The body repairs in short bursts. Stutters to a start and then soon enough winds down. You brim with the hope of normalcy for a moment and then despair, as another section disappointingly begins to shut.

An inactive body is an inactive existence. Blessed are those that exist. They have the body as their companion. And blessed are they that compensate their disability with options. Options that even in their inactivity, are active.

I wonder at times which is the better option. An active body with an inactive mind. Or an active mind with an inactive body.

We do not go out looking for means of how we can bring damage and pain to our system. But damage we do, consciously or unconsciously. The exuberance and the energy of youth propels us into believing that we are beyond that threshold . We compare and challenge each other in moments of senseless bravado; how one is better equipped than the other physically. We test our intelligence too. Our routines in everyday life contain that element of competition. The grades in school, the ability on the sports field, our rankings in the profession we embrace. All pushing us to compete with the other, to excel and become better, to be the first, to reach the top and hopefully remain there forever.

What costs it involves remains secondary; at least for most part. But nature overtakes all our desires and accomplishments in time. Other circumstances and surroundings alter and change. Nature remains a constant. We respect nature, but fail to respect ourselves. We abuse nature at times when we are unable to cope with its eventuality. We know that we shall be unable to have any favorable results as far as nature is concerned. You can abuse a tsunami, an earthquake, an erupted volcano, a storm at sea. But its designated fury shall not abate. We laud nature too. A welcome torrents of rain on parched land, the beauty of snow capped mountain ranges, the advent of spring and its freshness, the exuberant colors of fall, the produce of the field for consumption, all give us hope and pleasure of sound and vision.

But when we disrespect our body to an extent when it is beyond repair, when we load our systems with unwanted misuse, when we succumb to temptation of desire, then we have no right to curse the outcome that nature begins to subject us to. Yes, fate and nature at times inflict upon us without our indulgence and we learn to cope and accept is as God’s will. We question at times why this should be our fate. We ask questions. At times to the creator himself. We express anguish and frustration at our condition and wonder why it happens ; that we were the ones that were chosen. Light heartedly we command Him if he would mind choosing someone else for a change.

At the conclusion we bear and suffer and rest in the thought that this was ordained. We rest in the thought that this is what He had brought us here for. That if there was no suffering there would no need for us to be in existence; the purpose would be lost, its meaning would be redundant, obscure, invalid.

We are comforted by the belief that the wishes and the prayers of those that are dear and near shall ease the anxiety and pain. They do. But the pain cannot pass over. It cannot transfer itself to those that wish it so. We respect the desire of others to bear it for us. It comforts our hearts and brings psychological relief, not physical. That cross we bear alone.

My pain could manifest itself in many forms. Mental, physical, psychological or any other form that I may be uneducated to. But it will remain mine. Only I shall evaluate its intensity when it exists. And only I shall evaluate its intensity when it abates. We judge both from outside never from within, because we never know the threshold of the other. My severity could be a normalcy for the other and vice versa. It is what and how we convey that carries across. We shall, each one of us, have different capabilities of expression, but none as efficient to capture in the mind of the other its factual reality.

I thank today those that express concern. I tell them I repair well. I tell them to an honest extent. Many would not. Many question my need to disclose my condition. Many object when I do not. It all begins to fall in the domain of the private and the public.

But pain is subjective, subjective to the bearer of it. And so must it remain.

I repair well today, my extended family. I wish not to abuse my handicapped condition, instead I take strength in the concern from others.

Who but I shall know better of its extent and its relief.

Amitabh Bachchan