Introduction Note for Today's Post
A Note from the Author (July 2026):
I am sharing an excerpt from my personal archives today. This reflection was written in May 2012, just before my dear friend Dr. Malhotra was about to return to me in Hisar in June 2012. Today, as I look back and post this, she is no longer with us in this world. But her memories, her indomitable spirit, and the deep affection we shared remain forever alive in my heart.
When I read the poem written by my daughter for the first time, titled "When Headaches Haunted Like a Ghost," I became nostalgic about my own headaches. And then, quite literally, I developed a severe headache since yesterday. The reason... was perhaps that yesterday, when I went to a neighbor's house to check on the maintenance of a room requested for Dr. Malhotra, the landlady expressed her unwillingness to keep her. This made me anxious, and as a result, a terrible pain started in my head, which remains just as intense even now. Dr. Malhotra served as a doctor for many years at the Chudamani Hospital in Hisar; she is a gynecologist and surgeon. She is now 94 years old. She is a very good friend of mine and wished to stay with me. However, some 5-6 years ago... when she was helping a doctor couple run a hospital... during those days, she collided with a table and fell. Her hip bone was cracked, and her daughter took her away to Bhopal... since then, she has been there... but every year her phone call kept coming saying, "I am coming," though perhaps her daughter kept restraining her due to her advanced age... but this time she has arrived... at present, she is with her brother in Delhi.... When my daughter, Vipin Choudhary, went to visit her at her brother's house, she told me, "Mummy, I felt like crying looking at her, she has become very weak..." Her niece told her, "I will get her ears treated and then send her to your house in Hisar..."
The Truth of Life in the Mirror of Poetry
This poem written by my daughter, Vipin Choudhary, is not just a title; it is a complete, profound saga. That pain, which once belonged to my grandmother, Samakaur, eventually reached me, and my children would try to soothe it by pressing my forehead with their tiny palms. These lines from the poem shake one to the core:
"Years later, it was revealed
That the notorious headache was nothing else,
But the sharp knot of an unresolved, mismatched relationship with the father..."
Only the vision of a writer and the sensitive heart of a daughter can perceive where a physical illness intertwines with the soul and the friction of relationships. That sharp knot of a mismatched relationship untied with time, and the pain vanished somewhere far away. Yet, the memories endure.
An Intimate Hesitation and Waiting
When a stranger reads such a deeply personal post, it is natural to feel a momentary shiver of hesitation or vulnerability. But the truth is, the pain and affection embedded in this entire account are universal. The tears that welled up in my daughter's eyes upon seeing Dr. Malhotra's frailty, and her niece’s reassurance that she will send her back to us in Hisar after getting her ears treated—all of this proves that despite all hardships, care, love, and human bonds remain alive in this world.
Now, I eagerly await the completion of her ear treatment so that I can bring her back to my home in Hisar. As soon as she arrives, the courtyard of old memories will blossom with joy once again. This will not only be healing for her health but will also forever soothe the deep anxiety and old headache residing in my own heart.
Below is the original Hindi poem by Vipin Choudhary that inspired these reflections:
जब प्रेत की तरह आता था सिर-दर्द
हम दोनों भाई-बहन का बचपन युवावस्था के कई क़दम नीचे था
और माँ इतनी युवा थी कि
कायदे से उस पाक अवस्था में
किसी भी दर्द को एक माँ के करीब आते हुए भी डरना चाहिए था
पर दर्द समेत चमड़े के जूतों के
आता था
और सीधा सिर पर वार करता था
माँ सिर-दर्द के कोड़ों से बचने को
करवटे बदलती
सिर पर दुपट्टे को कस कर बाँधती
ढेरों कप चाय पीती
और दर्द को दूर धकेलने की
नाकाम कोशिशों के बाद थक कर
सो जाती
हम बच्चे थे
इस स्थिति में
अपने छोटी हथेलियों से माँ का सिर दबाना ही जानते थे
घड़ी भर सिर दबाते-दबाते
वहीं माँ के अगल-बगल झपकियाँ मारते नींद में लुढ़क जाते
कुछ सालों बाद जब माँ के सिर का दर्द बूढा हो गया
तब उसने माँ का पिण्ड छोड़ा और
बरगद की जमींदोज़ जड़ों के नज़दीक
अपना बुढ़ापा काटने चला गया
कई सालो बाद मालूम हुआ
सिर का वह बदमाश दर्द कुछ और नहीं
पिता से माँ के अनसुलझे-बेमेल रिश्ते की पैनी गाँठ थी
यक़ीनन पिता से वह बेउम्मीदी वाले कच्चे रिश्ते के दूर जाने की साथ ही
वह बूढा दर्द भी कहीं नरक सिधार गया होगा
एक कच्ची-पक्की सीख के साथ कि
बेमेल रिश्ते के छोटे से छेद में घुस कर
एक दर्द अपना आसानी से अपना घर बना सकता है
source:
1. https://www.pachnadapoetry.com/poem/p_94d6bf8891a9
2.https://www.hindisamay.com/content/1123/1/--.cspx
XOXO
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