The Last Day on Earth

The Last Day on Earth By Ravi Valluri Dr Mohit was a fit scientist who hit the gym five days a week, twice a day. Mornings were devoted to cardio exercises and evenings were weight training. The sixth day was devoted to performing yoga or a hundred freestyle laps in the pool. Sunday was a day of rest. The muscles of his body ached, craving some rest. It is only in the evening after a hearty meal he would go for a walk for around 10k steps and then repeat the regime every week. He possessed a chiseled body which gave him a handsome disposition. Winsome curvaceous women swooned over him but he avoided them as he focused on his career. Dr Mohit was an astrophysicist by profession who dreamed of working at NASA. He visualized the entire universe in his mindscape and was vigorously working on the hypothesis of “Origin of the Universe.” The astrophysicist produced seminal papers to his credit and was the star attraction at various conferences and scientific seminars in the country and overseas. He became an overnight celebrity by winning the coveted Shanti Swarup Bhatnagar award and was a regular on various shows, podcasts and TED X talks among others. Invariably as the sun sank and dusk enveloped the sky, Rohit would sit in the balcony of his sixteenth-floor apartment and gaze at the universe. He would wonder at the secrets hidden in its depths. He would begin playing the piano as he watched the magic unfolding in the skies through his telescope. Soon the musical notes reached a crescendo and he would see images of his favorite musicians, namely Beethoven, Bach and Mozart metamorphosing into planets, asteroids and various galaxies looming large in the firmament. The scientist’s quotidian practice of exercising, working as an astrophysicist and pianist continued relentlessly, till one day he felt dizzy and collapsed in the ISRO lab, Bangalore where he worked. He was wheeled into a leading hospital in the city. To the utter shock of the doctors, their fabled patient was suffering from a rare heart disease called Brugada Syndrome. doctors gave him barely two months to survive. ISRO Bangalore and all his friends were shell-shocked. Dr Mohit too was numbed. All his dreams to discover origin of the universe went for a toss. “How could someone so fit, full of life, fall prey to such a disease?” was the common refrain. Very soon his condition deteriorated and the scientist was hospitalised. Doctors did not give him much time to survive. His condition was worsening and finally the doctor treating him was to confide, “Dr Mohit we are trying our best, but I think next 24 hours are extremely critical.” Mohit looked blank as a tear rolled down his eyes. “Doctor, please let me live the last 24 hours of my life the way I want to. My request to you. I implore you,” the patient almost begged. “Let me discover myself if not the origin of universe,” Dr Rohit was to say. He sent a note to the top management, the dean, the director, and several others in the hospital to LET HIM LIVE. The reputation of the medical fraternity and the estimable hospital was at stake. After hours of discussion, one of the doctors was to say, “This is better than euthanasia.” “This is nothing but euthanasia and we cannot be a party to this,” chipped in another white coat. Finally, the Director of the hospital vetoed everyone and decided that Dr Mohit would have his wish. He himself along with a team of specialist would accompany him on the last hurrah! 0300 hours: Mohit woke up and went to a 24x7 gym. He was not his usual strenuous self at the gym. His vitals were constantly being monitored as he worked out at a languid pace. He then headed to the pool but was forced to take breaks as he sweated profusely and felt the pumping of his weak heart. 0430 hours: He subsequently decided to have a long and luxurious bath at his 16th floor apartment. Mohit felt his skin, the various textures, the scars, the acne in a large mirror. “Oh, this would be the last time I would see myself,” he thought aloud. “We all arrive on earth this way and go back to the source the same way. All these years I never thought about my body or breath and was in pursuit of the origin of the universe,” he mused to himself. 0600 hours: At six he devoured his favorite breakfast of porridge, fried eggs, toast, and hash browns followed by a cup of hot brewed coffee. “This could be his last meal, unless he survives till dinner time,” the heart specialist was to inform the Director of the hospital. “No, he will survive till dinner positively,” the Director snapped back. “Look at his will power and alert mind.” 0645 hours: Dr Mohit relished his breakfast as he realised that this would be his last one and picked up his papers on astrophysics and various notes on his thesis. “My last day is all about feeling alive,” he thought. “I will try to live every moment of it,” he resolved. 0900 hours: Accompanied by the team of doctors and the Director of the hospital, Dr Mohit entered the hallowed portals of Department of Space and ISRO HQ Antariksh Bhavan. He walked into the Human Space Flight Centre (HSFC) and began conjuring a travel into the vast vista of space. As he was tiring now, Dr Mohit was either taken on a wheel chair or by car to the different labs of the ISRO complex. There was a time, when he would sprint from one block to another and from lab to lab. “Such are vicissitudes of life,” was his placid thought. 1430 hours: The sun was beating down on his back and he could feel a sunburn despite what he wore. He was back at home and luxuriated on the delicious Bissibelle Huli Anna. Food was never so exotic in life. “Director sir, it is amazing to see the astrophysicist exceedingly ravenous and enjoying each morsel,” an animated doctor exclaimed. 1500 hours: Entirely satiated, Dr Mohit switched on western classical music of his liking. He slept like a log while listening to Beethoven as the doctors intermittently checked his parameters. 1700 hours: The astrophysicist suddenly awoke. He looked pale but rested and requested the doctors that he would like to have a cup of tea and view the city of Bangalore from the balcony. As it turned dark, the astrophysicist brought out his telescope. 2000 hours: It was 8p.m. now. Dr Mohit was up and moving since morning. This itself was a miracle. The nurse fed him a bowl of soup and curd rice as he was watching various celestials in the skies. Dr Mohit was a loner. He had lost his parents when he was quite young and was brought up by his grandparents. He had no sibling and was never known to be married or have an affair. There was a distant cousin who occasionally called or texted. 2100 hours: His cousin, an astrophysicist too arrived and spontaneously hugged Dr Mohit. The two were engrossed watching The Universe on the television as a group of doctors looked on. Some of them were tired, others were frustrated. But the Director put his foot down and continued with the process. 2230 hours: Around 2230hours the cousin left quietly as the astrophysicist seemed to be snoring. The doctors were readying all the equipment for any eventuality. 2345 hours: Dr Mohit was now taking deep breaths and opened his eyes. He asked for his mobile and texted two messages. 2359 hours: With a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes he bid the planet goodbye. 0000 hours: “I have shared the secret of the origin of the universe with you. Open the files in your system.” He shared this message with his cousin with the hope that the legacy would be passed on and the world would be aware of his astonishing discovery. It is nothing but living in the present moment like the music of Beethoven and Mozart. And this is what I did today. In the darkness of the galaxies lies a beautiful composition. The Gods have created music in cacophony. Creation and destruction take place continuously and at the inflexion point lies the origin of the universe. Another message was sent to the Director, “Thank you Uncle and your team for allowing me to live the last day of my life with gay abandon.” The Director was none other than his uncle who put his career at stake and gave permission to his ailing nephew to live life on his own terms. Other doctors would not have ventured to do so. Dr Mohit’s cousin, who spent close to two hours with him was none other than the Director’s daughter.