Tremors that strengthened a bond

Parkinson’s disease (PD) is a severely debilitating disorder that usually affects people over the age of 60, but it is also occasionally seen in younger people and juveniles. It is a chronic and progressive disorder, which means that the condition worsens with time.

The disorder affects the Central Nervous System, where the neurons mainly in the area of the brain called ‘Substantia nigra’, either malfunction or die. Some of these dying neurons produce ‘dopamine’, a neurotransmitter, a chemical released to send signals to other nerve cells.

As the disease progresses, the amount of dopamine produced in the body lessens, thus leaving the patient with no control over his movement.

PD is characterised by tremors/shaking, rigidity, slow movement and difficulty in walking in the initial stages, followed by disturbed sleep patterns, thinking and behavioural abnormalities, and dementia (memory loss).

The cause of PD is unknown, and attributed to a combination of genetic and environmental factors. There is no cure for the disease, but only management of the symptoms through medicines, exercise and surgery (in severe cases) is possible.

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It was winter, and the nights were cold and harsh. The cold wave that was sweeping through the town killed homeless men and animals alike. So when Major Rathore opened the front door to pick up his morning newspaper, it was not surprising that he found a tiny brown dog, thin with cold and hunger, whimpering under it.
The Major grimaced. Muthuswamy, the Tamilian servant, came forward hearing the noise. “Never mind, I’ll take it away—” But before he could finish his sentence, the Major had given the poor creature a sharp kick that sent it flying out of the compound.

“Weakling of a dog!” the Major roared. “Weaklings have no place in my house!” A shocked and scared Muthuswamy slunk away to the kitchen. What temper the Major had! Muthuswamy found it difficult to spend a single day without getting on the wrong side of the Major. “Ordering and shouting at me all the time”, he complained to the driver, Kuldeep Singh. “Atleast you need to pander to his fancies only when he goes out. No wonder his son ran away!”

“His son never ran away. This crazy man threw him out— said he was ashamed of having a coward for a son”, said Kuldeep, munching on the onion pakoras that Muthuswamy was making. “Coward? Why, because he refused to join the army?” asked Muthuswamy.

“Not just that— the boy was more of the soft type. Kind-hearted, soft-spoken— everything that the Major considered unbefitting a man. He forced the boy to go hunting with him once, in an attempt to make a man out of him.

All the blood and gore terrified the kid. Shut himself up in his room for a week after that. You should have seen what a rage the Major flew into, so disgusted was he with the son’s behaviour.” “So that’s when the Major threw him out?” asked Muthuswamy, balancing a plate of pakoras, a teapot and a teacup on a tray.

“No. He disowned the boy only when he said he wants to become an artist or something. Threw him out and told him never to come back”, answered Kuldeep, thoroughly enjoying the gossip.

“Well, our bad luck that we have to serve him during his retirement”, sighed a tired Muthuswamy, and immediately shouted “Coming, Sir!” in response to a summons from the Major.

Muthuswamy nimbly walked into the living room, where the Major was impatiently waiting for his tea. “What’s the time, Muthuswamy?” he growled. “Err… it’s 4’o’ clock, Sir”, stammered a trembling Muthuswamy.

“It’s not 4’o’ clock! It’s five minutes past four!” shouted the Major. “Is this how you work?

No punctuality! No discipline! I’m warning you for the last time. I want my tea here at sharp four, failing which, you’ll lose your job!”

The Major proceeded to pick up his cup of tea. But no sooner did he lift it than it fell to the ground with a crash. A startled Muthuswamy stood in the corner.

“Muthuswamy! How dare you push me!” thundered the Major.

“But… but… I never..”

“Shut up! Now clean up this mess and get me a fresh cup!”

Muttering under his breath, Muthuswamy made his way to the kitchen. “What happened?”

asked Kuldeep.

“That man is driving me mad! He drops the cup himself and puts the blame on me!”

“He’s getting old, I suppose”, remarked Kuldeep. “Probably doesn’t like to admit it!”

Major Rathore, meanwhile, was quite confused himself. Though he had shouted at Muthuswamy, he realised it had been his own mistake. He looked at his right hand.

Therewas a slight tremor. He hoped it wasn’t a sign of aging. He hated becoming “old”, because it also meant becoming “weak”. He dismissed the thought from his mind and continued drinking his tea.

The next day, Major Rathore had his next shock. He was at a party, and his old friends and their families were all around. He was just making a toast at the dinner table when his left hand started shaking violently, and he was unable to control it! He hurriedly kept his hand under the table, hoping that no one had seen him, and continued with the toast.

The Major had sleepless nights after that. And when he did get to sleep, he woke up feeling more exhausted than before. His muscles pained him, and he was horrified when one day, he could hardly lift his gun to shoot down a few wild ducks.

Yet, he refused to tell his servants anything. He refused to call the doctor. What would his colleagues, his subordinates think of him? All their respect for him would vanish! So he kept up with the farce, until one day, he fell out of his chair, and— couldn’t get up.

Muthuswamy and Kuldeep came running. They helped him into his bed, and summoned the doctor.

“Parkinson’s disease”, said the doctor. “These medicines might help, but it’s only going to get worse.”

“If something happens to the Major, we’ll get into trouble”, whispered Kuldeep to Muthuswamy. “Best we call his own son, Vijay, to care for him.”

And that was how the ‘banished’ Vijay, turned up at the Major’s doorstep again. The Major raved and ranted, and threatened to beat up his ungrateful servants who had dared to bring Vijay back to the house, but with his failing health, there was little he could actually do.

Muthuswamy refused to attend to the Major anymore, and Vijay took up the job of caring for his father. The Major resisted Vijay’s attempts at trying to take care of him, but Vijay persisted.

Slowly the old man stopped resisting Vijay’s care. In fact, he started looking forward to his son’s comforting presence, began to enjoy the walks and simple exercises that Vijay made him do to retain his mobility, and started feeling a new energy in his limbs.

One day, as Vijay was giving the Major his medicines, the Major looked apologetically at his son. “Don’t you feel ashamed of me, son?”

“Why should I?” asked Vijay.

“For.. being so… weak?”

Vijay smiled. “You’re the strongest person I know, Dad” said Vijay, giving his father a hug for the first time in several years.

“Your strength lies not in your muscles, but in your spirit— you didn’t give up. You didn’t allow Parkinson’s to defeat you. And I’m glad to have you back.”