My Liver Transplant Journey Part 6 | Admission at ILBS

Posted on May 20, 2020 by nandan

My admission to ILBS was far from easy. The Covid restrictions had already caused numerous issues, and my elevated ammonia levels only exacerbated the situation. When I arrived at ILBS, everything seemed surreal to me. I was in such a distressed mental state that, even though I was physically inside the ILBS premises, it felt as if I were standing in a building next door to my home in Varanasi. Given my deep-seated suspicions about my family—fueled by a belief that they were trying to harm me or send me to a rehabilitation center—the ILBS building appeared to me like a stage set, with everyone playing roles orchestrated by my brother.

ILBS was not accepting new admissions at the time, but my brother managed to arrange for my admission through some of his political connections. The hospital was crowded, and many faces seemed eerily familiar to me. I even saw people I knew—like friends and relatives—dressed as doctors and nurses, laughing at me. Everything felt so staged and fake that I just wanted to escape. Despite my apprehensions, I reluctantly agreed to enter the emergency ward. The doctors reviewed my reports, asked a few questions, and then requested that I lie down on the bed. Distrustful of the situation, I fled from the ward. I told my family that the entire scenario felt staged, that the ILBS hospital didn’t seem real, and I refused to be admitted there.

I was shouting, crying, and pleading with people around me for help. Others tried to convince me that the hospital was indeed the real ILBS and urged me to stay, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe them and fled. I ran about 200 meters from the hospital, then called the Delhi police to inform them of my location and urgently request their assistance. I also reached out to a relative and a friend named Sharad, desperately asking them to help me. They contacted my wife, who then explained my situation to them.

They called me back, suggesting that I should get admitted to the hospital. By that point, I had lost hope and was just waiting for the police to arrive. Despite my resistance, my brother managed to convince me to return to the hospital, and this time I lay down on the bed. However, I still felt distrustful; as they checked my blood pressure, the machine appeared to me as though it were fake. I told them I believed they were trying to create a placebo effect with what seemed like a toy machine. Overcome by my suspicions, I jumped off the bed and fled once more.

This time, I moved even further away and waited for the police to arrive. My brother appeared again and urged me to come with him, but I had lost all trust in him. It was the last week of April, and with temperatures around 45 degrees Celsius, I was shivering from the cold, feeling extremely dizzy, and eventually collapsed on the ground. I wanted to escape again, but my brother held me back and said he would wait with me for the police. Despite my pleas to let me go, he insisted that the police would decide what to do next.

After a while, the police arrived at the hospital. They spoke with my wife, who explained my situation, and then they came to find me. Seeing the police walking toward me with my wife only deepened my conviction that they were all part of my brother’s scheme. I was convinced that my brother had somehow manipulated them as well, leaving me feeling that I had no choice but to surrender. When the policeman approached me, I explained that I believed my family was trying to harm me. However, the policeman told me that I was unwell and that it would be best for me to be admitted to the hospital.

I told the policeman that I only wanted to go to ILBS, and he assured me that this was indeed the real ILBS hospital. He also promised to take responsibility for my safety and assured me that he would hold my family accountable if anything happened to me. Despite my doubts, I felt I had no other option, so the police helped get me admitted to the hospital. When I arrived, the hospital staff seemed prepared for my arrival. As soon as I lay down on the bed, they immediately secured my legs and hands with restraints.

ILBS is a semi-private hospital, known for its high costs. The average expenditure for a patient in the emergency ward is around ₹40,000 per day. In the general ward, it ranges between ₹10,000 and ₹15,000 per day. For the HDU ward, the cost is about ₹50,000 to ₹60,000 per day, and in the ICU or liver coma unit, it can reach around ₹1,00,000 per day. These costs were explained to my brother before my admission.

I know that it would have been be a significant financial burden on him since I had no money, yet he agreed to cover the expenses. My brother works in tourism, an industry severely impacted by Covid, and his office had been closed, leaving him without a steady income. Despite this, he still chose to support me financially. Without his help, it would have been impossible for me to survive that night.

Conclusion:

1:Liver diseases can also lead to severe mental health issues, and it’s crucial for caretakers to be aware of this. Please try not to be angry with the patient or think poorly of them. They need understanding and reassurance. Simply listening to them and helping them feel secure can make a significant difference, allowing them to stay calm and cope better.

2: If there’s anyone who can offer you help in a crisis, it’s ultimately going to be your family.

To be continued in Part 7…..

My Liver Transplant Journey Part 5 | Travel to Delhi in an Ambulance

Posted on May 2, 2020 by nandan

Continuing from Part 4

I was discharged from Varanasi Hospital on April 26th and transferred to Delhi in an ICU ambulance. India was under a nationwide lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic, so we required special permission from the district administration to travel, which was arranged by the hospital and the ambulance service provider. We began our journey around 8 PM. As an overnight journey, the accompanying doctor advised me to try and sleep. However, due to my elevated ammonia levels, everything felt abnormal

My head felt heavy, and I was confused and scared. I experienced a strange sensation in my head, as if I were under the influence of drugs. As the ambulance began to move, I tried to sleep. My elder brother, Chandan, my younger brother, Rajan, and my wife were accompanying me. Rajan and I were in the ambulance, while Chandan was driving his own car. I asked Rajan which route we would be taking, and he said that the driver wanted to pick someone up in Bhadohi hence will drive through Bhadohi-Prayagraj–Kanpur–Delhi route.

My anxiety was high, and everything seemed suspicious. I felt like my family was taking me somewhere else. This was likely due to my mental health condition and their constant disregard for my requests to go to ILBS Hospital. I suspected they knew I was dying and were simply trying to keep me comfortable by driving me around in an ambulance. After a few minutes of driving, I asked my younger brother where we were, and he replied that we were near Durgakund.

I pretended to sleep, but I was actually terrified and observing everyone in the ambulance, trying to eavesdrop on their conversations. After a few minutes, I asked my brother again where we were. This time, he said we were near the Radisson Hotel, which heightened my anxiety. These locations were in opposite directions, confirming my suspicion that they weren’t taking me to ILBS but were simply driving around the city, waiting for me to die.

I questioned the doctor, the driver, and my wife, but everyone insisted we were heading to Delhi. Despite their reassurances, I didn’t believe them, and my suspicions were likely influenced by the high ammonia levels affecting my mental state. Overwhelmed by fear, I got out of the ambulance in Bhadohi to verify our location. I checked various signs around the city to confirm my whereabouts. That night was terrifying. Everything seemed suspicious, and I felt like I was dying and my family was trying to harm me.

I took this pic of my wife sleeping in the ambulance

Seeing my wife fall asleep filled me with fear and sadness. I thought I was dying, and it was incomprehensible to me that my family members could sleep. I recall seeing the doctor on a video call with his daughter, where he joked about his tired face looking like a monkey. However, I interpreted this as a mockery of me. I was absolutely certain that they were taking me somewhere else. These doubts and questions raced through my mind.

I called my mother and informed her that I might not survive. She began to cry and asked me to request sleeping pills from the doctor. However, consumed by negativity, I believed she wanted me to be sedated permanently. I then contacted a neighbor and explained my situation. I told him that my family was taking me somewhere dangerous and that I might not survive. I asked him to record my voice and report it to the police if I passed away.

I sent my neighbor a WhatsApp message so he could present it to the police. I spent the entire journey observing the others in the ambulance. Whenever my wife fell asleep, I would wake her up, feeling insecure and scared. I constantly reminded her to talk to me, as I believed I wouldn’t survive for long. Somehow, the night passed, and I didn’t sleep a wink. The ambulance stopped early in the morning for tea and refreshments.

I took this picture of the ambulance to inform the police, look at my yellow eyes

I refused the tea offered by my family, suspecting they might have tampered with it. I kept a distance from them, observing their actions and taking pictures of the ambulance, my brother’s car, and my wife. I planned to send these images to the police and seek help. After taking the pictures, I tweeted to the UP Police, urgently requesting assistance as I believed my family was trying to harm me. I also sent the images and additional information to the police.

I was pretending to take a selfie with my wife but my actual plan was to have the car in the picture so that I could send the information to the police 🙂

The police responded to my tweet, requesting my exact location. I provided my coordinates, and they dispatched officers to locate me. However, by the time they arrived, I had already moved on. They contacted me again for an updated location, but I was unable to stop the driver, so they were unable to catch up. This happened three or four times, with the police arriving at a location only to find me gone.

We stopped at a cafeteria for a restroom break, and I heard someone mention nearby monkeys. Suspicious and fearful, I believed my brother was trying to have me attacked. I refused to use the restroom and stood at a distance from the car. During this time, I asked a local about the nearest police station. I wanted to go there and report my family’s potential attempt to harm me.

I shared my experiences with the locals, pleading for their help. They spoke with my family, but when they heard about my mental health struggles, they suggested I continue the journey with them. I was terrified and nervous, my heart was pounding, and I felt suffocated and dying. I informed my wife of my condition, and she alerted the doctor, who checked my blood pressure and determined that I was physically okay. He suggested oxygen support. While arranging the oxygen supply, a machine fell near me, and I suspected the doctor had tried to harm me by hitting me with it.

I confronted the doctor, demanding oxygen. Although he provided it, I felt more suffocated, believing he was trying to harm me with a dangerous gas. In a desperate attempt to escape, I opened the door of the moving ambulance and jumped out. Fortunately, I was not injured. I still had infusion needles attached to my arms, which I forcefully removed to frighten others. I began bleeding heavily, and my arm was covered in blood. I shouted for help, warning my family to stay away or I would harm myself further. As I ran away, shouting for help, a few people stopped. I explained my situation to them, but when they spoke with my family, they advised me to return to the ambulance.

My injured forearm after I forcefully removed the infusion needle

I refused to return to the ambulance and asked my brother to take me in his car. Despite my fear and anxiety, I was relieved to be out of the ambulance. Suspecting they were taking me somewhere else, I pleaded with my brother to drop me off at a Sikh Gurudwara. I believed they were planning to take me to a rehabilitation center where I would be mistreated. I tried to appeal to my wife’s emotions, sharing stories to persuade her to help me. However, no one was engaging with me, which increased my fear.

Blood on my hand after I forcefully removed infusion needle

I noticed that my brother’s car had a small display that would warn of nearby high-tension wires. This system would sound an alarm when we approached such wires. Suspicious, I began to believe that he had rigged his car to electrocute me. I started crying and begged him not to harm me. Although I’m still unsure how it happened, I felt several electric shocks while in the car, despite avoiding touching anything.

My brother explained the alarm system, but I was unable to believe him. I insisted on returning to the ambulance. Once back in the ambulance, I had crossed the border of Uttar Pradesh. I contacted the Delhi police, and they responded promptly, promising assistance. I requested them to send someone to my location, but I was unsure of my exact whereabouts. They informed me that they would wait for me at ILBS Hospital, and I should try to reach there.

I was skeptical about our destination, so I used Google Maps to navigate towards ILBS Hospital. Despite the challenges, I eventually reached the hospital. Overwhelmed with anger and frustration, I verbally abused the doctor who had accompanied me. I made hateful comments about him and his family, wishing them death. I still regret my actions, but my judgment was clouded by my mental state at the time. Reflecting on that journey fills me with fear and regret, as I acknowledge the irrational behavior I exhibited.

I was unaware of the connection between liver health and mental health until I encountered numerous mentally ill liver patients at the hospital. Elevated ammonia levels are a significant contributor to these mental health issues. The condition is called Hepatic encephalopathy and it happens when toxins (poisons), including ammonia, build up in your brain because your liver is unable to break them down. It can cause memory loss, confusion, loss of consciousness, coma or death. Reflecting on my own behavior, I believe my mind sensed something amiss and began interpreting every situation negatively.

My suspicion of my elder brother stemmed from his deception about his company’s free insurance offer in 2019 and his insistence on accompanying me for an ultrasound scan. Similarly, my suspicion of my wife and others arose from their initial reluctance to take me to ILBS Hospital. I was suspicious of Rajan because he smiled when the doctor, on a video call with his daughter, joked about his tired face. I misinterpreted this, believing the doctor was referring to me, and Rajan was amused. I also suspected my mother’s intentions when she suggested I ask the doctor for sleeping pills. While their intentions were likely not malicious, they were unaware of the severity of my condition. Financial constraints were undoubtedly a factor. My mind connected these events, leading to a negative interpretation. That night was terrifying, and I was consumed by fear and suspicion.

Conclusion: Families should take doctors’ advice seriously. If my family had followed the doctor’s recommendation and taken me to ILBS Hospital on time, my condition might not have deteriorated so much. They should also try to understand the patient’s perspective. I was scared, nervous, terrified, and mentally unstable. When someone exhibits unusual behavior, it’s important to recognize that it may be a symptom of an underlying medical condition. Liver health can significantly impact mental health. High ammonia levels in the blood can lead to a coma and even death.

If a patient is exhibiting unusual behavior, it’s important to remain calm and supportive. Listen to them, provide reassurance, and avoid displaying anger or frustration. Patients in distress need to feel heard and understood. If they are acting irrationally, remember that their decision-making abilities may be impaired. Offer care and compassion, even if their behavior is challenging

To be continued in Part 6

My Liver Transplant Journey Part 4 | Hospitalization at Varanasi Hospital

Posted on April 25, 2020 by nandan

Continuing from Part 3

This phase of my journey was incredibly challenging. It was the first time I felt truly ill. After being denied admission at Samvedna Hospital, I went to Varanasi Hospital the next day. Upon arrival, I discovered that they were closing the hospital due to the lockdown of COVID-19 pandemic. Most patients were being discharged, and they only planned to retain those who could not be cared for at home. I went to the hospital office and explained my situation, but was still denied admission.

They suggested I either go to BHU or return after the COVID-19 pandemic subsided. Given my previous experience at BHU, that wasn’t an option. I was seriously ill and desperately needed hospitalization. Feeling hopeless, I decided to try another hospital and started walking away. While waiting for transportation at the hospital entrance, my neighbor, a cardiologist, saw me. He approached me and asked why I was at the hospital.

I explained my situation to my neighbor, who agreed to help me secure admission. He took me to see Dr. Kumar Abhishek, a renowned hepatologist in Varanasi and a visiting liver specialist at Varanasi Hospital. Despite his reputation, Dr. Kumar initially denied my admission. Dr. Kumar explained that the hospital was temporarily closing due to the COVID-19 pandemic. He mentioned a shortage of staff and doctors. However, my neighbor, the cardiologist, convinced him to admit me. With my neighbor’s recommendation, the doctor at Varanasi Hospital agreed to admit me. My AST, ALT, bilirubin levels were elevated, and my albumin levels were low

This was the first time I required an albumin infusion. My condition deteriorated daily. After two or three days in the hospital, I noticed a significant decline in my mental health. My thought processes slowed down, my head felt heavy, and I felt apathetic. I struggled to engage in activities or even converse with others. If someone asked me a question, it would take me a minute or more to respond. I could hear everything, but I was unable to respond immediately.

Even when I felt like communicating, it would take me several minutes to speak. My voice had changed dramatically, becoming raspy and hoarse. I recall my sister-in-law spending the night at the hospital with her husband and playing Ludo. While watching them play, I wanted to join, but it took me about an hour to simply express my desire. Once I started playing, it would take me five minutes just to roll the dice or decide on my next move.

My decision-making and cognitive abilities were severely impaired. I recall sitting on the balcony on a rainy night, watching the empty streets. Everything seemed slow and hazy, as if I were intoxicated or under the influence of drugs. By this point, I realized I was gravely ill. The elevated ammonia levels in my body were likely causing these symptoms. Due to my deteriorating condition, the doctor recommended discharge from the hospital. He explained that my treatment was beyond his hospital’s capabilities and that I needed to be transferred to a larger city like Delhi for an immediate liver transplant.

Nobody informed me anything as all the discussion were done in private but I knew very well what was going on. After two or three days, the doctor stopped visiting my room. He would continue to come to the hospital and check on other patients, but he would avoid entering my room. My family had been told multiple times that I needed to be transferred elsewhere. Initially, we believed that the doctor’s absence from my room was due to negligence. I would wait for him daily at 5 PM, but his consistent avoidance became disheartening. However, I now understand that he was frustrated with my family’s reluctance to transfer me to another hospital. His actions, although difficult to understand at the time, were ultimately for my benefit.

The cardiologist who got me admitted would visit me twice daily. While he had no expertise in liver diseases, he would still check on me, review my reports, say a few words and try to calm me down. Although his own clinic was closed due to COVID restrictions and people were not allowed to leave their homes, he took a risk and visited me at the hospital every day, which I truly admire. My condition was dire. I recall one day when my legs became numb, and the hair on my legs felt lifeless. I informed my family members of my deteriorating condition, telling them that I was dying. I pleaded with them to take me to ILBS hospital in New Delhi but unfortunately, no one listened to me at that time.

I suspected that financial concerns were preventing my family from seeking further treatment. I called my mother at home and asked her to come to the hospital. I told her that if there were any assets in our ancestral agricultural land in my name, she should sell them immediately to fund my treatment. My mother began to cry and said she would do everything she could, but it wouldn’t be easy during the COVID-19 lockdown. I pleaded with my wife and elder brother to take me to ILBS Hospital in Delhi, but they were unwilling to listen. I believe they were unaware of the severity of my condition, and financial constraints were likely a factor. I didn’t have the necessary funds, so the financial aspect would have undoubtedly been on my brother’s mind.

The elevated ammonia levels in my body were exacerbating my condition. At the time, I was unaware of the connection between ammonia levels and constipation. I now understand that constipation can be a contributing factor to rising ammonia levels in liver patients. My doctors had prescribed stool softeners, but they were ineffective, and my constipation persisted. This severe constipation was likely a contributing factor to my high ammonia levels.

After three days of severe constipation, I was finally able to pass stool. My energy levels and cognitive abilities improved significantly for a short time. Feeling somewhat better, I contacted my elder brother and wife, pleading with them to take me to ILBS Hospital. was determined to go to ILBS at any cost, but they continued to make excuses and fabricate stories. My elder brother suggested that I eat papaya and wait for two more days before going to ILBS Hospital. Someone had told him that papaya might help my condition. I explained that my situation was critical, and I was dying, and papaya wouldn’t be effective.

However, my brother, a very innocent and trusting person, insisted that I wait a few more days. I was in a dire situation, feeling as though I were dying. The doctor had stopped visiting my room, I had no financial resources or other support, and my only option was to repeatedly ask my family members to transfer me to ILBS Hospital. Eventually, they agreed to wait for the doctor to visit the hospital and then decide. My family went to meet with the doctor, who was seeing other patients in the evening.

The doctor reiterated that the only option to save me was an immediate airlift to Delhi for a liver transplant. However, he expressed concern that I might not survive the journey. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds to hire an air ambulance, and no one was willing to pay for it. Eventually, an ambulance was arranged, and I was discharged from Varanasi Hospital and transferred to ILBS in New Delhi. I am certain that if I hadn’t insisted on going to ILBS Hospital, my family would never have taken me there. They were unaware of the severity of my condition, and I would have likely died at Varanasi Hospital

As I mentioned earlier, many healthcare service providers took advantage of the COVID-19 restrictions in India. The ambulance service also capitalized on my emergency situation, charging us double the usual rate for an ICU ambulance. The ambulance provided was an ICU ambulance equipped with medical equipment. A doctor accompanied me on the journey. I later learned that he was an Ayurvedic doctor, despite the fact that he was caring for a patient on English medicines. Regardless, I was relieved to finally be on my way to ILBS.

I would also like to mention how some people tried to take advantage of my illness. In a previous post, I described how my wife’s uncle lent her money at high interest when I was admitted in BHU and we needed some help, which was very disheartening. Besides him, two other people from my in-laws’ family also exploited the situation: my sister-in-law and one of my wife’s cousins. My sister-in-law’s husband, who used to own a medical store, refused to let me buy medicines from the hospital, claiming he would offer a better rate. However, I later discovered that he was charging more than the hospital’s prices. I don’t really mind it much but such behavior was disappointing coming from a close relative.

What I find unforgettable is that they charged for bringing food from their home. The doctor had advised simple, light food. My wife and other family members were with me at the hospital. My sister-in-law brought khichdi two or three times but charged my wife Rs. 2,000 for it Similarly, my wife’s cousin also brought khichdi a few times and charged Rs. 2,000. All of this happened in front of my wife’s uncle, who even instructed my wife to give them money. Even if he asked, my sister-in-law and cousin should have refused to accept it. In our family, we always welcome visitors and relatives needing medical treatment in Varanasi, offering shelter and food without expecting anything in return. People help even unknown people or their neighbors just for humanity, but my own in-laws saw my distress as an opportunity to profit.

Conclusion:

And one other important lesson: No one’s true character is written on their face. People often treat you according to their own interests, so it’s important to be cautious about whom you choose to trust.

To be continued in Part 5

My Liver Transplant Journey Part 3: Two weeks at home after getting discharged from BHU

Posted on April 15, 2020 by nandan

Continuing from Part 2

I was discharged from the hospital on March 21st, just before the nationwide lockdown was imposed on March 24th. I remained at home throughout the lockdown and managed my daily routine without any issues. I followed my doctor’s instructions and took my medication as prescribed. A follow-up appointment with blood tests was scheduled for two weeks later. Obtaining a blood test during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic was challenging. I conveniently booked an online appointment with Lal Path Labs

They collected blood samples from my home and sent the reports to me online. Another challenge was seeing a doctor, as most of the hospital was closed. Only emergency services were operational, but even those were limited. In reality, the hospital was not even providing emergency care. Patients arriving with urgent medical needs were often denied admission. The senior doctors were absent, and only resident doctors were available to see patients, prescribe medication, and schedule follow-up appointments.

Many people who died in India during the COVID-19 pandemic didn’t succumb to the virus itself but to other underlying health conditions that they couldn’t receive treatment for. When I arrived at the hospital, the doctor’s outpatient clinic was closed. There was no one to even speak with the patients. I went to the emergency ward and explained my situation, but they were unresponsive and told me to return after the COVID-19 pandemic subsided. As a last resort, I went directly to the doctor’s personal office at the hospital.

I presented my reports to the doctor, but he became very angry that I had approached him directly. He began yelling at me and told me to return after the COVID-19 pandemic ended. I pleaded with him to simply tell me if I should stop, change, or continue my medication. However, he was so enraged that he threw away my reports without even examining them. He called his assistant, and they forcibly removed me from his office. It was a cruel and inhumane act from someone entrusted with public health.

I did nothing wrong by going to his office, as doctors were mandated by the government to be present at the hospital to care for their patients. I was also strictly adhering to COVID-19 protocols. Unfortunately, the doctor’s behavior was typical of many government hospital doctors in India. I was unsure what to do next. Should I continue my medication, stop it, or change it? My supply of medication had also run out, and purchasing medicines during the COVID-19 lockdown was challenging due to the closure of many medical shops.

Feeling well and concerned about potential medication overdose, I decided to stop taking my medication. Although I initially felt fine, the relief was short-lived. I began experiencing severe, indescribable pain in both legs. The pain was so intense that I required constant massage. My wife and mother were incredibly supportive during this time. They would take turns massaging my legs throughout the day and night. When they fell asleep, I would cry in pain and massage my legs myself.

Nothing was working, and my condition was deteriorating rapidly. I began experiencing severe stomach discomfort, weakness, and fatigue. I spent most of my time lying in bed, massaging my legs, and crying. I tried to contact the doctor at BHU again, but it was impossible. Desperate for help, I decided to visit another hospital. I went to Popular Hospital in Varanasi, where a doctor recommended hospitalization. Unfortunately, they had no available beds.

I took the prescribed medication and returned home. However, none of the medicines were effective. I felt weak, tired, nauseous, and had a heavy stomach. My fatigue and difficulty breathing persisted. The leg pain also showed no improvement. One night, feeling particularly unwell, I went to Samvedna Hospital, located near my home. Samvedna Hospital has a reputation for overcharging patients, but I had no other choice.

The main doctor was unavailable, so a nurse examined me. The nurse spoke to the doctor by phone, who requested my hospitalization. I agreed to be admitted, but there were no available beds in the general ward. The nurse explained that I would need to be admitted to the ICU due to my condition. After a chest X-ray, I was admitted to the ICU ward.

The ICU ward was not what I expected. It was a large hall with multiple beds, lacking essential medical equipment. It resembled a typical hospital ward without even a doctor present. I observed the nurse sending my X-ray image to the doctor via WhatsApp. After a few minutes, the doctor returned and asked me to follow him. I assumed he was taking me for further tests, but he instead brought me back to my family members on the ground floor.

I noticed that the hospital staff maintained an unusual distance from me. I also saw another person spraying sanitizer everywhere I touched or stepped. My family members suggested that we return home. Later, I learned that the doctor suspected I had COVID-19 and decided to discharge me from the hospital. I was frightened to hear that I might have COVID-19, even though I had no symptoms. We decided to visit another hospital the next day and then returned home.

To be continued in the part 4

My Liver Transplant Journey Part 2: Stay with in-laws & Their Behavior: BHU Hospitalization

Posted on March 25, 2020 by nandan

Continuing from the post number 1 …………….

My wife was visiting her parents during that time. One day, I called her and mentioned that I’d like to join her for a few days. I’m still puzzled by that decision, as I’m not someone who typically enjoys extended stays at my in-laws’ place. My wife was equally surprised, as it was likely the first time in our marriage that I’d expressed such a desire. I did go, and it was there that I began experiencing daily evening fevers accompanied by chills.

Sigmoidoscopy Report from February 2020

Whenever I felt cold, I would take Zerodol-P for temporary relief. I was also experiencing severe, persistent leg pain that was difficult to describe. This continued for three or four days, prompting me to get a blood test. I opted for a CBC and LFT. The results showed slightly elevated TLC counts, elevated bilirubin (around 8), elevated AST and ALT levels, and low albumin levels. While I initially believed it wasn’t serious, my family insisted on seeing a doctor. I eventually agreed and consulted a doctor at BHU.

Endoscopy Report from Feb 2020

The gastroenterology department head at BHU, Dr. V.K. Dixit, ordered additional tests: CBC, LFT, KFT, PT-INR, Endoscopy, and Colonoscopy. The results were concerning. In addition to abnormal LFT, my PT-INR was alarmingly elevated, far exceeding the safe range. My PT-INR was 3, while it should have been below 1. A resident doctor initially reviewed my reports and advised me to seek treatment at a larger hospital due to their severity.

Color Doppler Report from March 2020

His first question was whether I had experienced bleeding through my stool, nose, or cough. I replied negatively. He then explained that my PT-INR levels were so high that I risked vomiting blood or falling into a coma at any time. He recommended seeking treatment at a specialized liver hospital in Delhi. However, I insisted on seeing a senior doctor first. The senior doctor concurred with the assessment of my PT-INR levels and asked the same questions about bleeding.

BHU Prescription Page 1

I was unfamiliar with PT-INR levels and unaware of the dangers posed by elevated levels. The doctor instructed me to be admitted to the ward immediately. I complied, but after only two days, the doctor asked my family to take me home. He explained that there was little left to do, and they should either transfer me to a specialized hospital in Delhi or take me home. The doctor emphasized that the only potential option for survival was an immediate liver transplant.

BHU Prescription Page 2

My family requested that he keep me in the hospital for a few days, but he refused. He explained that it wouldn’t be beneficial to stay at BHU, as they lacked the necessary facilities for my condition. After much persuasion, he agreed to admit me. Fortunately, my body responded to the medication, and I began to feel better. I stayed in the hospital for a week and was eventually discharged. The doctor prescribed some medications and scheduled a follow-up appointment for two weeks later.

I was discharged from the hospital on March 21st, just a day before the lockdown was imposed. I’d like to reflect on my time at my in-laws’ place, as it taught me a valuable life lesson. Their family is a joint family, consisting of my in-laws and my wife’s uncle’s family. This includes my mother-in-law, my wife’s uncle, aunt, their son, and my wife’s grandmother. My father-in-law passed away in 2017, and since then, my mother-in-law has been living with my uncle’s family.

When I moved in with them, my aunt seemed somewhat upset. The next day, she told my wife that if we were staying for a few days, we should bring all our groceries and give them to her. My wife complied, emptying our kitchen and giving everything to her aunt. My aunt would also ask my wife to buy milk, vegetables, and other groceries in exchange for our stay. Essentially, I was paying for our stay, which is unheard of in Indian culture.

I later learned that my wife’s uncle had lent her money at a high interest rate while I was fighting for my life at BHU. While high-interest loans are common in the market, you wouldn’t expect such behavior from your own uncle in an emergency. He lent Rs. 60,000 at a 10% monthly interest rate, even deducting one month’s interest upfront. My elder brother and my wife contributed to my hospital bill.

We humans have categorized our personal and social lives in specific ways. We anticipate certain behaviors from certain relationships. My relationship with my wife’s family is deeply sacred, but such behavior raises questions about the fundamental nature of human connection and relationships. While such incidents are rare—I’ve never heard of anything similar elsewhere—I experienced it firsthand. I acknowledge his assistance, but I no longer consider it help because he charged money for it…

To be continued in Part 3……

My Liver Transplant Journey: How it all started: Post 1

Posted on March 20, 2020 by nandan

Due to the length of my liver transplant journey, I’ll be sharing it in a series of posts, each focusing on different events and experiences from my illness to recovery.

It took me over three years to decide whether or not to share my liver transplant journey. After much deliberation, I chose to write about it as a way of expressing gratitude to all the positive forces in the existence that helped me through this difficult time. Initially, I hesitated to share my experiences due to the many negative experiences I encountered with. However, a deep desire to help others avoid similar hardships and motivated me to write.

You may find some of my views negative, but please refrain from being judgmental until you’ve read my entire series of posts. I’ve been as honest as possible, detailing my mental state when I had high ammonia levels and the reasons behind people’s negative attitudes towards me. I fully understand the frustration and financial burden my illness placed on my family. Dealing with such unexpected challenges is not easy, but smart decisions can make things significantly easier. Patients, families, and others each have distinct roles to play. By understanding one another and working together with a compassionate and scientific approach, we can achieve better outcomes with less difficulty.

As I mentioned earlier, please avoid judgment until you’ve read all of my posts. I pray that no one ever experiences the hardships I faced, but if they do, I hope my posts can offer help to patients, their families, and society at large. Hari Om.

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My health began to deteriorate in the final week of December 2019 or the first week of January 2020. I experienced persistent chills, weakness, and fatigue, but I didn’t suspect a severe liver issue. While I had a history of jaundice in 2017 and septicemia in 2018, both conditions were effectively managed. Although I required hospitalization for three days to treat the septicemia, my liver function tests remained normal. When I experienced jaundice, my doctor suggested that it could be attributed to contaminated water, unhealthy food, or a sedentary lifestyle. I regularly underwent blood tests and ultrasounds to monitor my health, but these examinations never indicated any signs of liver disease.

I’d like to share another incident that occurred in March 2019. My older brother, Shailendra, was visiting Varanasi and falsely claimed that his company offered free healthcare for family members, including me. He encouraged me to get an ultrasound scan using this insurance coverage. I knew he was lying, using the ultrasound as a pretext to discuss my declining health. I accompanied my brother to get an ultrasound scan. During the appointment, I noticed him speaking privately with the doctor, which seemed suspicious.

I suspected he might be requesting the doctor to provide a negative assessment of my health. Although I was somewhat upset, I still went through with the scan. Once the scan was complete, the doctor informed me that my liver appeared unhealthy and recommended consulting a specialized liver hospital in Delhi. However, I was convinced that the doctor’s assessment was pre-arranged and dismissed his advice. In retrospect, I wish I had taken his recommendation seriously.

Looking back on my illness in 2020, I believe it began in January, though I initially dismissed the symptoms. As I mentioned earlier, I felt constantly cold, weak, and fatigued. Over time, I also developed mental health issues likely attributed to high ammonia levels in my body. I recall feeling persistently upset and isolated, longing to escape from those around me. I was confused and disoriented, unsure what was happening to me or if I was living a different kind of life. The underlying reason for my desire to withdraw is something I choose to keep private. It was a personal burden that caused me constant distress. This secret will likely remain undisclosed until the end of my days.

Overwhelmed by stress, I once left home without informing anyone and stayed with a friend for two days. One night, I even called my mother to say I wouldn’t see her again. The combination of stress and high ammonia levels left me constantly upset, angry, and confused. Reflecting on those days, I realize my behavior was indicative of a mental health crisis. Suicidal thoughts were frequent, and I often contemplated ending my life. It’s clear now that my illness began in January, but I was oblivious to it at the time. Looking back at photos from that period, I can see that my skin had darkened significantly, and I was noticeably thin. However, I never suspected a severe liver condition.

Look at the sudden change in my face color

Reflecting on those days, I recall that even after consuming alcohol, my breath and urine would retain an alcohol odor for the following day. People would frequently ask me in the afternoon if I had been drinking, even though my behavior was not indicative of intoxication. I believe this was due to my body’s inability to metabolize alcohol effectively, causing it to accumulate. While I can’t pinpoint the exact date of my first drink, I had been consuming alcohol for approximately 10-12 years. Typically, I would consume a quarter of whiskey (165 ml) each evening. Although there were occasional lapses, I generally drank alcohol daily. In the last 2-3 years of my active drinking phase, I increased my daily intake to 200 ml. I rarely drank during the day, except for special occasions like Holi. While I’m unsure if this qualifies as heavy drinking, it’s clear that I consumed alcohol almost daily.

My final alcohol consumption was on March 8, 2020. With Holi approaching on the 10th, I was in a celebratory mood. I recall enjoying two cans of Kingfisher beer at home before heading out to meet friends. While I typically preferred whiskey, I opted for beer that evening due to feeling unwell and seeking a temporary boost. When I joined my friends, they were already drinking a variety of beverages, including whiskey and beer. Despite my initial intention to avoid whiskey, I ultimately consumed two or three shots.

I recall returning home late that night and going to my mother’s room, which was unusual for me. Typically, I would go directly to my room and sleep. However, on that night, I went to my mother and asked her to cook Khichdi. I remember she was visibly upset about my condition. Eventually, I went to my room late at night and slept. The next morning, I felt extremely weak, feverish, and shivering. Despite it being Holi on the 10th, my illness prevented me from celebrating. My ammonia levels were already elevated, and I felt confused most of the time.

To be continued in Part 2…….

Disco in Varanasi

Posted on January 2, 2011 by nandan

Usually I go out with my friends to celebrate new year but this year I couldn’t as my friends were not organized. I thought why explore something new in Varanasi and it reminded me of a disco which opened last year. I had only heard about this disco called Agni in Varanasi but did not know where exactly it was located. I asked my friends about it and they also did not know about it. Finally I took my bike and went out searching for this disco in the evening of 31st. I reached to a bar and asked the address of this disco and fortunately they knew about it.

I went to the disco in the evening and they told me that they open only during 12 to 4 in the day time and 8 to 11 in the evening. They asked me to come at 8 o’clock. I went back there with a friend around 9 o’clock and found that they were allowing couples only. I was really sad that I was not going to be allowed. I asked them if there was any hope for me later in the night and they asked me to come after an hour. I went to an alcohol shop nearby with my friend and had a beer and they came back again to the disco. I was allowed this time to go in.

There was an entry fee of Rs. 1000 for couples and Rs. 700 for people like me who did not have a girl with me. The interesting thing was that there was no entry fee for girls. They said that I would get two beers inside and won’t need to pay anything for it as it is already covered in the entry fee. But the condition was different inside. They offered two small glasses instead of a bottle or a cane. I had already been to several discos and night clubs in different big Indian cities but it was my first experience at a disco in Varanasi and it was a really interesting experience.

I noticed a lot of differences between this disco and the other ones I had been in other cities. Usually I see good quality alcohol at discos and night clubs in other big cities but here they had very limited stock and the alcohol they were serving was not available at other discos I had been to. This Varanasi disco had stock of cheapest alcohol, most popular and some lower middle quality alcohol only. Usually these kinds of alcohol is not available at discos in big cities. The other big difference I noticed was they played only Bollywood music, which I understand and enjoy more than Western music, but in big cities I dont know why they never play Bollywood or Indian pop music.

The other discos in big cities I have been to have usually more people, like at least 100 in usual days but here there were hardly 50 people on new year eve day. Most of them were young boys. There were a few girls also. Varanasi is a very male dominating city where girls are usually not seen wearing short skirts or sleeveless clothes but here it was first time in my life when I saw girls wearing short skirts. Of course not all of them but a few. These girls were drunk and smoking which is really rare to see in Varanasi. It was the first time in my life when I saw Varanasi young girls and boys dancing together away from their family.

Or maybe they were not locals. Varanasi attracts a lot of students from all over India and these students usually live in the student hostels so most probably they were such students who live away from their families because it is hard for me to believe that Varanasi parents would allow their daughters to go to a disco with their male friends. Anyways, I liked seeing them together. I was really curious about the safety of women at the disco and after spending almost three hours it seemed like the disco was safe for women as well.

I saw a few families also who had kids with them. The disco is usually open only until 11 in the night but because of new year eve they were open until 1 am. Over all it was a really nice and interesting experience for me and I enjoyed it a lot. I wish to go there again in usual days with my friends and family. Happy New Year 2011.

Kathmandu Gay Pride 2010

Posted on August 30, 2010 by nandan

I traveled to Nepal with my friend Babu to attend the Kathmandu Gay Pride, and it was truly an unforgettable experience. We took a bus from Varanasi to Sonauli, catching the last one at 8:30 PM. It was an overnight journey, and the bus ride was quite uncomfortable. The road was terrible, and I couldn’t sleep at all. We finally arrived at the Sonauli border at 7 AM and took a pedal rickshaw to cross. I was carrying some electronics like a video camera, photo camera, and voice recorder, and I wanted to declare them at the Indian customs office.

beautiful nature

When I told Babu about declaring the electronics, he laughed and said it wasn’t necessary. However, I had experienced issues before during my first trip to Nepal in 1996. Back then, I was traveling with my family. We had a camera, which we declared at the Sonauli border and received a receipt for. Unfortunately, we lost it while in Nepal, and on our return, customs checked our baggage, found the camera, and claimed it wasn’t allowed to bring electronics from Nepal to India.

Babu at Pashupati nath temple

We were shocked when they insisted it wasn’t our camera, despite having a receipt. The customs officers were simply looking for a bribe. We ended up giving them some money to be allowed to leave. This experience stayed in my mind, which is why I didn’t want to take any chances this time. When I approached the customs office at the Sonauli border to declare my electronics, the officers laughed and said, “You’re very smart.”

Beautiful

I declared my items and got a receipt, but they again asked for a bribe for issuing it. I questioned why they were asking for a bribe now, and one officer explained it was just the system. I offered Rs. 20, but he insisted on at least Rs. 50. In the end, I gave him Rs. 40 and received my receipt. I had hoped that by declaring my electronics in advance, I could avoid any problems or corruption, but it seemed unavoidable. After obtaining the receipt, we crossed the border into Nepal.

Wooden windows

Although Nepal had been a Hindu country until a few years ago, I expected its culture to be similar to India’s. However, there was a noticeable difference right at the border: different-looking people, clothing, more working women, and different vehicles. It felt like a completely different country. The one similarity was the presence of touts trying to exploit tourists. Many approached us immediately to sell bus tickets to Kathmandu and hotel rooms.

Temple doorways

Babu warned me that these touts often lied. They claimed a bus would leave within the hour, but Babu assured me that buses typically don’t leave before 4 PM. I was skeptical until my rickshaw driver confirmed it. There are direct buses from the Sonauli border to Kathmandu, but only in the early morning or late afternoon. Luckily, Babu was with me, and I avoided the touts. We took a bus from the Sonauli border to a place called Bhairava, which was only about a 30-minute ride.

Forest

Bhairava is the largest bus station near the Sonauli border, and there are regular buses to Kathmandu. We arrived by 9 AM and learned that a bus would leave at 9:30. I noticed something peculiar: Nepal has no government bus service, so all buses are private, with no fixed fares. I wasn’t aware I was supposed to bargain for the bus fare, but Babu handled it. The counter initially quoted us Rs. 450, but we ended up paying Rs. 350.

Greenery everywhere

The bus departed at 9:30 but was stopped 15 minutes later by the army. I thought they would check everyone, but they only looked around and inspected a few bags. Surprisingly, they weren’t just searching for weapons; they were also checking for potatoes and sugar. I laughed when Babu explained that the authorities wanted to prevent smuggling these items from India, where they are cheaper. It was interesting to learn about the trade dynamics.

pashupati nath temple

Nepali buses were cramped, with little legroom. It rained continuously from Sonauli to Kathmandu, and water even came in through the windows despite being closed. I was soaked for over 12 hours on the bus. The nature in Nepal was breathtaking—clean rivers, fresh air, and lush greenery. I noticed that there seemed to be more working women in Nepal than in India. Many shops were run by women, and they appeared to be in better circumstances than their Indian counterparts.

Signboard about family violence

Nepal appeared more progressive regarding women’s rights compared to India. Women traveled alone, worked in offices, ran shops, and even drove auto rickshaws. It was refreshing to see. I was particularly struck by the number of alcohol shops run by women—something I had never encountered in India. I met a female shop owner and struck up a conversation with her.

Nepali girl

I asked her if she felt safe managing an alcohol shop alone and dealing with often-drunk male customers. She replied that running the business was no different from how any male family member would manage it. When I inquired about societal attitudes towards women in alcohol sales, she mentioned that Nepali society is quite progressive in terms of women’s rights. She had never visited India but had seen it on TV, and she didn’t seem particularly excited about it.

liberal Nepali girl

I explained to her that it’s nearly impossible to find women selling alcohol in India and that there are fewer working women overall. She was aware of the situation and pointed out that many Indian families in Nepal restrict their women from working outside the home. When I asked what Nepali people think of this, she candidly said, “Honestly, we think Indians are crazy and backward.” I was taken aback, but it’s true that, in terms of women’s rights, India has a long way to go compared to Nepal.

the most beautiful alcohol bottle I had ever seen

An alcohol bottle

The nature throughout Nepal was stunning. It was clear that the environment remains largely untouched—thick jungles, beautiful rivers, fewer industries, less traffic, and majestic mountains. I truly enjoyed the natural beauty of Nepal. I noticed only five large factories during the entire bus ride from Sonauli to Kathmandu, and two of them were Indian factories. While this means less pollution, it also means fewer jobs, which contributes to poverty.

Luxury way to travel in Nepal

Poverty in Nepal struck me deeply. Along the Sonauli-Kathmandu highway, I saw many homes and people, but what was surprising was that many seemed to be doing nothing—just sitting around and chatting. It felt like they had no work to occupy them. I encountered numerous children selling water bottles and snacks along the road. Nepal has suffered significantly from political instability in recent years, which appears to be a major cause of its poverty. The Nepalis I spoke with seemed discontent with the political situation.

Beautiful window art

Finally, we arrived in Kathmandu around 8 PM, and it was still raining. I had read about a neighborhood called Thamel, known for its hotels, and I wanted to stay there. Babu warned me that locals often give wrong directions, so he suggested asking someone at an Indian-run shop. We found a paan shop, bought a few items, and asked for directions. Fortunately, the shopkeeper was helpful, and after about a 10-minute walk and a few inquiries, we made it to Thamel.

Cremations at Pashupati Nath temple

Thamel was bustling with hotels, making it a popular spot for backpackers. We checked several hotels, but the prices were steep. Babu said we could find a room for around 500 NR, but none offered rates below 1000 INR. Eventually, we reached Annapurna Hotel, where they wanted to charge us 800 INR per night. I mentioned I was a government-approved tour guide in India, and they agreed to give me a room for 500 INR.

To be honest I did not like it at all

The hotel initially seemed nice, but we soon discovered that the pillow covers and bed sheets were used, the cable connection didn’t work, and the telephone was dead. We complained, and they promised to fix everything by the next morning, but that morning never came before we left. I wasn’t there to enjoy luxury, watch TV, or make calls from my room, so I didn’t mind too much. We went out for dinner, but most restaurants were closed by 8:30 PM. We eventually found an open restaurant and had our meal.

I had read various articles about nightlife in Nepal, including dance bars and massage centers. Some claimed it was safe, while others warned of potential dangers. Many articles described how people would spend significant money at nightclubs and face misbehavior. I also read about underage kids involved in the sex industry. Curiosity got the better of us, and we decided to visit at least one nightclub in Kathmandu.

While walking around Thamel, I noticed numerous massage parlors. As we passed one, a boy who appeared to be about 15 approached me and asked what I was looking at. I explained I was merely checking out the advertisements. He insisted that I was interested in something special. I clarified that I wasn’t looking for anything like that. He continued to follow us, offering young, beautiful girls at low prices. There were many pimps lurking around, watching tourists.

I managed to return to my hotel safely. The next day, we worked for a while, explored, and did some shopping. I missed vegetarian Indian food,

French hippie causes problems

Posted on October 20, 2009 by nandan

I recently hosted a French guest at my guest house, and it was the first time I encountered significant issues with both a guest and my guest house. The guest, a French woman, contacted me through an online advertisement. After exchanging a few emails, I agreed to host her, as she mentioned she wanted to study Hindi in Benares and had been living in India for the past six months. She appeared to be an ideal guest since she seemed familiar with India. I arranged Hindi classes for her and left for Gwalior to attend my tour guide training.

When I checked in with my other guests, they mentioned that she seemed a bit “hippie,” but not problematic. Initially, she told me she was happy with the accommodation. However, when I returned to Benares and met her in person, it became clear that she was dissatisfied. She complained that my advertisement stated there was a kitchen, but it was not furnished. She expected a fully equipped kitchen, similar to those in the West, complete with gas connections and utilities—something that isn’t common in India.

I tried to explain the difference, but she was unwilling to listen. The next issue was the rent. She claimed that the rent I advertised was different from what I was asking. She found the Rs. 1000 per month charge for unlimited broadband internet excessive and refused to pay for it. She also thought Rs. 3000 per month for meals (lunch, dinner, and breakfast) was too high. Eventually, she proposed Rs. 6800 per month for room, meals, and internet, which was not in line with what I charged other guests, and I was not comfortable with that.

Despite asking her twice if she wanted to find alternate accommodation if she was unhappy, she insisted everything was fine. However, she seemed to have issues with everyone in the house. For instance, I keep a few plants in each flat and place them under a grate to get some sunlight. She moved the plants to a darker area and placed her mattress under the grate. When my mother saw this and moved the plants back, she became upset. Additionally, she wanted to stay out late at night, something I generally advise against for female guests due to safety concerns in Varanasi.

There is very little to do after 9 PM, but she frequently stayed out until midnight or later. One of my other guests reported seeing her drinking on a boat in the Ganga, which was quite concerning. She left after two months, but when I went to her flat, I found a large amount of garbage. I was checking to see if she had left any clothes or items that could be reused, which I usually donate to the Mother Teresa Home. I discovered a bottle of Thums Up soft drink, which I used to clean the toilet, as soft drinks are effective for that purpose.

Although she left at 7 AM, she returned around 9 AM because her train was delayed. When she saw that her garbage had been touched, she became very upset. She did not address this with me directly but later sent several emails questioning why I had touched her garbage. I tried to explain, but she refused to listen. Her behavior was quite challenging, and it felt like she was unreasonable. It was my house, and I felt entitled to manage it as needed. Her stay was a learning experience for me, and I am now much more cautious when selecting guests.

—

Delhi Gay Pride 2009 – afterparty

Posted on July 4, 2009 by nandan

Megan and Adam were running late, so I told them to head off while I stayed behind for the party. I wandered around and eventually stopped at a bus stop, where I sat for a while. Two people, who seemed to be from rural areas, came and sat next to me. It appeared that they had also witnessed the parade and were discussing it. One of them was visibly angry about the parade. He was cursing the government and the event organizers, expressing his frustration that people were openly mocking Indian culture and that the government was allowing it.

His remarks suggested he hadn’t explored the historical and cultural aspects of Indian traditions. For instance, the *Ramayana* includes references to hijras with practices similar to those of modern gays, the *Kamasutra* discusses homosexuality, and the temples at Khajuraho feature numerous sculptures depicting same-sex relations. It seemed clear that his views were influenced by a limited understanding of Indian cultural and historical context. I haven’t visited Khajuraho, but I have read the Ramayana and looked at the Kamasutra. From these sources, it seems that India has a very old gay culture, which was accepted in society but became criminalized by the British.

After spending an hour wandering around, I returned to the place where the bus was supposed to start from. There, I met a 20-year-old student from Delhi University. I was sitting near the bus when he came over and sat next to me. He said that attending the parade had made him feel more confident and open. He mentioned that he had been shy before the parade, but the experience had helped him overcome his shyness and embrace his identity with greater assurance. He wanted to talk to me about a problem he was having with his boyfriend.

He said that his boyfriend had stopped communicating with him and had slapped him a few months ago in front of his friends. He was very upset about this and sought my advice. Despite the situation, he mentioned that his boyfriend used to love him a lot, and he found it hard to believe that they could ever break up. He was deeply in love with him. I advised him to wait a while, keep trying to contact his boyfriend, and see how things developed. He seemed quite relieved and happy to hear that he should make an effort to stay in touch.

I asked him if he had told his parents about his boyfriend, and he said no, because he was afraid they would be angry if they found out. I then asked if he would like to marry his boyfriend, and he said that’s what he wanted. When I inquired whether he thought his parents would ever accept him marrying a man, he was silent for a moment and then said no. I also asked if his friends knew about his boyfriend, and he said they did, but only a few were supportive. Most of his friends just made fun of him.

He sought my advice on how to dress to look attractive at the party. He had an extra sleeveless t-shirt that he had bought specifically for the occasion, and he also had a piece of cloth that he wanted to wrap around his waist to enhance his look. Although I’m not a fashion expert, I did my best to help him look his best. As I spoke with him, I wondered what might happen if he were forced into a marriage with a woman. He had no need to marry someone of the opposite sex, and it would be detrimental for both him and his potential bride. Many homosexual individuals in India are coerced into such marriages, which seems like a grave injustice to me.

I also noticed something interesting: many homosexual individuals were calling each other by feminine or humorous names, such as using the word “randi” (slut). I didn’t quite understand why they did this. While hijras often adopt feminine names, homosexuals usually don’t, but it seemed that they enjoyed using these names among themselves. Additionally, I found it notable that homosexuals were making fun of hijras. On the bus ride to the party, there were quite a few hijras on board as well.

Hijras are known for their distinctive clapping and hijra songs. All the hijras on the bus were singing their songs and clapping in their traditional style. However, a group of homosexual individuals being interviewed on the bus continuously mocked the hijras. They would say things like, “Oh my God! Where did these hijras come from, these randis…” At one point, a guy even stood up and loudly asked if anyone had a one-rupee coin to give to the “randi hijras,” so they would stop clapping and singing. Although there was no malice intended, it was clear that they were making fun of the hijras. Despite this, everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and it was a fun ride overall.

I really enjoyed that bus ride and will never forget it. The atmosphere was vibrant—people were laughing, singing, hugging each other, and playfully teasing one another. It was so much fun. Eventually, the bus stopped, and we arrived at M Lounge Bar in Sector 15, Noida. I had expected it to be a place with just some food, drinks, and conversation, but it turned out to be much more than I imagined. In fact, it was a disco. As soon as I stepped in, everything I saw was completely new to me, as I had never been to a disco before.

People were dancing, drinking, hugging, and kissing—I had never seen anything like it before. There was a bar in the disco, and I decided to have a drink, but I didn’t realize how expensive everything would be. While entrance was free for parade participants, the drinks, food, and cigarettes were quite costly. I had a shot of whiskey and a bottle of beer, but I still wanted more because the atmosphere was so thrilling. I was having a fantastic time. Finally, I had to leave the disco to buy some alcohol from a shop. Before I did, I ran into the organizer, Mr. Amit Agrawal, and chatted with him for a while.

He was too drunk to have a meaningful conversation, so he directed me to speak with one of the other organizers, a 25-year-old student. He mentioned that he was also gay. When I asked if he had informed his family, he said, “No.” I inquired whether he thought his parents would approve of him marrying his boyfriend, and he said he wasn’t sure. However, he was certain that he wouldn’t want to marry a girl. He mentioned that they had organized the parade without any financial assistance from NGOs, institutions, or charities. The entire event was funded by a group of gays, who had contributed their own money to make it happen.

He was quite intoxicated and gave me his mobile number, asking me to call him the next day for further discussion. After our conversation, I returned to the disco, where the party was in full swing. Everything I saw there was entirely new to me. I saw many gay couples kissing, hugging, and dancing together. One couple, with a 60+ year-old man and a 20-year-old, stood out—they had the longest kiss I’ve ever seen, lasting for about two hours. There were also hijras with their partners, and I observed them kissing as well. Additionally, a few lesbian couples were present.

It was clear that the regular patrons of the disco were taken aback; they would sit in a corner, watching the scene with shocked and curious expressions. It was evident they had never witnessed anything like this before. I don’t think any of the regular patrons danced that night; they were simply observing what was happening. It was such a fun experience. At first, it felt a bit strange and I was shocked, much like the other regulars, but after a few minutes, everything seemed normal. I felt like everyone was just enjoying themselves, and the most important thing was that they were happy. The sense of freedom and joy was palpable, and it was truly awesome to witness.

It was amusing when one of the guys came up to me, started dancing, and touched my butt. I wasn’t sure how to react at first, but after a few seconds, he left me and joined someone else. I appreciated how he respected my feelings, and I think we should extend the same respect to others. None of the LGBTQ+ individuals made fun of me, insulted me, or tried to disturb me because I was straight. I don’t understand why straight people often make fun of or insult LGBTQ+ individuals. Why can’t straight people respect gay people’s feelings in the same way they expect their own feelings to be respected?

Now that the party was over, I headed back home. I really enjoyed the party—it was an incredibly fun night. Participating in and supporting the parade, along with the exciting party, felt like one of the best things I had ever done for myself. I was scheduled to talk with two members of the organizing committee the next morning, and I was looking forward to it. However, when I called them, both said they had drunk too much the previous night and just wanted to sleep. As a result, I couldn’t speak with them. I will try to talk with them the next time I visit Delhi.

Mr. Amit had asked me to help organize a Gay Pride Parade in Benares as well, but I’m unsure if the city is ready for such an event. Overall, my experience was fantastic, and I genuinely enjoyed participating in the parade. I witnessed the struggles faced by the gay community in India, listened to their concerns, and spoke with many of them. Ultimately, I believe that they deserve equal rights—equal rights in all aspects of life and social acceptance. Although I don’t know how long it will take for them to achieve equal rights in India, it is clear that gaining social acceptance will be a long and challenging process.

The gay community exists everywhere in the world, though it may be hidden in some places due to social pressure and more visible in others due to increased awareness, education, and liberalization. I recently read a newspaper article about an NGO working with the gay community in Varanasi. The article mentioned that the NGO was assisting 1,500 gay individuals in the city. However, I believe this number is an underestimate. The actual number is likely much higher, as many gay people choose not to make their relationships public due to societal non-acceptance.

Gay culture is private, and it’s unreasonable to assume we should know or judge what happens behind closed doors. Such thoughts are misguided. Outside of private spaces, everyone—whether homosexual or straight—engages in similar activities. When a person is born in India, they are entitled to basic human rights, including freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and equal rights. Gay culture represents a different perspective, nothing more, and everyone has the right to their own beliefs and ways of living.

Some people prefer relationships with the opposite sex, while others are attracted to the same sex. Just as those who are attracted to the opposite sex deserve to pursue their relationships freely, so too should those who are attracted to the same sex. If we advocate for equal rights, then gay individuals should be afforded the same rights as everyone else on this planet. Imagine being forcibly married to someone of the same sex; it would be an incredibly difficult situation if you were not inclined toward that relationship. The same consideration should be applied to everyone who views homosexuality as abnormal. It’s worth reflecting on.

Pragyabodh

Media, Research, Journalism, Tourism, Anthropology, Philosophy

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