“Have toothbrush, Will travel”

 

Photo by amirhosein esmaeili on Unsplash

“Have toothbrush, will travel” was the motto of my twenty-year-old free spirit.

What else did one need then?

Without a second thought, hesitation or a care in the world I used to jump in and out of trains

in my left of centre avatar

from Bombay (then) to Calcutta (also then) on the Howrah Mail

crossing the country from west to east

in a crowded compartment with an uncluttered mind!

Arrived at Ahmedabad station in the early dawn 

waited patiently for the Udaipur Passenger 

painfully slow

halting village by village

to pick up the farmers.

As a student in Bryn Mawr College, 

the epitome of American suburbia

I missed the pace of the city – 

my city of origin, Mumbai

my singular goal was to complete all assignments 

just so I could spend a weekend in New York City.

Walking the length and breadth

of the grid, taking in the sights and sounds;

although the smell and squalor were different

it still took memories back to familiar urbanscapes

bringing a sense of comfort in home.

And when I visited my friends in Europe – 

there was one home in Paris and another in Milan, 

and I spent every trip on an overnight train 

being woken up in the middle of the night

to show my Swiss visa en route

always prepared for an immigration officer

China when it opened

Germany, Greece, Spain

these are only some of my travels

Out of and in India 

that was then

All these and many more such were not mere adventures, but part of my existence in between my education and work life. 

Clad in a shirt and mostly scruffy jeans I traversed the world, crossing one city to another, packing all my needs on my back! 

Even after I so-called settled down with a spouse and two children, I continued to wander, but no longer alone.

Not so suddenly, one day, everything changed.

Four decades later, sitting in my daughter’s living room, I was confronted, “Mom, what is wrong? You will only be taking the subway from Brooklyn to Manhattan.”

I had planned a lunch date with an old friend in the city, during my recent stay.

“Why are you looking so anxious?”

Am I? Probably. Yes, I was trying to be brave, but the confidence I lacked was oozing from my face.

What has changed?

My physical self is not the same. Or so I believe. 

My fling to the right avatar

that my body has faced the onslaught

of the harshness of chemotherapy, 

and the hidden damage of radiation, 

only to bombard the tiny lump 

that surfaced two years ago. 

that I now ingest a single white tablet, 

which looks innocuous 

but brings on almost daily fatigue. 

That the doctors only prepared me 

for the immediate side effects, 

not the long-term devastation. 

That my muscles can no longer 

sustain long walks or multiple staircases. 

And the fact that after going through cancer, 

there is an emotional and mental toll on my system, 

so silent and insidious, 

that the self on the surface is not even aware.

But this has never been revealed, either to me or to another – until now, in my writing. 

For one year, I did not travel. I learned a new phrase about myself – “immuno- compromised”. If I met anyone, it was only in a garden space outdoors. I had to make several compromises about choices. 

But then, my toothbrush became restless, and wanted to move again. Slowly, but unsurely, I wanted to be me again, to start going to some places.

Back to my conversation in New York: was I anxious to take a local subway?

I gave my daughter a stock reply:

“Of course, I am not anxious to take the subway.”

“Of course not.” 

My middle thought avatar

I am only mentally picturing the number of stairs,

the steps I will need to walk,

submerged in the bowels of the city,

and what if I make a mistake.

What if, alone in the underground I get lost,

what if the trains stop,

what if I do not get off where I need to,

what if I will have to walk more than my muscles can handle

what if what if what if

something does happen

is it nothing?????

Yes, years later, just the comfort of my own toothbrush does not seem to suffice anymore!

But my spirit must not allow defeat. My spirit will not allow defeat.

I brush aside all the doomsday scenarios, helped by my daughter – “what’s the worst thing that can happen? Let’s picture that.”

“You may take the wrong train, go in the opposite direction. What can you do – get off the first train and look for a train on the opposite platform. What else?”

I could not see anything else just then. 

Taking a few deep breaths, I knew I would need to find my old self once again. Maybe not as free, but certainly not shackled to the aftermath of an illness.

The medical profession may have provided a cure. But it is only the mind that can heal me completely. A cure is not enough to live life again. I want to embrace my life and find my spirit again, completely healed, totally free.

Breathing out the tension, I took the plunge, and in twenty minutes found myself out of the underground, and on the street where I needed to be. 

“This was easy. I have reached,” beeped a message on the phone, to reassure my daughter, anxiously waiting.

 My old self walked the grid on the city again, although at a slower pace. 

I may not have carried a toothbrush, but instead I had many more tools to help me navigate. Today I have a mobile phone to communicate, google maps to show the way, multiple cards and currency and all the possible comfort objects I may possibly need to protect me from the sun, the rain or the cold wind.

What do I not need? My I-cannot-do this, I-am-limited attitude.

It is a mindset, I remind myself – I am more than the illness, I am still a free spirit inside, and I keep trying outside so that I can keep the spirit of the free traveler alive! 

What is life but a journey? A journey of joy, discovery and adventure. 

Yes, today, I have the will of more than a toothbrush, and I do travel!