A little scare and a lot of agony, takes you right where you land.

You are this tiny dot living in the all encompassing world, till you understand this you feel like everything is about you. It revolves around you. My life recently had a whirlwind tryst with dengue virus. It would be safe to say that I am slightly obsessed with mosquitoes. They after all are reasponsible for a wide variety of human casualties happening due to their dengue, malaria and chikungunya viruses and their consequent infections.

Initially they leave you paralysed to think that you are the worst affected. Then when you meet the doctors and take the prescribed medication and rest, you feel the least affected. Then comes the stories. The comparisons. Mind you noone has their stories like you. Its always one friend or one relative who had dengue. The deluge of advices and home remedies are maddening.

The moment my parents took upon themselves to stay with me for a couple of weeks and get me on my feet again, I knew the journey was going to be a rather tedious but interesting one. (Nothing is boring when my mom is involved.) She likes to keep everyone on their toes. Someone in the family told mum that the juice of fresh papaya leaves should be crushed and the squeezed juice should be given to the patient. It is believed to be very effective in increasing the platelet count.

The only thing mom forgot to mention was how bitter the so called freshly squeezed juice was going to be. For her the uglier the better. She said you have to drink it not marry it. Stop looking at it and stop making faces and drink it in a gulp.
There was no escaping this episode.

Dad had to interfere as well. For every problem he has one solution- When we were kids we used to walk ten km to go to our school. Whether the statement is relevant or not, he is least bothered. He can slip the sentence anywhere, anytime just to make us understand that his life was difficult and hard compared to our luxurious one.

Also, Dad had secured the leaves with great grit, which meant his hardwork couldnt go wasted. He had to venture out and talk to people in the garden to find out where the tree was planted. Those who know my father are aware how socially awkward he is. Then once he had located the tree he had to climb the small brick barricade to get hold of the leaves. After much time spent in wrestling with the poor papaya tree, he was successful in getting some fresh green baby papaya leaves.

The only option left for me was to take the potion or so my folks thought. I took the horrible tasting potion, like my life depended on it. I swear that the potion was so bad that it would have worked well in the medieval ages to take the prisoners life or something by sending such a gastronomic shock that they could have seen stars in broad daylight. The next day when my mom brought the potion, I looked at my two daughters and decided if I have to live I cannot take the damned potion.

With sufficient rest and a lot of fluid intake I was able to recover rather quickly. However mom has a different story. Her magic potion will now find its way into the kitchens of many other naive patients. People would be in so much distress that they would rather drink the home made remedy and listen to my stories of recuperation than to argue with a bunch of determined moms.