The 'Spark' Tales: CHOICES is up now (Pg 4) - Page 3

Arti turned from the window at the soft sigh. The sound was so soft, a whisper shimmering over her skin. Anyone else would have missed it. But not her. And not tonight. She walked to the edge of the crib and looked in. Ansh was still asleep, a slight smile playing on his thin, pale face. She couldn't help it - she checked he was breathing. Of course he was breathing, he had just sighed hadn't he? But his every breath was precious.

Very gently, she stroked his cheek once and then walked back to the window. This window-sill, with its iron grille in a faded green painted frame had become her touchstone. Why did she look through it every night though? Prashant was not going to come. He was not going to roar through town on his gleaming motorbike, drive right up to and park at their front door, get down, knock on that door and demand to speak with his wife, hold his infant son in his arms... Arti shook her head, blinking away the vision from her mind. It had been two months since she had come back home. And he hadn't called even once.

A sharp cold wind rattled the frames and hastily, she shut the windows. It would not do for Ansh to catch a chill. She went to the bed and sat on the side closest to the crib. No point in lying down, she would not be able to sleep tonight. Not that she slept most nights anyway. Especially not tonight. She looked at the crib, at the sleeping form of her son, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he took each breath. He was so tiny. And he had barely gained weight in the short six months of his life. Would this new doctor ask them to wait too? Wait till he gained more weight, became stronger?

But he seemed to lose more and more weight everyday. How would he gain weight till he had the surgery? But how could they risk surgery if he was too weak?

Arti shook her head. Stop. She had to stop this constant raging battle. It was pointless going round and round the same arguments. This new doctor was Ansh's last hope. They were lucky a cardiac specialist of his caliber was visiting their tiny town of Motera. Normally the town's only visitors were the cricket fanatics who came to watch the matches at the Sardar Patel Stadium. Perhaps cricket was bringing the high-end specialists here? Whatever the reason, Dr. Scindia was coming and he had agreed to review Ansh's case. He would check Ansh tomorrow and he was going to perform the surgery. Wasn't he? Arti clenched her hand, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her palms.

She sat up at the soft knock at the door, unclenching her fists. She did not even notice the trace of blood that seeped out from where she had dug her nails too deep, as the door opened and Ma stepped in.

"Soyi nahin beta?"

Ma came to the bed and sat down next to her. She lifted Arti's hands and clasped her fingers. Arti winced and Ma immediately turned her palms over. She didn't say a word at the trail of nail lines and the thin line of blood that was still seeping out. Instead, she pulled out the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed and took out one of the cotton balls Arti kept there for Ansh. Gently wiping the blood away, Ma said, "This new doctor, Dr. Scindia. How is he?"

Arti shrugged. "He is supposed to be one of the best cardiac surgeons in the country."

Ma nodded as she continued to wipe her hands. "Have faith in him then beta. And in Dr. Patel."

Arti pulled her hands away. "Dr. Patel was so worried when he saw Ansh today Ma."

Ma looked at her then. "Did he say something? Ansh -" she glanced at the crib where Ansh still slept on. "Ansh will be ok. What did Dr. Patel say?"

"He just said Ansh is still so thin. He hasn't gained any weight since his checkup last week." Arti grabbed Ma's hands and leaned forward. "He wouldn't say what he thought Ma. He wouldn't say if Dr. Scindia would operate."

Ma pulled one hand out of Arti's tight clasp and stroked her hair. "How could he say beta? He does not know. But don't worry. Ansh will be fine." She stood and went to the crib, leaning down slightly to stroke Ansh's head. "Maine Ambe Ma se mannat maangi hai. Ansh bilkul theek ho jayega."

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Arti waited with Babuji in the doctor's office. It had been nearly an hour since they had taken Ansh for the checkup. How much longer was it going to take? He must be hungry by now. Suddenly a warm hand clasped her restless fingers forcing them to stop pleating her dupatta. She looked up into Babuji's kind eyes, but he was equally worried. This wait, not knowing what would happen next, was just too much to bear.

At the soft swoosh of the door opening, both father and daughter turned as one. The famed Dr. Scindia walked in and without even meeting their eyes, walked to the desk, around to its front and sat down. Only then did he look at them. But his eyes, his face gave nothing away.

"Doctor?" Babuji didn't even spell out his question. There was no need.

"What do you know about VSD Sir? What has Dr. Patel told you?"

Arti and Babuji exchanged glances. Why was he asking them this? "Err, not much. We just know that it's a hole in the heart."

Dr. Scindia nodded at Babuji's answer. "Yes. And because of that hole, blood is pumped back into the lungs instead of going to the rest of the body. Which is why Dr. Patel cautioned you to check on Ansh's breathing."

They knew all this! Why was he telling them what they knew? They were constantly checking Ansh's breathing.

As if she had spoken out loud, Dr. Scindia turned to Arti. "Ansh has been breathing, but its getting more ... labored. More difficult." He took out some scans from a file she hadn't even noticed he had been carrying. "VSDs sometimes close on their own. But when they are large VSDs, surgery is needed." He pushed a scan towards the two of them, and then pointed at a section with a pen. "Ansh's tiny heart has two large VSDs. He needs surgery immediately."

Immediately? Her heart in her mouth, Arti turned frantic eyes to her Babuji. He was blinking back his tears. "Is Ansh's life at risk?"

Dr. Scindia's glance softened. He got up and came to them. "He is so small Sir. His heart still has to grow. Right now, with the size of the VSDs, his small heart is under a lot of strain. The sooner we operate, the sooner we block up those holes, the faster his heart will grow."

Arti swallowed. "How much time do we have?"

He looked at her then. "I am here this whole week. I would like to operate before I leave. And I want him under my care for the first recovery phase. So - Wednesday."

Wednesday. Just two days away.

Babuji nodded. "How much will it cost?"

At the figure Dr. Scindia mentioned, Babuji turned pale. "We - uh - we don't have that much." He looked at her, his eyes sharpening even as his eyes met hers. Babuji grasped her hands and squeezed. He turned back to the doctor. "Don't worry, I will make the arrangements. But it won't be ready in two days. I need some time. Can you still go ahead with the surgery?"

"How much time do you need Sir?"

"About two months I think."

Dr. Scindia looked at her father intently. Arti turned to face her father as well, but he would not look at her. What was he thinking? Where would they arrange so much money from?

"We will go ahead with the surgery on Wednesday. I will make arrangements with the hospital to wait for two months for the remainder of the payment."

"Remainder? Beta, I can't pay..."

Dr. Scindia held up his hand. "There is a foundation some of us doctors have established. The goal is to help pay for such expensive treatments for families who," he stopped for a moment, as if searching for a word, "are challenged to meet the fees. Ansh's case will qualify and the foundation will pay at least half the cost."

Half? That would definitely help. But where would they get the remaining half from?

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"How are we going to get so much money Babuji?"

They were back home. Ansh was asleep and Arti and her parents were huddled in the small living room.

Babuji clasped his fingers together as he sat straighter. "We will sell this house."

Sell the house? Their home? Babuji and Ma had scrimped and saved for years so they could buy a house before Babuji retired. This house had been their lifelong dream! How could Babuji sell it?

"You can't sell the house Babuji!" Arti looked at her mother in turn. But Ma was not looking at her; she was looking at Babuji. "Ma?" Ma turned to her then and nodded her head slightly. Ma agreed too?

Arti shook her head. "You can't sell the house."

"We need the money Arti. Ansh needs it."

Arti stood up. "I will call Prashant."

Ma straightened. "You said he didn't want to deal with Ansh and his illness. Why would he want to pay for his surgery?"

"Beta, I doubt he has so much money saved away either. And his parents," Babuji exchanged glances with Ma, "Why should his parents give any money?"

Because Ansh was their grandson too! But Babuji was right. Her in-laws were the reason she had left. They had refused a grandson who did not even have a whole heart. A "defective piece" they had called him, as if he were a toy and not a live person. And Prashant had not objected. He hadn't said a word as she had argued with her in-laws, fought with them, finally begged them to get Ansh treated. And he hadn't stopped her when she had finally packed Ansh and her things and announced she was leaving with her son. Her in-laws had gladly, smilingly, showed her the door, pushing her things out after her. Her husband had hung back, his head bowed, unable to meet her eyes, unable to speak against his parents.

As she dialed his number after so many months, she hoped fervently he would pick up and not his mother.

"Hello?"

She heaved a sigh of relief at his voice. "Prashant."

"Arti? Kaisi ho tum? Ansh kaisa hai?" She thrilled at the hope she heard in his voice, a hope tinged with something else, almost like pain.

"I am fine. Ansh is going to get surgery. A specialist is here for a week. He is going to operate on Ansh in two days time. Prashant, we need some help. The surgery is expensive. We need some money."

There was a silence. And then, "How much?"

Her heart lurched as she told him the amount. And it sank into bleakness as she heard his sigh. "I don't have so much Arti. And I can't ask Ma and Bauji. As it is they are asking me to divorce you and marry again. They have even started looking for another girl. If I tell them about Ansh's surgery, and needing money, they will file the divorce papers immediately."

She clutched the phone to ear, her eyes closing in despair. "He is your son too Prashant." But she knew it was useless to say anything more.

"I am sorry Arti. I can't help you."

And the phone went dead. As did the last thread of hope she had clung to for all these months, hoping she could somehow salvage her marriage.

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22 months later

Arti sat with Ansh on her lap, waiting for Dr. Scindia. She tucked back that lock of hair and as always, it flopped right back on his forehead. Just like Prashant. She almost winced. Almost. The hurt was less now and amazingly, so was her anger. She no longer wanted to throw something every time she thought of her husband. Ex-husband now.

"Artiji? I got confused for a moment with the new last name."

She looked up as Dr. Scindia walked in. "The divorce came through last month." It had been a long, cruelly painful process. Prashant had finally come for them. But only after Ansh had been cured and she had secured her job offer in Mumbai. Almost 9 months to the day since she had left. But she was done. Done being married to a man too weak to stand up for his wife and infant child. Done being abused for wanting to do the right thing, the only thing a mother could do.

Dr. Scindia didn't say another word but knelt down to hug Ansh who had wriggled off her lap and had been hugging one of his legs instead. "And how is my little fighter?"

Ansh's surgery had gone well, but he had taken a long time to recover. For a few months, she hadn't been sure he would pull through. But he had finally made it.

Arti waited in the office as Dr. Scindia took Ansh for the tests. She didn't even have to go with Ansh now - he had become friendly with all the staff here. It should have been a scary thought. Instead, it comforted her. True, they made a trip across Mumbai to this hospital once a month. They had been doing so for the last 15 months, since they had moved to Mumbai after she got a job here. Once Ansh had finally come home, she had decided to work. She had a Masters degree in Hindi after all. She was well educated. And she had to be capable of looking after her own son. She had applied to schools in Mumbai, knowing it would be easier to continue Ansh's treatment in the metropolis. And when she had been accepted, she had convinced Ma and Babuji to move out of their rental flat in Motera and move with her and Ansh to Mumbai. Life was too hectic to socialize outside of work. Except here - in the hospital. Weird as it was, this hospital with its friendly faces had become as familiar to her as it was to Ansh. And coming to the hospital no longer terrified her.

The door opened, pulling her out of her thoughts. Ansh pranced in ahead of Dr. Scindia who had a fond smile for the boy. "He is doing great Artiji. You have taken great care of him."

She smiled, a weight she had gotten so used to she did not even notice it anymore, lifting off of her. "Thank you. Does he need to come next month?" She always asked this same question, even though she knew the answer.

But this time, she was in for a surprise. Dr. Scindia chuckled. "Ansh is doing so well now. He does not need to come every month anymore. We will see you in two months time."

A radiant happiness rippled through her and she grinned at her son, who grinned right back at her. Her son, her Ansh was finally ok. They had fought, both mother and son, and today they had won.