Monish

MonishYoungest in India to suffer a spinal cord injury – at the age of 10 months

Monish had not even started to stand comfortably, forget walking. He was all of 10 months when his family was traveling in the outskirts of Chennai on a two-wheeler. A gruesome road accident led to the death of Monish’s mother. His young brother (probably about 2 then) had an injury on the head, but he was somehow quickly restored though he still has disorientation at times. Monish was too young for the Spinal Cord Injury (SCI) to even make any sense to him.

Monish was on a hospital-to-hospital trip in Chennai without going anywhere. Inevitably the frail body of the young Monsih suffered bedsores. His dad, who works as a driver, somehow managed to keep Monish going, while his other son started schooling. Almost five years passed. The Monish’s dad, Parthiban, came into touch with Suresh Krishna, a grassroots worker in the cause of spinal cord injury.

This led to Parthiban attending the third annual meeting of SCI persons in Chennai. It took a few more months of persuasion before the family agreed to consider rehabilitation in Christian Medical College, Vellore.

During the five years since Monish’s injury, Parthiban married a widow nurse with two children and became the father of four, despite acute economic challenges and the condition of Monish. The mother made a huge difference as she took good care of Monish and started to help contain his pressures sores.

In 2014, Monish has spent almost two-and-half months at CMC, Vellore and Mary Verghese Institute of Rehabilitation. His contractures straightened, his bedsores healed, he is now mobile on a wheelchair that whizzes around, his frail body notwithstanding He is also set to go to school this year. We wish Monish and his family the very best.

The Chairborne Warrior Has Moved On

Airborne to Chairborne

All my attempts to move my limbs were futile. The pain in the neck was excruciating and it intensified by the second. I was stumped for a moment but quickly recovered to realise the seriousness and significance of my inability to get up. I do not remember whether I screamed involuntarily, then, in sheer desperation.
On that abominable night, my mind was in a medley of intense frustration, utmost dejection and extreme disappointment. For some timeless moments, I wished I were dead.

On 28 June 1988, at around 2300 hours, whilst returning to the Officers Mess on my motorcycle after night flying, I drove onto a road barrier just ahead of the technical area gate, inside Air Force Station, Pathankot.
The impact of the helmet on the wooden bar wrenched my neck and broke the cervical spine. Fifteen minutes after the accident, I was taken to the Station Sick Quarters in an unconscious state. While being carried, my head was left unsupported.
The base of the helmet (rear side) which was resting against the nape of the neck pushed the fractured vertebrae into the cervical spinal cord. (The casualty must always be carried in a stretcher, after immobilising his/her neck with a cervical collar.) The resultant spinal injury completely paralysed me below the neck.
After overnight’s stay in Military Hospital (MH), Pathankot, I was transferred to Army Hospital, Delhi (AHDC). Neck surgery failed to mitigate my predicament. Though I had brief spells of consciousness during the fortnight’s hospitalisation in AHDC, my memory fails to recollect my fight for survival. On 12 July 1988, I was transferred to the Spinal Cord Injury Centre of MH Kirkee, Pune.
Two weeks after my admission, I gathered my wits and eagerly inquired about the prognosis. The medical officer looked up and motioned his hands skywards; perhaps he wanted me to adjure divine intervention. This charade instantly deflated my hopes but it lucidly conveyed the enormity and helplessness of the incurable nature of the incapacitation.
Inconsistencies of life have always bemused me but not even the wildest nightmare presaged that one day I would fall prey to such a quirk of fate. The modicum of faith I had in Providence got shattered when I failed to show even an iota of improvement.
The cervical spinal injury (quadriplegia) necessitated me to lead a totally dependent life, tethered to the bed and wheel chair. Now, I am like a man fettered for life; unable to use my hands and legs, incontinent and spoon‑fed. Ironically, the most painful aspect of quadriplegia is the painlessness! It isn’t mere loss of tactile inputs and outputs but absolute dependence on someone else to accomplish mundane necessities and domestic chores that yoked me; even for things like swabbing ears and swatting flies.
Disuse atrophy had set in within a couple of months and took its toll by altering the geometry of my torso and limbs. The mirror replicated the image of a human skeleton swathed in a layer of wizened skin. Two years’ stay in MH Kirkee taught me how to battle the numerous encumbrances and how to conquer the bouts of depression.
With a smile on my face, I managed to dissemble the pangs of the heart. The Indian Air Force (IAF) realised my uselessness and discharged me from the service on 12 April ’90. The silly accident dealt coup de grace to my aspirations and terminated my fledgling career in the IAF. In August ’90, at the young age of 26, I got admitted in Paraplegic Home, Park Road, Kirkee, Pune, as an inmate to begin the second phase of my life ‑ afresh.
I was born and brought up in a village by name Chirayinkil, 35 kms north of Trivandrum. At the age of nine, I entered Sainik School, Kazhakootam. A slow learner and an unobtrusive student by nature, I had excelled consistently in both academics and sports.
Later on, I was found worthy enough to be adjudged as the best Air Force cadet of 65th course of National Defence Academy (NDA), Khadakwasla, Pune and as the best in aerobatics of 134th Pilots Course of Air Force Academy, Secunderabad. In December 1984, I was commissioned into the IAF as a fighter pilot. I had 700 hours of flying experience (including 500 hours of flying in a magnificent flying machine called MiG-21) during my truncated career in the IAF.
All my efforts to rationalise personal catastrophes have always mystified and at times stupefied me. To adapt to the new challenges posed by the debility, I had to unshackle myself from the self‑imposed stupor. Therefore, in Sep ’90, I decided to learn the art of writing by holding a pen in my mouth (because of dysfunctional hands).
I began scribbling illegibly but was chagrined to find little progress even after 3 weeks’ laborious efforts. Then, I decided to change tactic and wrote a letter to Sheela George, the person who kept on chivvying to start mouth‑writing (earlier I had paid little attention to her exhortations).
My joy knew no bounds when I completed the few lines that embodied my first mouth‑written letter. Initially, I found my hard work to be a mere pie in the sky; but 4 to 5 months’ assiduous efforts resulted in attaining a readable style of writing. This modest achievement enabled me in reviving the chain of correspondence and begetting new friends.
In May 1991, I was presented with an electrically operated wheel chair, with chin controls for maneuvering, thanks to the benevolence of the IAF. Motorised mobility, though only a poor substitute for natural one, has enlivened my lifestyle considerably.
It was Wing Commander PI Murlidharan, my former flight commander, who mooted the use of a personal computer (PC), as a writing tool. He added that it would assist me to utilise my mental faculty to the hilt. Hitherto unsuccessful attempts in procuring a keyboard (modified to suit my requirements) have somewhat emasculated my resolve. Nonetheless, my hope of acquiring a PC remains undiminished.
In the meantime, I toyed with the idea of teaching. For some untenable reasons, I kept on declining the offers by bringing one imaginary reason or another as an ad hoc excuse. Aforesaid setbacks notwithstanding, I’m very hopeful of converting the second phase of my life into something as meaningful as the one I would have had from the confines of a cockpit.

Source: http://chairbornewarrior.wordpress.com

Note: This is the Essay that is a part of the Standard X English Reader for the High School Syllabus in State of Maharashtra.

General Razdan – The Story of A Hero

Salute the general

Lieutenant Colonel Razdan served as an army officer in the Special Forces involved in counter-terrorism operation in terrorist-ridden Kashmir valley.  His birthday, October 8 in 1994, turned out be the day that changed his life forever.

That morning, news was brought to him that fourteen women, including young girls, had been abducted by terrorist were being sexually assaulted for the past one week. Razdan and twenty of his men scaled forty kilometers of the mountainous terrain on foot for more than three hours.

At last, they established contact with the assaulters in Damal Kunzipur. The ladies were holed up in a three-storeyed house with the militants on the upper floor.  The Army squad managed to rescue the women. Nine of the militants were wiped out.  Razdan suffered severe bullet injuries, shot at point blank range.

Collecting his wits and, bizarre as it may sound, his fallen intestines in a cloth, braving the pain and profuse bleeding, Razdan crawled out.  At an altitude of 3,800 meters, there was no medical help on hand. His buddies helped him to the primary health centre where he administered his own intravenous drip, and after 16 hours was air lifted to a hospital.

For a whole year, Razdan lived in hospitals. “My doctors told me that I would never get up from my bed. I said ‘to hell’ and got up”, he said. He had been subjected to multiple surgeries and nine feet of his intestines had been removed. Razdan was not one to be cowed down and he began to devise ways to bounce back to as normal a life as he could lead.

“Early realization and acceptance of my physical challenge helped me pull through psychologically. My wife has played a major role in my recovery ensuring that I continue to fight with her”. Razdan began to work on strengthening his abdomen by controlling his diet. He subjected himself to a strict exercise regimen for his hands.

“I refused to take sedatives. I prefer the pain, which I still endure all the time, because it acts as a stimulant, keeping me awake and helping me learn more about things in different spheres of life – science, occult science, technology, human life and innovation’, he declares.

“During my school days, I used to sleep with my eyes open. Now I sleep with my mind open”. Gradually, from his wheelchair, Razdan began doing all the things that he had been doing before the injury. “There is no substitute for hard work”. “My Motto ‘I can” has made me do whatever any normal human being can do. I take both success and failure in the same stride.”

Razdan rose from the level of Lieutenant Colonel to a Colonel and recently to a Major General and has become the first undeterred army officer in the history of Indian Army to serve from a wheelchair.

Soon after the 1994 encounter, the Government of India honoured him with the second highest bravery award, the Kirti Chakra.  “My aim was to save the girls from humiliation not to bag the award. So what if I was injured? It doesn’t make a difference”, he exclaims.



Source: Success & ABILITY, A monthly magazine published by The Ability Foundation (www.abilityfoundation.org)


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