All India Literature Competition 2019-20
by The Creative Post
Winner – 10th Position
(Judges’ Choice)
—by Srishti Tyagi
–Reading Time – 13min Approx
I wanted to listen to my brother breathe, but the sound was drowned out by the beeping of a machine near his head. I settled for the replacement – each beep was a reminder that he was indeed breathing.
“Drink water. Fill your bladder”, I heard a voice next to me. The nurse was preparing a lady for sonography. But her words struck me as life in its most elementary form. What else would you drink water for?
People often encountered such elementary perspectives in hospitals, but for my brother, simple and elementary was the way of life. He was seven when he was diagnosed with borderline autism. The doctor said that he displayed many of the symptoms of autism, but they weren’t severe enough to be diagnosed autistic. This was followed by intense discussions and consultations. Doctors changed, hospitals changed but the diagnosis remained similar. I was too young to understand what was happening. But one day my exhausted mother wiped her tears and said, “He is on the borderline. I will make him crossover to the right side”. I didn’t quite understand her words, but her quivering, yet strong voice made me a determined ally to achieve whatever she was up to.
But we were too naive, my brother too young and the enemy too blurred. One day he came back from school, all bruised. He had gotten into a fight with a classmate during a game of basketball. “Everyone stood in a line and the two captains chose people alternatively, until I was the only one left. How am I supposed to feel a part of a team, which has shown me my place even before the game has begun?” I had no answer. He continued, “Nobody passed the ball to me, until one time, when Raunak missed catching it and I grabbed the ball. He shouted to pass it back, but I was closer to the hoop and he was fully covered so I threw the ball up. I missed the aim and then Raunak began swearing at me. I hit him back. This time I did not miss his ball”.
The first time my brother faced such isolation was during a game of hide & seek when he hid for a long time, but nobody came to look for him. He quietly came back home and cried to my mother the whole night. Six years later, he hit back. That night my mother cried. This wasn’t the kind of fighting back she wanted him to learn.
“Why does a blind man carry a lamp in the dark?” she asked my brother the next day. He curiously looked at her. “So that other people with eyes don’t bump into him in the dark”, she replied. By this time I was old enough to understand my mother’s words and voice. So I decided to introduce my brother to my friends. They were only two years older than him, so not a big difference, I thought. I was right. He enjoyed it a lot. I was most surprised with all the handshakes he was offering. Maybe he was trying to act all grown-up.
While walking back home, I asked him about the handshakes. “Last month a new girl joined my class. Our class teacher introduced her and then she shook hands with every body. When she came to my desk and extended her hand, I tried to reach her hand but it went in another direction. She called me rude and moved to the next person. Hence today I stuck out my hand for handshakes before anyone else could; like the blind man with the lamp. Tomorrow I will offer a handshake to Raunak also.” That night I cried, except my tears were happy tears.
Next day I was impatiently waiting for my brother to return from school and tell me about his new handshake trick. The phone rang. There had been an accident. My brother had slipped and had fallen down the stairs. Apparently he had stretched out his hand when he slipped but no one could grab it and by then it was too late. And the next thing I knew – my brother was unconscious, I was trying to listen to him breathe and finally settled for the beeps.
The fall had paralyzed my brother from neck down, and us completely. There were no intense discussions and consultations with doctors this time, just plain obedience. Because this time my brother stood at the borderline of life and death. I kept talking to him all this while, reminding him which side of the borderline he had to crossover to. Finally he opened his eyes.
I was ecstatic, and then cried even more. “Never ever scare us like this”, I uttered. His speech was heavily slurred, so he blinked. His eyelids were the only moving part in his entire body, but we were still so grateful because he responded to us. To help him communicate, the doctor put another machine near his head. Apparently it was a computer screen which had all the letters of the English alphabet on it. One by one the letters blinked. When my brother saw the letter of his choice blink, he blinked too, and the wire connected to his eyelid, input that letter. For many weeks he didn’t use it. Then one evening he signalled to me to switch it on. He blinked very carefully:
H A P Y B I R T D A Y M A A
That was not just the best birthday present but also the best words you have ever written Satyaki, even better than this best-selling book of yours. May you write many more!
The teary eyed audience cheered. “Thank you so much Shubhra for sharing the heart-touching and motivational anecdotes about your brother. And now can we have the man himself on the stage, the best-selling author and an inspiration to many, Mr. Satyaki Patra, Ladies and Gentlemen”.
My brother was wheeled in. The left side of his body was still paralyzed. But he could speak clearly now. However he continued to write using his computer. I was so proud of him. He accepted the award and extended his hand out for handshake before anyone else could. I smiled.
A horde of interviewers asked him questions and he answered all of them, one by one. Crowds were not among his favorites, but today he didn’t mind it.
“Sir, what was your inspiration behind the book, and why did you choose to call your book Borderline?”
“This book is a confluence of the three borderlines of my life. I was seven when I was diagnosed with borderline autism. That made many routine tasks extremely difficult for me. But my mother was always by my side to help me. Then many years later I met with an accident and stood at the borderline of life and death. But even in my unconscious state my sister was always by my side, annoying me to such an extent with her incessant talking and blabbering, that eventually I wke up. A couple of months after my accident, it was my mother’s birthday. The only thing by my side was a computer screen with blinking letters. Letters were never my friends and my body was paralyzed. But I was determined to cross the borderline of my fears and I typed my first words to wish her a happy birthday. The happiness on my mother’s face was indescribable. I never stopped writing after that.”
“Which is your most favourite part of the book?”
“Well, each letter is the apple of my eye.”
“Sir, you went through so many difficulties. Did you ever ask God about why life was so difficult for you?”
“My life was not difficult. I wrote my first best selling book with the blink of an eye.”
…
The questions continued and I watched my brother from the corner of the stage, patiently answering all the questions, trying to be witty and make friends. I just wanted to listen to him breathe, but the sound was drowned out by the roaring applause. I happily settled for the replacement.
–by Srishti Tyagi
