Bravery is a matter of perception. What you see as brave, I might see as commonsense.I am not here to argue what brave really is. I am here to share what I consider the bravest moments of my life.

This was in the year 2004. I was 25 years old then. I come from a happy and bonded family of five- dad, mum, two elder bros and me, the youngest. I have been a pampered brat, and a protected one too. Since I was the apple of my daddy's eye, he made sure that not a single tear came into mine. So I couldn't ever imagine that there would be a day when I would hold back all my tears..just for him, after losing him.

My dad was suffering from cancer since the year 1993; he battled it for 11 long years and always emerged a winner. So when the doc diagnosed him again with cancer in late 2003...we believed he would come back from it. Smiling and stronger than ever.

When we are faced with the threat of losing someone who we hold very dear...we keep wishing the inevitable away. Thats what I did - I kept telling myself, this won't happen to us. Such things don't happen to good people. Then came the day when my father wasn't in a position to travel to Bombay (where his doc was) for his scheduled check-up. Since I was living in the city, and since I knew the doc, I was sent to him with all my dads reports and check-up files.

Imagine me...25 years old, holding a clutch of files walking hurriedly in the gloomy corridors of Bombay Hospital, looking for the doc's cabin. I found it, and waited for good half an hour to meet him. Sitting there, I could have never imagined what  I would hear next.

When my turn came to meet the doctor, I sat there quiet and hopeful.....waiting for the doc to finish sifting through my dad's reports and tell me that he's going to be okay. When he finished, he put the file back on the table, took off his glasses and clasped his hands. I was watching this in slow motion, because my subconscious kept telling me that what you're gonna hear next, ain't gonna be pretty.

I asked the doc, "What do you think?". He took one long, hard look at me; his eyes bored into my skin, and I could feel the heat rising within me and my heart racing way ahead. He said, " It looks very grim". I said, "what do you mean grim?", he said " At the most, he has two months to live". I said, "What?? that can't be true", he said, " It is. His condition has deteriorated way past recovery". I said "Is there no way, maybe a surgery...maybe chaemotherapy?", he said, "No, its a mess."

I remember how I had held back the tears at that time and how I stared at the doctor, wishing that what he was saying was a big white lie. I remember walking out of his cabin and the hospital like a zombie, clutching the files like I was holding on to my father's life. I remember making the call to my brother to tell him what I had just heard. All the while, stopping myself from breaking down and consoling my brother.

Less than a month later, my father passed away. I was there, looking into his eyes as he lost consciousness. I was there, when he slipped into a coma never to recover. I was there when they took him away to a place from where he could never return.

In those days, I had to grow up suddenly because the rest in my family were shattered. I had to take care of my mother, who wouldn't stop crying and was half comatose herself. I had to take care of my brothers who couldn't battle with the enormity of what hit them. I had to battle myself to keep a brave front on, and never to break down.

I remember that I broke down for the first time, a good two months after my dad passed away and once I had come back to Bombay. I had no one to look after, I had no one to bother about...and so the tears came pouring out.

But I consider those 3 months to be the bravest of my life. I was broken inside, but I couldn't show it, since I took on the role of being the caretaker and caregiver. I couldn't imagine life without my dad, but neither could I see my family going to pieces.

I held on...though it was mighty tough. I ensured that not a teardrop fell from my eyes...just for my dad. Coz' thats the way he liked it....

Tags: loss, women's day