‘I did it!’ I said. ‘I am a Guinness man now!’ I pulled myself to a seated position so that I could accept their embraces. It was then that my wife’s eyes widened in alarm and all colour fell from her face. She dropped the child into Gopal Dutta’s arm like a hot stone.
‘Your head!’ she cried. ‘What have you done?’
I touched my fingers to the back of my head and removed hair and pool of blood from outer portion. I looked in turn at the faces of my friends and each one was marked with fearful panic.
‘It is okay, BB,’ Rajesh Battacharjee told me, his eyes fixed on the part of my person that I could not see. ‘I am sure it is nothing to worry about. Congratulations! You have done it!’ He lifted me to my feet and faced me to the onrushing crowd. ‘BB Nayak, Guinness World Record breaker! Son of Navi Mumbai, former employee of Everest Engineering, friend to the common man! Come!’
The crowd swallowed me and once again I was lifted onto their shoulders. They did not seem to notice my blood smearing their clothes as they carried me around the hall and out into the gardens. I reached out for my wife’s hand but she was too distant to take it.
I should tell you here that I do not believe in doctors. I have always known my own body better than any doctor: he will only take an X-ray of the broken bone but you must still wait in pain for the picture to come back. It is the inner energy of the person that will finally mend it. Speaking from the age of forty-one years, I have never in my life visited a doctor except for this one exceptional time. I have broken every part of myself in pursuit of my sport and on each occasion no lasting harm has followed — I have healed myself with complete satisfaction, using my own expertise to aid the physical recovery. Injury has become a routine now after so many years of training. My medicine is turmeric powder and milk as painkiller and great healer and if the fracture is serious then I do plastering/bandage on my own with conventional method. I have graduated with the experience how to handle trauma, agony and pain without bothering anyone here.
Therefore when next day I made the dash to hospital it was only to save my wife further worry. The continuous vibration in my head that had kept me awake throughout the night was just a temporary blockage before the solemn celebrations could begin presently.
The doctor at the hospital expressed grave concern when first he saw me. His expression prompted my wife to resume her weeping, which did little to restore my balance. At this stage I realised I could not walk unaided and I was compelled to be seated. ‘It is not as bad as it looks,’ I told her. ‘I have a small headache only.’ In truthfulness I was in some agony but I knew that in my new office of Guinness World Record holder I must keep at check my suffering to encourage those aspiring sportsmen who aim to follow in my footsteps. I was therefore quite ashamed when one moment later I was unable to stop myself from falling into small coma.
When I woke again I was fully on fire. The entire span of my body felt like it was ablaze. I opened my eyes to discover that I was confined to a strange bed. Upon feeling my head I noted a heavy bandage wrapped there. I tried to lift my head but it was very uncomfortable position. When I moved even in a small degree a great wave of pain broke over me and I let out a cry. My wife came into my vision and I saw that her face was wet with tears. My son asleep in her arms was not aware of the anguish that infects the lives of the adults. Doctor stood beside my wife, and Rajesh Battacharjee, all wearing looks on their faces as if they too had woken from long slumber.
The doctor told me that I had received surgery to my brain: I had no recollection of this. The knowledge was quite surprising but I accepted it with steady nerves. He then conveyed to me that I had slept for three days. I was shocked by this because I did not feel suitably refreshed. Heaviness and pain only.
‘Do I still have the record?’ was my burning question. My own voice sounding many miles distant. This was of course my primary anxiety. Curse my luck if while I was sleeping the deep sleep a misfortune or technicality had stripped me of the record I won by rights. I did not wish all my hard work to slip by unnoticed.
‘Yes, BB, the record is yours,’ Rajesh Battacharjee assured me. ‘I have sent the documentation myself. We wait only for the Guinness people to ratify. This will come in a few weeks. You did it, my friend.’
I heaved a sigh of relief, and the pain subsided significantly. Then I had to listen to the doctor explaining to me my injuries. Not only had I sustained deep wounds to the entire back of my body from head to toe due to the friction performing such an unprecedented number of sit-ups had created, but the repeated striking of my head on the concrete floor had caused haemorrhage to my brain. These injuries could be easily explained by the lack of precautionary measure we had taken, as the event was new for everybody present on the occasion. It had not become obvious to us to install any sort of padding on the ground or that I should wear any kind of protective gear on my head: I prefer the natural way of doing things, and this is a principle that I must adhere to through thick and thin. Therefore I accepted my misfortune with a mild heart.
‘When can I leave?’ I asked the doctor.
‘You will require a long period of recovery,’ he told me. ‘We operated to alleviate the swelling to your brain but we must be on the lookout for further bleeding and complications. The wounds on your back are quite severe and there is a risk of infection. They will require rest and possibly skin grafts. It is a tricky road ahead for you but we will do our best to get you back to your previous level.’
Having no confidence in the treatment I might receive in the hospital, I promptly removed myself from there to complete my healing at home.
I remained bedridden for three months to recover from the pain and damaged skin. The complications that the doctor mentioned did not come calling but boredom and frustration was sorely felt. No certificate was arriving from Guinness due to unforeseen delay and not only was I unable to perform my usual duties and regular training but also was distracted by my wife’s constant requests to end extreme sports ambitions for ever. Once out of bed I did yoga, meditation and breathing routines to get it recovered. I lost 30–40 per cent memory power since that day. Even now if I do intense training related to the head I feel the pinch quite prominently. I spent some hard-earned money during the recovery, which was a tough time to handle with entire family depending on me. I had to face hurdle of losing quality time to earn wages which went blank.
It was during this testing time that Rajesh Battacharjee was on hand to keep my spirits high. I could not attend my work at the newspaper but he generously gave from his pocket to fill my family’s bellies and keep the roof over their heads. Also he visited my bedside on many occasions to remind me of the bond of obligation I had made between myself and my well-wishers.
‘I sense a great appetite for your message among the people,’ Rajesh Battacharjee conveyed to me. ‘They might not yet know it but I will introduce them. We can show them that simple spirit of hard work and humility can take anyone from the lowest depths of anonymity to national esteem and even worldwide fame. You could be a symbol for them. One day they might buy their dreams from you. I have the power to put you on the platform, BB. Just say the word and I will do this. This is only the beginning, you cannot give up yet. You will recover and then we will begin the next phase of our journey.’
I was impressed by his speech but I kept my thoughts to myself to preserve good feeling between myself and my wife. However she made no such effort to keep her feelings hidden.
‘I do not want him to be a symbol,’ she told Rajesh Battacharjee plainly. ‘I just want him to be alive. I want him to be a good husband to me and a good father to his son. That is all I pray for night and day.’