The Promise (20 page)

'I can't believe you can act so irresponsibly,' Mili muttered, sitting next to Shambhavi at the waiting area.

'What? I was about to make an appointment myself,' Shambhavi defended herself.

'Oh yeah? When exactly was that going to happen?'

'Today I have to go to Anand Bazaar for a new assignment. So tomorrow. Or maybe day after ...'

'See? This is exactly the kind of behaviour I am talking about. How can you be so negligent?' Mili scolded her friend. 'You know this is no longer just about you, don't you? You have a baby to take care of ...'

'I know,' Shambhavi nodded. How could she not know that? The baby was what had kept her up night after night, wound up with worry. She had tried not to think about it, but had failed. It was a life, growing inside her. Something that had ruined her relationship with the man she loved. She had mixed feelings about the baby. She did not hate it, but she could not make herself love it either. She just did not want to think about it. To shut it out and pretend it was not there.

But it would still be there. No matter what.

Soon after, they were called in. The gynaecologist, Dr Mishra, was a woman in her fifties, and one of the most reputed doctors in the city. She smiled warmly at Shambhavi and Mili, and invited them to sit. On getting to know the details of Shambhavi's pregnancy -especially the part about her patient being an unmarried pregnant girl who wanted to keep her baby, despite the father of the baby abandoning them bothshe didn't blink an eye. She was an expert, with years of experience, and it showed.

She just kept asking questions, nodding and noting down something in her notepad, before sending Shambhavi for standard tests. The report would not be out before the next day, but once her check-up was done, the doctor went through Shambhavi's basic health status.

'Twenty-three years old ...she murmured to herself.

'Actually, almost twenty-four, Doctor. My birthday's in two months' time,' Shambhavi said nervously. There was something about getting examined-all your personal details open for another person to see. She was embarrassed.

'Okay, twenty-four then. Five-feet-five, and you weigh just fifty kilograms? That's not healthy,' Dr Mishra mused.

'Are you kidding? I'm perfect,' Shambhavi said, before realising what she did. She muttered, 'I mean, I don't want to gain weight and get fat. I thought fifty was perfect-not overweight or underweight, you know? Just optimum.'

'Of course, for a girl. But now you need to take care of your diet, for the baby. There will be all kinds of hormonal changes in your body, you'll gain weight too. Which is obvious, since you have a baby growing inside of you. You have to be prepared for all these things.'

'Yes, Doctor,' Shambhavi nodded. She had seen this in the movies, but up till now, she had not started to understand the complete impact of it. She was like a pregnant teenager, and the doctor seemed to have realized that her patient was lost too.

Dr Mishra had a confused expression. 'Is there an adult I can talk to? Your parents?' she asked gently. She turned to Mili. 'Who are you to her ...?'

'Mili Khandelwal. I'm her friend, Doctor. But you can treat me like her mother. I will be taking care of her through this,' Mili said, smiling.

'Great. So, Mili, I'll give you a list of some books you should read and a diet chart that the mother-to-be should follow,' Dr Mishra said cheerfully.

'Sure. I'll take care she does both. Anything else we need to know?'

'Just be careful. The pregnancy is in its tenth week. We will get to know more once the reports come out. Till then, just take care of her. And also, there is a list of drugs the mother should not take. Are you on any kind of medication, Shambhavi?'

'No, Doctor. I'm not,' Shambhavi replied.

'Good. Ask for the list at the reception anyway, just in case. But I would recommend you do not self-prescribe at all. Understood?'

The girls nodded.

'One last thing, Doctor,' Mili said.

'Yes?'

'When can we see the sonogram?'

'Right now, if you wish,' Dr Mishra smiled.

'Wow,' Mili said, her smile spreading as she turned to Shambhavi. 'Let's see the baby!'

'Actually, Mili, let's do it tomorrow? We'll come to pick up the report anyway. So ...' Shambhavi said, not meeting her friend's eyes. 'I have to go somewhere now ...'

Mili nodded, even though her face clearly displayed her disappointment.

They left the doctor's office and walked out of the hospital, not exchanging a word. Shambhavi was grateful to Mili, who had asked no questions. If she had asked anything, Shambhavi would not have had any answers. Everything was royally messed up in her head. She did not know what to make of what. She needed time to figure things out. Slowly, one by one. All of it together became too overwhelming.

Better put on a happy face than a gloomy one, if we have to go through it anyway. Attitude is what defines our journey through the bumpiest of roads.

our months had passed since she had first gone to the doctor's office. Since then, she had visited Dr Mishra every other week. A lot of things had changed. It was in the twelfth week of her pregnancy that she had first seen the sonogram of her baby inside her. She had fallen in love with it instantaneously. Till then, she had always thought of the baby as something that would happen to her nine months later, but when she saw it in her body, she realized that it was there, then, at that moment. She was already a mother.

She had worked very hard to earn and save for her baby. Four months had gone by, drowned in hard work, and she had maintained a perfect balance of taking care of her father, her unborn child and the funds they both needed. Mili had been there by her side throughout the time, mostly concentrating on feeding Shambhavi so that the baby remained healthy. It was a tough job; she never seemed to have enough time for food.

She had worked very hard, and it had taken its toll on her health. She had grown weaker. She felt guilty about not eating and resting enough, which was causing harm to the baby, but she planned to make it all up with the rest she was going to get in the last two months of her pregnancy. She was in the seventh month of her pregnancy and had saved enough to last her through her delivery. But she needed to earn more for taking care of the baby and her father when she wouldn't be able to get up and work, right after the baby was born.

For that, she had a plan-with the help of Mili and Tutul, she had set up an exhibition of her paintings. The date was set-10th August 2011-which was two days from then. It was also her father's fifty-fifth birthday and she could not find a better date for the occasion. Considering the wretched condition she was in, things were comparatively better by then and the future was looking up.

Her father's condition was in no way better, but due to continuous shots of radiation therapy, he was stable. Shambhavi had been shocked when he refused to go to Paris with her, saying he knew she needed all the income she could get, for the baby. He said she was spending all her money on his treatment and medical expenses anyway, so he could not accept anything else from her. It was the least he could do for his grandchild.

Shambhavi was touched. But she still really wanted him to go to Paris. She pursued the matter for a while, but eventually realized that she did not have time to take a vacation, not with a baby on the way.

That day, she made one of the toughest decisions of her life. Although, considering the things she had gone through recently, it had not hurt her as much as she had expected it to. She decided to sell her paintings. Painting was her best talent, her true love, her passion. She had been painting ever since she had learnt to walk. The crayons her mother had put in her hands when she was a toddler slowly graduated to oil pastels and charcoal pencils. When she had had her fill of sketching, she picked up the paintbrush, at the age of fifteen.

She had nine years of paintings with her, some carefully wrapped in butter paper, others framed lovingly and put up on various walls of her home. It was only after she had gained experience that her painting got mature and refined. All her paintings were a reminder of her carefree life, before a brain tumour stole the innocence away, swiftly followed by a certain Mr Datta, who left her with his child growing inside her.

Ever since she had recognized her responsibilities, her art had also developed. Her paintings were more meaningful, darker, with a profound impact. Sadly, her collection of such pieces was limited. All her time had been consumed by things that brought her the much-needed money and her art was eventually left forgotten, inside carefully wrapped sheets of butter paper, in the basement, where she no longer went.

When she decided to have an exhibition, she had not planned on selling her paintings. Not the already painted ones, that is. She had just thought of showing off her art and creating a demand in the market. She would take up orders and complete them in the last two months of her pregnancy, when she would no longer be able to work outdoors.

But when she thought about it, she realized that it was an extremely selfish thing to do. Her love for her paintings was not as great as her love for her father and her child. She had funds right then, just barely enough to sail them through her delivery, but she could never be too sure. They might need more anytime. There could be any kind of complication in her father's condition, or her baby's ... maybe several.

It would be just pure selfishness to have all those paintings with her, when she could easily sell them for some dough. She picked up her phone and called Tutul to tell her about her decision.

The turn up at the exhibition was huger than they had anticipated. It was almost three times the number they had estimated. It turned out Shambhavi had made a lot of contacts, rich contacts, while decorating wealthy people's townhouses and mansions, and men who were loaded had wives who had nothing better to do than to be present at such dos of the city. They especially loved painting exhibitions, where they could fake fine taste and throw around dough to buy pieces of artwork they did not need.

Shambhavi was not complaining, as long as it worked in her favour. Mili's contacts at work and Tutul's amateur attempt at advertising had worked too. Even Vikaas-Mili s boyfriend, who was back in India by then-had pulled whatever strings he could to be of help. It had all worked out fairly well. They were happy with the outcome. They were taking rounds in the hall, greeting people and socialising, when Mr Sen was wheeled in by the hospital staff.