Finding joy in cancer!

“It was ironical that in the face of death, I began, for the first time, to really live.” A contradiction in terms, but to Anup Kumar, who was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer in April 2000, it became more than a desire, a mantra to cling on to.

The writing on the wall was clear as far as the medical fraternity was concerned. This man had only four months to live! And that was something Anup decided he was not going to remain passive about, if he could help it.

“It’s your body. It’s your mind. It’s your cancer. It’s your battle. Only you have the answers to how you can win.” Out of this battle plan was born the book ‘The Joy of Cancer’. A book, the best parts of which, as the author himself admits, were written while undergoing the horrendous effects of aggressive chemotherapy.

The book, which has remained on the bestseller list since its launch in Delhi this July, was launched in Chennai on November 8. Anup stood before the gathering reading excerpts from his book, to all outward appearances just as any of us would at the podium.

Hearing him was an experience, and I suddenly realised through misting eyes that my journalistic objectivity was taking a beating. Later seated before him, able to empathise with what he had gone through I remained more a listener, nodding my head, the questions I had planned to ask evading me.

Was the title his own idea? For a man who had slipped into his psyche, done an analysis of his persona and discovered a fount of inner strength, the answer was not far to seek. An obvious oxymoron, maybe, but Anup was persistent. Enough to overcome the objections of his wife, Amrita, and daughters Malika and Kaveri.

In Kahlil Gibran, he found the answer: “Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be?”

Did you anticipate the book’s success: When Anup started writing the book, more in a bid to do something to overcome his agony, his only idea was that if he could send or e-mail it one cancer patient, it would have served its purpose. And there was of course, the time factor. He did not know how long he had!

Initial reaction: When the blow fell, Anup was an educated unemployed thanks to the international advertising agency where he had worked closing down its India operations. Not a good beginning to the New Year, but just before his daughter’s wedding he received a job offer from Abu Dhabi. After the wedding, which had been a drain on his financial reserves, he left for the Gulf and came back “feeling like a winner”. By then another job offer too had come in, from Chennai. It was while preparing to leave for the Gulf that a follow-up of the medical tests threw up the villainous cancerous cells.

From then on, it was a battery of tests, visits to numerous specialists, agonising waits for the reports, the misery of acceptance. Periods of dark despair, the Why Me syndrome did strike but Anup developed his own ways of conquering his illness.

“In the following days I spoke to my body. Tenderly, lovingly, gently. I wanted each part of my being to be ready for the long struggle that lay ahead. For the parts that were not yet affected, I had to ensure that there was no way that the cancer cells could enter and take control. I began to realize that only I had the power to control my body. My body was me. Together, we had to be prepared.”