The room froze as everyone held their breaths, waiting for the
verdict they all knew, but didn't want to accept.
"Time of death," Dr. Awasti said desolately. "Ten forty-three a.m."
No.
No, this isn't happening. This
can't be happening.
Khushi could almost hear the screams of her conscious, begging her
to stop the nurses from unplugging the machines, to request the doctor to try one
more time. Only, she couldn't move. She had lost complete control of her body.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Awasti said, approaching her apologetically. "We
tried-"
Khushi didn't hear a word. An eerie silence settled in her ears,
blocking everything around her. She felt like she was standing in an invisible
bubble, separated from everyone and yet, tethered.
It was very odd.
"Ma'am?" called the nurse who until two minutes ago was trying to
push her out of the room.
Khushi blinked. It seemed that Dr. Awasti was waiting for a reply,
excepting her to miraculously understand the lame excuse she was being offered for
the sudden turn of events. Did she even realize the gravity of her words, wondered
Khushi.
If she did, she would
never practice again. No doctor would.
"Miss Gupta?" Dr. Awasti said tenderly.
Khushi simply turned on her heel and walked away, not caring if it
was rude. She had lost her respect for them the moment they succumbed to her
mother's illness instead of fighting it, the moment they decided to blame fate
instead of owning up to their mistakes.
So much for being doctors.
What use were their noble degrees if they couldn't even save one
tiny little life?
She edged out into the open corridor, her feet propelling her to a
white colored bench. It was then that they came; flooding like water in a dam
and yet leaving her as parched as thorns.
The flashes.
"Meeti! How many times
should I tell you not to eat so many jalebis?! You will get cavities sweety and
then the dentist will have to remove all your teeth!"
That was one of the oldest memories she had of her mother. It was at
a time when happiness was taken for granted, when there was nothing but an abundance
of bliss; it was the only time she had truly considered Garima Nandini Gupta as
her mother.
"Amma I am scared! There
is something under my bed!"
Khushi snorted. She was eight at that time, or perhaps a little bit
younger. She had been tempted by a classmate to watch a horror movie after
school one day, a decision she had regretted for most of the following two
months, that is until she owned up to her fear and told her mother. Garima had
just smiled in answer, and gathered her up in her arms. She had never let her
sleep alone again.
"Why so sad Meeti?"
"Bhaiyya is going Amma! Without me!"
"He is just going on a
school trip sweety. He will come back soon."
"B-but who will get me ice
cream now? Or save me from that stupid Pranav at school?"
"I'm here, no? We will go
get ice cream every day until Bhaiyya comes back. And you can tell Pranav that
if he teases you again, I will go talk to his mother. Okay?"
"But what if you leave
too?"
"I will never, ever go
anywhere Meeti. Amma will always stay with you."
Liar.
The thought came to her instantly. Like the many things her mother had
promised, this too was a lie.
She was gone. She had left without saying goodbye, without caring
that she would be missed, without worrying that she would be needed. She was a
liar. And like a hopeless child in search for sweets, Khushi believed and spent
the last month and half nourishing her hopes, building her dreams and most
importantly, turning away from reality.
How stupid could she have been?!
How did she miss the obvious? How did she, the ever-prepared Khushi
Kumari Gupta, fail to prepare for this? How was she ever going to live?
"You know what I always
remember about you Meeti? It's your smile. It's exactly like my Amma's... it's
was the first thing I noticed when the nurse handed you to me. And it will
always be the first thing I love about you."
Stop it. Please.
She couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear to recollect her, to reduce
her into mere memories, to lock her away deep inside, never to be brought back
to surface again.
"My Amma used to say that
sometimes our hearts take a long time to understand what our minds already
know. But with you and Shyam I never had that problem. I always knew that both
of you would turn out alright, even though everything was against you...
including me."
Khushi clamped her ears. Why was it so hard?! Why couldn't she chain
the echoes burning through her? Why did she want to hear them as much as she
wanted to silence them? What was going on?!
Her mother's words echoed back in answer:
I never thought I would
see the day where you would fight for me.
She had said it while being admitted to the hospital. At that time,
Khushi was too furious to understand, but now, it all made sense. She was
fighting to hold on. And her chances of victory were diminishing as the minutes
pressed on. The truth was her mother wasn't coming back. She truly was-
...gone, finished her mind.
Gone. Even though it was only two minutes ago that she held her
frail hand and saw her warm smile. It was only two minutes ago that she spent,
no wasted, her time with problems
that had no meaning to begin with. It was only two minutes ago that she heard her
tinkling voice, soothing the dreads she had harbored for most of her life.
If it was just two minutes ago, then why was there a hole so big
that it consumed everything and anything Khushi had left? Why did she feel a mountain
so heavy that it crushed her to dust?
It was then that she saw the irony.
She had spent the past fourteen years trying to erase the mere
presence of Garima from her life, to forget the anger her decisions arose, to
obliterate the abandonment she faced everywhere. But no matter how hard she
tried, she couldn't stop herself from running back to her mother within a
moment's notice.
And now, when all she wanted was one glimpse, one talk with Garima,
all she had was a cave full of wounding memories that dragged her deeper and
deeper into an endless pit. Really, there was no end to the cosmic joke.
If only she had fought harder, if only she listened and let go
sooner, if only she cared a little more. If only.
A searing pain suddenly clutched Khushi, choking her mercilessly. It
was as if she was pushed off a plank into the icy ocean waters. She was
drowning with no way of escape. Even death, with its cold, clammy hands, seemed
miles more bearable than this.
As if taking pity, her phone suddenly called for attention, flashing
about voicemails she had ignored. Gasping for air, and desperate for an escape,
she pressed play.
"Khushi," rang a deep baritone voice.
She froze, realizing that it was Arnav who had called her while she
numbly watched her mother battle for her life. It stumped her slightly to see
that even when he was far, he knew what she needed.
"I'm s-sorry this is over the phone," he continued, though there was
something very wrong with his voice. It successfully drove everything else out
of Khushi's mind. "But I have no choice. I'm out of time. We both are."
She listened, confused.
"I always pushed you to reconsider your relationship with my
brother, to tell him what I really thought was going on in your head. And trust
me Khushi, I did it for both of your
sakes, because I knew there were things between you two that weren't meant for
either of you. But many a times, one misses the obvious; it seems I did too. Instead
of picking at your relationship, I should have given a thought about ours."
He took a deep breath. "That day you asked me what I thought of
"us". And I told you that the feeling was mutual... I was wrong Khushi. What I should've said is that there is no "us".
There never was. We both deluded ourselves into thinking what was convenient,
instead what was right."
Khushi stared blankly at the wall in front of her.
"And what is right is that my b-brother loves you a lot. And it's
not fair for either of us to ignore that fact and hurt him more than we already
did. So, let's just end this misunderstanding once and for all. We are nothing
but two professionals, who just work together - that's what we agreed on to
begin with, right? So let's just keep it like that. Either way your internship
ends in two weeks. Of course I would understand if you don't come back at all -
You were too intelligent for the position anyway."
He paused pointedly, before murmuring. "I'm-"
It was too late; the recording cut off, not caring that he still had
things to say, just like he didn't care that she had things to say too.
Maybe it was fated to be like this; maybe they were always meant to
know, but never to accept; maybe it really was better this way. But even all
those maybes weren't enough to prevent Khushi from understanding reality the
way it was:
She was unerringly, unfailingly and just utterly alone.
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