by Anamika GK
Pretty soon pasta was served into two plates. He helped her off the kitchen counter and they made their way to the dining table. While Khushi oooh'ed and aaahhh'ed and yummm'ed her way to polishing off the pasta , Avish could not help but smile fondly at her. His dad was right, she was just like sunshine in this huge house with dark past of its occupants. And, he now knew why. Not because she was like the rays of sun brightening up people's life, which of course was true but because she was a constant like sun. Somebody you can rely on, someone who will bestow you with their warmth, no matter what happens. For someone who was rightly called Titaliya looking at her fragility and flitting disposition, the stability and security she promised with her presence was like an anchor to the restless hearts. Her not running away from him after his angry outburst, more than once, and not to forget her efforts to befriend him over the months had consolidated Avish's analysis that she was not the one who gave up easily on people. No matter, how much he wants to, his past was a witness to the fact that he was not capable of holding on to people in his life and the thought of having someone like her around was very comforting to Avish's hurt heart. And her concern for his eating and her demand for him to stay with her and take care of her were oddly settling feelings for him in the face of his rather turbulent personal life.
Just then Khushi smiled brightly at something, and Avish was dragged out of his silent monologue session in a snap. While outwardly smiling and nodding at Khushi's story about some pasta dish she ate at some restaurant, inwardly he sighed. No matter how hard he shunned them, her thoughts caught up with him more often than not these days. Turning up in his already muddled mind like a bad penny at absolutely odd times, like just now.
And even if he manages to leave all her thoughts aside, the way his attention always gets arrested by that bewitching smile of hers, he had an uneasy feeling that it would be his undoing some day!
Chapter 12
Khushi was the result of many a prayers and promises her parents made to the almighty, born after eight long years of their wedding. Fiercely adored and wanted from the time she made her presence known in her mother's womb. Jovial like her father and beautiful like her mother, a little sister to her chachu. Slipping easily under bade papa's protective and buaji's loving wings, when her own parents died. Same thing happened when it came to her friends. Riya was five years her senior at school, who had saved her lunch one day from a school bully. After that she voluntarily started looking out for little chatter-box junior of hers during recess, befriending the huge eyed cute doll she had come to love. Riya's brother Rishabh, two years elder than Khushi, had found his di's young friend and protégé-of-the-sorts so adorable that he made it to Khushi's inner circle quite fast. Also her amicable nature made sure that she was welcomed with open arms by all the people in her life. Most of the strangers too, sometime genuinely and sometime out of consideration to her handicap, behaved nicely with her.
So it was only her Avishji whose friendship she had actually earned for herself by putting up with his initial dislike towards her and enduring his outbursts combined with aloofness. He did not play nice with her when he came to know about her limp, save that pathetic attempt to non-existent apology after coming to know about her limp. Stood his ground and did not talk to her until she extended a hand of friendship on his birthday. Even after that he took a long time to come around and accept her as a member of this house rather than a piece of furniture who talks. And it was only recently that he had offered her the concern and protection that she was so used to getting from everyone, that too after she literally spelled it out for him. But, Khushi knew that she could not have found a more suitable person whose friendship she would like to earn. Her handicap or even her angelic face as buaji puts it, did not affect him in the least. Specially after the wedding fiasco, where her dignity and confidence had jumped off the cliff, Avishji's genuine disregard towards her and her handicap had actually given her moral a much needed boost. He was someone who looked past her outer composition, whether good or bad. Someone who did not say things he did not mean.
And now they were becoming good friends. If anything good came out of buaji's and bade papa's absence from the house, it was that Avishji had included her in his routine. He had started knocking on her door to wake her up after his jog. For someone who had refused to acknowledge her presence on dining table on his first day, Khushi considered him waiting for her at breakfast a considerable step ahead from their earlier resentment. She in turn informes him along with bade papa and buaji whenshe reaches home after college. Also they dine together and then retire to study where he would work and she would either study or just tell him about her day and talk. He still did not speak much, but she noticed that now, he listened intently. He had started coming home early too as he said he would. Then what happened today, thought a worried Khushi while pacing the veranda outside the main door. Avishji was still not home. She had called his cell which was not being answered and when she called bade papa about it, he called back after a while, just to inform that Avishji will be late. No one told her how late and the clock was chiming 10 pm right now.
Just then Avish's car entered the premises and he alighted from it, with his left forearm bandaged and blotched with blood. His shirt had blood stains on it too and was dusty. Accident, was Khushi's first thought as she gasped and rushed towards him.
“No dad, the cut is not deep. There are only seven small stitches,” Avish said on the phone.
“God, when did you call Aman? Yeah, a little blood loss too,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Okay a LOT. Fine now?,” he replied irritated.
“Yes dad, when I told him that an iron rod gashed my hand he gave me a tetanus shot. Don't you trust your own doctor's competency?” Avish leaned back on the living room couch he was sitting on.
“No, please! You don't have to come back early. It’s not like someone has tried to shoot me. Accidents happen on construction sites... wait a minute dad,” he held the phone a little away from his face and looked at Khushi who was sitting next to him holding his left hand and looking at it intently from all angles making it uncomfortable for him.
“You do realize that my bleeding hand is not an artifact for you to inspect, don't you?” he questioned pointedly making her leave his hand in a jiffy. “Yes dad, I am back,” Avish continued his conversation while Khushi moved to the other couch and pulled out her own cell-phone.
A few minutes later when Avish disconnected the call he found Khushi talking to someone on phone while writing down something on a notepad on her lap, as if taking a dictation over mobile.
“Yes,” she said and sincerely nodded along with it as if the person can see her on the phone, making him chuckle.
“Okay” she wrote something more.
“Hmmm.. and salt is allowed?” she questioned.
“Dont worry, I will take care of it,” she looked at Avish.
“I don't know. But you talk to him, he is free now,” she said while getting up from the couch and gave her cell phone to Avish. “Karan chachu,” she informed when he raised his eyebrow in question.
“Hey Karan,” Avish greeted.
“Yeah, I am fine,” he replied in Karan's query regarding his wound. Khushi must have given him the details Avish thought.
“What?” he all but yelled the next second.
“No. My flesh did not cut out of my hand and neither did I lose a huge amount of blood,” then after taking a long calming breath he continued, “I have no idea what your niece has told you but doctor just contemplated blood transfusion due to my diabetes, which I did not need eventually as my vitals were stable,” he spoke while boring holes into Khushi's retreating back, who oblivious to everything walked towards the kitchen with the paper that she had torn out of her notepad in her hand. God! how much could she amplify one little incident? Avish shook his head wondering.
After laughing for a while at his Laddoo's exaggeration, Karan gave some basic medical advice to Avish regardin
g care of his health and wound, informed him that he had given Khushi all haves and have not’s of diets for him and wished him a speedy recovery before disconnecting. Before he could go and confront Khushi, Avish's phone once again buzzed. It was buaji on the line.
Khushi all of twenty-one, overprotected and never ever been in such a situation, alone, was distressed for Avishji. Very distressed. Seven stitches, loss of blood, diabetes and no elder at home to take care of him. Just her, who had never nursed anyone or taken single-handed care of a sick person ever. How can he be so calm and normal? She would have been hyperventilating if this would have happened with her. But she would not do that right now. She has to take care of him. That was the reason she instantly called her doctor chachu for some sound advice regarding bandage changes, medication and food for the patient. She is going to provide Avishji the best possible care in the given circumstances. When she went back to the living room after giving Omprakash instructions about Avishji's diet chart for next one week and sticking the paper on refrigerator door with a magnet, she smiled seeing him talk on phone with buaji. Must be a little consoling to hear bade papa and buaji's concern and advice, she thought, for she was dead sure that in spite of being in pain he is not showing it on his face.
Little did she know that Avish had handled his fevers, his wounds and other mishaps by himself all his adult life. In fact all these phone calls had started to get to him now and it failed him as to why everyone was making such a big deal out of it. It was a cut due to carelessness on his part at construction site, not even an accident or anything. And all he had was seven freaking stitches. It was not as if he was dying.
After managing to shove a full bowl of utterly bland vegetable soup down a grumbling Avishji's throat by pestering, pleading and quite some emotional coercion, Khushi felt like she had won a world war. God, he was no better than a kid. She could not stop smiling at the childish stubbornness she had seen for the very first time in her foreign educated, utterly sober and introvert friend. Avish, who was alien to such intense investment of efforts and emotional blackmail for a petty thing like making someone eat their dinner, did not stand a chance against Khushi who was well versed in the art of cajoling and pampering. He had finally given in, after realizing that never-give-up part of Khushi's personality kind of extended in all walks of her life. Not that he was complaining. Not yet anyway!
However, the true level of her resolve and sincerity to nurse him back to health came to forefront at night when he retired to bed and could have gone to sleep too, if only Khushi was not so over-zealously trying to fulfill her duties as his self-appointed caretaker. So dedicated was she to her task, that it was the fifth time that she had come to check upon him in the middle of the night.
“Stop hovering over me Khushi. It's 1:30 a.m. Please go and sleep and let me sleep too,” Avish said irritably as he turned on his bed to face Khushi who was standing near the foot of the bed. Dressed in a red PJ's and white oversized t-shirt with God knows what cartoon character on it, she looked cute as a button but impossibly irritating at this hour to Avish.
“Are you okay? Why are you not sleeping? Is it paining? Do you need anything?” she inquired worriedly instead of replying.
“I am okay. No, it is not paining; I have taken pain-killers. No, I don't need anything, thanks for asking. And, I am not sleeping because you are not letting me,” he gathered last of his patience in order to reply.
“What did I do?” she asked confused.
“You are coming into my room every five minutes and asking me if I’ve slept. Tell me how can one sleep like this?” he heatedly reasoned.
“First I check if you have slept or not and when I see that you have not, only then, I ask you anything. And for your information it’s not every five minutes. I have set the alarms to check up on you 30 minutes apart,” she retorted all intelligently.
"You have set alarms??? Seriously???” Avish squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed the spare pillow with his right hand and plonked it over his head in exasperation. Then he spoke something that sounded like ‘Good Night’ or ‘Get a Life’ or ‘Get Lost’, or something like that to Khushi, but she wasn't very sure because the voice was too muffled.
After Avish was sure that Khushi has left the room, he slowly removed the pillow and heaved a sigh of relief. Chucking the pillow to one side he turned and flopped on his stomach to sleep, resting his left hand carefully on his side. He was bloody well capable of taking care of himself, always had. Khushi's concern was confusing him to no end. Why is she being so anxious on his account? But before his train of thought could proceed even a millimeter further, the object of his thoughts barged into the room, startling him. He quickly sat up and got alarmed at the sight before him for there stood Khushi with her comforter and pillow in her hands making herself comfortable on the recliner in his room.
“What is this?”
“Well you are getting disturbed by my coming and going, so now I am not going to come and go. I am settling here for the night. I need to keep an eye on you,” she replied folding her legs beneath herself on the chaise.
“What??”
“I said, I am going to stay here to keep an eye on you,” she repeated unfazed.
“Jeez! You are going to stare at me as I sleep. That's so comforting!” he said sarcastically, quite creeped out at the thought of being watched over as he sleeps.
“I know,” chirped Khushi, totally missing the sarcasm. “When I am sick or hurt I always make buaji sleep with me. One needs constant supervision when one is not able to take care of themselves…"
“I am…” he tried to intervene.
“Also if you have to be rushed to the doctor in the middle of the night there should be someone beside you, nahi kya? And God forbid if you die in sickness then should there not be someone whom you can tell your last wish. Dying alone without anyone knowing is such a scary thought, nahi kya? And how would people fulfill your last wish if you don't tell it to them before dying,” she continued in the flow without paying any heed to exasperated expressions of her patient.
“I am not dying Khushi,” he massaged his temples.
“Of course not. That was just an example. I am here to take care of you. I'll not let anything happen to you, Avishji. See I have fed doctor's number in my cell and I have asked Mohan to stay on a stand by for the night as well in case we have to rush to the hospital. Don't you worry, I have everything under control,” she said in all seriousness as Avish gaped at her contingency arrangements.
“Khushi. Please go and sleep in your room,” he tried requesting, in case that could change her mind.
“And what if something happens to you? Did you not hear what I just told you?” she looked at him incredulously.
“Nothing will happen. You go and sleep and let me sleep too,” he tried once more.
“I agree to everything you said, except ‘go’ part. Nothing will happen, I'll sleep and you sleep too. Good Night, Avishji,” she said with a tone of finality and laid down pulling the comforter to her chin.
“What in the name of God have I befriended,” he groaned as he lied down giving up.
He found out within next five minutes that he had befriended a resilient and caring soul who was taking her responsibility too seriously when Khushi objected on extremely low temperature of the room citing that it is not good for him today and haggled with him like one does in vegetable market, when he refused. “Be reasonable Avishji. Neither your temperature, nor mine. Let’s set it at 19 degrees. Okay?” she said making it impossible for Avish to hide his smile in spite of trying to look pissed off. She did not rest till the temperature was set on 19 degrees as opposed to 16 degrees that Avish liked and also graciously giving up 21 degrees which suited her.
However much Avish tried to tell himself that it was her hovering over that was bothering him, the actual problem was that having someone care for him like this was much too comforting for his comfort, and he just did not want to get used to this feeling. Not now, not ever
.
Also troubling him was the possibility of his well-guarded secret coming out if she stays over in his room, something he did not want his father to know and get one more reason to worry over him. As it is he had been a source of anguish to his dad all these years with his hatred, then concern about his temperamental nature most prominently when he had almost lost his left eye after getting shards of mirror into it which he had broken in a fit of anger, and so he did not burden him further with this torturing detail of his life. That he was battling with bone-chilling nightmares which wake him up gasping for air and a palpitating heart many a nights since last five years. The closure he did not get from Sujata Mathur in real life, his subconscious tries to procure it in dreams full of bloodshed.
Nightmares which started when he got into substance abuse to get away from depression and stress that eclipsed his life after his mother's truth had come out. Stress which ultimately made his pancreas succumb to type-2 diabetes. He was a mere twenty-four year old, betrayed by his own mother who was conveniently dead and no father in his life at that point. No one as a matter of fact in his life at that point. Escape from his mockery of a life presented itself in the form of drugs sold in ghettos deep inside of London city until his dad got the news of Sujata Mathur's demise and had turned up on his door one fine day. He had him moved to New York within a month looking at his depressing state taking him away from that rotten pit. But when his diabetes was diagnosed in New York, the doctor had entered finding few 'objectionable' chemicals in his blood in his medical records, making him apprehensive about seeking help specially when his dad was taking active interest in his life. He had somehow survived anger management sessions his dad had insisted on but he was damn sure that going to a shrink would definitely make him commit murder. Anyway, he came out of that dark place all by himself with the sheer determination to not let that woman ruin his life anymore. He had never looked back since then, but the blasted nightmares just refuse to leave him in peace, even now.