Dr. Kennedy would be just another man you'd possibly see as you turned around a corner of the many dimly-lit streets of London. Dark-brown skin, thick-rimmed glasses and a pair of fresh Levis, on the go. Not a hero, definitely not a saviour to the common-man's eye. But he was all that and much more. One look into those beady eyes and you feel showered with extreme love, care and most of all understanding. So when much to Arnav's annoyance, Kennedy hugged Khushi the second the couple entered his cabin, she was a little startled to respond. But the Doctor wasn't looking for one either, he simply dragged his patient to one of the highly maintained Book-Cafes that the hospital boasted of and made her sit down on one the chairs. Turning around when he saw the man walk towards the girl, he knew this case was going to be another road down hell. Giving them a few minutes before the much-dreaded meeting, he sauntered back into his own cabin.
His cabin gave him a comfort of sorts. Not the kind that comforts you, but more like the one that gives you the strength to go on with life. Margaret, his wife, battling cancer right through its last stages, that too in his own hospital and he himself being a cancer survivor, though now completely hale and hearty since the last six years, he still woke up every morning and prayed for strength, to face his patients, old and new and patience, to help them fight their way through the disease.
---
"You do know you that look good enough to eat today!" Khushi punched him, effectively dropping that strained smile marring his face. They were both scared out of their wits but Arnav was still trying to put on a show stating otherwise, as his fingers danced about on her purple cardigan, but eventually after about a minute pulling her in for a lingering embrace.
They sat still for a long time, not bothering to question, answer or speak, at all. But Khushi asked, what she had probably asked him twenty times already, "...are you okay?" She heard him sigh, deeply and then snap in mock irritation. "Yes, yes I'm okay...I swear the next person who asks me that, I'm going to punch him in the face!" That earned him the intended fit of giggles from her mouth and as he placed his lips on hers, whispering against them,"...it will all be fine Khushi, I promise," as he walked towards the Doctor's cabin, leaving Khushi behind in the Caf.
---
The oncologist stated in plain simple words, that Khushi had stopped responding to her medications, about a week back. Not that the tumours were not under control, they were stable, not spreading, but yes a temporary predicament. The doctor told an unresponsive Arnav, that she needed to stay back at the hospital for a week at most, undergo the chemotherapy sessions under his supervisions and then wait for any significant changes in her body mechanisms.
Arnav didn't trust himself to respond to any of what the man before him had spoken so calmly, not a hint of faltering in-between his speech, rather, assured and rehearsed, almost. Much later he asked him in simple words, a single question, his voice not far from wavering.
"Will she be okay?"
Kennedy told him as honestly he could frame his answer, "...Arnav, I cannot guarantee anything. But you should be prepared for all the outcomes, the bad and the good. Have hope, son."
---
He found Khushi absent-mindedly digging into a cheesecake, and instantly sprinting towards him, her face scrunching up in worry. "So...? What did he say...?" Arnav calmly, with all the grit he could muster, explained to her that she would have to stay back at the hospital for a week or more for her Chemo sessions. And it almost clawed at his heart, painfully so, when he saw her nodding her head, trusting his words with a blind faith.
"You...you have to go with the Doctor, to your room now, okay? I'll be back soon." She nodded, again, but before actually turning around and walking away with the doctor, she suddenly hugged him, as tightly as she could. The sudden force caused him to stumble back, but slightly so, as his hands enveloped her immediately. Those few minutes, everything else seemed to dematerialize, a steady thrum of heartbeats, one a little frazzled, other a deadly calm. A string of tiny butterflies tagged along in her heart, as she felt his hands move from over her waist before finally resting on her hair, lingering as it went about its way. And somehow she knew, she believed, everything would be okay, they would survive.
But Arnav knew better. He knew for starters, that he was scared. He was terrified for himself, yes not for her, but him alone. The fear rose out of the old primordial urge for survival...survival, without her. It seemed like that dreaded time had arrived, for him to consider the worst. That moment, her form being pressed against his, suddenly held an invisible, yet terrible intensity. A screaming ache of pain seemed to echo with the blood throbbing against his ears...Remember, remember, this is now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. That moment he became, acutely aware for all that he had taken for granted. And it just seemed to hit him hard, thinking that might just be the last time, the goodbye.
But he also knew, that both of them at that very moment, were hanging on to a unbearably thin glimmer of hope. It was as fragile as a flickering candle flame, delicate as glass...and he knew, if it shattered, if somehow, he let it break and be destroyed, something inside him would shatter too.
---
A week went by, the occurrences in it, uneventful, but once you tread upon them like Khushi did, something in her snapped. Since that evening she had been admitted to the hospital, she hadn't seen Arnav, not once. Not that he hadn't been there. He had...to talk to the Doctor, every morning, whilst she had been asleep. There would be these bunches of flowers greeting her, the second her eyes opened every morning. She knew it was him, but it ate her up every day silently, that even though he came, he never bothered to wake her up, talk to her, nothing. And even though the nurse had told her that that the last of the Chemo sessions had been good for her, she felt tired. Tired, exhausted, and most of all, lonely. She missed him, with an intensity that was difficult, for even her, to fathom. She had replayed that last evening with him, that hug over and over again and every other moment spent with him, moments that were not calculable, the ones that couldn't be assessed in words. These moments thrived in the solution of memory, like wonderful flowers, like the ones he bought for her, every morning, unique in their kind, dredged up from the floors of some unexplored garden. Though Khushi only selected the brightest of all those memories that embroidered the broad tapestry of their lives. Why? Because of whatever little time she had left, she didn't want to walk over the darker ones. She chose to delve on the happier times, which gave her the drug to survive...hope.
But memory was a monster; she forgot, but it didn't. It simply filed her frustration away. It kept things from her, summoning her to recall them with a will of its own.* So when one early dawn, she woke up feeling thirsty, her eyes fell on Arnav, hovering over her, his hands in the process of keeping down a bunch of fresh blue hydrangeas, and his feet just about to turn around and walk towards the metal door of her room, exiting, like he had been for the last few days.
Khushi's hand leapt out reach his.
"So is this how it's going to be now Arnav?"
---
He was glad that she had reached out to him, because he had been too scared to do that all those mornings he had crept into the hospital room, having a long, hard look at her before sauntering out. He was scared, that once he would call her, she wouldn't wake up. She would just lie there, still, that pulse throbbing at the base of her throat silent. And he knew for a fact that watching her sleep blissfully was better than the other alternative which had been haunting his mind ever since his talk with the doctor. He was still not able to live with the fact that one day; she might not be there with him. The last five nights, he had tried to stay away from her, try to see what life would look like when she wouldn't there. But he couldn't resist the temptation of finding himself in the hospital every morning with the excuse of talking to Kennedy. And now slowly as the sensation of her cold fingers plastered to his hand, materialised in front of his eyes, they darted to her face.
Beautiful, as ever, the inky black hair, now tousled and splayed all over the pillow, now framing the oval of her face, brushing over her cheeks that seemed to glistening with the much despised tears. His fingers reached out almost immediately to brush them away, as his mouth seemed to find back his voice. "Can you ever, not cry?" But that slightest hint of humour was not received well by Khushi. She swatted away his hand that approached her cheeks, and spat at him, a delirious fury rising up in her. "I can't believe you left me here...all alone, I hate you Arnav, just...just go." The last few words were said with her swallowing large gulps of air, as she felt Arnav slid down next to her on the bed. Before she could react, his hands slipped underneath that threadbare shallow green hospital, and moved over her navel, drawing incomprehensible patterns. "Arnav, I don't want to talk to you...just leave, please." Her pleas sounded unconvincing even to her own ears, as his lips moved near her ears, placing soft kisses, as a barely audible whisper escaped him. "I'm sorry Khushi, so sorry. I was...I was scared." The revelation was followed by a pregnant, implausible silence. The rhythmic sound of their breathing, her back moving away and close as she breathed, was touching his front. His chest ceasing to explode with sobs, with uncertainty, but then after a long, long moment she spoke, "...I'm scared too..." she paused for a moment, feeling the pressure of his lips increase on her neck, before she continued with a steely grit, "...but that doesn't mean you're forgiven, I still hate you!" Khushi could almost sense him laughing silently behind her, "...I love you too Khushi..." Khushi replied, her voice filled with veiled joy at his return, as she wallowed under the magical ministrations of his touch,"...so...so you won't leave me again...promise?" She probably didn't know but he had been crying, already and the tears rushed away their flow when he heard that childlike plea, mentally berating himself for being so selfish. But he was aware of another fact, that he remained to be the only person who could make her cry and laugh within a span of seconds. So taking advantage of that fleeting vulnerable moment, vowing to bring back that smile on her face, his hands reached the pocket of his charcoal grey blazer, pulling out the small velvet box he had been toying with the whole of last week.
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*John Irving, A Prayer For Owen Meany
This song is partly in relation with the chapter, but nonetheless, do, give it a listen.
[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRz4FY0ZcwI[/YOUTUBE]
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Current Affairs
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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