Girl in a million

by Anitha Padanattil

  Sagarika then remarked, “I know exactly what is going through your minds. We have hardly been in touch so it’s but natural that you are confused.”

  “Chandru is my brother’s stepson. They are in Texas, have been there for ages now. Green card holders and all that. But this boy always had a soft spot for me and likewise. So, when he was old enough to speak his mind and indicate his career preferences, his parents were duly informed. Fortunately for everyone concerned, the idea was wholeheartedly embraced and agreed upon. My brother and his wife have a daughter in addition to him so they did not feel pain at the parting. Moreover, they are happy that he’s with his aunt and grandparents and now, Manu. Should he choose to return, they would not oppose that either, but for now, he seems to fit in rather well here, with us.”

  It was during this time, that Murugan walked into their midst beaming widely to loud exclamations of delight from the friends who welcomed him into their fold.

  “Muruhaa Velmuruhaa, you are still stuck to your Sagu paapaa. She’s not in school anymore or have you forgotten?” Marge’s statement was followed by raucous laughter. At this, poor Murugan sheepishly looked down and avoided everyone’s gaze.

  “He’s abandoned his family but never Sagu,” shot out Shruthi in jest.

  “Well, we have never heard from you. Remember any of us?’ Marge glowered at him in mock anger to which Murugan anxiously shook his head in dismay. It seemed as if the stage was being set for a mock trial to be held with poor Murugan on one side and the friends on the other.

  “He’s been taking care of her for us. Something that we were meant to do.” Ratna’s quiet interjection cut through the gay chatter almost instantly. There was an abrupt shift in mood. A sudden dip in temperature. For a split second, the mockery had shone through. And Ratna had cut through that. Shruthi and Marge blanched in response and stood stock still. Sagu’s grip on me tightened and I sensed her anguish. Ratna remained impassive almost, stoic. She had regretted uttering the words but she was right and they all knew it.

  Deep down, they had borne the guilt of not being there for their Sagu and the wound had festered and deepened.. It had neither reduced nor been redeemed.

  Only dear Murugan had displayed unconditional love and loyalty towards their loved one. He had a family, just like them but he had chosen to balance his priorities well. And they chose to poke and prod at him in a way, to stymie the pain. It was unintentional in the beginning but the tremor had begun to resurface.

  The four friends faced each other and felt the years being stripped away.

  It felt as though they were transported back in time and all the moments that bound them together flashed before their eyes. A raw ache balled in their throats and threatened to burst out of their very souls. Helpless tears gathered begging for penitence.

  I understood the frailty of the situation and knew that peace had to be made. Nudging my wife towards the three, instantly broke the spell.

  The four gathered together in a tight circle and sobbed as one. Murugan stood by, wringing his hands in helplessness. Sagu’s parents were glad that the mend had been made. The disjoint had been remedied. The zenana was back in action although it was now saddled with individual responsibilities but the cradle of love that had held it together, remained undiminished.

  The families were allotted their rooms within the Murthy household while the four chattered on. The children were spirited away by the ayahs to be shown around the place and pampered with goodies and eatables. Amma was supervising the packing of gargantuan gift bags as part of the give-away tradition from the pile received as the friends were scheduled to travel back the next day. Individual gunny bags filled with sweets, fruits, coconut, and other assorted items were being readied in the backyard of the house. With the kids running helter-skelter and tidying up of the front yard once the few remaining guests had left, the place was a mad house of activity.

  Meeting Murugan’s family members made me happy. It was also an eye-opener. They were attired in their best and stood diffidently around the elder member of their family. It was evident that they had faced lives of strife and I resolved to ease their hardship in the best possible manner that I could. No one questioned my choice of action. I was free to undertake whatever I thought was in the best interests of the organization. Sagu and Appa had begun this journey, yet, their trust in me remained true.

  They had granted me a life. No arguments on that one.

  *

  I had noticed the sudden loss of energy, lack of appetite, the sweaty palms, vacant unfocused look and attributed them to the punishing work schedule. It was when we were getting dressed for work that I noticed the marked delay in her emergence from the bathroom. As I called out for her, I felt my impatience growing. Ten minutes later, I went in to investigate.

  Bedroom- empty.

  Bathroom, locked from inside.

  After several knocks and calling out, I shouted out to the driver who rushed in, concerned. Together, we broke open the door. On the floor lying unconscious was, our Doctoramma. Heaving, we carried her to the bed and switched on the overhead fan. Kripan, our driver, went down to get a glass of water. Gently patting her cheeks and murmuring her name, I felt her eyelids flutter. As she struggled to rise, I supported her against the pillows and gave her the glass of water that Kripan had bought. I indicated that he was to wait downstairs and keep the matter to himself. As the sound of his steps receded, I turned and looked at Sagu. She smiled at my look of concern. “Don’t be such a paapaa. I won’t disappear, Manu.” Her tittering incensed me and I asked her to rest for the day.

  I called in every two hours but after the third call, her tone sounded petulant. “Either you stay here by my side or, stop the pestering.” I had to put an end to my concern after that. It was not a big deal but the first time almost always seems like the biggest hurdle. Doctoramma treated others. She did not need the looking after. Hence, the concern seemed unnecessary. I diverted my attention to the head of the ayahs. Her complaint was towards the logistics manager who had disrespected one of her charges. The woman was stout, short, bristling with vehemence and was clad in an orange sari flecked with brown and red spots. An enormous bindi21 flashed the warning sign from between her eyebrows. I sighed. The day just didn’t seem to end.

  My apprehensions were laid to rest as I gazed at Sagu late in the evening. She seemed refreshed, eyes sparkling with joy as she guided me to the garden, to our favorite nook. Here, she had readied a table with iced tea and tidbits. A chicken curry was simmering on the gas stove, so I was to freshen up and come back here to join her for dinner. The rice was just about done along with a fresh salad on the side that had chopped onions, finely diced green chilies, tomato and, cucumber, followed by puffed rice that would be tossed in mustard oil. The last two ingredients were remnants of my north eastern upbringing that Sagu reminisced upon but I was now, chiefly, a rice-sambar-rasam man. The conversion was complete!

  We had reverted to our normal routine. Get up early, walk around the colony, bathe, dress and, rush to work. Dinner was always together, at home, and we made it a point to wait and check on areas that needed scheduling. The talk kept us focused and aware of most nitty-gritty’s associated with the running of the hospital. The construction was almost complete and we were in the process of getting the organization converted into a charitable trust. Henceforth, the clinic that Dr. Sagarika had started out with would be known as M/s Sagarika Group of Charitable Hospitals. It was way beyond what she had hoped for and dreamt of and I was glad to be a part of the endeavor. The challenge had revitalized me. I was glad to have escaped the rut that I had once considered all-important. Chandrashekhar was also working his way upwards. The lad was studious and dedicated like his aunt. They were a well-matched pair. That the boy revered his aunt beyond words was a given. Dr. Chandrashekhar Gurumurthy would shoulder the legacy he would eventually be handed over. There was no doubt about that.

  The second episode came to my notice six months later. It was quit
e by chance that I found her slumped over her desk and unresponsive. I did not know whether this was the second singular episode or whether Sagu was aware of few others (I hoped not) but I decided to take matters into my own hands. I made enquiries and despite her vehemence, we travelled by car to Chennai the next day. My target was to reach the Apollo Hospital and admit Sagu for a detailed check-up. I had known that she would have wanted to keep the matter under wraps and that, I did. Under the pretext of having to visit certain professionals in Chennai with Doctoramma accompanying me, Kripan drove at a sedate pace. He was the next best person that I trusted after Murugan. Good old Murugan would not be able to take in the news without a certain amount of lamentation added to which, his physical frailty might not withstand the stress. I wanted to avoid a twin tragedy at any cost.

  I felt gloomy and depressed. Kripan had sensed the tension and therefore, avoided the small talk.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, Manu. You fret over small matters. It could be low BP or anemia for all you know,” offered Sagu in a reassuring tone.

  “Of course, you are right. You are the renowned Doctor,” I retorted in anger. “You would know for certain if it was a trivial matter. Can I have your word on that?”

  Sagu remained quiet. Watching her withdrawn expression, I felt my heart sink. “I have arranged for a master health check-up at Apollo. That way we would get to know.” There was no response from her.

  “Doremi,” I placed my hand on her knee and shook it slightly. “Please don’t scare me. For your sake, I’ll think that you are anemic or something,” my voice trailed to a whisper. I noticed Kripan watching us through the rear view mirror. His eyes had dilated. Probably alarm, I decided. “Look ahead and drive man,” I instructed him tersely and he obediently looked forward, shifting gears.

  *

  As we neared the hospital, it was decided that a stopover at the Annadaan Bhojanalaya23 by mid-afternoon was the need of the hour. The outfit was a famous vegetarian restaurant and Indians all over the world swore by its hospitality and quality of cuisine.

  Sagu declined to eat stating that she did not feel hungry. She asked a cup of their famed filter coffee and a plate of idlis24.

  Kripan and I would normally settle for the South Indian Thali31. This had about 15 varieties of dishes that were served continuously until your gut threatened to overflow. But today was not the day for a feast. And so, I downed two cups of the filter coffee and watched Kripan picking on a dosa. Sagarika was watching us in silence. Following my visit to the restroom, I sat beside her with a sigh.

  I thought that I felt her stir and turned to look at her. The woman had waited for the opportune moment. My vulnerable side was exposed and my guard was strewn all over the place and that was when she announced, “Just to keep you in the loop, I would like you to know what is to be expected at Apollo.”

  This was so unexpected that my antenna shot up in alarm. Sagu continued, “I would be examined, my symptoms looked into, which would then be followed by a simple neurological examination. If I am suspected to have a tumor or the prognosis is unclear about what's causing these symptoms, they may refer me to a brain and nerve specialist for further investigation.”

  She watched my expression of shock with sympathy and continued mercilessly; “The GP or neurologist may then subject me to a battery of tests for problems associated with tumor of the brain. This may involve testing of my arm and leg strength, reflexes, such as knee-jerk reflex, hearing and vision, skin sensitivity, balance and co-ordination, memory and mental agility using simple questions or arithmetic. The neurologist may also recommend one or more of the tests such as a CT scan, an MRI scan and possibly an EEG. Now, if a tumor is suspected, a biopsy may be carried out to establish the type and the most effective treatment for the same.” She stopped and lightly slapped the side of my face. “Manu, I already know what it is going to be but for my sake, please be strong.” Her voice was a plea. “My suspicions were aroused but it is normal for any practicing Doctor to ignore what goes on inside of them. I made myself busier and that exhausted me.” I looked on at her limply. It was peak hours and the waiter stopped by our table furtively, hoping that the bill would be settled. We ignored him as Sagu continued with a self-deprecating smile, “All I had to do was speak to Chandru but I cannot. I cannot bear to watch the sympathy all over again. I want things to be as they were.” I tried to come up with a suitable retort but words failed me. I felt as though I was punched in the gut.

  She knew. She suspected. And we were left out.

  We were the façade centered on the helium.

  There had to be a way.

  Doctors were too logical. I did not want to be the grim reaper as well.

  “Let’s move. I don’t want to be late,” I hoped that my voice didn’t sound strangulated. Placing a few notes inside the bill folder I walked out. Scrolling through the contact list on my phone for Kripan’s number, I felt Sagarika stand close to me. I could smell her perfume. It took a lot of effort to not turn and look at the pretty face. I did not want to see worry mar her fine features. Most of it stemmed on my account. She was strong and as pliable as the bamboo that flowed and weaved with the wind. Her concern towards me bothered. And hurt. We got into the car.

  As predicted, a biopsy was required. We were asked to stay for an extra day. We could leave the next evening owing to the patient’s special status. The results would be mailed to us. Alternatively, a conference call could also be arranged. The third day saw us back at Ravirajapuram. Sagarika was dropped off at home and I went back to the hospital. Since it was unheard of, about Doctoramma being unavailable even for a day, I had to field queries upon queries from all and sundry that had to be patiently dealt with. It was a torturous day and despair seeped through. Never had I felt such pain. I would have to keep it all to myself and pretend that everything was normal even though it was not.

  It was what Sagarika wanted.

  I wanted to shout out.

  Scream.

  Drink myself to death and not wake up. Maintaining a pleasant exterior was excruciating.

  I died a million deaths since the last forty-eight hours and counting and I was not sure that I would last long at this rate.

  But at the same time, my sensible other half prodded. The logical, grasping-at-straws half. Two words surfaced and posted this in large letters - What if? And my emotional half eagerly grasped at the proffered lifeline and conjectured. What if the logical line of reasoning turned out to be incorrect? What if there was hope on the other hand? There was supposed to be a ray of sunshine at the end of the tunnel. Misery did not suit me rather; I was going to ‘unfriend’ this gloom. My jauntiness reappeared as I walked back home after refusing the ride back, with an extra bounce to my step. The ‘what if’ had offered me hope. I was not going to let go.

  The mail from Apollo had arrived, the second day after we reached Ravirajapuram. It was addressed to Doctor Sagarika with a cc to me.

  The bad news first - There was a tumor in the brain.

  The good news – It seemed to be benign.

  However, the tumor was located deep inside the brain and would be difficult to remove without damaging the surrounding tissue. In these cases, a special type of radio-therapy called stereotactic radiosurgery would have to be conducted.

  “During radiosurgery, tiny beams of high-energy radiation are focused on the tumor to kill the abnormal cells,” Sagu explained. “Treatment consists of one session, recovery is quick, and an overnight stay in hospital isn't usually needed.”

  However, she continued, “Radiosurgery is only available in a few specialized centers in India. It's only suitable for some people, based on the characteristics, location and size of the tumor. So basically, I have a fifty percent chance provided the chemo destroys the leftover cells and reconversion of the benign cells does not occur.”

  “Reconversion?” I asked her puzzled. “Shift to cancerous mode at a later date,” she replied patiently. “All this is conjecture at this stage.
There are a lot more tests that I have to undergo to be sure.”

  Did I feel my sensible half prod me again? I looked at Sagu in the eye and said, “Let’s just assume as you say, that all this is conjecture. What if they are wrong? What if the second round of tests don’t bring anything up? Would you take a break from tradition and come with me? We could hike. Breathe in fresh air. Go for a pilgrimage.”

  Her refusal was a slap on the face. Damn the woman. She was smart, sexy at times, timid to the point of meekness, dedicated, a visionary, generous to a fault, painfully honest, ethical Goddess, dutiful child and wife. But when her mind was set, she could be so, so stubborn.

  I had trusted my sensible self. Thought that logic would take second place. Having to process all this alone was killing me. Better me than her. She was too important. Her piety towards the goal that she had envisaged was to be respected. I, on the other hand, needed to make a quick getaway. Lose myself into nothingness. Perhaps something would come out of this oblivion.

  Manaiyya would depart silently. No one would suspect until the day was almost over. I pictured the pall of gloom amongst the hospital staff and Periyamma, glum and despondent, ensconced inside her room. That I would be missed, I was sure of but I also knew that no one would dare probe and worm their way into the void. The threshold would be visible for all to see.