Smiling Mantra

On that bright-sunny Saturday morning in mid February, 2008; my family in US was having a video conference with my family back in India. When my father inquired about my 9 year old daughter’s food and environmental allergies (from cashews, pistachios, and dust mites), we informed him that the allergies were diminishing. My daughter herself merrily told everyone about all the good foods she had started eating again. That conversation ended smilingly.

***

Since the weather was really good after a long spell of storm-rain-and-chilly days, I decided to help my daughter with her math homework at the park. She rode her bike (with her backpack), and I walked along with her. Together we reached the square wooden table in our lush green campus.

As she opened the book to “Finding Averages”, I found her rubbing the eyes. I got up, fixed her hair band (to keep her hair out of the eyes) and signaled her to start.

When she started reading the definition and the example, I noticed that her eyes had started watering. To keep some possible-invisible-irritants out of her hands, I helped her wash hands with the water.

Then I started explaining her how to solve the sample problem. But instead of solving the problem I saw her scratching herself.

A few minutes later, she got up from her seat, came and sat on my lap with her legs crossed behind my waist; hugging me tightly with her head buried inside my shoulder. I heard her saying (almost crying) that she was feeling extremely itchy.

In that moment, I knew something was wrong and immediately poured out 1 teaspoon of Benadryl from her emergency kit (which she was carrying, just by chance) to calm down her body.

We returned back to her homework. But I noticed that her reaction was continuously increasing. In that moment, it struck me that somehow, she had touched one her big allergens cashews or pistachios; perhaps from the table. I realized that her body needed another dose. Since I knew it would put her to sleep while standing, I decided to rush back home right then.

The moment we stepped inside home, I administered its second dose. I hurriedly washed her hands with soap, changed her clothes, and tucked her inside the bed.

Standing there, looking at her sleeping; I thanked God and took a deep breathe, realizing that she was out of danger.

I found myself in a state of shock, experiencing how things changed by 180 degrees in less than an hour. In that fearful moment, for the very first time I registered the meaning of the often heard-read-and-spoken phrase, “Life is unpredictable”.

***

I trudged down the steps with an increased sense of fear. My heavy body wanted to crash, but I knew I could not sit down unless I had washed each and every thing she had touched (to prevent the recurrence of such a reaction).

In that confused state of mind I washed the bike handle, the helmet, and the door knob with a wet cloth. Next, I emptied her backpack (holding it upside down) and put it on top of the pile of her clothes to be washed.

Tearing away the pages from her notebook, I felt my heart tearing apart with the question “Why on earth do these reactions happen only to my daughter?”

I felt my tears rolling down my cheeks while turning on the water tap with a tissue paper and washing her pencils in running water. I found myself contemplating about my decision to take her to the park.

Wiping the thick pages of her Math book with a fresh damp cloth, I heard my scared mind speak aloud. It was warning me that she can get such a reaction even while coming down the slide or doing the monkey bars in the park. Therefore (for her safety), perhaps I should keep her inside home.

When I was finally washing my hands with soap, I heard the garage open. I overheard my husband and son walking in cheerfully. In my fearful voice I shared with them, all that had happened while they were gone.

Since, I was feeling very depressed and wished to be left alone with my sleeping daughter; I asked them to attend the send-off party of our neighbor. After a few arguments (between me and my husband), I reluctantly yielded to the decision that I will go to the party once they were back.

***

Once they left, instead of going in for a shower (to get ready for the party) I found my drained body dragging me towards the bed.

I lay down next to my sleeping daughter with silent-continuous tears streaming out of my eyes. I started praying with my eyes shut tight. I sensed my palms placed (facing down) on my belly rising high and low with each passing breath.

In that quiet-and-still moment, when I could even hear the birds chirping outside the closed windows, I heard from within, “Everything happens for good, even if the good is not visible in that moment.” As soon as I heard these golden word, I saw my thoughts taking a U-turn and I continued to pray.

The next thought that surfaced was that of a handicapped child confined to his wheelchair in the park; something I had casually witnessed a few weeks ago. I remembered his smiling face while watching other kids running around. Then I zoomed into that extremely cheerful smile on his mothers face. In that heart warming moment, I realized that there are so many mothers in this world who are dealing with bigger problems (than mine) each day without complaining or being fearful. I heard myself say, “I am luckier than so many parents.” and sensed my hands wiping off my last-set-of-tears involuntarily.

Then , I heard myself saying that whatever happened had to happen. The best thing was that I was there with her and did all I could to prevent the reaction from escalating. Therefore, I will not stop my daughter from going to the playground or the park. But, I will make sure that she carries her emergency kit everywhere.

With similar positive thoughts rising up, I realized that it is only ‘this present moment’ I have in hand, nothing else. A moment in which, I can either choose to complain-brood-and-feel-insecure or enjoy-and-feel-secure-trusting-the-supreme-power.

Feeling recharged with those secure thoughts, I rose out of the bed smilingly. My body was no longer heavy and I felt like dancing.

In that joyous moment, I brought out a brand new heavy suit (salwar-kameez) and my favorite-yet-always-kept-away-for-a-very-special-occasion jewelry set to wear at my neighbor’s send-off party. Even though, I was aware that this was not a special occasion. But, I chose that outfit simply because I had realized I may never get a chance to wear it.

***

Ever since that day, I have started appreciating the importance of each moment. Now, I find myself smiling swaying to the beats of a cheerful song while driving even when I am stuck in the peak-hour traffic jam.

Now, my mantra for smiling is, “Since, this is the only moment I have available. Therefore, dig the good out of it even if it appears to be not-so-good."