I Too Had a Love Story (17 page)

‘The path on the right side leads to her bed. Bed number 3,’ a person standing behind me said.

I looked back.

‘This is Susant,’ Deepu said and introduced us.

‘Oh yes, Khushi used to talk about you.’

Khushi and Susant were in the same college and he used to treat her like his own sister.

Amid our introductions, there was a second announcement bidding us to vacate the ICU floor. It was decided that Susant would stay back in the hospital that evening and we all would go home. At night, one of us would come back to replace Susant.

At 6.15 p.m., we reached home. The door was open and I was the first person to enter, carrying my airbag on my shoulder. While
entering the drawing room I saw Khushi’s mum. She seemed to be very worried—a mother whose child was fighting the most crucial battle of her life. Keeping my bag on the ground, I went to her to touch her feet and she hugged me like her own son.

I whispered in her ears, ‘Everything will be fine, absolutely fine.’

‘Yes. Now that you have come, she will be fine,’ she said patting my back with affection.

Meanwhile, I saw Misha di and Ami di. I met them, answering their questions about my hassle-free journey. We sat on the sofas and chairs in the drawing room. A little later, her dad came in from the other room. I got up to touch his feet and he, too, inquired if my journey had been fine.

We then sat discussing whatever had happened during the last two days. He was describing the probable conditions in which the accident had taken place. Amid our discussions, there were moments of long silences and deep breaths which we all were trying to break with our positive words.

I then saw Neeru coming out of the kitchen with some water and tea on a tray. ‘Look at her face and the grief which has replaced her sweet smile,’ I thought to myself. She came and placed the cups on the table in front of us. She was about to leave without talking to me, when I said, ‘Hi, Neeru.’

‘Hello. How are you?’

‘I am fine. And how about you?’

‘I am fine too,’ she said, picking up the used glasses and silently returning to the kitchen.

‘She’s terribly sad,’ Mumma said to me.

‘I can understand.’

We continued talking for a little while, after which everyone got busy with their respective tasks. I then saw little Daan running out of the other room with his toys. He recognized me immediately and, coming to me, he asked, ‘You’ve come again?’

‘Yes. I have come to see you, dear,’ I answered, taking him in my arms.

‘What have you got for me?’ I was expecting this question.

‘Well, I have chocolates for you sweetheart! But you will get them if you give me ten kisses,’ I said, gently pressing his sweet cheeks.

He did not say anything, but started kissing me and counting, after which I handed him his chocolates. He was so happy that he rushed to his mother to show her.

‘Never forget to get chocolates for Daan,’ was Khushi’s sweet command for me. She kept reminding me of such sweet and caring tasks which had so much importance in her life.

We had our dinner at 9 that night, after which we were discussing who would be the two persons going to stay in the hospital for the night. Every male member in the family was willing to be there and I counted myself part of this family too.

‘You might be tired after your journey. So better you rest here at home,’ Dad said to me.

‘No, I’m fine. My journey was hardly three hours …’

I badly wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to be as close as possible to her. But then, a little later, Dad finally decided that Deepu and Jiju would go to the hospital and I should remain at home that night. Pushkar had to go to his office to complete some work.

I was disappointed. I badly wanted to see her. But now, I had to spend another sleepless night without seeing her.

At 11.30 I was in bed, in Khushi’s room. Alone, I was looking here and there at the things in her room and trying to recollect what she used to tell me about them during our conversations. The computer on my right, her closet on the left and the storeroom, attached to this room, full of books. The disappointment of not being able to make it to the hospital that night was reduced
a little by the thought that I was going to spend that night in her room, on the bed where she used to sleep.

With all these thoughts in mind, I don’t remember when I fell asleep. I must have slept for a few hours. The next time I woke up, there was a little noise coming out of the attached bathroom. The lights in the room had been switched off and there was a blanket covering me from shoulder to toe. I checked my cell to see the time. It was 5 a.m. Somebody then switched on the light in the bathroom. I tried to figure out what that sound was. Soon, I realized that it was the tap water falling in the empty, giant tub in the bathroom.

‘Ah! She used to tell me this,’ I thought with a little excitement. Khushi used to tell me about this irritating thing in most of our ‘good morning’ calls.

Completely awake now, I smiled, remembering her narration. How well she had described this moment, which was so painful for a person who wanted to sleep. And just like she had told me, her mother came out of the bathroom and turned the green night lamp on before leaving the room. I felt as if I had won some championship for knowing, in advance, what would happen. How well I knew my Khushi, I thought. We were made for each other …

I covered my face with the blanket, trying to escape that greenish light and the sound of water falling in the tub.

‘Jesus! How does she bear this every morning?’ I wondered and went back to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up around eight and saw Mumma in the other room, trying to wake her daughters up every ten minutes.

I went up to her and said, ‘Good morning, Mumma.’

‘Good morning,
beta ji
,’ she replied, ‘Look at them, they are so lazy.’ She pointed at them, with a little frustration and a smile at the same time.

I looked at where she was pointing and saw Ami di and Misha di fighting for the common blanket in their sleep. I felt pity for the poor blanket which was being pulled here and there so often. The heads and feet, coming out of the blanket at odd angles, posed questions about their sleeping posture which were hard to answer, at least for me. Amid this fight for the blanket, Neeru was very calm in her sleep. Nothing was bothering her, not even her mother’s wake-up calls. Watching them with a smile, I was about to go to the bathroom when I saw a little hand coming out of Neeru’s long hair.

‘Hey! Who’s that?’ I said in a sweet voice, trying to uncover little Daan who was sandwiched in between his
maasis
. He looked so very sweet in his sleep that I could not resist giving him a good morning kiss. The four of them sleeping on that bed appeared so good to me. Looking at them, I realized how much they loved each other and how close-knit this family was.

‘Touchwood,’ I said in my heart.

I was amazed at the morning in this house being so good. And when Khushi would be back here, it will be simply awesome. I wished I could soon see all the siblings in this house, sleeping in their funny way.

By 9.20 I was ready and through with my morning prayers. While coming out of my room I saw Neeru and Ami di in the kitchen. I wanted to crack a little joke then, recalling the morning’s sight. But I checked myself, maybe because of the thoughts of Khushi’s condition running in everyone’s mind and mine, or the silence that pervaded the home. And if not that either, then because of Dad’s serious presence at the dining table.

‘We are getting late for the hospital. Why is the breakfast not ready yet?’ Dad asked the females of the house, looking at the kitchen door.

We had to reach the hospital and send Jiju and Deepu, who had been there all night, back home.

No one but Mumma dared to answer the question. ‘It’s almost done,’ she said.

And in a short while, breakfast was served. Dad called me to join him and, of course, I did accordingly. We took nearly twenty minutes to have our breakfast and at ten, we left for the hospital. On our way, suddenly, I had the same feeling that I had the day before when, for the first time, I was entering the ICU, wishing to see her.

Soon, we were in the hospital. On the ICU floor, I saw Deepu half-asleep in a corner chair in the hall. Dad and I went straight to him.

‘Hey Deepu,’ I said, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He woke up with a start and looked up. He was tired and I could see the sleep in his eyes.

‘Hi,’ he said, getting up from his seat.

‘Did the doctors see her this morning?’ Dad asked him.

‘Yes, they saw her. In fact, a little while ago, they talked to me and said that they will be going for a CT scan by noon. They want to check the present status of the blood clots in didi’s brain.’

Meanwhile, Jiju joined our conversation. He had gone to get a water bottle from the shop in the hospital campus. He too got an update from Deepu. A little later, Dad asked both of them to go back home so that they could have breakfast and take some rest. But Jiju insisted on staying there for a while, with us. He suspected that the doctors might be taking Khushi for the CT scan soon and then he too could see her. So he stayed back, while Deepu left for home in his car. Deepu was definitely not going to rest, as there was important work at home to be completed.

The three of us occupied vacant chairs in different rows on that floor. I started looking at the people around me—some sleeping, some talking to their dear ones on their mobiles, some
chanting prayers and a few wiping their tears. Deep in their eyes was a fear which they were fighting against. There was this smell in the air, peculiar to every hospital in this country. In front of us was the ICU door which was scaring me an awful lot.

In the right corner of this floor there was a TV set, at a height. Some India versus Sri Lanka series was on, with the volume almost zero. A few youngsters were following the match before a lady demanded to see the repeat telecast of a
Saas-Bahu
serial which she had missed last night. According to the person sitting next to me, this lady was quite happy today as her father-in-law was being discharged from the ICU in a few hours. The moment she heard this news from her doctor, she discovered a way to celebrate by watching reruns of her favorite soap.

So much was happening around me. Every five minutes, the elevator door opened in order to flush out and take in different people. Nurses and ward boys wheeled patients on trolleys to different rooms on the other side of the ICU door. Frequent announcements called for attendants to meet their respective doctors and, with every call, the concerned persons rushed to the ICU in hope and fear.

This was an altogether new atmosphere for me or, probably, for everyone on this floor. The doctors on the other side of the ICU door seemed like Gods to us and the gatekeeper at the entrance, their messenger. And just like a temple, we were supposed to remove our shoes at the door before moving in. At times, the same door opened from the other side and we saw people coming out, some smiling, some about to burst into tears.

Finally, there was an announcement for us too. ‘Bed no. 3. Attendants of Khushi, please come in.’

This was enough to send my heart racing. Despite the sweat on my forehead, all of a sudden I felt extremely cold inside. I started breathing heavily. I knew the time had come when I was
going to see something which would disturb me. I looked at Dad and Jiju and then the three of us rushed towards the door. By now, none of us had seen her and I don’t know what was happening to them, but I was shaking. I felt Jiju’s hand on my shoulder trying to comfort me as we approached the door.

‘Yes,’ Dad said to the gatekeeper.

‘Go to the CT scan room on the ground floor. The nurses have taken her there for the scan,’ the gatekeeper told us.

We rushed towards the elevator. The door was about to close when we squeezed ourselves in. At the ground floor, outside the elevator door, I asked the guard for directions to the CT-scan room. Busy with his cellphone he pointed the way. I was running, with Dad and Jiju trying to catch up. I passed by many rooms on this floor and finally reached the zone where I saw a board which read ‘CT scan’. The entrance to this zone was a grill-like structure behind which there was a reception counter.

‘Yes?’ one of the ladies at the reception asked me.

‘Has the CT scan of the patient named Khushi started?’ I asked her, tying my shoelace which had come undone while I was running.

She glanced at the last entries in her thick register. Meanwhile, I turned back to see Dad and Jiju, who were still four blocks away from this room.

‘Can you see that stretcher inside, behind that green curtain? That’s your patient and the CT scan is about to start in a short while,’ she said, pointing towards the CT-scan room.

‘Who are you and …’ she tried to ask me but, before she could complete her questions, my feet started moving towards that stretcher. All of a sudden I was calm. I felt everything around me was freezing, as if time was slowing down every second. The voices around me grew dim in my ears. I was seeing people around me and their actions but was not able to hear them at all. I could see the reception lady behind me still
asking so many questions and prohibiting me from going in, but I was not able to understand her and I kept walking towards the green curtain without even blinking. At the door, the ward boy tried to stop me, possibly at the receptionist’s command. I don’t remember his face and what had happened to him, but there was something, something because of which he took his hands off me the very next moment. Maybe it was my tears falling on his hands …

And, finally, I was standing beside her.

Seeing her, my heart melted inside me. Never in my worst nightmare could I have seen her this way. My sweetheart, my Khushi was in front of me and her body revealed what she had gone through. Most of her body was covered with a white bed sheet. Her innocent face had suffered so many injuries. There were blood clots on her swollen right eye. There were scars, big and small, on her entire face. A thick ventilator tube ran down her nose. Her broken jaw was temporarily fixed with bandages. The soft skin of her right arm bore the marks of so many injections that it had turned blue. I could see multiple tubes of different diameters piercing different parts of her body. On her bed she was surrounded by various medical equipment including a ventilator, a small monitor to read the heart-beat, an oxygen-cylinder extension and medicine bags with injections and medicine in them. And there were these constant beeps from the ventilator.