Chapter 75

68. Talab

‘What did you mean by seventeen years of obsession?’ She asks but he refuses to talk anymore about it. ‘I thought that you don’t like me.’

‘I do hate you.’

‘But you said seventeen years of madness, of obsession.’

He does not reply, only stares at her.

‘Hmm,’ she ponders. Hate can also transform into an obsession with time. Then I hate you too. But mine is different. I hate you because I am not allowed to love you. Hate. Love. Funny words. Like turmeric or salt in kitchens. Thrown so casually in every and any dish. You require no specialization on it to use it. 

‘It is very cold,’ she shivers. ‘It is the AC.’ She looks around. ‘No remote? Can we not change the settings?’ She asks, rubbing her hands. ‘Are you not going to talk to me? Are you only going to stare at me the entire night? Is your pain gone?’

‘Very cold,’ she murmurs once again.

‘Come here,’ he whispers into the still night.

‘Come where?’ She asks.

It is very dark but there’s also light stealthily streaming in from some unknown place.

He’s patting on the place next to himself on his bed.

‘But you’re sick. I'll hurt you.’

‘I’m healed,’ he pulls the end of his striped pajamas up to his knees, revealing his calf. Her eyes trace the scar that runs up along the back of his leg.

She climbs next to him. ‘Your sofa is very comfy.’

‘Hmm,’ he breathes on her neck, making her skin tingle.

‘It is still cold,' she pushes her breast into his chest.

‘Why do dogs bark? I don’t like the howling of dogs. Dadi, says, it’s inauspicious. Nishit...Nishit?’

She opened her eyes, gasping for air, her chest heavy and throbbing. Hot and bothered, and still a prisoner of her dream, it took some time to sit up, and wrap her mind about the present surrounding.

Hospital. She was in the hospital. A room. Sofa. She had been sleeping. Dreaming. Strange dream. An intimate dream. A dream that should be embarrassing. But she wasn't embarrassed. Instead, she was thinking it ended too soon. She wanted it back.

The dogs outside were crying.

Nishit, she sought him. He laid on the bed, asleep. Still under the effect of anesthesia.

Putting her legs down the floor - the floor was harsh and cold - she quickly slipped her feet into her sandals and traipsed to his bed.

He lay so still that it bothered her. 

Leaning in close, she continued to observe him until she could finally see his chest rise and fall - a soft lullaby that promised life. That promised hatred and spiteful words. 

Blood returned to her too.

She had been so scared when the junior doctor of the team had come with a consent form to be signed before the surgery. Taking her to be his family, he began explaining the risks involved. 

‘But this is a minor surgery, you had said earlier? Then all these risks…’ She had asked.

‘But sometimes complications arise, we need to make the patient and their family aware of every possible situation that can arise, complications that can happen.’

‘Haemorrhage, stroke, what is all this?’

‘Risks. Isn’t common but we have to inform you ahead. You are his wife? Please sign the documents,’ he had said, casually brushing off her concern and fear.

‘I am his friend,’  she had clarified.

‘Give it to me,’ Nishit had snatched the file from her and signed it right away.

‘I have seen you somewhere,’ the doctor had said, still not leaving.

‘Huh? I don’t know.’ Then had added, ‘My grandmother is admitted here. I am a regular visitor so maybe…’ Her mind was still stuck at the stroke part.

‘Oh. What has happened to her? Which ward?’ 

‘Neurology,’ Nishit had replied instead of her. ‘Not your area of specialization.’

When the doctor had gawped at him, he had said, ‘I have signed the form. Now if you could hasten the process.’

‘Yes, doctor. His pain is really bad. Please make it fast.’

The doctor regarded them before nodding his head and leaving.

 'The doctor is stupid, Nishit,' she said.

'Ah. You've made progress,' he had remarked.

She ignored his mindless ramblings. 'Don't pay attention to whatever he said about the risks. Your surgery will be smooth and will be done even before you realize it. Don't be scared.'

‘Scared?’ He’d scoffed, throwing a hand over his eyes, dismissing her.

He wasn’t but she was terribly scared. 

She had stealthily let her fingers, through the steel railings of the bed, brush the back of his hand as they pushed him inside the giant room where the doors closed to the outsiders.

She had walked to and fro in the long waiting room, where others like her leaned against the wall on the floors, some dozed or sipped beverages while their occupied minds prayed for the wellbeing of their loved ones.

When she had finally exhausted all her nerves; when her legs gave out and he was still not out, she had slumped down on the floor; Her eyes closed, her lips moving constantly invoking all the deities she knew.

Then, he had been rolled out. When she had run to him, he’d looked at her with droopy eyes. 

‘Are you okay?’ She had asked. ‘You are shivering.’

‘It was freezing cold inside.’

He was covered, and yet she felt imperative to pull up the thin sheet of cloth for him, walking beside his wheeled bed.

Then he had been put on the bed, covered properly. He had mumbled a few things, while the nurse checked his vitals. 

‘He’s not supposed to drink or eat anything. If he’s really thirsty then just wet his lips.’

‘Nishit are you feeling okay? No pain now?’

‘Are you staying?’ 

‘Obviously. If you need anything, let me know. I am here right next to you.’

He had slipped into a heavy slumber quickly after that. 

Pulling her legs up on the sofa, and putting her head on one of its arms, she had watched him until sleep took over her. 

It was still four and dark outside, she saw out of the window. The air was heavy and cold. She pulled her thin stole tighter around herself. The lamps in the lawn of the hospital lit the grounds and rich foliage of mango trees.

Some patients and their families waiting for their turn and unable to afford shelter had lain down on the grassy fields, thick duvets or sheets of news covering them; their heads resting on their travel bags.

Seventeen years of obsession no... of madness, he had said and then obsession. She traced the dirt in the crooks of the window wall.

For long she stared outside the window. So long that she heard the first greetings of the birds, saw the crows emerge from the thick leaves of the trees, and caw. Red beak-ed parrots circled the trees before they flew high into the sky. She stood there for so long that saw the life snapped out of the lamps.

Then she had to go.

‘Nishit, I am going,’ she whispered near him. ‘I have to.’

‘I have to,’ she explained. ‘Radha will wake up and look for me. I will come back to see you.’

‘Bye. I’ll talk to the nurse. I will be back in just two hours. After I send her to school. Okay?’

He opened his eyes suddenly. Then blinked trying to make of the situation and place.

‘Water,’ he asked, understanding her presence beside himself.

‘You cannot have,’  she said, her eyes concerned and apologetic.

‘But I am thirsty,’ he moved uncomfortably, his hands once again covering his midriff.

‘Wait let me go ask if I can give you just a little of it,’ she said agitatedly.

When she returned, it was to disappoint him. ‘You can drink only after twelve hours of the surgery. Let me just wet your lips.’

There was nothing - no spoon, no medium that would make a bridge between her fingers and his lips. Had there been a spoon she could have wet and pressed it over his lips. Short-sighted that men were they did not know a single thing about doing things alone. Now, if she had known, she would have packed a toothpaste, brush, soap, a spoon, a bowl and a glass, a comb, a towel, and an oil box. 

So, cleaning her hands thoroughly first, she poured some drinking water, then wet his parched lips in a swift swipe, pulling back her hand to herself immediately.

‘Is this supposed to quench my thirst?’ His lips were back to dry.

She nodded mutely.

‘Are you kidding me?’

Guilty that too conscious of her own feelings, she did not do a good job, this time she patted his lips wet.

‘For now. You will have to do with this only.’

‘It’s okay, thank you,’ he licked his lips, not meeting her eyes.

‘Is it still paining there?’ She asked, eyeing his hand over his stomach.

‘Huh? No. I just… by habit, I guess.’

‘Oh. I have to go. Radha...I have to send her to school.’

‘Bye,’ he said, immediately. As if waiting to get rid of her.

‘Take care.’

As she stepped out, various ill thoughts began to cross her mind. What if he needs immediate help and there would be no one around? The personal nurse would be sleeping, then? Or would be out for some chore?

She went to find an attendant. It was a  hustle. He charged her an unreasonable amount for a day. She did not argue. She did not have the energy to bargain. 

‘Don’t leave his side. I know what you people do. Take charge of two-three patients at a time and not pay attention to any of them. I also know you’re costing me way above the regular rate. My grandmother has been in this hospital for months now. But still, I am agreeing. Please don’t go anywhere from his side. And call me if there’s an emergency.’

She then left after seeing her grandmother.

XxxX

Kirti slipped off her sandals outside the door and stepped inside. 

Mr.Ojha had finished with his tea, his steel glass stood next to one of the legs of his wooden chair. The cream film of the tea that he always slid away, hung from the edge of the glass. It had visibly dried. 

Kirti imagined the strain that would go in rinsing it off. 

He was scrolling his phone but looked up at her arrival.

‘How is your friend now?’ 

‘He’s good, perhaps. He was operated on and brought to his room really late. He slept after that mostly. When he woke up this morning, he looked okay to me.’

‘He’s the same guy who came to our house.’ He smiled. But it was not a smile, Kirti thought. 

‘Yes. Nishit Aggarwal.’

‘Mayank’s senior.’

She nodded, feeling like a guilty child who was being interrogated. She felt embarrassed as if a look at her face and her husband’s father would know the kind of morning dream she had about another man. That even though she was sharing his son’s last name, she had chanted for the safety of another name last night. A name that wasn’t his son’s. 

‘His father had a heart attack and his family is in the US for treatment. He was alone and that’s why…’

‘He must have other friends.’ Mr.Ojha smiled once again.

Kirti having no answer began to walk to her room when Mrs.Ojha getting down the stairs spotted her. 

‘Did Mayank know? Where you were last night?’ She asked. ‘Did he know that you were attending to a friend?’

Kirti looked back at both the Ojhas. 

‘No, I do not know where Mayank was last night. I do not know what he did or with whom he spent the night. But yes, when you said to take permission from him last night. I did leave him a message which he said he was okay with.’

‘Look at that tongue of hers. Runs like a pair of scissors. As if I don’t know what you’re up to.'

'You don’t tell me to shut up,’ she was saying to her husband. ‘I will not tolerate this. This one will run away too. If her wings are not chopped, you see this one will run away too.’

Kirti shut the door of her room. The voices came in through the windows.

‘Radha, get up child. You have to go to school no.’

‘You were not there,’ Radha accused when Kirti was plaiting her hair. ‘I saw a ghost in a dream but you weren’t there.’

‘I am sorry. I was in the hospital. A friend was sick. Was the ghost very scary?’

Radha nodded playing with a white buckle of her belt.

‘Big red eyes. These long limbs,’ she stretched her arms as far as he could.  ‘It lived next to Syvester’s house.’ It was running after us. We ran and ran and ran. Then we found a house. Disney house.’

‘Haww. Red eyes. Did it have Conjunctivitis?’ Seventeen years of madness and obsession, she heard him whisper into her ears. 

She heard his voice clearly even when stuck in traffic.

Even when she stepped into the shower, after returning from dropping Radha at school. In the shower, as the water traced untrodden, forbidden paths; her mind tried to conjure the dream from the morning once again. But it remained elusive to her. She only remembered the tingle on her neck. Of how the dream had made her feel. The rest had evaporated. She didn’t even remember how his face looked.

In the temple, she asked the priest to pray for him. 

A bag of fresh green apples, and prasad, a bud of blood-red hibiscus, its long stamen sticking out - the priest touched at the holy Mother’s figure and gave it to her to slip it under the patient’s pillow - she carried all of it in one hand, her helmet in another. Pushed open the door of his room and stopped short. Because he was not alone. There was Sana in her medical garb. And Ragini and Mithila. Ragini on the stool beside him Sana standing next to her, her hands thrust into her coat’s pocket. Mithila reclined on the furniture where Kirti had spent last night.

‘Hi,’ Kirti uttered, almost losing her foot. ‘How are you?’ She zeroed in on the safety his person offered. 

‘Namaste Mami,’ Now that she was here, she could only step in. The other two she greeted with her eyes.

‘Kirti! Sana told us. How did you know?’

‘I…’

‘Wow, so you told her but not us,’ Mithila accused Nishit. 

‘He did not tell me,’ Kirti clarified. Sana watched her impassively. Mithila with barely restrained aggression. Ragini with a warmth of curiosity and interest. ‘I was visiting my grandmother when I saw him and got to know about his surgery.’ She couldn't take Prasanna's name now.

‘You should’ve informed his family,’ Mithila’s tone was reproaching.

‘I asked her not to,’ Nishit told Mithila and Kirti watched some look pass between them after which Mithila did not look at her. Not even once.

Kirti sat silently, as they talked. Nishit narrating everything that she had already been witness to.

‘If not for Sana, you wouldn’t have told us! What did you mean by coming here all alone?’ Ragini remonstrated him.

‘After Dad’s issue, I saw how it had stressed everyone at home. I didn’t want to add to it. And it was an appendectomy. I didn’t think it was something big.’

‘Shut up! You don’t get to decide what is big or not. Had I not heard Bhuvan talk about your case, I wouldn’t have come to check if it was you.’ Oh, so that’s how she came to know. The knowledge that he didn’t seek out Sana to trust her with his secret was relieving. 

‘That is why I tell you to marry. Now if you had a wife, at least you’d have her to worry about yourself. She’d have kept vigil by you. My dear boy. Had to go through this all alone.’ Ragini reached out to pat his head.

Even though visibly embarrassed by such a display of affection, he let his aunt pat his head.

‘Was it lonely? Painful? Why are you like this?’

‘It was nothing of that sort. Am no kid.’

‘Pata nahi kis ki nazar lagi hai,’ Ragini ignored his protest, looking at him with all the concern of a mother.

‘Manjula Bai’s nazar, Mami,’ Mithila said. 

‘Manjula Bai? His maid Ragini was confused.

‘Yes. He had an argument with her about misplacing some precious photograph of his and asked her to leave. Phir kya tha. The spurned woman thundered and bellowed curses at him. Look, not even a month has passed and we are in a hospital.’

‘I will go now, Sana cut in. ‘Will come during off-hours, Nishit.’ He nodded and she excused herself. 

‘What photograph?’ Ragini asked.

Kirti feeling dejected listening to Mithila's insight into his life did not feel his gaze travel over her before explaining. ‘It was a school photograph. Old memories.’

‘Mami, you’re right. Find a suitable girl and get him married. It’s high time,’ Mithila said out of the blue.

‘Why find a girl? Aap ho na, Mithila. He won’t find a girl better than you.’

‘Uhm, I am leaving,’  Kirti stood up. ‘Mami, there’s a flower and prasad. If you find it suitable then keep the flower under his pillow and prasad, you all can have.’

‘Bye Nishit. Take care. I will maybe come later in the afternoon.’

‘No need. No need to inconvenience yourself on my account.’He paused and she filled the gap. Mrs.Ojha. ‘I have my family and friends now with me.’

The music in her head didn’t stop though. 

She heard him when she was teaching her students.

She heard him when she waded crowds. When she sat next to her grandmother. 

When she went to visit his room and found he had been discharged.

When she began packing her and Radha’s bags and asked Lily to look for a rent-house.

When she texted him asking after his health and the ticks turned blue but no response came even when two weeks passed.

Seventeen years of madness, and obsession.

Then one day while she was making tomato puree for preparing aloo curry - Radha loved aloo curry with puris - Prasanna called her.

‘Hi Kirti.’

‘Prasanna, how is your brother now,’ was the first question asked.

‘He’s good. Too good actually. But why are you asking me? Don’t you people talk?’

‘We haven’t in some time. How are you?’

‘I am good. You’ve not talked to Bhai. So you must not know.’

‘Not know, what?’

‘About his engagement. He got engaged to Aahana. Dad’s best friend’s sister’s daughter.’

‘She’s a family friend. It’s been a week. It was a private affair. In fact, we are at Yazdani’s now. Bhai loves their bread. And Aahana wanted to have their lava cakes. So he has gone to collect them while I wait in the car. Then we go to Aahana’s place.’

‘Hello Kirti, are you there?’

‘Hmm’

‘So I was telling Bhai got engaged. I am happy but a little insecure and scared at the thought of sharing my brother. Kirti?’

‘Huh? Hahn, Congratulations. I have something on the gas. I’ve got to go.’

‘Oh, Bhai is back too.'

Back in the kitchen, she sliced long slim chilies into two halves, dropping them into hot oil where the cumin seeds were already cooking. A little asafoetida. The small round potatoes - she had already fried them.

His voice she could still hear. But now she could also hear other things as well. Words, alphabets dance before hers. Sentences superimposing each other, sometimes knocking out each other.

It's no more music but a cacophony.

‘I would have gone for a private affair. Just the two of us. Slipped on a diamond ring,’ 

‘Followed by a proper and thorough kiss.'

‘You thought I was talking about the ‘’two of us’’?'

‘I was talking about the woman I would get engaged to’

‘Marry me’

The aloo curry that she makes nobody touches it which is a surprise for her aloo curry is a hit in the house. Even Ammaji had confessed grudgingly.

Radha shakes her head, refusing to eat any more bites. Mr.Ojha pushes away the plate asking for another sabzi.

It’s too spicy, salty, and thin. 

She even forgets to keep it in the fridge and the next morning it is a smelly mass - a strong stinking odor the moment she slides the plate off the container.

 She drains off the slimy liquid in the basin, the potato balls she dumps in the dustbin.

Kirti cries. She had made it with so much love. Couldn’t they just eat to keep her heart? Liars all of them. In reality, they do not like her aloo curry at all or they would have eaten this poor version as well. If they would have loved her, her aloo curry, they would've thought - next time she will do better. Let’s wait. And eat this shit to keep her heart. 

I do that all the time. Eating people's shitty dishes while I wait for them to improve in their skill.

She wipes her tears as she runs the Scrotch Brite over the lemon-flavored dish soap, and rubs off the oil stain.

The thing is that they do not love my aloo curry. Not truly. 

Silly me, she thinks then, crying over stupid things. 

Seventeen years of madness and obsession she hears again. But it is preceded by another set of words she had been conveniently missing. ‘I’m over you.’

[MEMBERSONLY]

[NOCOPY]