Kala (right) with Malini
Kala died of pancreatic cancer on September, 9, 2016 . A part of me died too that day. Kala was my twin—we were not just born together, but remained glued for the rest of our lives, sharing not just birthdays, but practically everything else that matters in life. She was a soulmate in the truest sense!
I felt strange telling my friends repeatedly with tears welling up in my eyes, ‘I feel lighter, and a part of me has flown away like a whiff of air’.
Before anything else, let me tell you the story of our birth ---and our entwined lives.
It was October 28, 1957-- an era without ultrasounds, so the moment I was born, the doctor, to everyone’s surprise, informed my mom that another one was coming! My grandmother, with me in her arms, promptly tied a black string in my wrists to identify the first born. Kala came into the world a few minutes later than me!
We always used to wear similar dresses.
But in every annual exam I trailed her-- just by one rank except on two occasions! The class II teacher had difficulty in identifying first ranker out of two identical looking twins and she asked the other twin, Kala, to collect the prize in my place!
Both of us ranked first in class III, so the next in rank was awarded the third. Funnily, this girl’s mother confronted my mom in an admonishing tone, ‘why did you give birth to twins? My daughter doesn’t ever stand a chance for a second rank’.
No one was surprised when our math scores too matched in our board exams.
We often wore similar dresses stitched by our mom, making it tough for everyone, including our parents, to get our names right. There were a few embarrassing instances when our husbands too failed to tread with caution!
On one occasion, my daughter strode past me to run into my twin’s lap! Our wedding dates as well as our kids’ birthdays fell within a few months.
There were a few contrasts too between us -- in how we socialized , in our sensitivities, our food tastes, and what our relatives described as our degrees of dynamism. My favorite uncle often called us: kinetic Kala and meticulous Mala. I find it amusing; gradually we grew to acquire both these traits in equal measure.
Life was a roller coaster ride for us until a cold dark October evening in 2015. I ran to pick up my ringing phone. It was Kala. She read out her latest scan results. The tumor at the head of pancreas needs to be surgically removed. Always adventurous, she was game for an 11- hour whipple surgery scheduled for the coming week.
Kala had been lately experiencing fatigue, acidity and numbing back pain. Her homeopathic physician-cum-friend suspected obstructed jaundice and asked her to see a gastroenterologist.
A urine test confirmed the diagnosis but the doctor advised her to go for a PET a scan. The scan revealed two lesions in her left kidney and one on the head of the pancreas. The doctor suspected them to be malignant.
I dashed to Chennai from Delhi to be by her side. It was a restless 7 days before surgery scheduled on October 22, 2015. We were positive and praying!
It was heartening to see her faint smile as she was wheeled out of the operation theatre that gloomy Thursday evening.
But our hopes were shattered when we heard the prognosis, confirming the tumor being malignant. Prayers continued in earnest. Blessed with a supporting family -- a devout husband, son and wife, young Archita, her daughter, and the strongest pillar of our family, our mother--we marched morning and evening to have a glimpse of her through the glass doors of ICU.
Oblivious of her disease, Kala would always wave out a thumbs up, wearing her charming smile. My heart bled seeing her wrapped in a dull, stained hospital sheet holding on to bags with tubes.
After a week long hospital stay, she was back home. Now we shared our regimen with a proficient nurse adept at handling intestinal feeding and the rest of post operative care. We carried a nagging apprehension why the hospital was not prescribing any medicine for recuperation except antacid and multivitamin.
The toughest chore of the day was for my twin to take a few grains of food without constipation, acidity or throwing out.
But the resilience of her spirit kept her going. She designed and stitched an outfit for Archita , her daughter, for her cousin’s wedding ceremony. She also did a wall piece in cross-stitch.
Kala with our mother
Being a banker she kept accounts and financial details up to date. She often logged into her Facebook account to seek funds for her cook’s granddaughter’s school admission fee of Rs 30,000. She let everyone know that she was not going to be bogged down by the deadly disease.
I spent my days in Chennai with planning, designing, stitching comfortable dresses she can wear through different phases of her recuperation. As someone who lived life in her own style, she held a designer bag to fit her tubes as ‘accessories’ alongside her lean frame.
In mid-January, she got a text message from the hospital, saying she would need to undergo 25 sittings of radiation. Relieved at 'no chemo’ verdict, we dutifully adapted to changed routine of going to the hospital in the city.
This included a ‘baggage’! A hamper loaded with mints, packing of fruits and snacks, soda, not to forget trash bags. Every morsel of food intake was followed by throwing out. And my dear twin thanked God every time for helping her discharge her ‘C’ cells! ‘I will get back to great health and live a long life to throw a grand 80thbirthday party, and want to invite the surgeon for it!’ she often said.
January and February 2016 passed with Kala adapting well to radiation, though she lost a lot of weight. Moments, hours, days passed as we kept our unshakeable faith in God. We often said to each other, ‘She will come out of it for sure and be a kinetic kala once again.
She had been pressing the doctors to do something about her falling stamina. In February, her surgeon conceded her demand.
I have always marveled at Kala's spirit to live life to the fullest. Half way into her chemo sessions, she booked her tickets to fly solo to spend few days with her favorite aunt!
He hesitantly put her on IV drip of amino acids and other nutrients. Tests revealed a kink in her intestine loop that was obstructing her food passage after surgery. Unfortunately, post radiation, a corrective surgery was not possible. The doctor altered his ‘no chemo’ verdict to start much detested chemo of 12 sittings.
I have always marveled at Kala's spirit to live life to the fullest. Half way into her chemo sessions, she booked her tickets to fly solo to spend few days with her favorite aunt! I couldn’t help but fly from Delhi and join in her joyous venture!
Her 2016 calendar had many trips and events planned once she was done with chemo.
Soon after chemo sessions ended, the oncologist told us that the disease has invaded and conquered her vital organs.
Kala may not live long, the doctor said. And Kala’s retort was, ‘I do not fear death". And she resolved to fight back.
During one of my several flights from Delhi to Chennai in the month of July, I happened to read in a newspaper about a doctor in Delhi promising improved quality of life to patients like my sister through immunotherapy.
Our optimism rose to a new high when this immunotherapist offered solace and promise of cure.
At the same time, my younger sister travelled to Shimoga in Karnataka with our uncle to pick up a miracle powder out of chosen tree bark. It was meant as a miracle cure. We had not yet lost hopes.
In August, my twin began to experience shortness of breath and chest pain. To add to our sorrow, the hospital hesitated to admit her as an emergency patient. Left with no option, we looked up to the local immunologist for advice, but to no avail. We spent the next few days, monitoring her pulse and oxygen concentration.
On September 9, she left this mortal world to unite with our dear Dad and live in peace--forever.
Today, as I remember my twin I wonder why she had to go first. After all, she had come into the world a few minutes later than me. What I feel like is beyond words.