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Submitted by Aishwarya Solanki on 19 January 2019
Two juxtaposed images of Parkinsons Patient Mr Zend Merwan Zend in a light shirt

A grandchild remembers grandpa Zend Merwan Zend and how the progression of  Parkinson's Disease affected the man, his activities of daily living but not his zest and will power for life.

Zend The Boxer (1948)
Zend The Baker (1950)
Zend the Marathoner (2012-2013) 
Zend The Conqueror (Afternoon newspaper 26-7-12)

The above titles are what Zend Merwan Zend (Born :9-12-1935) is known by.

I simply call him Grandpa! 

At the age of 60, my grandfather (I hero worship him) had suddenly descended into severe depression. My family couldn’t understand it. Either he was severely depressed or on a testosterone filled quest (by God’s grace, rather than subject my granny to this, he was smart enough to divorce her years earlier). While swinging between the chemical Dopamine (google it) highs and lows, my grandpa gambled away his and the family respect, goodwill and fortune.

The man who was a National Boxer at 16, a father at 22, a grandfather at 51, a man who was successfully running one of the best bakeries in Bombay, was slowly but surely losing himself. At first people (family included) simply presumed that like most Parsis he was going eccentric at 60.
Then the involuntary shaking started. I was ten years old when I saw my grandpa being unable to eat food without effort. I would laugh, again being T-e-n years old thinking he was trying to make me laugh. After numerous medical tests and doctors he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease (relatively unknown at that time). 

The fact that he had to now be closely monitored by a ward boy while taking copious amounts of medicines was more than he could handle. During a ‘low’ phase he once confided in me that he was contemplating suicide so as not to burden the family. After the whole family reassured and counseled him that we would love and respect him no matter what, this foolish notion subsided. In one of his dopamine highs, he boasted, “God, had to deliver the KO punch to me and I am still here, still fighting! Never give up, never surrender! Rage, rage against the dying of the light!" (a decade later I realized grandpa was quoting the famous British poet Dylan Thomas )

My grandfather’s body was no longer under his control. His speech slurred till it became a whisper. The famed speed at which his hands knocked out opponents in the ring left him. His movements were now in slow-motion if not completely frozen. His 6.2ft charming gait became a drunken walk of a hunchback until he needed a helper. Men and women who used to vie for his attention and company now shunned him. The basic movements needed in order to preserve a person’s dignity (using a toilet) were now a herculean task for my grandfather. 

During the difficult transition phase (acceptance over denial), more than his family the person who stood by him, bore the brunt of his medicine induced rages and weaknesses is his man Friday, Sonu Sharma. He is a boon to my grandfather and an even bigger one to my family, his diligent and continuous service is a blessing!

The only thing that my grandfather has left is the most important thing for any Parkinson’s patient / survivor…. undiluted PURE WILL POWER!

One day in 2012, while going to work at 6 a.m., Sonu calls the bakery frantically to inform me that grandpa is going to run the Mumbai Marathon (without registering). At first a tidal wave cold panic hit me. Then slowly as I regained my senses, a slow but steady smile crept over my lips. I was finally understanding the who/what/why of Zend and his battle against Parkinson’s. He wasn’t doing it out of narcissism; he was doing it purely on will power to live life and to enjoy it on his own terms.

"I may have Parkinson's but Parkinson's will not have me"

A few months later just at onset of the monsoon my grandfather calls me and whispers, “Shri Jeevdani Devi Mandir Trust,Virar”. After frantic research I returned the call on his helper Sonu’s phone and asked WHY? The answer to which was a simple, “I can, I will!” I am sure with the boundless will power he has, the 1400 steps up a mountainside in the light rain was an easy task for Zend the Conquerer.

And you, my grandfather, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas.

Dated April 2016. Updated with links.

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