It was around 12.30am, when my dad had gotten the call that his elder brother (I call him Manippa) is having some breathing difficulties and is being admitted to the hospital. I was in my room trying to fix an odd bug that my Mac was giving, not letting me do my work. My dad decided that it’s best he went to the hospital just to make sure that the admitting procedures went smoothly. Since my Macbook wasn’t really working, I decided to tag along with him and give him some company, since it was already quite late.
We had decided to UberPool to KTPH since it was cheap and there would probably be no one else at that hour. But two random Chinese guys hopped onto the Uber for a super short trip and paid 60 cents. Yes that’s right, 60 cents. Probably would have reached the hospital at around 1am or so, cause of that 60 cent detour.
The next 15 minutes happened so fast that my brain could not consciously process most of it, but subconsciously a lot was happening, so let me attempt to form that bridge now.
We walked to the A&E admissions ward and told them that my uncle was admitted. The attendee looked at us and immediately asked “Mohan?”. I guess he might be the only indian patient admitted so he probably made that link. Dad said the full name and proceeded to take his wallet out to register his IC. I guessed I probably needed to wait outside as they usually only let one person to visit the admitted individual. But the attendee just said “Come with me, both of you can come.” Oh he wasn’t even asking for an IC. This guy is nice. Or maybe Manippa’s condition is critical enough that he does not wish to waste time.
“Hi, I’m Dr Raj. Shall we head there?” Probably not a good place to talk standing in the middle of patients all around. Nice doc. First time inside this place either way, so let me just take the time to study the surroundings. Heard all about night calls and A&E.
“Would you like to have a seat?” the slightly plump but polite doctor asked my dad. My dad, being my dad, said it’s fine and asked the doctor what’s the situation like. The doctor started by explaining what had happened at the home.
Before I continue, I should provide with a little background on Manippa.
Manippa is one of the most unique beings in my life. He was born with a serious case of down syndrome and mental retardation. On top of that, he was also mute, unable to speak or even make any distinguishable sounds. He is unable to perform very basic tasks like using the toilet when needed, to even indicating if he is in pain or not. This made taking care of him extremely challenging as it would be impossible to identify when he needs or wants something, or if he doesn’t like something. He won’t be able to say he is hungry, he might just sit around until he faints. Likewise he won’t be able to say that he prefers one type of food to another. His expressions are generally neutral.
One most fascinating aspects about him is that he often has prolonged conversations with imaginary beings. Although mute, he often seems engaged in conversations with himself (or maybe imaginary friends), sometimes smiling, sometimes disagreeing, sometimes just chilling out and having a chat about the mysteries of the universe. But his mind would always seem very engaged.
I grew up with Manippa playing with me since I was born. He stayed with us, my grandmother mostly taking care of him and my dad supporting his medical expenses and finances. He used to go with walks with me, while I used to hold his rough fingers. Although mentally unstable, his soul was a pure one, much like that of a child. Innocent and harmless. Always full of love. Especially for his imaginary friends.
Thinking of it now, with a better understanding of mental conditions, I don’t even know the extent of mental issues that he might have been facing. He might have even been schizophrenic, only God knows. But through all that, over the years, with the relationship that was built with my father and grandmother, he was a functional member of the family. He would sweep the house when told to. He knows when to come and eat, how to wash his plate, how to serve his own food, how to pray, and how to be someone that fits in the family.
However, he had an anxiety issue where he felt conscious of using the toilet. Initially this was not as much as it grew to be in the recent years, where he would rather do his business in his pants while sitting down, than to make his way to the toilet being seen by others at home. To make things worse, he used to take his business and hide it around the house, so that no one would know that he did it. Maybe his imaginary friends were telling him to do that, as he became more creative over time in how he executed it.
It was after one of such incidents, where he had left his business in my room, that my family had reached the tipping point and made the call that he cannot stay with us at home any longer. It was unfortunate and extremely saddening. My grandmother had to leave her own son in a care home. We believed it was for the best, maybe for him as well.
“The home had called in an ambulance at around 12.15. He was last seen around 10pm, quite active and able, and going to bed. At 12 plus, they found him not breathing, and with no pulse. The caretakers attempted CPR and called an ambulance. We performed CPR and gave him oxygen to try to revive him, and bring back his pulse. Unfortunately, we were not able to bring back his heartbeat. So actually he’s been pronounced dead since 30 minutes back.”***
Holy shit.
The air around suddenly felt heavier. I held my dad for a moment, I could sense him losing balance. I can’t recall what the doctor said after that, something about not knowing the cause of death, and cardiac arrest, and not needing police involved. I took a moment to digest the information.
Manippa was no more.
The following 48 hours were absolutely surreal.
I had informed my aunt and brother, who brought my grandmother to the hospital. We had to arrange for the funeral service and cremation to be done on the same day. Held a small funeral at our place, only informing close friends and family. Went for the cremation in the evening, and went to collect the ashes the following morning. Did the necessary rituals, submerging the ashes into the sea. And with that it was over.
All that we become at the end of it all is simply ash and bones, returning back to the ground we came from.
Manippa, you will stay in my heart till my body becomes ash and bones. May you find peace where you’re heading. And maybe meet the friends that you’ve always been talking to. This world is too cruel for your happiness, you will find it there, trust me. We will miss you very much. Rest in peace.
*** This is only based off my poor memory and were not the exact words of the doctor. If it sounds like something a doctor would not say then it’s probably made up by my mind.