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MUMBAI: It was the Indian Idol season again. Raj had accompanied Nisha but had sat in the audience to watch the performance of India’s top 10. Most of the singers were in their late teens or early twenties. Aspiring boys and girls. They were to perform in front of a panel of five judges.
Raj looked at them and his chest swelled with pride. One of the judges was—Nisha. She wore a blue hat and his favourite shiny blue kurta with golden embroidery. No rimmed glasses, or beanies. Raj suggested that she wore that gorgeous wig that looked like her original hair to “complete her look,” but Nisha shrugged and picked up a matching cap instead. Her face looked pale yet it glowed. She actually looked gorgeous.
Every judge had to give his or her feedback to the participants. Nisha was sensitive enough to not openly criticise anyone. No matter how badly they sang, she always mixed constructive praise with negative feedback. Her first few sentences never contained the words “horrible,” “pathetic,” or “terrible.” She always suggested how the rendition could have been better; how the participant could have improved if she had not fumbled at such and such juncture; how he stretched a note or pulled down another unnecessarily. And so on. But the advice was always dished out with a smile. So Nisha-ish.
Every participant tried his or her best. In the later stages, the competition became tougher and tougher. It was becoming more and more difficult for judges to decide—who remains in the competition and who is to be sent back home? And every day, it had to be someone’s unlucky day.
The scores that day indicated that a very talented eighteen-year old female singer would be the next to go. From the way she’d sung, Raj knew she had the potential to be a career singer. But her eyes said something else. As if she knew what was coming and blamed herself for it. She believed herself that she should be eliminated because she wasn’t good enough. Raj was surprised to find that—Nisha could also read her mind. So when the inevitable was announced, Nisha got up, walked up to the stage and hugged the girl.
Then Nisha did the unthinkable. She removed her cap. In front of the camera, on national TV, on prime time. With millions of viewers watching. Then Nisha took the cordless mike and spoke to the girl:
“You must be wondering why I removed my head gear that has become my trademark, today. You must be wondering why I always wore a cap or hat. Since when does a woman wear a hat? Is this a new fashion trend among celebrities? So let me tell you my whole story. As a young girl, I always loved singing. Like you. My parents had other plans for me. Yet I persisted. And I succeeded in becoming a professional singer. And remained one for more than five years.”
“Then a calamity hit me. I was diagnosed with lung cancer about a year ago,” said Nisha.
There was pin drop silence in the auditorium.
“The doctors have written me off. I don’t have enough time, they say,” said Nisha.
More eerie silence.
“My voice was gone. My singing is not of the quality that it once was. Chemotherapy ensured that my hair too was gone,” said Nisha.
Why she was narrating this sob story, some wondered.
“But so what? I still love doing the things that I loved doing. I’m bald. I don’t care. I know some people will laugh at me and call me a bald-lady. Others will feel sorry for me. But I don’t care. I wear a hat or a cap or a beanie, if I feel too cold. And I still pursue my passion with the same fervour I once had. Let people consider me a ‘weirdo.’ I cannot sing. Yet I compose music. For professional albums, and I get paid. If cancer cannot stop me, nothing can stop you. This is what I wanted to tell you,” concluded Nisha.
Raj was stunned at the audience’s reaction. The audience cheered and gave her a standing ovation. The judges too stood up and clapped. Nisha was hailed as a young brave woman.
Meet the new Nisha. The cancer had taken away her voice but not her passion for music. Because music lived within her. In every single breath of hers, she breathed music. From a singer, she had become a music composer. With her uncanny ear for melody, she could compose songs that became an all-time hit. Awards and accolades still chased her. But not as a singer. But as the best music composer. Nisha was back in action. She was finally taking control of her life.
You must be wondering whether her condition improved too. No, it had only gotten worse. She became weaker and thinner. She coughed blood. More blood. The cancer had spread to other parts of her body. And it was gripping Nisha further in its tentacles. Nisha fought hard. But the tentacles were tying her down. Giving her less space to breathe. Nisha had survived the first year. But Raj feared. What would happen in the second?
Raj noticed a remarkable improvement in Nisha’s attitude. Their bedroom had a bookshelf, full of courageous and inspirational books about cancer survivors. Nisha spent hours reading about how those survivors took up great challenges and succeeded.
Some cancer patients ran the Marathon. With fever, intense aches and pains. Why did they do it? To conquer themselves.
Some climbed mountain tops. Others ran successful businesses, travelled widely or used their cancer as an opportunity to bond with their children.
Raj knew Nisha was trying to conquer herself. She never used cancer as an excuse to do anything. Sometimes she sounded unreasonable. But well, that was Nisha.
She had been in and out of the hospital frequently. She hated doctors. She hated the very sight of white coats. Hated that smell of disinfectant which was so pervasive in all hospitals. Blood tests. CT scans. Funnily she called the machine as an X-Ray washing machine. Raj was both saddened and amused.
The doctors decided to remove a portion of her lungs. They considered that to be the primary source of Nisha’s cancer. Nisha was scared. Really scared. She didn’t want the doctors to split her wide open with a knife.
She squeezed Raj’s arms frequently and said, “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want the doctors to cut me.”
“I’ll always be with you,” reassured Raj. And he honoured that promise regardless of whether Nisha was happy or sad, calm or frightened, loved or disliked.
They took her away. Raj spent hours on the bench which was just a few yards away from the operation theatre. Hoping that his wife gets well. The operation was successful. And Nisha recovered slowly.
But the surgery made no difference to her quality of life. That was because the cancer had already spread to many other parts of her body. The damage was done. To fight the spread of cancer, the doctor suggested aggressive chemotherapy. That led to all kinds of rather terrible consequence.
With no rhyme or reason, Nisha would hurt herself. Out of nowhere, a wound would appear, say, on her right hand. Strangely, she would never remember hurting herself. Then a dark lump would appear on her left calf. Again she never remembered accidentally bumping into something. Her mouth would become dry and sore. She would have frequent tummy upsets.
Chemotherapy was making Nisha’s condition worse. Her condition became so bad that she requested the doctor to reduce the dosage or stop the treatment completely. The doctors then very reluctantly agreed to reduce the dosage.
Raj was impressed with his wife. Nothing could break her spirit. Nisha had become a champion for cancer patients. She would participate in any ad campaign that said something to the effect: “Yes, cancer is curable and preventable.”
Nisha did many television shows and interviews to increase awareness about lung cancer. She spoke freely about her disease and how she was coping. Through her shows and ad campaigns, she tried to raise awareness about the dangers of smoking—both active and passive.
Whenever Raj switched on the television, she was there. She was actually everywhere, in all kinds of caps and hats!
What about Raj? Well, his career was back on track. He got another movie deal. He was accepting only one movie in a year. Rest of the time he was choosing to spend time with his wife—as much as he could manage.
The judges clapped. The audience cheered. The Indian Idol session was over. Raj moved towards the dais and Nisha slowly tried to get up. He held her hands as she stepped out of the dais. They slowly moved out of the auditorium and into their car. And drove away.
When they reached their flat, Nisha noticed something.
She was hit by a wave of emotions. Her heart skipped a beat or two...
