I joined my second boarding school in June 1982, at the age of 10. The term ended earlier than usual in mid-November as India – New Delhi was hosting the 1982 Asian Games from a week later. Chickenpox was in the air at school, the week before we went home for those winter holidays, the girls that slept on either side of me in my dormitory were down with it. It was inevitable that I would get it. Much discussion had ensued amongst my classmates about how dangerous Chickenpox was to an adult who had hitherto never had it, and it had been drilled into me that such adults would surely die if they contracted it.

The moment I reached Delhi I kept a distance from my mother, who I knew had never had Chickenpox, I refused to hug her and told her that I must be left alone as I was contagious. Mother scoffed at my concerns.

A day later, I saw a pox appear on my left forearm, and my apprehensions seemed to be confirmed. I was alone at home, my mother was a protocol officer for the Asian Games and was working long hours.; I locked the house and walked the 250 meters to a local Doctors’ Polyclinic. I waited outside the clinic till my Doctor, Uncle Srivastava, a former student of my grandfather’s at the Armed Forces Medical College and a family friend, finished meeting his patients, as I wanted to avoid contact with them. When Uncle (it is a sign of respect in India to address elders with Uncle or Aunty), came out, I held out my arm from afar and said ‘Uncle I have Chickenpox’ he felt my forehead deduced that I had a temperature saw my heightened colour and the yet, solitary pox and said ‘that is an excellent prognosis’, that is how I learnt that word. He then wrote out a few medicines and knowing that I would not have any money on me, gave me 20 rupees and asked me to first go to the chemist, another 250 meters ahead, buy the medicines and then go home. I told him that he must find a way to contact my mother at the Asian Games Village and forbid her from coming home, he laughed and said not to worry, he said adults rarely get Chickenpox and assured me that even if she did, she would not die.

I spent the next two weeks alone in the house during the day. It was a wonderous time as the Games were telecast live throughout the day and I was thrilled with the novelty of being able to watch daytime television in India. India, in that era had state run television and the programs were normally aired just for a few hours every evening.

A friend of mother’s had returned to India from a foreign trip and gifted us a few of packs of Maggi chicken and fish stock cubes, a box of Beluga Caviar and some chocolate. For lunch, rather than eat whatever my mother had cooked, I preferred to mix a stock cube in hot water and drink it as a soup along with toast with caviar on it, what a life. The chocolate of course could not have lasted more than an hour. I am pretty sure that the pill box sized caviar container also could not have lasted very long and eating it everyday is probably just a luxury my imagination allows me.

Two weeks went by. I had pretty much recovered. One evening, during this time, another friend of my mother’s, an adult, stopped by to leave me a book to read and gave me company for half an hour or so, sitting all the while at a distance from me. A couple of days later she was detected with Chickenpox. My fear returned, I was sure that I was contagious and would be the death of others. My mother said not to worry, Aunty would be fine, though, I recollect that she did get a far more severe case of it than I.

The Asian Games then came to an end and being a Protocol Officer, my mother had passes which would let us in to the Presidential Box for the Closing Ceremony, she insisted that I not miss the opportunity. I told her that I was too scared that I would infect others. She said I had recovered, she made me speak to the Doctor who confirmed what she was saying, but I was not convinced.

I reluctantly went to attend the Closing Ceremony. I remember walking past the President’s Bodyguards, six handsome men of above six feet height resplendent in their ceremonial uniforms and was apprehensive that I had spread Chickenpox to them and maybe to the then President of India – Giani Zail Singh.

I sat quietly and alone at the back of the box; my mother was on duty and went about her work. A little later, she entered the box to seat Milkha Singh ji and his son and asked me to vacate my seat to accommodate them. Milkha Singh ji asked her, who the pretty child was and she said I was her daughter. I had been cringing away from him to keep him safe, but the moment he heard I was my mother’s child he swept me into his arms and kissed my cheeks. The very cheeks that a week earlier had had the scabs of the poxes. I pushed him away and ran out, he thought I was shy, I was just scared that I had given Chickenpox to the most famous track athlete India had ever had.

I quizzed my mother each day of the remaining holiday about Milkha Singh ji’s well being.

Milkha Singh ji, thankfully survived his run-in with me and the Chickenpox virus, and lived another 39 years, unfortunately succumbing to the Coronavirus on 18th June, 2021, at the age of 91, may he rest in peace.