Rendering the frame of her own body as a backrest for the sagging silhouette of her baisa, Gauri propped her up.
Dredging up the stamina to drag herself on the floor, Heera edged towards the small altar of the Goddess in the corner, inch after inch. She could continue agonising endlessly, lashing herself with guilt till her wounds bled dry. Or, she could pray for his recovery, and think of more means to get him the sort of help that might end his agony.
'Give me courage ma...'
Letting go of her spinning head, she folded her palms at the vague frame of the beautiful bronze statue - that act alone having squeezed dry what little strength she had.
'Give me courage ma... to face this... to endure this... for HIS sake... and for the sake of so many dependant on him... my heart beats in him and his in mine... if only one of us were to make it out of this alive, the other would walk through life as a soulless body... yet, if only one of us were to make it out of this alive... it must be HIM. For, he has the skills and the means to care for those dependant on us, better than I do... so, send me a path... show me a way to support him... such that I can help him get better... at least to give him a fair chance, if nothing else... what use is my education... what use is my devotion to the art of healing, if I cannot help treat the one I love when he needs me most?'
Chellam... I saw that painting by Shuchi Kishan and was struck by its depiction to the likeness of Heera... the loss of glow on a beautiful young girl, the frail look, the loss of interest in adornment, even the pillar for support 😭
647