Our Light in the Darkness

These past months have been unprecedented. Suffering and despair have taken over. People have lost lives and livelihoods. Being the resilient creatures that we are, some have seen silver linings in the healing of the environment and the goodness of our frontline warriors. What follows is my family’s personal journey in the times of coronavirus.

My husband and I live in Toronto and our two sons were born here. Our world turned upside down when I got the diagnosis that I had cancer during the first week of March 2020. Within five days of this bombshell, my ailing mother-in-law passed away in India. It was like being plunged into a tortuous, agonising nightmare. International travel bans and my health resulted in us not being able to travel to India for my mother-in-law’s last rites. We could not say our last goodbyes, a regret we will carry till our last breath.

Weeks of brutal uncertainty over my health followed, as the pandemic had played complete havoc with all elective surgeries. Yes, cancer surgery was being considered ‘elective’. My husband’s relentless efforts and a whole lot of luck saw my surgery happen at the peak of a COVID-19 wave in Ontario. The doctors said that the worst of my illness had been dealt with.

We were now like everyone else, reeling ‘only’ with the devastating isolation of the lockdown. Post-surgery and post-bereavement visits from caring friends and family, which would have lifted our spirits immeasurably, stood cancelled. Our 14 and 11-year-old boys’ schools, friends and activities – also cancelled. Summer vacation plans to India to check on elderly parents, cancelled.

We were trying, like so many others, to adjust with these insane new realities. Additionally, we were also trying to find closure over our own cruel personal tragedies; trying to salvage something that would be enriching and joyful for our young sons in the bleak months that loomed ahead.

Somewhere along the standard pandemic rituals of cooking exotic new foods, social media photo challenges and endless Netflix nights, I had a eureka moment. Growing up in India, the Mahabharata had always fascinated me. The original, the myriad spin-offs, numerous point-of-view versions – I have devoured them all. With its vast scope, insights of realpolitik versus spiritualism and mesmerising character interplays, the Mahabharata remains one of the greatest epics.


Also read: What Explains the Enduring Appeal of ‘Ramayan’ and ‘Mahabharat’?


Our boys’ upbringing has been a very happy median between their countries of origin and birth. They know the Ramayana thoroughly from their stint at a Bala Vihar, but their knowledge of Mahabharata was a little sketchier. What better time than now to be re-acquainted with this magnificent classic? We figured a televised version would be the most appropriate and managed to source one with that critical perk – English subtitles.

Our boys agreed to undertake this massive commitment after some intense negotiations. Three episodes every alternate evening would wrap it up by mid August. They would spend the rest of the summer vacation in more age and culturally appropriate pursuits.

To our pleasant surprise, somewhere around the time the Pandavas were born, our boys took to the story. Despite the tacky technical effects of the 1980s and sometimes over-the-top performances, they were starting to engage with the characters and turn of events. Bheeshma’s nobility, Arjun’s valour and Karna’s heartbreaking magnanimity became part of dinner discussions and walks to the park. Not to mention the magically enigmatic attributes of Krishna, and debates between the avatar’s many manifestations of humanity and divinity.

My sons know of my feelings of utter helplessness over not being able to visit my elderly parents who live halfway across the world. The case counts continue to soar, and so do our worries. Will they be spared? Will I be able to see them one last time? Should I be a devoted daughter and rush to my parents’ side at a time when travel is fraught with risks, or should I be a responsible mother and stay here with my children? We saw reflections of our ongoing concerns, limitations and dilemmas in the storyline of the epic.

The climax of the Mahabharata happens in the battlefield of Kurukshetra. The hero, Arjun, finds himself compelled to be the spearhead of a war he is unconvinced about. He is lost in angst and unable to fight. Krishna guides him on the course ahead. As the scriptures of the Bhagavad Geeta aired, we were able to draw parallels about how we all face similar existential crises in our lives with conflicting loyalties, priorities and expectations. How sometimes life feels hopeless and not worth living. But, how we need to be strong and soldier on. To focus, look inwards, determine our true duty and keep moving forward. The concept of karma – how our actions determine our fate, how our present leads to our future. How nothing in the universe is random but everything is transient. How important the path of righteousness is, and how crucial it is to do the right thing, without expectations of rewards.

We finished watching the series last week. As the aged patriarch Bheeshma embraced his end, memories of the boys’ grandfathers flooded us – one who has passed on from this world and one so agonisingly far away. None of our eyes were dry. The last image on the screen was Krishna’s serene smile, the last soliloquy a reminder of the teachings of the Geeta.

If there has been one positive takeaway for our family through this dark phase, it has been that we have been able to pass on the torch of our spiritual heritage to our sons. This treasured epic has been my guiding light at many of life’s defining crossroads, now my sons can also carry this light in their hearts. I hope all of us can gift our unique, individual guiding lights to our young ones and help them look forward to tomorrow. Again and once again, inspire them to believe, hope, keep up the good fight and forge on.

Raka Mukherjee Pisharoty is a mother of two and an architect by profession, who loves to dabble in all things creative.