Till the Last Breath . . . (22 page)

Time had stopped for Pihu. Contrasting emotions flooded her head as she went through the motions of the day. Her surgery—the second one—was scheduled for the next day and her fear clawed at her. As long as Arman was with her, she felt calm, but now, alone in the hospital room, she was petrified. Later she would be wheeled into a hospital room and she wouldn’t come out. The thought terrified her. How would her parents react? She started to see herself as a corpse lying on a surgical table with surgeons around her, shaking their heads in disappointment. She was dead. What if she wasn’t? What if she was still trapped inside the dead body, shrieking and trying to catch the attention of the doctors who would just leave the room? Trapped inside her body, what would she do? Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. She wished her parents were around. Her mother had told her that she would be back. They had some paperwork to take care of. She was sure there would be plenty.

As she lay there, moving her head restlessly from side to side, three ward boys and a doctor wheeled in a stretcher. Dushyant was back, worse than ever. Just gaining consciousness, his head
bobbed from side to side as he groaned in obvious pain. His pain only made it worse for her. Big, round tears peeked out from her eyes. She tried to move her hand to wipe her tears, but she knew that she couldn’t. The doctors left him on the bed and hooked him on to the monitors. They checked for his stats and nodded their heads before leaving the hospital ward. She kept looking at him, wondering if he would ever look her way. And he did.

‘How are you?’ he groaned.

She smiled. ‘I am good. Or well—as good as I can be.’

‘Are you scared?’ he asked.

‘Are you?’

Dushyant nodded. She nodded in return.

‘What are the doctors saying?’ she asked.

‘I need a transplant. Liver, for sure. Kidneys, too. And still … Anyway, what’s with you?’ he asked.

‘Thank you for saving me. I almost died.’

‘It was nothing,’ he said.

‘You saved my life. It means a lot. But that also proves one thing. Although I am sure you would beg to differ,’ she said with a grin.

‘What is that?’

‘We are room-mates, and we will always have each other’s backs. We are 2-1 now. You’re a better room-mate than I am!’

‘Oh, c’mon. My favours were small.’ Dushyant blushed. ‘But fine, if you say I’m leading by 2-1, how can I disagree?’

Dushyant looked at her and smiled and then they both laughed. They laughed till their stomachs hurt. Days or even hours before their probable last breaths, they shared their first moment of camaraderie.

‘What does Arman say?’ Dushyant asked. ‘Are you getting any better?’

‘Worse,’ she said and told Dushyant about the surgery and
about the possible outcomes. Pihu hadn’t really expected any reaction from Dushyant and was positively surprised when his face turned pale and it looked like he had seen a ghost. He was agitated even behind the pain, his fists were clenched and his face was a tense tangle of muscles and veins. It was only after Pihu repeatedly assured him that she would be okay that he relaxed a bit.

‘But at least I am not dying unloved,’ she said and added, ‘No offence.’ With her eyes she pointed to the gold chain and the pendant on her wrist. ‘Arman gave it to me. It was meant for his wife.’ Her face was a million shades of scarlet. ‘And should I add, he used the word
beautiful
.’

‘He didn’t have any choice! Who else would marry him?’ he mocked.

‘That’s mean!’

‘I am just kidding. And it’s beautiful. I am happy for you. On the other hand, who wouldn’t marry you!’

‘Aw. That’s sweet now.’ She blushed.

‘Where are your parents?’ he asked. And just as he did, they heard footsteps approach the door of the hospital room.

‘They are here—’ she said and stopped as she looked at two unfamiliar faces staring all around the room, their eyes wide open and their mouth agape.

‘Ishhhhh!’
the woman shrieked and immediately rushed to Dushyant’s bedside while the man stood at a distance with one hand on his chest and the other on his face in disappointment.

Pihu couldn’t make out what the woman was saying behind the wailing and the sobbing. She kept caressing and kissing Dushyant’s face and hair furiously. Pihu didn’t get a single word she was saying in her weepy Bengali accent. For the next half hour, the high-pitched crying continued. Sometimes, the woman looked at her husband and said something to him in
angry sobs. She couldn’t get the words, it was in Bengali after all, but she could tell that Dushyant’s father was being blamed for everything.

Meanwhile, Dushyant, who was at first unmoved, even irritated, had started crying and had taken his mother in his arms. His father still stood there motionless, watching the whole saga unfold.
What a jerk!
thought Pihu. It was only after his mom scolded the man that he came near the bed and sat on it. The revulsion and disgust found its way back to Dushyant’s face and he couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. While his mom cried, he just looked away from his father. Seeing his son’s antipathy, the father excused himself while the woman still had her face buried in her crying son’s chest.

Pihu’s parents walked in too, after a little while, and sat beside her. All three of them were looking at the woman who was sobbing feverishly on the adjacent hospital bed. Pihu filled them in on who she was and told them a little about how Dushyant and his father didn’t see eye to eye. Her mother nodded disapprovingly as if to say,
‘Who would want such a son?’
Pihu promptly reminded her of how it was Dushyant who had saved her life even as he was about to die himself. Her mother muttered something about the unlucky room number and her eyes glazed over.

For a change, her father, too, sat on the other side and held her other hand. Almost instantly, he discovered the gold chain with the little diamond and looked at her with questioning eyes. She blushed stupidly and it became apparent where it came from. Her father grinned approvingly. If only she had more time to go on unnoticed dates and night-outs without her father knowing and to stash Valentine’s Day cards in the corners of her wardrobe, to save money to buy her boyfriend expensive gifts and to have her heart broken and lose her love to someone else and get married. If only …

Her father’s grip tightened on her hand and though she couldn’t feel it, she could sense it … the anguish, the irreparable loss, the defeat. Both sets of parents sat near their kids. Often her eyes would meet Dushyant’s and they would both smile. A little later, Zarah walked into the room and asked Dushyant’s parents to follow a ward boy for the blood and tissue tests. They wanted to check for possible donors. Zarah’s face screamed anxiety and she never looked straight at Dushyant.

Pihu’s parents, too, excused themselves for lunch after she forced them to. She was sure they hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days. Her mom had been beautiful in her college days; now she looked dead and lifeless.

Zarah was checking Dushyant’s charts when Pihu finally greeted her: ‘Hi!’

‘Hi, Pihu. How are you doing?’ Zarah answered with a forced smile.

‘You tell me? You’re the doctor,’ she chuckled.

‘She is doing great. Ask me,’ Dushyant butted in and Pihu gave him a reprimanding look. ‘Oh, wait, you don’t know, do you?’

‘What do I not know?’ a confused Zarah queried.

‘Pihu almost got married,’ Dushyant smirked. Pihu blushed.

‘WHAT?’
Zarah exclaimed.

‘I mean not
really
married. But look at her wrist. That’s Arman’s great-grandmother’s pendant meant for Arman’s wife. Now, if that doesn’t sound straight out of a clichéd Hindi movie, I don’t know what does. So symbolically, they are married. Who cares about the paperwork and all that shit! Right, Pihu?’

Zarah bent over to see the chain and the piece of sparkling rock dangling from it and broke into a big smile … which slowly turned into a big grin and she hugged the life out of
poor Pihu. Obviously, she couldn’t feel the hug, but she could feel the love.

‘Yes, Dushyant is right. You’re married now,’ she quipped. ‘So congratulations!’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Pihu snarled and blushed at the same time.

‘But this is so sweet, Pihu,’ Zarah said and sat by her side. Pihu’s joy knew no bounds. It’s a very girly thing to do … to blush and feel ecstatic when your girlfriends approve of the guy you have chosen. Zarah wasn’t
really
her girlfriend but who cared? It was her moment. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and imagined herself crying as she walked into a car adorned with flowers and with a number plate that said
‘Just Married, Rx’
.

‘I am glad I came here,’ Pihu said, her mood wistful and her eyes distant.

‘That’s the first time I’ve heard someone be thankful to be in a hospital,’ Dushyant quipped and they all laughed.

‘I wish he was here,’ Pihu said.

‘Aw. He would have been, but he is preparing for the surgery. I have never seen him so tense before. I hope it goes well,’ Zarah said, as the tension in her eyebrows returned. ‘There is still hope, Pihu.’

‘Fingers crossed!’ Pihu said with false happiness. ‘All I want to know are the chances of my coming out of that operation room alive.’

Zarah didn’t say anything. After a long pause, she said, ‘My guess is … one hundred per cent!’

She forgave Zarah for lying. She knew she might not ever open her eyes again after the anaesthesiologist pricked her with his injection filled with stuff that was supposed to put her under one more time. The feeling passed. It had come way too many times to mean anything now. She had told
people she loved that she loved them … many, many times. Her goodbye to her parents had lasted over a year. Over the past year, she had been waiting for her death. As she lay her head back on the pillow, she smiled. Her wait had been long and weary and she decided she didn’t want her last few hours to go by in dread.

‘I will just be back, then,’ Zarah said and hugged her.

‘Be back soon. They will take me away in a few hours and Dushyant will be all lonely then. He really needs you.’ Pihu winked.

Contrary to what she had thought, she didn’t spot a smile on Zarah’s face. If anything, it drooped a little.

‘He has people to take care of him. I don’t think he needs me any more than as a doctor,’ Zarah said. Dushyant and Pihu looked at each other, shocked, not knowing what to make of it.

‘Obviously, he needs you. Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you?’ Pihu said excitedly even as Dushyant’s face flushed with obvious anger and embarrassment.

‘I am sure there are other people who would respond to his looks and overtures in a manner better than mine,’ she said, irritably.

Dushyant was still confused and fidgeted with the tubes around him. Pihu, on the other hand, grasped immediately what Zarah meant and stayed shut. Before the light of realization dawned on Dushyant’s face, Zarah had left.

‘You know what she was talking about, right?’ Pihu asked.

‘I have a faint idea,’ he said. ‘Kajal.’

‘Who do you like more?’ Pihu asked.

‘Does it matter? I might not make it tomorrow, or the day after, or the month after that.’

‘It matters to them. Don’t you think it matters to Zarah what you think about her? After you go, if you go, do you think
it will be easy for her to grieve for you and yet not know what you thought about her?’

‘I have no idea. It’s a really hard question. I mean, Kajal and I have a history together. We have seen things, been through shit, but Zarah and I have seen worse. With Zarah, I don’t think I have given her a single reason to smile or feel good about
us
.’

‘Trust me, you have.’

‘You think so?’

‘She stands at the door for hours, watching you sleep.’

‘You’re kidding me!’ he exclaimed.

‘I am not. You mumble her name in your sleep too,’ she said.

‘I DO
NOT
!’

‘Okay, yes, the last one was a lie, but she really likes you.’

‘And Kajal?’ he asked, confused.

‘She loves you, too.’

‘And I?’

‘With that, I can’t help,’ she said and shrugged.

‘Why? I am an asshole. Why would they even like me? It’s horrible. Why can’t they go out there and find someone who is cute and lovable and adorable and not dying like me?’

‘For them, you must be cute and lovable and adorable and … you are not dying,’ she said.

Dushyant broke down in tears like a little girl. He cupped his face, his lips looked like an inverted kayak, and his eyes were little puddles of tears.

‘What happened?’

‘I … am … so sorry I was rude to you,’ he said and collected himself and wiped the tears off. ‘I wish we could have talked before.’

‘It’s fine. Though a word of advice—don’t cry. Like,
ever
. You’re
the
bad boy. Movies get made on you, Dushyant. You can’t afford to be a sissy.’

‘What sissy? Roger Federer cries and he is pretty kickass,’ he defended himself.

‘Is Roger Federer more dateable and irresistible … or say Mick Jagger?’

‘Whatever.’