The Promise (22 page)

She often had open-eyed fantasies about him coming back. That they met somewhere and sorted out their differences and everything went back to normal. But it never actually happened.

Once again, she found herself hating herself for still being in love with that man. After what he had done to her, still loving him was a betrayal of her self-respect. But she could not help it. Love was not under her control.

In the depth of the night, she wept herself to sleep, wishing he was lying there next to her, holding her, whispering dreams about their future, their baby. She wished they were his palms caressing their baby. But she knew what the harsh reality was-he did not want the baby and he did not want her. He had made himself clear. She understood that. It was just her stupid heart that did not.

'This is going to be perfect,' Mili breathed.

'I know. But don't jinx it!' Shambhavi exclaimed.

They were readying her father's bedroom, to welcome him there that evening. Mili was dusting the room and placing fresh bed sheets, table covers and curtains. Shambhavi had taken the liberty of sitting lazily on her father's rocking chair and ordering her best friend around to get things done. She was thirty weeks pregnant and the huge bump that was her baby was excuse enough for not having to work.

'Oh, yes. Touch wood,' Mili said. 'So, you have everything finalized? Since when have you been planning this? And why am I getting to know about it only now?'

'Yes, I have everything finalized. I have been talking to Dad's doctors about this ever since we first shifted him to the hospital. I never wanted to send him there, but we did not have an option-he needed medical attention and we did not have any means to bring it all home. You did not know about it before because I got the idea only last night, when I realized I finally have that sort of money,' Shambhavi answered. 'Phew. You ask so many questions. I wonder how Vikaas manages to bear with you.'

'That he does because I'm so hot,' Mili winked.

'Yeah, yeah.'

'No, seriously. I can show you his text messages-written proof. Just today morning during text-sex, he told me that I am absolutely, the hottest chick on the planet. And that he wanted to do dirty things-'

'Okay, enough!' Shambhavi shouted to stop her friend. 'Do you really think I need to know the details of your sex life? What is text-sex, anyway?'

'See? I knew you would be interested.'

'All right, I am. Now, tell me.'

'It's just like phone sex, only written, through text messages. And much, much better. I tell you-' Just as Mili started to get into the dirty details, Shambhavi's phone rang. It was Dr Mishra.

'Good morning, Doctor,' Shambhavi greeted her cheerfully.

'Someone's in a good mood today,' Dr Mishra commented. Over time, they had grown fond of each other.

'I sure am; I'm bringing my dad back home. And no more interior designing for a while. Just my one true love-painting.'

'That sounds nice. When are you coming for your check up?'

'The appointment is tomorrow; I fixed it up with your secretary,' Shambhavi informed. 'Why? Is everything okay? The baby...'

'Oh, yes. The baby is just fine. I would still suggest you to rest more, but I know you won't listen, so I'll save my breath. I contacted you for something else-it is my son's housewarming next weekend and I was wondering if I could buy one of those beautiful paintings the whole town seems to be talking about.'

'Oh, that. I'm sorry, but you are late. The exhibition was yesterday and all the pieces were sold out. All I have left is a bunch of older paintings, unrefined and probably childish.'

'Can I still take a look?' the doctor insisted.'I could not make it to the exhibition and I really do not want to miss out.'

'Sure. I do not think that will be an issue,' Shambhavi said. She still did not want to sell her already-painted-old-paintings, but Dr Mishra was no stranger. Shambhavi did not mind the doctor's son having one of her paintings.

She was grateful to God for the few caring people he had sent to her, when she was in need. She could not have imagined going through it all alone. Mili, Tutul, Vikaas and Dr Mishra were the only people with her, apart from her father. They were more than enough; they were all she needed.

Once Mili left for her office, after arranging the room and magically making it look welcoming, Shambhavi went to her basement. She wanted to paint. She set up a canvas in her bedroom and went back to the basement for colours. The rickety wooden staircase creaked under her weight, as she made her way back up to the ground floor carefully.

Living with her father again gave her a pseudo feeling of normalcy. It felt as if everything was back to normal. Her father's nurse had just gone out for a short while, to take care of some personal business. Shambhavi had checked up on him just seconds ago to find him fast asleep and then made her way back to her room, which was on the opposite end of the house. She wanted to shift to the guest room, which was closer to her father's, but then it did not really matter. The intercom took care of the distance.

She was sitting on her bed, with the framed canvas pulled close. The mattress on the bed was way more comfortable than her stiff painter's stool. Maybe she would get one of those cushy ones later, but right then, she was okay with sitting on the bed. She was avoiding all unnecessary expenses. She preferred getting a pram for her child than spending money on a stool she did not need.

She thought she heard her father's voice, and paused her paintbrush. She looked at the intercom. It was silent. She continued her work. It was only after she heard his voice from closer by that she realized that he really was calling her. He must not be in his room; she would have heard him over the intercom otherwise. She called out to let him know she was coming. She pushed her canvas frame away from the bed and got up slowly. Her back hurt from all the weight she was carrying in her tummy. She put a hand there for support, stood up and walked out of her room.

'Dad? Where are you?' she called.

'Shambhavi?'

'Yes, Dad. Why are you out of your bedroom?'

'I came out for a stroll. Now come here and help me out of this...' Mr Sen said. He sounded panicked.

Shambhavi rushed towards him, following his voice to the top of the basement staircase. 'What are you doing here?' she asked, out of breath.

'I came to find you. But I got trapped in this staircase,' he explained.

'First, I no longer paint in the basement. And second, you are never supposed to bring your wheelchair near staircases. It's dangerous. How can you act so reckless?'

She saw that one of the wheels of his wheelchair was stuck in the broken wood at the top of the stairs. His wheelchair was facing the stairs and he had his back towards her. 'Stop! Don't do anything. Let me help you out of the chair and take you to your room. I'll get the chair later.' It would be tricky to get him out of the chair, but it was their best option. The wheelchair was bent dangerously downwards.

'There's no need. Just pull a little towards yourself, it'll come free.'

'NO!'

Before Shambhavi could stop him, he put his feet down and started pushing backwards. After the first push, his foot lost balance and he fell forwards, facedown towards the stairs.

'DAD!' Shambhavi panicked and left her hold on the back of the wheelchair and rushed towards her father. In the terror she felt, her foot got caught in one of the wheels of the chair and she was thrown forward too.

'AARGHHHH,' she yelled when her stomach hit the wheelchair.

'SHAMBHAVI,' she heard her father call out.

She tried to hold the chair for balance, but her bump had pulled it free of the stair and it rolled down the stairs, pulling Shambhavi with it.

'NOOOOO,' she shouted. The scene unfolded in front of her in all its horrifying pieces. Everything was happening way too quickly to make any sense.

'AAARRGGHHHHH; her father shouted out. He was in pain; she had to do something about it.

But she could not; she herself was in free fall. She saw her body falling down, right behind the wheelchair. She tried to halt her fall by clutching at something, but the staircase had no raised edge, or boundary of any kind.

Her father was lying at the bottom of the staircase. She could see blood, but did not know where it was coming from. All she concentrated on was stopping the wheelchair and her own body from falling over her father. She held tightly onto the wheelchair, managing to change its direction.

She did it. The wheelchair did not roll over onto her father and neither did she. Instead, they fell sideways, from the middle of the staircase, from a height of five feet, to the floor. By some miracle, she did not fall on the wheelchair, else she would have died on the spot. It had all happened in a matter of seconds.

'SHAMBHAVI? SHAMBHAVI? SHAMBHAVI!' her father's voice broke through her semi-consciousness.

She opened her eyes. He was lying on his stomach face down on the floor, a few feet away from her, clearly unable to get up.

'Dad ... Dad ...' she managed to murmur.

'GET UP. GET UP, SHAMBHAVI,' her father shouted. It seemed like he was in unbearable suffering. But he did not care about himself. Just her.

'Dad ...'

'Call the doctor ...'

'Dad...' Shambhavi cried again, unable to move a muscle.

'The ... doctor ... Shambhavi ... the baby ...'

He kept saying things, but she could not make any sense of it. She heard his voice, through a dense cloud of pain surrounding her. She attempted to open her eyes, but her eyelids kept dropping. She struggled not to get unconscious; her dad's voice kept her from drifting off. But she could not muster strength to speak. She kept groaning, till her father's voice slowly drowned and eventually stopped.

It was only when the silence hurt her ears that she opened her eyes wide, despite the involuntary tears overflowing them.

'Dad ...?'

There was no response.

'Dad? Dad ...?'

There was no response again.

She strived to get up, but could not. She looked at her dad, who was lying lifeless, a few feet away from her. She strained to crawl towards him, but none of her limbs responded. The agony was blinding. She barely managed to fish her cell phone out of her maternity top. She dialled the last dialled number.

'Hello?' Dr Mishra answered cheerfully after two rings.

'Doctor ...' Shambhavi could not speak. The ache was too much to take. She could not even pinpoint the source of the pain; it hurt so much, everywhere.

'Shambhavi? Hello?'

'Doctor ... the basement...'

'What are you saying, Shambhavi? Where are you? Are you okay?' Dr Mishra asked in alarm.

'My dad ... my baby...'

That was all she could say before she saw the pool of blood she was lying in and fainted. She thought of her father, she thought of Arjun, she thought of her baby, before her eyes closed.