Two years ago, Rajitha and Sandeep Raj moved into our apartment complex. She was under sixty-five, he was under seventy. Their home was in the next block, and their love story was like a beautiful painting. Wherever they went, they held hands, gazed into each other’s eyes, and filled their moments with laughter and walks, savoring life. Watching their bond warmed the heart.

I sometimes saw Rajitha step out alone, but Sandeep Raj was never seen without her. She was his shadow, and he was the boundless ocean of her thoughts. Their companionship was a rare poem, woven with love, trust, and togetherness.

Our interactions were simple, exchanging “Hi” or “Hello” with warm smiles. Words were few, but their eyes spoke volumes of love, needing no further conversation.

When I returned after six months in America, that beautiful painting had faded. The couple who once fluttered like lovebirds was incomplete. Rajitha was alone. Sandeep Raj was missing. Her face carried a faint fear, anxiety, and a hidden sorrow. I assumed he might be unwell. But when I learned the truth, my heart sank. How cruelly life can turn everything upside down in just one moment!

~*~

Hyderabad’s Indira Park signals are always crowded, especially in the evenings. That evening, Rajitha and Sandeep Raj were crossing the road. Their steps had a rhythm, hands clasped, love in their eyes.

But at that moment, a speeding vehicle shattered their harmony.

Rajitha made it across the road, Sandeep Raj didn’t. When she turned back, he was gone. That moment ripped her heart to pieces. Five or six months have gone by, but Sandeep Raj is still nowhere to be found.

~*~
 
Sandeep Raj was a retired professor from IIT Chennai, and Rajitha, a retired librarian from the same university. They had earned prestige and wealth and moved to Hyderabad to be near friends and family. But by then, the shadow of Alzheimer’s had crept into their lives. Sandeep Raj’s memories were slowly slipping away. Rajitha stayed by his side like a shadow, keeping their home address in his pocket, always watching over him.

Every day, she took him to the Alzheimer’s Society Day Care Center. When he drove, she sat beside him, giving directions and ready to grab the wheel if he stumbled. At the center, music, games, and discussions kept him engaged. Sandeep Raj would recall his robotics lessons and speak like the professor he once was. After a couple of hours, they’d return home, have lunch, and rest.

In the evenings, after tea, they’d walk in Indira Park. Despite his illness, their life followed a rhythm, until that day.

That day, the moment he vanished, it was as if her heart stopped. She scoured the roads and the park, but her husband was nowhere to be found.

CCTV footage from the Indira Park traffic police station showed him walking toward Gandhi Nagar.

Hyderabad was his hometown. He grew up in Domalguda, his youth spent there. But Alzheimer’s had erased his memories, even the way home. Fear and unease gripped Rajitha’s heart.

Twenty four hours passed, and the professor didn’t return. Rajitha’s worry grew. She checked with relatives and friends, but he hadn’t gone to anyone’s home. She filed a police complaint. They tried tracing him through CCTV footage, spotting him in a couple of places before he disappeared. They asked around at tea stalls and shops in those areas.

Rajitha left no stone unturned. She put up posters across the city with his photo, name, and age. She checked hospitals, old-age homes, parks, and cinema halls, everywhere. No sign of him.

She placed ads on the radio, TV, and social media. Time, money, and effort all spent. But Sandeep Raj remained missing. A silent scream echoed in her heart, a desperate yearning.

Seeing Rajitha’s pain melted my heart. I assured her, “We’re here for any help you need.” That’s how our acquaintance turned into friendship.

Rajitha shared how Sandeep Raj’s Alzheimer’s symptoms went unnoticed at first forgetting to wash his face, misplacing his glasses or phone, talking to stars in the room. Later, when he forgot his retirement and tried going to college, they consulted a doctor and learned it was Alzheimer’s. Rajitha blamed herself for not recognizing it sooner. Her pain was evident in her face.

His condition turned her life into a challenge. She guarded him round the clock, watching him every step. But that day, his hand slipped from hers, leaving her helpless. Old age, the search for her husband, and mental strain were wearing her down. Her back pain only added to her struggles.

Without his memory medication, his condition could worsen. Wandering in search of home, he’d likely feel more confused and disoriented.

The disciplined, meticulous professor would sometimes relieve himself outside the toilet due to confusion, which frustrated Rajitha. But she knew he didn’t mean it. “This disease doesn’t just hurt the patient; it hurts the family,” she said, worrying and fearing for his safety, wherever he was.

The day after he went missing, a helper was supposed to stay with him round the clock. His nephew in America had sent an Apple phone with a tracker, but it arrived too late. Rajitha regretted it deeply.

In the early days, relatives and friends helped, but slowly, they drifted away. Some even blamed her, saying she didn’t take care of him. She stood alone in that pain. But Sandeep Raj’s students, especially IIT Chennai alumni in Hyderabad, stood by her, offering some comfort.

Fifteen days later, a tea shop owner called, saying, “A man in tattered clothes was teaching in English. Customers stared, but a young man fed him.” Rajitha rushed there, but he was gone. Hope would spark and fade like this repeatedly.

Such calls kept coming, each one carving a new wound in her heart.

Doctors told her that people with Alzheimer’s or dementia often forget their address and get lost. Many are found within days or weeks, or they recall their way home. These words stayed with Rajitha, fueling her hope and strength.

~*~

Life is an uncertain journey. One moment brims with laughter, the next with tears. Rajitha and Sandeep Raj’s story proves this truth. They studied, earned prestige, but Alzheimer’s pushed their beautiful life into darkness.

During COVID, their only son, Swaraj, died in England. The pain of losing him without hearing his last words or seeing his final moments crushed them. Rajitha tried everything to pull Sandeep Raj out of that depression with love and hope. But when did this silent disease sneak into their lives? Since then, she became his rock. Without him, the search drained her mentally and physically. She’s fighting a battle within, armed with love and powered by hope.

The police called, saying they found a body that might be him. I sent my son, Manoj, with Rajitha to Warangal. It wasn’t him. Every such trip brought bitter experiences. Some bodies were unrecognizable, requiring DNA tests.

Seeing Rajitha’s family tragedy, her helplessness, loneliness, and guilt, Manoj was moved. He decided to help Alzheimer’s patients and their families. With IIT students, he planned to create pendants and bracelets with QR codes. Scanning them would reveal the wearer’s name, address, emergency contacts, and medical details, helping reunite lost individuals with their families. Manoj’s idea is a small step but a beacon of hope. He believes technology can protect humanity.

~*~

Eighteen months later, the police called again. “It might be your husband. Please come see.” I went with Rajitha.

She stared at a man with matted hair, tattered clothes, covered in dust and dirt. Her eyes welled up. She kissed his forehead, easing the weight in her heart.

But Professor Sandeep Raj didn’t recognize her. Alzheimer’s had taken his memories, but it couldn’t take Rajitha’s love.

Tears in her eyes, relief in her heart, he was alive. That was enough for her.