||CHAPTER-12||
The waiting seemed never ending, his mother's sobs seemed never stopping and the most despised smell of the hospital's Iodoform seemed never fading. Om's eyes stared blankly at the emergency surgeon fussing over Mr.Oberoi while the head nurse busied herself with his hysterical mother's need.
His mind felt muddled and detached from his physical being as if on a quest to find something, or perhaps, a certain someone. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what was going on.
"Mrs.Oberoi, please, you need to rest and no-"
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"Ma'am, please..."
"Take me to my son, now!"
His mom was in denial, Om observed through his red, puffy, eyes . The doctor had told him that Mr.Oberoi was struck down by psychogenic seizures, all the while assuring him that there was nothing to fear, for the attack was due to emotional stress. Frankly, he felt frighteningly apathetic towards Mr. Oberoi's state.
It's not like he ever cared for Rudra. It had been the man's harsh words that had given his little brother a huge inferiority complex and psychological attacks in their childhood.
Instinctually, he reached out his hand to pull Rudra against his side and into a comforting hug like he always did when his baby brother neede-
Om blinked perplexed when his hands met nothing. Huh? Wasn't he supposed to be constantly by his side? Come to think of it, the room had been awfully quiet...
"I am terribly sorry, Sir, but Mr. Rudra Singh Oberoi is-"
Oh...His mind had conveniently forgotten...
"Don't you dare tell me that was my Rudra in that t-that body bag!" Jhanvi spat out and promptly broke out into fresh tears. Om took measured steps towards her, tentatively gesturing the nurses away as he pulled his mom into a hug.
"Tell them, Om! Tell them it's not Rudra!" She wept, clinging onto his shirt. "Tell them my youngest would never, w-would never..." she choked.
Om carefully tugged her head under his chin as he muttered soft, nothings into her ear. He felt empty, like a part of him had been cruelly ripped of him while the other part was left to bleed and die.
And bleed and die, he did.
For a second, the voices around him seemed to fade and all he could hear and see were echoes of mischievous giggle, childish squeals of delight and a phantom of a bubbly, scintillating boy who was his very much alive baby brother. The visions soon turned into his nightmare.
Glass jutting out of once delicate neck...
Blood smeared across once grinning mouth...
Purple bruises tarnishing once healthy, glowing skin...
And, the hollow depths of the once twinkling eyes...
The grip he had around his mother tightened considerably until he heard a soft creak of her bones. It was true that Rudra had looked up to him and Shivaay all his life but what the world didn't see was that it was Rudra who had held their hands through all these years. Rudra's resonating light had been their liquor of life. And now, he was gone.
And it hurts.
It hurts like hell.
He felt his mouth open in a silent scream, felt his lungs burn for air, felt tears burn traitorously in his tired eyes. He felt his nails painfully dig into the flesh of his palms as he desperately clutched to his mom's clothes as if clinging to the very inch of his sanity.
His whirling thoughts came to an abrupt halt when his phone's blaring noise echoed across the hall. Rudra had set it up for him, Om thought bitterly before grabbing onto his mobile with trembling hands.
"He-hello..."
"Omkara..."
Om swore silently, forcing his mind to work and his voice to sound strong. He gestured his mom to quiet down while holding the phone as far away from her as possible.
"Yes, Dadi...?" Om croaked and flinched at the hoarseness of his voice.
"Om! How is my Chote?" her voice quivered with worry. Omkara felt his heart tug painfully at the lie he was about to spew. He would have laughed at the irony of it all if it weren't for the situation.
He, Om, who held truth as life's essence, was about to lie to his Dadi.
He snorted humorously, "Dadi, Rudra is absolute-"
"Hold on a minute Omkara, Gauri would like a word with you" he heard the phone being carried over. Om felt irritation spark in his chest. Couldn't she come pick the call herself and did she have to interrupt Dadi?
"Omkara-ji..." a heavenly voice filtered through the speaker. Om felt himself subconsciously relax at the soft tenor. "I know you are going to tell Dadi that Rudy Bhaiya is absolutely fine..." Om froze, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the phone in shock. How did she read him like that?!
"I know he is fine..." she continued, a smile ringing in her voice. "I know Rudy Bhaiya!" her voice oozed conviction and strength that he didn't posses at the moment. "He would never break his promise. He would never leave his brothers behind."
And Om greedily drunk every ounce of her words. He felt his body trembling with a resolve he never knew he had in him. And he felt fury at his own childish fears. How could he be so naive!
They were ShivOmRu! They were a single entity. One simply did not exist without the other, period.
"Thank you..." he murmured softly, his words dripping with sincerity and genuine gratitude. He felt her smile through the phone. It was a few seconds before Dadi's voice questioned him through the phone again. And Om smiled and confidently assured her that her naughty grandson was indeed fine before advising her to eat and rest well.
"Poor Gauri had been holding onto the diya since you left for the hospital. The flame burns brightly thanks to her sacred palms. Bless her soul..." Dadi had added before dropping the call.
Gauri...Om took a deep breath, felt his world set itself right again. He looked down at his mom who had succumbed to her worn out mind. He silently summoned a nurse and helped her carry his mother into a bed next to Mr.Oberoi. With one final glance at his slumbering parents, Omkara walked out of the room like a man on a mission.
He realised that locating his baby brother in the convoluted corridors wasn't as hard as he had thought it would be considering the fact that the entire corridor resonated with the heart-wrenching sobs of a man who had lost his son. His Shivaay's sobs...
He felt his heart pace faster as he broke into a sprint down the corridor. The minute he reached Shivaay, he wished he hadn't rushed there to see such a spectacle.
Shivaay was on the floor with Anika, just the way he had left them there. And no, he wasn't weeping, crying, nor sobbing. He was literally shrieking Rudra's name over and over again; his fingers were clawing at Anika's clothes and Om discretely looked away where his hands had torn chunks of her dress.
Anika seemed to be entirely focused on Shivaay, her hand reaching out to wipe away his tears, snot and occasional spite that oozed down his contorted, agonized face. Gone was the Wall, the pragmatic business tycoon. In his place was a child that clung to his wife, howling like an injured, wild beast as Anika rocked him back and forth.
Om gritted his teeth and turned around to note the doctor from the forensic department wringing his hands uncertainly beside the stretcher. Thank goodness they hadn't taken it for autopsy!
He stared at the sheets and made up his mind. He briskly walked past Shivaay and Anika and towards the stretcher. The distance seemed never-ending.
"Om..." he stopped at Shivaay's hoarse voice. "W-what are you-?"
"Taking a look, Shivaay." Om replied over his shoulders. Nothing prepared him for what came next. Shivaay screamed and lunged at his back like a madman.
"Nooo! Don't!" He pulled Om back. Om struggled against his steely grip while Anika rushed to help him.
"Let him go, Shivaay!"
"No!" Shivaay shook his head and gestured towards the doctor. "Take him away! Please, don't let me see his face!"
"Are you insane!" Om hollered, wrenching himself out of Shivaay's grip. He flattered at the despair he saw in his brother's eyes. "Shivaay..."
"Please, Om..." Shivaay begged, clutching his palm in front of him. "L-let's just pretend..." he swallowed thickly, "...t-that he's gone to...t-to visit his friend."
Om stared, his early resolve fading at the state of his brother. Anika broke down clutching onto Shivaay's cuffs as he blabbered on. "W-we will wait, Om..." he insisted, "We will wait for him to come back h-home..." Shivaay choked. "Be it, a thousand years..."
Om held his pleading gaze before shaking his head. "Shivaay..." His brother was in denial. Dangerous denial.
"No!" Shivaay roared. "I won't let you!"
But before he could leap at Om again, he was hounded by hospital personnel who wrestled him to the ground. Who had brought them here? Om's gaze met the crippled gaze of his Chote Pa's. Ah...he had come here with his Bhabhi...
"Go, Omkara!" he encouraged as Shivaay's struggle increased tenfold.
"No! Om, please!"
"Someone sedate him!"
"Leave me alone!"
With one last apologetic glance at Shivaay, Om ran towards the stretcher and clutched at the sheets. His heart hammered against his ribs and his hands felt sweaty.
What if it was really his Rudra? Would he and Shivaay survive another second seeing his baby brother's dead face? His vacant eyes? What if-?
I know he is fine...
The voice echoed from the depth of his soul.
I know Rudy Bhaiya...
The warmth in his heart was back.
He would never break his promise...
The trembling of his hands ceased.
He would never leave his brothers behind...
He felt an unearthly spectre of Gauri standing beside him, her hand over his, as he pulled the sheets.
Bhaiya, all for one, one for all!
The whoosh of the sheets and the sharp intake of breath by Anika were louder than an eruption in the quiet corridor. He felt Shivaay rush and stumble by his side. Om automatically held him and felt Shivaay's own hands hold him back, and together they crashed on the floor beside the stretcher.
Identical crazed grins bloomed on the brother's faces and giggles began bubbling from the bottom of their belly. Anika looked on, clutching her chest as the corridor echoed with their deranged laughter which gradually turned to uncontrollable tears.
Tears of relief and solace.
For the young body sprawled on the bed was toned, delicate and angelic. Just like their baby brother. But not him.
Not their Rudra.
____________________________________________________________
P.S. The last chapter was a disaster. This one is my salvation.
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Edited by Shelma - 7 years ago
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