Karma’s Cosmic Joke: How Not To Talk About Cancer

The words hit me like a cold wave in the middle of a winter storm — “Your cancer is probably some lingering karma from your past life.”

I wanted to ask this nincompoop who gave him a copy of my cosmic paycheck from 1622. Was there a ledger I had not seen? Maybe a scroll listing the number of figs I stole from the farmer’s market? Did I escape the witchhunt, and did my debt get carried over to the twentieth century? I felt he was holding my karmic credit score, and I was in deep RED! 

For a moment, I sat there stunned, my puppy was squeaking his toy nearby, blissfully unaware of the existential crisis his spare human was about to endure. I did not even look up from the screen to scan at my husband’s face and verify if he shared that opinion or was he as awestruck as I was. But all I could do was whimper — “Maybe, I don’t know!” You see, my middle class Indian upbringing had drilled one thing in me — respect your elders. Back answering is almost a cardinal sin. Otherwise, this gentleman would have received a mouthful of colorful language garnished with my unfiltered thoughts.

But as quickly as my anger flared, it also vanished like a gossamer thread in the wind and my attention was caught by a feeling of void. I wanted to ask the cosmic manager if my life was truly nothing more than a buggy reincarnation. But I did the math and it did not add up. If cancer is perhaps karma, how does it explain toddlers with leukemia or animals who fall sick? I wanted to inform this face looking at me through the screen of the video call on my phone that this is cosmic error and not a cosmic plan but I backed off. Not because I agreed with him, but because I figured his karmic theory couldhandle him. Surely there is a paycheck for people who toss out such hurtful words nonchalantly.