The Kunga I will always remember

Today I had the opportunity to meet someone for a brief while, someone small but mighty significant. This boy goes by the name Kunga. The only information I had about him prior to the meeting was the tragic news I heard a few months ago about a girl who was run over by a car outside the main school gate in Gangtok. She was rushed to Delhi for treatment the very next day and luckily there was good news waiting for the parents. She did not need to have her toes amputated, as was the verdict of the local doctors in Sikkim. What is the connection between this girl and Kunga, you ask? The girl I am talking about is Kesang, Kunga's elder sister who is a class three student and only eight years old. Between the two of them, they have another sibling but I do not know her name or age. Kunga is 4 years old and he just started school this year.

I was in the DKK bhawan to visit a patient. An uncle who had recently been diagnosed with stomach cancer. He has already completed two cycles of chemo and is waiting for his third cycle now. Except for his hair loss, he looked healthy and jovial, his usual self, which was a relief. During our conversation he spoke about a patient in the opposite room who was suffering from blood cancer. This patient turned out to be this tiny four year old boy, Kunga.

A part of me died as I took the first few steps towards Kunga. He was sitting with a shawl wrapped around his body, watching some cartoon channel. He seemed so oblivious to the irony of life that was shadowing him in the background. His thinning hair was proof of all the chemotherapy he must have gone through. We, my junior and I, tried to talk to him but he was very shy. He had a permanent smile on his face and his eyes were glued to the television set the entire time. I had to fight back tears as I watched him from a distance. What could this boy have possibly done wrong to deserve such an illness at such a young age? My heart goes out to the young parents who were only recuperating from their daughter's accident when their world came crashing down once again.

Years ago, I had to undergo treatment during the winter vacations. I was an epileptic patient. They say you can never be fully cured of epilepsy. The chances of relapse will always be there, but I haven't had a fit in twenty years so I would like to believe that that phase is over. Today the chance meeting with Kunga opened my eyes once again. We always say we should be grateful for who we are or what we have. We clearly know this. But it takes such a meeting to truly understand the value of human life. I have encountered a variety of stories during my numerous field trips but today was different. I still have the image of this young boy glued to my head. I keep asking myself, "Isn't there anything I can do to help him get better?" The worst feeling of all is that of helplessness and I felt it times hundred today.

I'm going to pray for you tonight, little man. And every night after that. I hope you feel stronger soon enough. I really, really do.