KOCHI: Prayers with the families of those who died in the air crash in Nepal on Sunday. Om shanti.
The viral FB Live video of the Yeti Airlines flight going down with 72 people on board has been looping in my mind. Yet another grim reminder of the unpredictability of life. Just seconds before the deadly crash, four friends on a trip to Pokhara in the Himalayan nation were joyfully airing their aircraft’s descent for landing. And then, boom! Just flames.
Another video of a Yeti Airlines flight attendant, who died in the crash, also has been going viral. Oshin Ale can be seen smiling onboard an aircraft. Though social media claimed the video was taken moments before the crash, latest reports clarify it was recorded in September last year. Oshin’s father had reportedly asked her to take leave on that day to celebrate Maghe Sankranti festival. The 24-year-old promised she would be home after two flights. She didn’t make it.
Over the past one month, I have been contemplating life and death. Extreme illness and excruciating pain can fuel thoughts beyond ‘normal’ realms, I realised. I, too, had a first-hand experience of life’s unpredictability. It’s amazing. Top docs at a top hospital in Kochi concluded that I go for a stellate ganglion block injection to manage recurring ‘mystery’ headaches that had got me researching on the concept of assisted suicide.
All I remember was the needle pricking my neck. Blackout. Doctors resuscitated me; one of them asked me if I could identify myself. As I did, gasping with a tube stuck into my mouth, they explained I had gone into a seizure, and an “arrest”.
I was taken out of the ICU after a day. The worst was yet to come: the evil headache would return. Back with a bang, indeed! And the battle still continues. Well, misery can strike in mysterious ways. The thought reminded me of an amusing article by author Mary DeVries in the Medium that I had bookmarked last year.
“2,34,000 Americans a year end up in the emergency room after a bathroom injury,” she writes, before presenting her case. “80% of those fall getting into or out of the bath or shower.” Mary goes on to remind us of “famous” bathroom deaths, such as the cases of Whitney Houston and Jim Morrison – both died in the bathtub. And, of course, the shocking case of French singer Claude Franois, who was electrocuted to death while trying to fix a bulb in his bathroom.
Finally, Mary gets to her story.
“I’d been wanting to take a bath since I injured myself a few weeks ago. When your body is bruised, battered, and achy of course a soak in a tub sounds like the perfect idea….
“Four weeks post accident I decided the time had come. My muscles were screaming after a physio appointment but I had gained enough mobility that at least going upstairs was possible if not easy. I had my spouse standing by to help ease me into the tub and a plastic sleeve to cover my cast.”
She terms the feeling “heaven on earth”. And then begins her struggle to get out of the tub.
“I couldn’t use the casted arm in any way and my other arm had a wound that shouted if I brushed it against anything. Only one leg was fully functional. The other one was picking and choosing which muscles would function normally, explode with pain, or fail to work at all,” she writes.
“I sat there naked, wet and cold in the bathtub all the bubbly bliss long since evaporated.”
In the end, with “great pain and effort” she manages to get on her knees and out of the tub.
“Hot baths have always been my go-to in self-care. Hopefully I’ll be able to enjoy them again someday,” she concludes. “The important thing is I’m still alive.”
I can understand where she’s coming from. Misery and pain can, sometimes, stimulate profound thoughts about life – you know, value of life, gratitude, etc.
I still remember jotting down in my diary words of wisdom from Swiss British philosopher Alain de Botton during the 2020 Jaipur Lit Fest.
The world was yet to come to terms with the pandemic at that time. With his enviable eloquence Alain noted that the crisis should act as a reminder that “to be human is to be very alive to danger and suffering”, and it would serve humanity well to remember that “we will all be humbled by the forces of death in the end”.
“The more, in a strange way, we are able to see suffering as written into the contract of existence, we may be able to find reserves of patience and tolerance within ourselves,” said the ace writer and founder of School of Life in London.
Such realisations, he added, could be the “route to charity, both towards ourselves and others… and fellow feeling”.
Alain wrapped up saying that the night sky was a wonderful teacher of humility. “Every night, just look at the stars and you are being given a gentle and dignified reminder of your own tininess and insignificance in the larger mysterious realm.”
Feeling insignificant, he stressed, was “far from being a depressing thing”, and it could rather “relieve the ego from the pressure… to assert itself to try and establish its dominance”.
“To feel small and powerless is, oddly, not just a humiliation, it can be a route to peace,” he concluded. Brilliantly put, isn’t it?
Okay, time for me to go pick up some of Alain’s books online. Wish you folks a peaceful, enlightening week ahead.
Live, horse, and you will get grass: “If you persist through difficulty, you will eventually reap benefits. The phrase of encouragement comes from a story of a farmer who plants grass for his horse and tells the horse to live until the grass has time to grow.”
As sure as you live: “Certainly or without a doubt; completely as expected or assumed as true based on previous experience or evidence.”
Alive and well: “1. Alive, especially after having been in danger or thought to be in danger; 2) Of a concept or practice, flourishing despite a perception of decline elsewhere.”
Live a dog’s life: “To lead a life that is difficult, unpleasant, or boring.”
You only live once: “A phrase that prioritises action, and often impulsivity, over contemplation in the pursuit of life experiences”.
Live a charmed existence: “To lead a life characterised or seemingly protected by marked good fortune or luck, without (or rarely) encountering trouble, danger, or misfortune.”
Live by/on (one’s) wits: “To survive or make a living through one’s intellect and resourcefulness.”
Live for the moment: “To focus on the pleasure one can have in the present, without concern for the consequences one may face in the future.”
Live large: “To have a luxurious lifestyle. The term sometimes implies that such a lifestyle will be temporary.”
Live off the grid: “1. To live without one’s home connected to municipal utility systems, such as the water supply or the main electrical grid; 2. To exist outside of governmental observation; to be untraceable through any means of communication that could be linked to one’s identity.”
Live it up: “To really enjoy oneself.”
Live to the hilt/ Live a full life: “To do as much as one can or wants to in life; to pursue all of one’s interests.”