son and daughter. Straining to smile while disclosing her fate she said ‘Yaar, I don’t want a crowd for my funeral and made Samarth jot down the friends’ list allowed to bid her farewell. Her own sister and brother could come. Each day was getting more agonizing for her now and much more painful for Samarth and kids to see her suffer. They decided to honour her wish and skip third chemo. Doctors too understood. None wanted her to suffer any longer. By a week into fourth month, she was totally drained and exhausted. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she woke up to made a strange demand on Saturday. ‘I want the National Flag and your Battalion Insignia on my bedside’. He lovingly pinned his ‘Decorations and Medals’ and even put his Ceremonial Cap on her pillow. After all, his achievements were impossible without her support. Sunday, she had lost all sense of time but opened her eyes as if trying to do or say something, by night signaled all three around. She wanted them to join her for saluting the National flag and with a herculean effort lifted her hand to salute the Tiranga. She went peacefully before dawn, with a smile and satisfaction of “A Job Well done”. At the cremation, we silently saluted the Great Warrior and her ultimate commitment.