Sanjay Shukla

After hearing from his oncologist that the cancer was no longer treatable—that his body had become resistant to all the treatment options they had tried—the doctor said they would now focus on “keeping him comfortable” as he deteriorated rapidly.

He sat in his hospital bed, staring at the wall, silent and expressionless.

I sat beside him, leaned my head against his, and we had this conversation:

Me: Does it hurt, Pappa?
Pappa: (A long exhale) Huuuu… Yes.
Me: Are you in a lot of pain?
Pappa: (Looking down) Haan.
Me: This cancer… it’s cruel. Don’t fight it anymore.
Me: You’ve lived a full life, touched hearts, changed lives. The real cancer isn’t in your body, Pappa. It’s the anger, the isolation, the ego you carried for so long. That’s what you should fight now.
Pappa: I don’t have to fight anymore? (He smiled faintly.)
Me: No, Pappa. Not this. But if you must, then fight for peace. Let go. Forgive. Ask for forgiveness, especially from Mom. She bore your anger, your distance, your silence.
Pappa: (Tearfully) Yes… I think so.
Me: Pappa, what am I supposed to do now? What’s my duty?
Pappa: Keep your mother safe. (A deep sigh.)
Me: I promise, Pappa. As long as I live.
Pappa: I failed. I failed miserably. By the time I realized, it was too late.
(My heart shattered.)
Pappa: Let me tell you one thing, Beta. No matter what happens in life—stay humble. Stay true to Dharma. Keep your feet firmly on the ground. (Dharma mat chhodna. Zameen pe pair rakhna… hamesha.)
Me: Pappa, I’ll take you home. We’ll listen to music together, just like old times. You’re coming home, right?
Pappa: Absolutely, Beta! Let’s go home. (smiling) But one thing is for sure… you can’t get rid of me so easily!
Me: (Shocked, silent… then, after a long pause) Thank you, Pappa. We will always be together.

That was my last conversation with him.

I got him discharged and brought him home.

The hours following his return, we listened to old Indian classical songs, and smiled as often as we could. I still remember, on the last day of his life, my mother made idlis for breakfast, and to our surprise, he ate two. That morning, I knew the time had come. I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Chhod do, Pappa… let go.”

Even an hour before he passed, I lay beside him on his bed. But when the final moment came, I couldn’t bear to watch. I stepped out with a friend for a smoke, my heart heavy, knowing what was about to happen.

Even today, I wake up with a start when I see him in my dreams. My wife gently pulls me close, soothing me back to sleep.

My father, Shivkaran Shukla, passed away in my arms at the age of 78, after a long and painful battle with cancer.

If your dad is by your side today ‘waiting for you’, leave everything to have the longest and most important date of your life!

•  Shukla ‘Jigyasu’ (S.J.)