PRESENT DAY
“TP53 – that is what we need.” Morris said and was eagerly waiting for my next question.
“What about AEM?” I didn’t disappoint him despite we both were silent and afraid for different reasons.
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I was operating my son, and it was more of replacing his head with that of an elephant in a layman’s term. I still remember that day:
June 28, 2016
Anvi’s Birthday
“Hello Ma’am, Happy belated birthday. I hope I don’t ever forget your birthday.” I said and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Where is my gift?” She always looks beautiful when she asks with her eyes wide open in innocence, which is the reason I never am able to hear her the first time.
“I…gift...???” I was mesmerized.
“Yeah! My gift.”
“I just gave you,” I said, still looking at her calm eyes to find myself while making gestures with my hands to be more convincing.
“Your kiss on the forehead…” she shied away.
Doorbell rang.
“No. I was talking about the HOPE-of-not-forgetting-your-birthday promise,” I pushed her and ran away to open the door – the door to my never-ending effort of proving myself, to prove I am not failed.
“Hey Anvi, we got the reports.” I said while tearing the sealed letter and further reading it for more disappointments.
I was taken aback.
It took me no time to realize that this is something which was not supposed to happen.
“Anvi, Avighna has cancer – brain cancer.” I said in a normal tone looking at her face without a single blink forwarding the reports to her.
“OK,” She said and turned away her face maintaining her composure.
“Anvi,” I said and she turned back again.
“You always knew that, you bloody knew this shit,” She still was not shouting.
“I am sorry,” my effort to mollify her was of no benefit, and I knew that.
“I told you to fuck TERT, immortality of cells and all the shits related to cancer. How could bloody single of you can save the world from cancer. My son is dying and who the fuck is responsible – YOU,” she was angry and she doesn’t know the limits when she is angry contrary to me who never hurled abuses at her, “this shit was genetic, and you knew that, so don’t ever think that I would understand.”
“Anvi, Kartik is fine, how come he is good?” I tried to manipulate so that I could just find a solution.
“That was in 2013, before you involved in THE FUCKING EXPERIMENT.” The tear dropped and her voice was much harsher than it should be.
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THE EXPERIMENT
I work at NCBI. In 2013, they came across TERT and all I wanted was to be a part of it. I was enthusiastic that I would be a part of something that would help in saving lives. We were losing 11%-25% of humans every year due to cancer and several researches have confirmed that Cancer is a genetic disease. So, it was worth trying.
I met Anvi in 2012. She was hard working woman with aspirations to touch the sky, no less than that; I was doing nothing, but I was witty (and it’s true, girls do love witty guys). …And I was/am good looking (that is my OWN opinion). I got my first job as Bioinformatics Engineer, but I was willing to do more than just being an Engineer. I wanted to explore more into this, and I applied for the position of being a Research Associate, and I was not selected on my merit, but my willingness to contribute to their experimental tests which involved my genes to be experimented in their controlled test environment, to which I agreed.
I never knew that it would have such an impact – we have two sons – Kartik and Avighna. My first son was born in 2013, but it was after that I involved myself in THE EXPERIMENT which lead to such consequence. Avighna’s brain cancer reached a level where all medical terms related to Cancer started making sense to me: be it telomerase, TERT, Synonymous mutations, Non-synonymous mutations, chromosomes or any other shit involved related to cancer. The experiment took a toll on my genes.
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“Anvi, listen to me. This is not the time to fight, I need you more than I could have ever,” I held her hand while she was trying to unclench still not looking at me.
“FUCK YOU ANAGH!!!” I lost my grip. She never takes my name (especially while abusing me).
Taking the name has nothing to do with husband’s-name-shouldn’t-be-taken but she believes in my name and it makes her love me more, and that signified she still believes in me but the mother inside her was not ready to forgive me. My name stands for the one who cannot do wrong, without error, sinless.
“He is my son as well. I know you are a mother and I can’t really understand what you are going through, but I am his father as well, and it is pretty much impossible for anyone but a father to know what he feels when his son is…” I broke myself into tears but that didn’t move her at all.
She walked away.
I cried. A father always dreams his son as his only friend whom he can rely and trust when he becomes old. His son is his only friend who will answer to his unending questions when he will become too old. His son is his only friend with whom he can easily rant about his mother without thinking much. His son is his only friend who can drink with him when he is feeling alone. His son is his only follower who can fight the world because his papa is the best. His son is his last wish in which he wishes to be funerated by him not before him.
Worlds knows about motherly love, but it is difficult to know or understand or see how a father loves. It is difficult to understand for even a son to understand the same until he becomes a father. It is very difficult to play a father.
I spent 17 months researching about the same and each passing moment was leading my son closer to his eyes closing forever. Those 17 months when I needed Anvi the most I was left alone. I sobbed, cried, whined, and shunned myself in a corner.
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Present day
“Anagha, listen to me very carefully – we are going to replace the AEM genes of an elephant to your son’s AEM genes because Elephant contains 20 TP53 which not only will eliminate cancer but also will prevent him from getting impacted again, and by the way he was unable to inherit one TP53 from you which is also a reason for his cancer, but Anvi made her contribution in that pretty well. So, the challenge is to provide his brain ample amount of oxygen, and you do understand if this works, he will no longer be human but more of a superhuman. His brain would require 80% more oxygen than we intake, so we need to give him something through which he can breathe more oxygen. Might be an extra nasal cannula?” Morris was nervous.
“This is the 23rd time you are explaining me the entire experiment. We don’t know what would be its impact, whether he would live or not… whether his brain would work faster than any single person on this earth, whether he would be able to breathe through an extra nasal cannula. We are bloody replacing his head with an Elephant, what else could go wrong,” I was talking haphazardly and languishing with each passing moment, “…and don’t tell Anvi about TP53, which I was unable…”
“Nothing can go wrong,” Morris said to me but he was pacifying himself more than just telling me.
Morris and I zeroed in on extra nasal cannula specially made for humans from Arizona state University which can be used just like a human part.
I met Anvi for the first time after such a long time. She came with Avighna.
“Anagha, tell me you are not going to let Avighna die,” Anvi was teary and she was taking names.
“I promise you.”
Morris and I left with the the team of Doctors who would be performing this surgery for the next nine and a half hours, while Anvi was chanting ‘Mahamrityunjay Mantra’.
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Outside the hospital in a temple:
“Anvi, your son has proved his name as well, he is our own Ganesha.” I hugged her and cried like a child, staring at Shiva holding Parvati and his son Ganesha in front of me.
My son Avighna was reborn proving himself as Ganesha.
