Navkirat Sodhi on survival, surrender and the poetry of starting over after a life-changing accident
I never knew how fast the fire spreads. It started with a tea fire along the aisle. While we left a party, I felt warmth in the ankles and in the time I needed to look down, the flames had reached my thighs. My instinct was to turn off the fire with my hands or tear my skirt, but the fabric had disappeared, leaving its melting skin. The animal and guttural howls escaped my throat while I was trying to cut the flames with an invisible sword. GG [fashion designer Gaurav Gupta] Rushed to help me and started screaming for water, and fortunately, a nearby guard had a bucket full of bucket on the side for her air cooler. He splashed this on us at a distance. GG’s right hand was burned and I remember thinking: “It’s his sketch hand.”
The Sodhi Navkirate I was before the accident was proud to be fiercely independent – physically, emotionally and spiritually. During the months of recovery, I learned that dependence is not weakness. In fact, pain sharing can lead to joint healing. Time has also changed meaning. As I swung between different dimensions – whether from heavy drugs, incomprehensible pain or deep meditation – I realized that time, as we understand, is imaginary. All that matters is what you sculpt. The time in its broader form, where births and rebirths occur simultaneously, is too large for us to grasp. All we can do is ask and go.
