Room 23

by Kavita Basi

  Perfectly embodying the power of positivity, Kavita wants to show other stroke and brain injury survivors that a new life and a new start are absolutely possible. She’s produced a video blog and has involved her children’s schools in fundraising and awareness campaigns, as well as addressing conferences on brain and spine injuries.

  Kavita is proof that our human spirit is perhaps our greatest asset when the unimaginable happens, as it did to her; the idea that we too can discover, as she did, just what we’re capable of achieving provides great inspiration and hope for us all.

  I sat back after reading the article. The words “undreamt of” reminded me that I had dreamed some part of what had been about to happen to me. I had told Deepak and Rajni that I was having reoccurring dreams that my head was shaved and I was being pushed around in a wheelchair in my pajamas by family members.

  I was happy to notice links to my video blogs, The Brain and Spinal Injury Centre, and The Brain and Spine Foundation at the bottom of the article. Just seeing this magazine in front of me, I felt like I was beginning to make a difference.

  Shortly after that article came out in December, an ITV representative called wanting to talk to me.

  “Is it okay if we send a producer to meet you at your home?” she asked.

  I immediately said yes, thinking about how many more people I could help if there was a documentary about my condition. This is what I’d been waiting for: to share with others who had similar challenges.

  When the producer came for the interview, she sat down in my living room and asked how I was and what I’d been through. With Deepak sitting next to me for support, I babbled for an hour about my illness.

  Eventually, she politely stopped me. “I think you have the wrong idea about why I’m here.”

  “You read the article. About the brain hemorrhage. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  She paused and looked at Deepak. “We’re looking for a new Cheshire housewife for the Real Housewives of Cheshire program.”

  I was in shock! Me? A housewife??

  I’ll admit I wanted fame when I was younger, but now, especially after all that I’d been going through, I wanted a different kind of recognition. I was a new person with different values.

  Deepak shook his head. He didn’t like the show and didn’t think it was the right environment for me to be in.

  I, however, reacted the opposite way. My eyes lit up and my brain started to spiral with “what if” thoughts. I would be able to spread awareness. I could show people how far I’ve come. I could start my own charity. This could create so many opportunities.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this kind of exposure,” I finally said. “I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind for it. Can you give me some time to think about it?”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “Can we have the film crew come later to see how you’d be on camera?”

  Deepak was completely against it. In his mind, there was no way I was going to be on this show. Once we were alone, he said, “I don’t want your name or achievements over the last years displayed in the wrong light.”

  These shows were notorious for this. We’d have no control over their video editing. But I also thought it might open doors for us and allow us to help others. It would also help with our finances, which had become depleted in the previous few months.

  “Can we at least agree to let the film crew come?” I pleaded.

  Deepak could see how excited I was, and didn’t want to upset me. “Sure,” he said reluctantly.

  I knew I couldn’t do this alone, so I called my sister Rajni.

  “Will you come be with me?” I asked. “Of course,” she said.

  But when the film crew was due to arrive any minute, there was no sign of Rajni.

  I called her again. “Where are you? I can’t do this without you.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” she reassured me. “I’m on my way. I left work early.”

  I’d changed my outfit at least four times. I had no idea what to wear. I worked in fashion, for goodness’ sake, but I was suddenly unsure of myself. I wanted to make sure I was portraying the right image of myself—and, by extension, of my family.

  I also wanted the house to look perfect. I lit all the candles downstairs and sprayed vanilla scent everywhere.

  My anxiety was through the roof.

  “They can’t film the children or me and they are not allowed upstairs,” Deepak said as we waited for Rajni and the film crew to arrive. “Upstairs is private.”

  I flashed back to when I was fifteen and in my senior year in Gosforth High School, Newcastle Upon Tyne. My whole class was part of a TV program called Byker Grove—everyone except me. I wanted to audition but my parents were strict and wouldn’t allow it. They thought their young Indian daughter being on a television show would damage their reputation in the community. I was sure I would have been the star of the show. I was confident and always up on fashion. I was constantly reinventing myself, from painting my own clothes to braiding my hair Bob Marley–style. I wanted to be someone others aspired to.

  Over the ensuing months, Noel Edmonds and Mr. Blob-by—a character on Noel’s Saturday night variety show—would periodically helicopter over the schoolyard and drop green goo on everyone at break and lunchtime. Child actors PJ and Duncan (later Ant & Dec) were part of the cast and hung out at the school during lunch and break time. They had a lot of friends in my class. I watched girls run up to them in the school library and ask for their autographs—something I never did because I thought I was too cool for them. I told myself they weren’t going anywhere. (Now, of course, Ant & Dec are the biggest duo comedy presenters on TV!)

  Rajni and the film crew of five arrived. The film crew set up their tripods and lights. They brought in a number of technical tote bags. They had assistants to hold up the sound and lighting equipment, and one person who would interview me.

  “We just want to see how you are on camera—see how photogenic you are, measure your confidence, and see if you’ll fit in with the rest of the cast.”

  I laughed to myself about the idea of fitting in with the cast. Not that I wanted discord in my life, but these shows thrived on cast members not getting along.

  We started with a quick walk around the house, from the hallway to the kitchen, and on into the living room. I told them about our lifestyle and our friends, and about my childhood experience of Byker Grove, my sister and I joking as we walked them through the parts of the house Deepak hadn’t deemed off limits.

  “You and your sister are kind of like Ant & Dec,” the interviewer said, laughing.

  The cameras followed us around like we were on MTV Cribs. I felt oddly important and special.

  Am I going to do this?

  In the back of my mind, I was unsure.

  I finally sat with the interviewer in the living room and she asked me more specifically about my friends, family, parties, holidays, hobbies, and what our life was like in the day to day.

  Then she got to the nitty-gritty. She wanted to know what I thought about each of the housewives.

  “Do you take issue with any of the housewives?”

  “No, not really.” I shrugged. “I don’t know them all that well. They seem okay.”

  As I spoke I could see that this was not the reaction they were looking for. The show itself was about drama and disputes that would erupt because of fiery personalities thrown together in fixed situations. It wasn’t like me to say controversial things or say negative things about people. I was the kind of person who would forever be trying to make my peace with everyone. I looked for the good in people, not the negative.

  “How would you introduce yourself as a Cheshire housewife?”

  “I’m a grounded person who loves yoga. I’d want to keep the peace with everyone.”

  I sounded boring!

  Suddenly Jasmine walked in from school. She looked around the room at all the cameras with an expression of confusion on her face. “What�
��s going on, Mummy? Why are all these people here?”

  “They’re doing a screen test for the Cheshire Housewives program.”

  I could see the shock on her face. I hadn’t had a chance to tell the children about it; it had all happened so fast.

  Jasmine looked at her father, shrugged, and went upstairs.

  Eventually, the filming finally began to wind down.

  “You’ve done really well,” the producer told me. “You’d be a great addition to the cast. So you know, though, you wouldn’t have any control over how filming would be edited. You’d have no say in how you’d be presented.”

  After they left I was exhausted but I could see how many doors this could open for us. It would allow me to help others, help our finances. I could end up with my own documentary. The sky, it seemed, was the limit.

  Deepak disagreed. “You’re exhausted, and this was just one day of filming,” he said. “This would be a constant parade of filming and keeping up with everyone else. I don’t know if you’re ready for this.”

  I was still in recovery and only working part-time. I still had to sleep a lot in order to keep up with daily life, never mind having the added pressure of filming for a TV show. I agreed that if I was tired from one shoot, this would not be good for me. I so wanted to achieve my dream of helping others, and I was seeing all the potential benefits . . . but it wasn’t the right time.

  I called the producer and told her I couldn’t go ahead with the show. I also gave her a couple of names of women I knew who would relish the experience.

  “I understand,” she said. “I wish you the best. And thank you for the contacts. Can we keep your screenshots on file for the future?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  This was the second major TV opportunity to come my way, and this time I was letting it go by choice. In the past, I would have run after it. A number of the kids in my class went on to success in entertainment because of their participation in Byker Grove. I likely would have done the same. And considering our financial troubles, Real Housewives of Cheshire could have been a great help to our family in some ways. But I was taking more time to think things through these days. I wasn’t running through life anymore just doing what I was told. I knew this opportunity wasn’t quite right for me and was convinced by experience that life would present new opportunities in the future more in line with who I was now becoming.

  My life was already starting to move in a more positive direction. I had been contacted to write blogs for a local online community who saw I was already creating a positive impact through the talks I’d given and my posts on Instagram. Though it wasn’t television, it was more in keeping with how I wanted to impact the world.

  Chapter 13

  I stood outside one of my favorite stores and looked at a picture of Jasmine celebrating her fifteenth birthday, a birthday that I had been prepared to celebrate with her—wrapping her presents the day before, hiding her cake in the cupboard with Jay. In the picture she is blowing out the candles on her cake. Looking at the picture, I was still heartbroken. I wasn’t there for her. I felt like everything my family had been put through was my fault.

  I put the picture away and walked into the store.

  Jasmine’s birthday would be here in five months and I wanted to make it special. As I walked the aisles, a book caught my attention: 38 Hours in Paris. I leafed through the book and had an idea. Jasmine had been dying to go to Paris forever; it was her dream. She mentioned it every time we talked about family holidays. Deepak and I had been to Paris many times; why not make her dream a reality?

  I purchased the book and had it wrapped. When I got home I stored it in the same cupboard I’d stored her gifts the year before. Then I called her school and made arrangements for her to have her birthday off.

  As was our tradition—making a big fuss over the children on their birthdays—we started the day off having tea in my bedroom with a mass of balloons.

  Jasmine had no idea what was about to happen, but she was excited. “What are we doing?” she asked. “Are we still going to lunch and then the health club?”

  She would have been happy with anything.

  I handed her the book I’d been storing the last five months and told her to open it.

  “I love it!” she said, tearing off the wrapping. She began flicking through the pages with great enthusiasm. She had no idea what was coming, and seemed so happy with just having this knowledgeable book about her dream destination.

  I then handed her a scrolled-up itinerary for our trip. I’d planned a girls’ getaway trip with my niece Leah and sister Rajni. Even though Leah was twelve years younger than Jasmine, they had an incredible bond. I’d planned the trip for Jasmine, but also as a way to show my sister my deepest gratitude for how much she’d done for me; a simple gift just didn’t seem like enough. It was also a celebration of life for me, since it was nearing the one-year anniversary of the day I was rushed to the hospital.

  Tears streamed down Jasmine’s face when she realized she was finally going to Paris. Just seeing her reaction was priceless. It wasn’t going to be a lavish trip, like we were used to, but it would be three days of cherished memories and experiences we’d remember forever.

  “I never thought I’d get to Paris until I was an adult,” she said, bubbling with excitement. “What am I going to wear?”

  “We just bought you some clothes last week.”

  “But this is Paris!”

  I hadn’t told Jasmine that Rajni and Leah were joining us. I wanted it to be another lovely surprise.

  When we arrived at the airport she jumped up and down. “Look, Mum, there’s Rajni masi! And Leah!”

  “They’re coming with us,” I said.

  Jasmine’s face lit up.

  On the plane, I began to doze off as she excitedly looked out the window and pointed out all of the places in her book we had to visit. But I had one more surprise for her.

  The captain came on over the loudspeaker and announced our cruising altitude and the details of our trip. And then: “And we’d like to wish a very happy birthday to our passenger, Jasmine, for her sixteenth birthday.”

  Jasmine was mortified.

  I had booked a driver for three days since I knew I would get tired walking and thought I could also rest in the car if I needed to. It was warm and bright when we arrived. Jasmine rolled down the window of the taxi and looked inquisitively down every street, remarked on the canal, and people-watched until we arrived at the W Paris. In the room was a bucket of champagne, strawberries, and chocolates.

  “You have to keep this champagne for another special occasion,” I said to Jasmine.

  Before the trip, I had researched and handpicked the places we should eat and visit and explore—I wanted the trip to be perfect. We started with lunch at Monsieur Blue, located in a beautiful historic white stone building, renovated to house the restaurant, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the canal and the Eiffel Tower.

  We were looked after with great care. There was nowhere else I wanted to be than here with these precious people in my life.

  “The attention to detail is amazing,” Rajni, my foodie sister, said.

  “I just want to say thank you, Rajni, for being there for me. I want to share so many more of these types of memories with you all,” I said, tearing up.

  Rajni and I told Leah and Jasmine about the time we lived together in India.

  “You were so bossy,” Rajni said.

  “That’s what everyone loved about me,” I said. “I feel like I’ve become a little more like my old self since the accident.”

  After lunch we all had a new love for artichokes, which had been presented in nearly every dish. When we left the restaurant, we walked around the large square outside. This was the first time I’d been to Paris since the accident. Everything looked different; I felt as if I were seeing everything for the first time, from the pale limestone paving to the ornate statues and glass library.

 
We walked to the famous Pont de Arts Bridge, a tourist attraction of “love locks”; people travel from afar to place a lock on the bridge in testament of their love for someone. When we arrived, however, the bridge was closed due to construction work. And it turned out the locks had been removed the year before because their weight had begun to wear on the bridge, ending a decades-old tradition.

  From the Pont de Arts Bridge, we made our way to the most famous piece of construction in Paris—La Tour Eiffel—the wrought iron lattice tower constructed in the late 1800s as the entrance to the World’s Fair. The park was buzzing with people and food carts and photographers offering memorable shots of tourists visiting one of the most recognizable monuments in the world. We walked around the park with ice cream cones, mesmerized by the hum of activity.

  When it was time for the next activity, I bowed out. “I’m going to need to go back to the hotel room and rest a while,” I told everyone. “I don’t want to miss out on the evening we have planned.”

  Located in the Triangle D’or, or Golden Triangle, Yeeels was a cool, trendy restaurant near the Champs-Elysees I had to take my family to. The inside was dark and romantic with smart, plush velvet seating and mirrored tables. As we looked at the menu, a DJ played songs we all sang along to.

  “It looks like we’ll be having more artichokes,” I said.

  The atmosphere and food at Yeeels were amazing. The restaurant appealed to a sophisticated, metropolitan crowd and the food was simple, full of color, and tasty.

  By the end of dinner, I felt exhausted, but I didn’t want to let it show. I didn’t want to be the boring mum. I had one last surprise for Jasmine back at the hotel.

  Leah was too young to stay out longer, so we said good-bye to Rajni and Leah when we arrived. Then I turned to Jasmine.