Travel Blog - Journey, Stories and Experiences

Scorching heat and I with nothing in my hand decided to leave for Gangtok , a place named the cleanest city in India, a place most disciplined, a place whose beauty is incomparable. Confused? Read The Last Part Last night in Hotel Jagat Inn in Siliguri I was encouraged by a friend of mine Vivek Gautam who told me his story when he was stuck at a place and had to steal blankets from a hotel to sleep at night. I still remember the conversation. I was alone physically but there were many people with me while I needed support. Again there were the same friends whom I mentioned in my Part 7 of another series when I was hospitalised. I remember Vibha was as calm as she has always been on the phone. She is always like nothing has happened. I started to believe this was normal. I remember Ruqaiya laughing her heart out at my situation. I decided to go to Gangtok from Bagdogra. I called Chandani's father from the airport and asked for the directions from Bagdogra. He briefed m

"You don't choose your family, you get it", I had read this quote a long time ago and the first thing I imagined that time was my sister. Fighting with her almost everyday grooved this quote because I thought, I really would not have chosen her. My sister was informed about my condition a day after I was admitted. In the cab when I was going to the hospital, I asked my mother to call and tell her but my father said, don't worry, no need to get her distressed, you will be fine tomorrow . I was not sure. While in the hospital that night, I again asked my mother to call her and tell everything. I knew having her beside me would make me confident. The next day she came from Delhi. She wore purple Jockey top and had a calm look on her face. I don't know what she was thinking looking at her brother whose face was all distorted, but she was calm. She was the best support I could have possibly got with anyone's presence. She would motivate me everyday around thousand

Twenty bottles of plasma (blood), five bottles of albumen, countless bottles of all the nutrients like iron, sodium, calcium were consumed by me. I was surviving on just drips and milk. It was my eighth day in the ward. I was not listening to "He is still weak" now. Two days back at 10 am when doctors arrived for their regular routine round checkup, my sister asked me to lift my hand so that I can warm up before they see. I told her, " Today I will not leave the doctor if he says no improvement to me ". The doctor arrived and asked me to lift my hand. I applied power equivalent to lifting a 14 kg household gas cylinder. I lifted my hands. Both of them upto my shoulder level like Hitler's salute. This time the words that came out of his mouth were different. He said, " There is very slight improvement, but there is, let's see what happens ". My sister was very happy. She could have danced in the ward if allowed to. I was happy to see her, while eve