Room 8390 | ArHi OS

The walker creaked along the wooden panels of the hospital, and he nodded lightly as a nurse greeted him with the daily "Nice to see you, sir". Arnav Singh Raizada took small, but calculated steps toward Room 8390. After all, he wasn't known as one India's greatest businessmen for nothing. Every step he made in his time had been cleanly and thoughtfully calculated. The love of his life had been residing in Room 8390 for the past 7 months, and everyday he would hoist himself of his weakening knees, buy a fresh batch of red roses to replace the wilting ones and would sit all day beside her aging body, reminiscing the stories of their past and updating her with present tales about her grandchildren.

8 months ago, an aging Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada had noticed difficulty walking. Brushing it off, not wanting to worry Arnav or her children, she had ignored the symptoms, and continued with her daily mannerisms. A few weeks later, however, she launched into a state of the upmost depression, despite her grandson being selected for a badminton scholarship and her eldest daughter finally taking over her father's company. Again, she brushed off the symptoms, reassuring herself that she was upset because the shradh for her late bau ji was soon approaching.

Therefore, when Arnav walked in on his wife crumbling to the floor in agony and unable to move any part of her body at all, to say he was shocked would be a severe understatement. He later discovered that Khushi was suffering from multiple sclerosis. Upon hearing that her condition was extremely critical, and that it was unlikely that she would fully recuperate, Arnav suffered from a potent shock-induced heart attack, one that almost lost him his life. It was only when he saw tears spilling from Khushi's eyes upon witnessing his recovery did he vow that he would remain strong for her. They would survive through this.

Arnav left the caretaking of Shantivan in the hands of a grey haired, but more than capable Akash, Payal and his two twin sons and bahus. They, along with their elder sister and jeeju, visited their amma almost daily. Sometimes they would haul along their little children, who would often get upset when their Dadi wouldn't laugh along to their jokes, unable to fully comprehend her condition. Arnav had moved in as a permanent member of the hospital in Room 8390, ignoring and flatly refusing the doctors concerns that his insistence may affect his own health, considering his age. He knew that the biggest threat to his health was separation from his wife.

The mans knees had given through, and he now tredded through the hallways with a metal walker, the veins of his skin now distinct, the wrinkles on his face drooping and his once black and gelled hair grey and wispy. The once mighty Arnav Singh Raizada trembling on weak knees might have been a pitiful sight for an ordinary onlooker, but he felt just as powerful as ever, with his company in the capable hands of his daughter, his family secured and his wife protected by his side.

Since the staff of the hospital insisted that she be kept under their eye and instruction, he had taken every step possible to make the hospital seem more like home. Everyday he would request jalebis to be served with her meal, the Salman Khan oldies to be stocked at her bedside for her disposal, and stars to be hung from the top of her hospital bed. She had stopped moving and responding months ago, but the twinkle in her eyes still made his heart beat faster and hope still surged through his veins--a desire to see that beautiful, yet slightly toothless grin spent on him once again.

On March 17^th, Arnav Singh Raizada had entered the room with a fresh bouquet as he always did, placed a frail kiss on Khushi's head and shuffled to put the flowers on her bedside when he heard something behind him, a voice that his heart had ached to hear for months. The most melodious voice...like chimes blowing in the wind, a bit wiser with age, weakened by exhaustion, but still beautiful and full of life.

"Ar... Arnav"

As fast as his walker would allow, Arnav carefully spun to see Khushi calling to him. A tear had rolled down her cheek and she had somehow managed to barely lift the two of her arms, beckoning him to hold her as he had for so many years in the past. Arnav stood rooted to the ground. He was witnessing what he had anticipated for months now...any single sign of movement. Relief and happiness pounded through his feeble body and despite knowing he should call for the doctors, he could not refuse the desire etched in Khushi's eyes. He stumbled to the bed and lay next to her whispering reassurances and vindications of his exuberant joy, their bodies spent through age and work, yet still uncannily familiar with each other. She gathered the strength to place a wavering hand on Arnav's sweater, and closed her eyes as she tried to match the beating of her heart with his own. He immediately covered her hand with his, unable to believe that she was making such substantial progress in one day.

Chimes blew through the wind again. "H..ha..hames..sha"

Their heartbeats danced in a joint tempo, their fingers entwined together in an unfaltering grip, and at last, they closed their eyes and fell at ease in each other's arms, their heartbeats finally wound down, united till the last breath.Two bodies, one soul, one departed heartbeat.

Hamesha.