You Were My Crush: Till You Said You Love Me! (15 page)

It had been quite some time that we had been waiting. It was three hours past noon. Manoj’s family had gone back to their home. Manoj stayed back and his stares kept getting nastier. A few more relatives dropped in, talked to Diya’s parents and left. We sat there motionless, waiting for the time that we could next talk to her. I desperately wanted to go inside and tell her that no matter what, I would always be there. But then, family comes first. I was just an outsider.
They did not need me
.

All this while, Dad had been making frantic calls everywhere and people/doctors had been coming in and out of the office of the doctors who operated on Diya. Nothing much came out of these conversations, except that the operation was carried out in the best way possible. There were talks about shifting her to another hospital, but they decided it was too early and right then she was too weak for that.

Although visitors are not allowed to stay on in the hospital, my dad pulled some strings so all of us could be with Diya. Over the night, the nurses came and went as we all stayed awake. Her parents and Shaina periodically went to meet her. I wanted to go and talk to Shaina about Diya, but Manoj never let her out of his sight. The nurses told me Diya was in her senses but in a lot of pain. She had to be kept on a constant dose of painkillers and morphine. The corridors were quiet in the night; I had heard Diya shouting from inside.

Loud cries. Curses. And sobs.

Maybe she had now been told about the unmoving legs. As I sat there, I was horrified to even think about what she must be going through. One moment she was in a rickshaw, looking forward to her sister’s function, and the other moment, she lay in a bed, her legs motionless and with only a slight chance of recovery. She had her whole life in front of her. I shuddered. All the times that she had mentioned her LSE dreams came flashing in front of my eyes. Diya used to talk about them with so much fervour. She had such big dreams.

I closed my eyes and my first teardrops hit the floor. I hoped that when I opened my eyes, it would all be a dream and I would wake up in my bed. And everything would be the way it was. I sat alone on the steel bench thinking of what lay ahead of us. I needed someone to talk to, but that someone was on the bed, staring at a crippled life in front of her.

And it’s because of me.

It had been three days since Dad and I were there. They had begged us to leave, but I was not going anywhere until I saw her with my own eyes. And Dad just did not want to leave me alone. He had won me over in those three days. He was the person who took care of everyone. Dad made sure everyone ate on time and every time anybody needed a shoulder or a blanket, he was right there. Everyone slept at one point or the other, but he did not. He did all the running around, and took care of all the paperwork. He made sure that no one disturbed her parents.

‘Uncle, you should leave now,’ Shaina had said this at least a million times now, but Dad just lightly smiled and brushed aside the issue.

‘Milk, beta? It’s already late evening and you ate so little in the afternoon.’

‘No, Uncle, I am good. Why don’t you go back home and rest awhile? I am here. I will handle everything.’

‘I don’t need rest, beta. I will just get you some juice,’ he said, ruffled her hair and left.

Shaina looked angrily at me.

‘He is not going because you are still here. Why don’t the two of you go back home and rest a little, Benoy? You haven’t even slept in two days. You will fall sick, Benoy.’

‘I will not.’

‘Humph. Like father, like son,’ she said and walked away.

Over the last few days, I had prayed day in, day out, for Diya’s health and her recovery. It made me sick to think about what happened to her. No matter how much time passed, I could not come to terms with it. Shaina and I had hardly talked during those three days. Manoj had been there for more than a day and a half and never let her anywhere near me. Finally, his parents dragged him home.

It was the fourth night and I hadn’t seen Diya yet. The horror and the pain of what Diya must have gone through had not lessened in my mind. Finally, Dad had dozed off in a chair. His mouth was wide open and his legs were on the chair in front of him. Shaina was still awake, but was sitting four or five benches away, occasionally tapping on her cell phone and sometimes just looking blankly through the wide-open spaces. She had been incredibly strong all this while. She did not cry much, took care of people around and encouraged everybody.

It was three in the night when I saw the nurse walking into Diya’s room. I waited for her to come out and walked up to her. Shaina joined in too.

‘Can we see her?’ I asked the nurse.

The nurse motioned that she had just given her the medicine and that we should not take more than five minutes. She left. I looked at Shaina and asked if I should go in. She nodded, held my hand and we went in.

Wrapped in bandages and tucked inside a white blanket, Diya looked tired, her face was swollen and there were needles sticking into her skin. She looked drowsy. The monitors beeped. She could hardly react when she saw us. Shaina kissed her on the cheek. Diya smiled and she looked at me. We sat on both sides of her bed and smiled at her. I hoped she would feel better with us around. We didn’t say anything.

‘It would have been better had I died,’ she said.

‘Don’t say that,’ Shaina said.

‘I am a cripple. I will always be that way. I should have died.’

Tears streamed down both their cheeks.

‘You will always be our Diya. You are bigger than this. And we want you around. Ever thought what we would be without you?’ Shaina asked.

‘I just want to die.’

She did not stop crying, just looked at Shaina and me with tears in her eyes. Her eyes begged us to take her out of the pain of living the rest of her life confined to a wheelchair. It just sucked.

‘You will be fine,’ Shaina said.

Diya started to doze off. We settled her head on the pillow and left the room. Shaina was in tears again. We
walked wordlessly towards the pharmacy to get ourselves a water bottle. Shaina started sobbing loudly and clutched me. She staggered and her legs gave way. I thought she would faint. I helped her up. We stood in the middle of the hallway and she kept crying. Her howls were loud. She bit me a few times, and dug her nails into me as she tried not to shout.

I don’t know how much time passed. She just kept on crying. Every few minutes she used to lose her ground and fall over me. A little while later, we sat on a bench and she kept crying and hugging me. She kept repeating the same thing—
that she loved her and how she wished it had happened to her and not Diya
. I just hugged her and told her that things would be fine. I wished I could make it better for her.

‘You know what?’ She looked at me. ‘I used to be so jealous of her. That she was so smart. And ambitious. I always used to feel bad about it and then taunt her on her clothes and her spectacles.’

‘Hmm.’

‘I never used to mean it. Never. She was always the most beautiful sister anyone could ever have,’ she said and broke down again. As she cried, between her sobs, she kept telling me how much she loved her.

She drifted off to sleep and when she woke up, she realized that she was sleeping on my shoulder. She stood up with a start and smiled at me sheepishly. There were still tear marks on her cheeks. Her kajal was completely rubbed off and her naked eyes still looked as beautiful. From the
corner of my eye, I saw Manoj and his older brother sitting on another bench. Shaina noticed it too. She looked at me.

‘He is here,’ she said.

‘Yes, it’s okay. Go.’ I smiled.

As she started to leave, she said, ‘Thank you, Benoy. I needed this. I needed to cry.’

‘It’s the least I can do. I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Had she … not come to meet me—’

‘Shut up, Benoy.
Never
think of that. Never,’ she said and touched my arm.

Then she walked away. She sounded genuine. Maybe it was just Manoj who blamed me. Manoj hugged her again and looked at me. Probably to send me a message—
Shaina is mine.

I was sitting on the bench, fiddling with my phone when for the first time in those days, Mrs Gupta came up to me. She was an elegant woman, but the last few days had been hard on her. She was in a terrible state and hardly looked like the two sisters had described her to me. She was sweet.

‘Beta.’

‘
Arre
, Aunty. Sit.’

She sat down next to me and said, ‘Beta, you should go home now.’

‘No, Aunty, it’s okay. I can be a little help around here.’

‘You have already done a lot, beta. You need some rest,’ she said and ran her fingers through my hair. It reminded me of my mom.

‘Aunty, you need rest. I am young and can handle this.’

She did not say anything for a while. I could see that she was trying too hard not to cry.

‘Beta? Will you forgive us for that day? I cannot say anything to bhaisahib. I am too ashamed.’

‘Not your fault, Aunty. Shaina must have felt that.’

‘I don’t know, beta. But you’re a nice boy,’ she said and got up. I could sense she was about to cry again. Her eyes were starting to tear up.

It was mid-afternoon when a doctor, who had flown in from Mumbai at my father’s request, called Shaina, her parents and Dad to the chambers. As they moved in, Mrs Gupta looked at me and asked me to join too. I looked around and followed them. I could see Manoj standing in the corner, fidgeting in his place. He was furious at being left out.

‘What is the news, doctor?’ Dad asked the doctor as he looked through reports and results from various tests.

‘Umm. The good news is that she doesn’t suffer from paraplegia. Given the type of accident, she is very lucky.’

All of us looked at him with wide eyes, because we did not know what paraplegia meant.

‘In paraplegia the patient loses all sensation in his or her legs, often up to the chest area … so that is not the case.’

He continued, ‘See, when there is an injury to the spinal cord, it is usually incurable. What is done in the first thirty minutes of the trauma is what decides the fate of the patient. In this case, satisfactory care had been taken so she was saved from paraplegia. But since the injury was still significant, there was sufficient damage to the spinal area. So right now she suffers from partial paralysis.’

‘Partial paralysis?’ I asked.

‘It is usually to one side of the body, but Diya has been lucky that her loss in movement is limited to her left leg. Though there is some loss on the right side too, but with the right treatment it will be okay. Even her left arm is fine only that she might have some trouble coordinating with that hand. With the right therapies she might get cured.’

‘
Might?
’ Diya’s father asked.

‘Sir, since the spinal cord cells don’t have the ability to regenerate or repair, often such damage is permanent.’

‘So you mean there is a chance she may never walk again?’ Mr Gupta said.

‘There is always the worst-case scenario. But, there is a very strong chance that she can improve and with the right therapies she should be able to do most of the things that a normal person can do,’ he said.

Most things that a normal person can do
.

People around me broke down into tears, hugged each other and talked about gods and godfathers they could go to in order to get her cured. I was a little relieved though. Earlier we had been told that she would never be able to walk again or even do the very basic things. That she would be trapped in a wheelchair. But to hear that she would be able to walk, even if with a crutch, gave me huge strength. Moreover, he said that with the right therapies she might be almost fully cured too. She might even walk like she
used
to.

The aunties and her mother kept asking the doctors
questions about the therapies and how long it would take her to walk again. The doctor gave vague answers to every question of theirs and I did not blame him for that. The meeting went on for over an hour after which everyone was just sadder. Everyone was waiting for a miracle. I was happy with whatever we got.

Dad, Diya’s father and I hung back and asked if he knew some hospital that she could be shifted to for the requisite therapy. He advised us to stay put at this hospital for the next week or so. He said that once the initial recovery was complete, she could be shifted to Escorts. Dad asked if she could be flown outside the country … anywhere, that might increase her chances of being cured. The doctor shook his head. Dad reiterated that money was not an issue. The doctor still advised against it.

Finally, after a lot of probing, he suggested two doctors in California who were partial-paralysis recovery experts. He asked Dad to talk to them and see if he could get them to fly down to Delhi or fly Diya out after she got a little better.

‘Bhaisahib,’ Dad said to her father, ‘don’t worry, I will get the two of them to India. We will get Diya to walk again.’

‘But—’

‘Don’t worry about the money. She is our daughter too. Just pray that our beti walks again.’

I knew Dad had money. And I knew Diya’s treatment would hardly dent his income. But spending hours in the hospital, spending entire days talking to doctors … it was a
different thing altogether. These were the same people who had called him a bad father.

Later that day, Diya had woken up and all the aunties had gone in to see her. I wondered what happened inside. Also, Eshaan came to the hospital. He had gone to Vaishno Devi for five days and his phone was not working. I told him all that had happened in the last few days. He was distraught and shocked. Finally, after everyone had had his or her share of time with Diya, Eshaan and I got in. Every one of us had been instructed not to cry or say anything negative in front of her.

‘I heard your dad is doing a lot,’ Diya said as she looked at me. ‘I heard doctors are coming in from California. Your dad is bringing them?’

‘Umm.’

‘Nothing will help,’ she said.

She moved her left hand, and it just moved haphazardly; the tubes and the needles strained as she moved her hand around.

‘I can’t live with this.’

‘Diya, the doctors are positive about your recovery. You should be too. Your arm will be perfectly fine after therapy. He said that—’

‘Will I be able to walk?’

‘See, I didn’t go to the gym every day for nothing! Until the time that your left leg is cured, I will be your crutch! That’s not too bad is it?’ I said.

‘Hmm. What do you think?’ She looked at Eshaan.

‘You will be fine. Just be positive. I just read on the
Internet that willpower is everything. That’s what decides the rate of recovery more than anything else,’ he said.

‘That’s what decides? Benoy, then you should ask those doctors to cancel their flights. I just need willpower, nothing else!’ she mocked. Her will to live was questionable and I understood that. We left after the nurse came in and gave her medicine.

‘Talked to her?’ Shaina asked as I came out. I introduced Eshaan to Shaina and he left. ‘What did she say?’

‘She is sad. It’s hard for her.’

‘I know. She has lost the will to fight,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry, we will make her want to fight. I am with you, Shaina.’

‘I am sorry for earlier, Benoy. And I am sorry for my parents,’ she murmured.

‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything to me! Ever,’ I said.

‘I just want you to understand that Manoj wanted me to stay away from you. And my parents. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing me for what I did to you.’

‘God doesn’t punish cute people like you.’

‘Manoj hates you,’ she said. ‘Even more now.’

Before I could say anything, Manoj reappeared, probably from hell, in the corridor and she had to go. Manoj gave me his badass look, to which I was immune.

The day before, Diya’s mom had come up to me and said, ‘You shouldn’t take the blame on yourself. It’s God’s wish. If someone says something, don’t mind.’

I was pretty sure Manoj had tried influencing her too.
However, I had started to feel that her parents liked me and my father. They had realized that they had committed a mistake in judging us. Probably, they were still angry with their daughter for she had broken their trust, but they were okay with us.

My dad’s a stud after all.