Chapter 17

"MADAMJII?!"

 

The Gupta household was filled with panic on what was otherwise, a lazy Sunday morning. Khushi had just finished her shower, when she heard the maid, Jaya, frightfully beckoning her.

 

Alarmed, Khushi ran to the living room. The sight that followed was worthy of being a nightmare. In fact, it was her nightmare:

 

Garima was lying unconscious on the floor, a small pool of blood staining her clothes.

 

Khushi felt the hairs rise at the back of her head. She stood transfixed as a rush of memories flooded her mind, taking her back to that fateful day when she watched her mother commit suicide.

 

"She was just watching TV," Jaya was saying hurriedly. "When she stared coughing up blood... By the time I got to her, she was already unconscious!"

 

But Khushi wasn't listening.

 

She stared, hypnotized, at her unconscious mother, her chest squeezing painfully and her lungs gasping for air. She was trapped in a flood of memories, helplessness creeping along every inch of her body.

 

Her mother was abandoning her all over again, and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

"Maaji?! Wake up!!" Jaya pleaded to a limp Garima. "MAAJI!"

 

Khushi tried to turn away, but she was frozen in place. It appeared that no matter how hard she ran or how well she hid, her fears always found a way to get to her.

 

"Madamji? Madamji?!" Jaya called, panicked.

 

Her screams seemed to have done the trick, for Khushi suddenly snapped out of her trance and looked at the terrified maid.

 

"Maaji is not waking up," Jaya said, tears brimming in her eyes. "She is not d-dyin-"

 

Khushi cut in. "Get it together Jaya!" she reprimanded, her voice surprisingly calm. "Call Bhaiyya and tell him what happened. I'm calling the ambulance."

 

Jaya nodded, relief colouring her face to see her Madamji bark orders in normalcy. As she hurried to the phone, Khushi felt some air returning to her lungs. She almost felt stupid for allowing her nightmares to get the better of her. She had grown up fighting them; today was no different.

 

So, when the ambulance arrived, Khushi determinedly accompanied an unconscious Garima to the hospital, reminding herself over and over again that her mother wasn't a lifeless doll and was going to be alright very soon.

 

By the time Shyam arrived, panting, to Lilavati Hospital, Khushi was waiting to consult a doctor on the situation.

 

"She is fine," she told her brother, in the same calm voice she used with Jaya. "For now anyway... they are doing tests on her."

 

Shyam nodded, his shoulders falling in defeat. "Are you alright?"

 

Before she could answer, they were beckoned to the doctor's office - a middle aged woman named Divya Awasti.

 

"Have a seat," Dr. Awasti said, a disappointed expression covering her face.

 

Khushi felt her stomach drop upon hearing the doctor's tone and glanced worriedly at her brother. She was surprised to meet his stony gaze. For some reason, her anxiety wasn't etched on his face.  Dismissing this strange observation, she turned to the person who had answers.

 

"Well, what's wrong with her?"

 

The doctor surveyed her closely, before saying, "Stage four pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma... in other words, cancer that has spread so much that there is barely an organ in her abdomen that is not infected with cancerous cells."

 

Silence filled the room.

 

Khushi scrambled to make sense of Dr. Awasti's words, but no matter how much tried, she just couldn't understand what was so casually declared.

 

"T-that's not possible," she replied, shaking her head. "My mother was healthy, at least for the most part of her life! She was never sick like this before... I'm sure there is a misunderstanding somewhere. I mean, how could she have cancer without anyone knowing it?!"

 

"I told you this would happen."

 

Khushi stopped short, confused to hear the doctor's reply. However, she realized with a jolt that the answer wasn't even directed at her.

 

No, Dr. Awasti was staring straight at Shyam, who was seated rigidly in his chair.

 

"I told you the day you brought her in Mr. Gupta," she continued. "Garima needs to be admitted. She needs trained doctors and nurses to take care of her... but you didn't listen to me."

 

A line appeared on Khushi's forehead. When was her mother brought in for a check-up? Why wasn't she informed about it? And more importantly, why was there a weird familiarity between Dr. Awasti and her brother?

 

However, before she could process any of those questions, Shyam answered. "It wasn't my choice to make. Maa didn't want to be admitted."

 

It suddenly clicked - all of it. "You knew this?!" Khushi asked her brother, appalled. "You knew she had cancer?!"

 

Shyam turned to look at her, a pleading expression covering his eyes. "Yes. Now please-"

 

"How long have you-"

 

He didn't let her finish. "This is neither the time nor the place to talk about this."

 

Khushi glared at her brother. For the first time in her entire life, she didn't want to see him. Any reason he had for hiding the truth was not good enough to pacify her, because this time he had gone too far. He had betrayed her.

 

However, she knew better than to question him with a spectator in the room. So, she defiantly turned back to Dr. Awasti, who courteously busied herself in a file.

 

"So, what do we do now?" Khushi asked.

 

Dr. Awasti looked up. "Admitting her would be the first step. We will then start chemotherapy and see how she does."

 

"Fine," Khushi replied, not caring to see if her brother agreed with her. "Do it."

 

The doctor looked at Shyam expectantly.

 

"I'm her daughter," Khushi stressed. "She is my responsibility from now on."

 

Dr. Awasti didn't answer, not at all bothered by the authority in Khushi's voice. It was only when Shyam gave her a curt nod of approval that she complied.

 

"Alright," she said with a sigh. "We will start the treatment right away. Make sure you fill out the paper work at the reception."

 

"Thank you," Khushi answered, standing up. "I will stay in touch."

 

Then without giving another look, she stomped off from the office. She was almost at then end of the hallway when Shyam caught up to her.

 

"Meeti, wait!"

 

She didn't stop, rage steadily building up inside her.

 

"Please!" he begged, grabbing her hand and forcing her to a halt. "Just...just hear me out, okay?"

 

"And what am I supposed to listen to?" Khushi burst. "What excuse can you possibly have for this?!"

 

"It's not like that. I know I was wrong, but-"

 

"Well look at that!" she bellowed sarcastically. "He knows he is wrong! W-O-W. Just WOW."

 

"Meeti-"

 

"Maybe you don't remember what happened in there," she interrupted. "Let me remind you: My mother has stage four cancer. And my brother knew about it for god knows how many years-"

 

"One year."

 

She bit her lip. "One year since you found out?"

 

Shyam nodded guiltily.

 

"And all this time, you didn't think it was important enough to tell me?!"

 

"What was I supposed to tell you? That after all the mess you have been through, there is more of it coming? That loosing your father wasn't enough, your mother is now on the same path?"

 

Khushi snorted. "So, I'm too weak, right? As always, you have to swoop down and rescue me from the clutches of grief and torment and whatever else that I'm supposed to be feeling!"

 

Shyam didn't answer.

 

"Well guess what big brother," she said fiercely. "You failed. You didn't save me from the grief of being born into this family, you didn't save me from watching my own mother slit her wrist and you sure as hell, didn't save me from learning the hardships of life!"

 

Khushi watched her brother, stricken to hear her cruel words. She somewhat felt satisfied to see the agony she bore reflected on his face.

 

"But most of all," she continued. "You have failed to see what I am now. So please, stop treating me like I'm broken or something. I can handle the truth... I have been handling it since I was eight years old!"

 

Giving one last infuriated look at Shyam, she walked away.

 

Khushi knew she was going to regret her words, but at that moment she felt slightly content. It was a welcome break from the panic infesting in her since she watched her mother collapse that morning.

 

She froze, however, as soon as she walked unthinkingly into Garima's room. An awkward silence spread as the two stared at each other.

 

"You can look a little more happy," Garima finally said. Propped up on the hospital bed, with only an IV hooked to her arm, she looked tired, but alive.  

 

Khushi slightly relaxed, though her heart continued to race in dread of reasons unknown. "Why should I look happy?"

 

"After all these years of wishing I was out of your life, it is finally fulfilled."

 

Khushi stared aghast. "I never wished for you to leave!"

 

"Now, don't tell me you don't hate me."

 

Khushi couldn't believe her ears. "I don't hate you," she snapped. "I never hated you! I was just... angry."

 

A sad smile spread over Garima's face as she patted a stool beside her bed. "Come sit."

 

Khushi didn't move, though her instincts screamed otherwise. She didn't want to have this conversation, not when she had just finished storming at her brother. But she also knew that this was inevitable, now that she took charge of her mother's treatment.

 

So, she obliged and seated herself on the stool.

 

"Are you sure it's just anger and not disappointment?" Garima asked.

 

Khushi stared guiltily at her hands.

 

"I'm not angry with you Meeti," Garima said gently. "You were put in an unfair situation. So, I won't feel bad with anything you say."

 

It was a few moments before Khushi answered, collecting her thoughts with great difficulty. "It's not the situation... it's us who are unfair. I get it things were bad, but that is not an excuse to turn our backs. I know I have said some horrible things to you for the last fourteen years, but I did it to bring you back. I thought you would fight back... even if it was just to shut me up."

 

"Meeti-"

 

"But you didn't," she interrupted. "You just gave up without even trying... you turned your back on yourself. That is what disappoints me... that and nothing else."

 

Garima listened calmly, the melancholic smile never leaving her face. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. But I promise, it will all be over soon."

 

"What do you mean it's going to be over soon?"

 

Garima let out a sigh. "Meeti, you know I'm not going to live-"

 

"No!"

 

Khushi stared at her mother, fuming that she dared to voice the unacceptable. Sure she was aging, but that in no way meant the end.

 

"I never thought I would see the day you would fight for me," Garima said, watching her daughter affectionately.  

 

That appeared to be the last straw for Khushi suddenly stood up, knocking her stool down in the process. "I have to leave."

 

Garima didn't object; in fact there was no change whatsoever in her expression. She still adorned a small smile, as if their conversation wasn't rudely interrupted.

 

"You are staying here from now," Khushi continued, shaken with her mother's strange behaviour. "They are going to start chemotherapy as soon as they can. You are not going to argue against it... do you understand?"

 

"Will it change your mind if I say no?"

 

She gritted her teeth. "No, it won't. You may be tired of giving up, but I'm not. You are going to fight this... if not yourself, do it for me."

 

And she left the room without another glance.

 

The truth was, a strange heaviness was clutching Khushi's heart from that morning, dragging it down with every passing minute. She had hoped seeing her mother in a stable condition would resolve it, but it only made it worse. So, she did what she knew best.

 

She fled.