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Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I am not a medical student or doctor. All medical scenes etcetra are a figment of my imagination. Please ignore errors.
***
"Nakul, Maan ko phone lagaye. Ab tak kyu nahi aaye? Aaj humare heart check ke liye humare saath aanewale thay" Savitri Khurana asked.
"Daadima, phone unreachable aa raha hai" Nakul said after trying several times.
"Pata nahi ye ladka kaha kaha chala jaata hai. Kab se kaha hai ki yaha humari hospital mein kaam karein par nahi. Sa'abzade rescue unit ke doctor hai. Sab musibat se duur bhagte hai par humare pote jaha musibat hain waha jaate hai", Daadima cribbed, " .. pata nahi aaj musibat kaha aayi hogi".
She turned on the TV and watched in shock as reports of the bomb blasts poured out in the news.
Casualties were very high and the numbers of those who had lost their life kept escalating.
Doctors were seen tending to those injured. Several doctors were hurt too, the news anchor spoke.
"We were seeing some rescues but mostly now all we are seeing are bodies being removed from the rubble. People here have been asking a question. How long will this cycle of hate and violence continue? How long do innocents have to lose their life? Why?"
Nakul turned from trying Maan's phone to see a white faced Daadima clutch her heart whispering, "Maan".
"Daadima, Daadima", Nakul came running as she swayed into unconsciousness.
--- meanwhile at a hospital nearby
"Doctor blast ka ek last patient aaya hai. Bohut bura haal hai. No id, no name", the head nurse came rushing in.
She gathered her things and rushed after the nurse. The patient was being bandaged and she put on her gloves and faced him as they finished the bandages.
"Bechara. Kitna young hai. Ek aur unknown among all the victims today", the nurse said.
"Unknown nahi hai", she whispered, white with shock.
"Kya" the nurse turned to ask.
"Ye Dr. Maan Singh Khurana hai", she proclaimed staring at the man she had left years ago.
Being a doctor involves years of training. Students are taught to forget everything when they are in front of a patient; just focus on what needs to be healed.
Though her hands were trembling and the mind was spinning with a thousand thoughts, years of training made her hands able to check Maan for injuries.
"The bandages on the right shoulder and back are soaking with blood again. Get me the suture tray", she ordered.
She stared at her trembling hands for a second. How would she suture him with shaking hands, she thought. Geet, focus on the injury not the injured, she ordered herself.
Dr. Dev Khanna, her senior, stopped in his rounds of the ward and stuck his neck into the examining room just then.
"Dr. Handa, all sorted?" he asked and then came in as he saw Maan's bandages which had been opened.
"Oh boy, this looks messy. Let me assist", he jumped in taking the task from Geet.
With bated breath she watched him suture the wounds with delicate tiny stitches which would not leave a scar.
They worked silently in conjunction going through all the wounds and meticulously cleaning up the site to prevent infections.
"So you are an official doctor next month, Dr. Handa. What are your plans?" he asked as he ordered the nurse to clear up, " .. are you staying in this hospital or are you headed to Delhi like the rest of your batch?"
"Nothing is decided Sir", she said.
He looked at the quiet determined girl who had been working all day with victims from the blast.
"You look like you are going to fall down. Take a break", he suggested.
"I am fine Sir", she said.
"That's an order", he said forcing her to leave the room.
She made her way to the doctor's lounge grabbing a cup of tea from the vending machine.
Gently tucking her feet beneath her she settled on the reclining chair.
Dev's words had left her back on the fence she had been sitting on for so many months.
The hospital had been her refuge for the past few years.
It was time to go out into the real world again.
Where would she begin?
She was adrift, nothing tied her down anymore, no relations, no family.
For the past few years Medicine had been her focus. Hour after hour was spent on studying, taking exams and making presentations.
The rest of the time was spent dedicated to patients, caring for them, nursing them to health.
Thinking of patients brought her to the one thought she was planning on avoiding.
She closed her eyes refusing to think of him but the mind is a terrible betrayer. It seeks out and sticks to the one thing you don't want to think of.
With her thoughts in disarray she made the trek back to his room.
He was lying unconscious as before while the machines around him buzzed silently checking his heartbeats, his pulse, his BP.
For a few seconds, the mask that she always wore slipped off and the doctor became human.
She looked at the man who had been her first love.
<img src="https://maankimishti3.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/383877_10150509219123599_1068490710_n.jpg" alt="" />
He had changed, she decided.
Even with the changes in him, she had known it was him in a flash of a second.
The clean shaven face was now covered with a stubble, the long lean fingers covered with blood and bruises.
One thing that had not changed was the ring; her ring, the ring which she had put on his fingers.
It was still on his finger and she had gently removed it so that she could bandage his hand properly.
Why did he still have it, she wondered.
Would she be bold enough to ask him?
Did it matter now? Did she want to know?
Sometimes life takes us down a path where we have to chose one path or the other.
Even with the decision, one is left to wonder whether they made the right choice.
What could have, would have, should have happened always remains a question.
She snapped out of her thoughts as she saw the nurse headed to the room again.
Questions could not be answered yet.
The extent of his injuries was grave she knew. It would take quite a few days to recover.
She examined his chart and noted that Dr. Dev had ordered a CT scan and a neurologist consult. Did he suspect a head injury or a concussion or was the consult just a way to rule out any internal injuries?
Babaji, she wondered.
In all the hospitals on earth, in all the wards there are, did you have to send him to mine?
Babaji after all knew best, as well as this writer who can't help herself :D
Precap:
It was the last question she had expected of him.
The laser like eyes were focused on her as he asked again, "Maine poocha, kaun ho tum?"
His eyes blurred and he clutched his hair, "Main, main kaun hu?"
A/N: DO SEND ME A BUDDY REQUEST IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON READING AND COMMENTING ON THE STORY.
As most of you know, I tend to ignore comments that force me to change the track of my story.
Part of joy of writing in a forum instead of publishing is that I get your feedback and comments as I write and shape the story.
Do like and comment to continue reading.
THE REMAINING PARTS WILL BE ON THE BLOG.
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Edited by dqno1 - 8 years ago
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