I'm Somesh

Circa: Feb, 2003

I’ve been asked several times these days, how does it feel to be out of hospital?

And I reply, it always depends on whether you’re coming out in a morgue van, or back home in a cab.

Fortunately, I came back home in a cab. Bones successfully joined, with the help of steel plate and a few screws. Thankfully not all of my friends, who’re ever so ready to pull my leg, asked me, “Have you been screwed?”

I wouldn’t have answered that, keeping in mind the dual meaning the word carries.

And to top it all, the homecoming was a joint one. Dad also came back with me, healthier than when we took him to hospital.

Father and son… One admitted to hospital due to heart attack, the other taken after breaking his bones in a motorbike accident, on consecutive days. Both admitted to the same hospital, in different rooms, on different floors. One not meeting the other (Dad was told I was on a reporting assignment and out of station). Both emotional with their own concerns… One, for not having youngest son around when he was unwell… The other, for being not able to see his father in the most difficult days of his life… Sounds almost like screenplay of a film, especially those coming in from Bollywood.

A friend (Purushottam Kattel) had remarked during his visit, “Don’t tell David Dhavan. He’s sure to make a film on it, starring Govinda.” I’m planning to tell David once I meet him (Kantipur Television will go on air in a few months, and you never know!).
Funny my friends are. Yet they’re the best you could ever have. Hardly had I had a moment when I was left alone, or was in despair. Confined to the room (Not harmed badly, with the exception of one broken arm), I have felt blessed several times during past few days (two weeks in fact). During the entire stay in hospital, there was never a moment when I was short of anything. Lunch, beverages, snacks, chocolates, everything was brought in, by close friends. Friends staying overnight (one a night), sleeping on a carpet just beside my bed have made me emotional. They’ve taken turns to stay, so that they could help, in case I needed it. There were times when I asked visitors what they’d want to have, “Rolls, Coca Cola, Coffee, Tea?”, while I was on bed. Imagine a patient asking his visitors that question. All because my friends had enough heart to bring them for me and even others. Never did they make me feel that they were short of funds.

When a close friend (Shivesh Verma) came in to see me, alarmed at being notified of my accident, he enquired at the nurse station about a patient who’s had an accident and had an arm broken (assuming that I’d be hard to locate just on the basis of my name). The nurse replied, “You mean Somesh Verma? He’s in room number 614.”

Shivesh, who has been doing his MBBS, was shocked, and came to my room, exasperated, asking, “What have you done man? They all know you by name.” He knew that nurses don’t remember names of patients and knew them by the complications they had. It was a testimony of number of visitors (read: friends) that came to see me. Those from office would bunk it, just to be with me. Others would try and find time to come and see me.

It is natural to be pensive after going through an accident (especially on a busy Kathmandu road, where your life was at risk due to incoming vehicles). It’s often said that everything happens for a reason and God tests you through his experiments. As I feel, this perhaps was a lesson for me, so that I can appreciate life much more. It has been an emotional rollercoaster for me, with regards to family. But on a bigger scale, it has been a moment that makes me appreciate the friends I have acquired through years and what they are to me. I’ve learnt to appreciate them more (not that I never appreciated them), as they’ve made me feel I’m special and not alone at all. It would look too formal if I thank them, for it would mean so little. Yet the gratitude I have, even if I don’t show it, is immense. Thank you fellas, for being there, when I needed you most!

Circa: Feb, 2013 (4th, to be exact)

A decade is a long time in a man’s life, yet a tiny speck in timeline. You get lost, found, on multiple occasions. Life seems as it was, yet its meaning changes over a period of time. Some wisdom is acquired, while some innocence is lost in a span like this.

Reading a piece after a decade, makes you emotional (if it’s a diary you hadn’t opened in such a long time). Yet, it helps you appreciate what you’ve had, all along.

That accident definitely changed yours truly’s life. It’s amazing that a simple accident like that (not life threatening by any means) could mean so much. But the meaning is in the way you take it, through every event of life. Sounds like a lecture here, but it happens to be true.

Of all the friends that made such an impact in my life then, I’m blessed to have most of them around. Yes, some have distanced themselves by their own acts; some have been distanced through acts of yours truly, yet most have had the courage to stick by me, for all these years. And for that, they need to be appreciated. Further, they need to be congratulated (for the patience they’ve shown in handling me). I’ve been lucky to have your love (still!).

Yours truly reckons that some of his innocence has been lost over the years (even if there’s no gain in the wisdom part) and that shall continue to happen in times to come. Hopefully, some of their patience rubs off on me and I become less difficult a person (that I am, by my own admission).

For the ones, I’ve been able to keep, I am grateful (to them invariably) and for the ones whom I’ve lost over the years, I’ve no regrets. Life goes on and I don’t know how I’d view that incident, as another decade passes by. Hopefully, I’d be a bit wiser.

And yes, despite working in nation’s premier Television Channel for a decade, I’m yet to meet David Dhawan and tell him my story.