I went out, and saw dad watching TV. When he saw me coming, he sensed that the soup was ready, and it was now the time to wake our princess.
“You will need this wheelchair,” he said pointing his finger to the wheelchair on the side corner. The wheelchair was black; it had adjustable footrests, removable handrails, reclining backrests and head support. I placed my hand on the push handle and led it to her room.
She was still sleeping. I placed my hand on her forehead to wake her up. And she gently – just like a sunrise – opened her eyes.
“Wake up, my love!” She smiled as she heard me. I then uncovered her blanket to see it for the first time – I shuddered at what I saw. I knew it was there…had seen many cases in the ward, but seeing someone beloved like that was always unendurable. Her white salient legs had turned completely black, tumour cells had eaten all her muscles of lower-limb, like her calf, once well-toned by gastrocnemius and soleus were almost gone on her right leg. The swelling on her left thigh that had doubled its weight, comprised nothing but pus inside. Her tumour cells were on their way to the spinal cord where the metastasis would soon eat her bones, then her lungs and sooner or later, she would die choking. A doctor in me said it all, but the lover in me instantaneously refused and kicked his butt. Her transparent white gown was covering her abdomen and pelvis, which was yet untouched by the tumour cells.
“How’s it?” She moved my attention with a smirk.
“Gorgeous, no one can clinch away your beauty, you know that,” I winked.
“In our two years of relationship, you haven’t praised me even half of what you are doing since morning,” she kept her teasing going.
“I never knew you needed it,” I retorted.
“You smart ass Mithu!”
“You sexy ass M!” And I bumped my head with hers.
“Now lift me up and make good use of your muscles,” she demanded.
“They are gone M!”
“Ah, they will be back, don’t tell me you can’t lift me without them.”
“I can try.”
And I lifted her in my arms. It wasn’t as hard as I thought. I still had something left in me. Marijuana and alcohol hadn’t consumed all of me. I gently put her down on the wheelchair and slowly drove her to the dining room where mom had already placed the soup on the burnished table. Dad started rubbing his palms in childlike exuberance as he saw us coming. I took my chair and even though she could move her hands, she asked me to feed her. I picked up the glass spoon, filled it from the bowl and slowly fed her.
“It’s delicious,” she said with her miraculously twinkling blue eyes. I kept feeding her and myself until she finished the last sip. I then washed my hands and cleaned her face with a napkin. Mom and dad went inside to change her bedsheet. As she was in her final stage of dependency, she couldn’t move her extremities. Dad instructed me that it was my job now to place her bedpan, to change her clothes and to wipe her back. After a brief talk, she told me to take her inside as she desperately wanted to hear my narration. I made a strong grip on push holder and took her to her room. As we reached, she raised her arms, wanting me to lift her. I gently lifted her from the wheelchair, placed her on the bed, adjusted her backrest and covered her infected legs with a blanket.
“What is it about?” she asked.
“About us!” I answered with a smile, stood up, took my diary, sat beside her and started reading.
Once upon a time, there were two best friends, Dhruv Gajjar and Anshul Bhatt. Anshul Bhatt belonged to a middle class family, had every quality of fitting in an ideal son’s shoes. On the other hand, Dhruv Gajjar – called Gajju by his friends – was a highly irresponsible gym freak, who had no goals in his life other than to keep pumping his muscles. After coming out from admission counselling, Ansh should have been delighted for making his way into MBBS at SBKS medical college, Vadodara but he was rather sad for Gajju, since he hadn’t gotten admission anywhere. On the first day, Ansh, along with his parents, entered inside Sumandip campus. There was a board signalling for the way to the parking lot. As they proceeded, they saw a long queue of cars heading towards the front parking lot. Audi, BMW, Mercedes, Porsche symbols were radiating with the morning light. Ansh wondered if they were the only ones with a Maruti 800. But in the parking lot they saw a few more cars like Zen, Santro, Maruti 800, Maruti-Suzuki Esteem and so on. He assured himself that he wasn’t the only one to have secured admission on merit basis.
They parked the car and stepped out. They were informed to go to the hostel first and it was a long walk from the front parking lot.
“Dad, Mom! The hostel is about a kilometre’s walk from here. It’s okay if you don’t want to come. I will get the luggage by myself,” Ansh said. His parents had diabetes and he didn’t want to trouble them with the long unnecessary walk.
“It’s okay Ansh! We are still in our forties, not sixties,” His dad quipped and they started walking. Outside the parking lot on the right hand side, there was a temple. Ansh’s mom folded her hands to take god’s blessings. His mom was totally into those religious things; there were innumerable ‘vrats’ and ‘poojas’ she held for Ansh to make it through and now, when he did – she was thanking god for accepting her prayers. After passing through the temple, they saw a few doctors waiting for an ambulance outside the hospital door, wearing white lab coats, hanging stethoscopes around their necks. Ansh felt enchanted knowing that someday, he will be doing that noble job of treating patients as well. Ambulances were coming and going in the frequency of every two minutes and guards at the gate had a well-separated special path for them. The hospital was big – surrounded by trees and plants to maintain the oxygen level. Then they passed through the medical college. The entrance was crowded by parents and their children; parents who were instructing their children and children who merely listening to them. On the backside, they saw the canteens and messes; smell of various eatables irritably lingered in the air, only then Ansh realised there was one thing he was going to miss the most – the food cooked by his mother. He then gazed at the buildings of the girls’ hostels. They were more like three-star hotels in India. He could see the curtains on windows, exhausters of split air conditioners, clean and shining floor and pleasant surrounding. All this was exceeding Ansh’s expectations that he was going to live in a likewise place, but when he saw the buildings of the boys’ hostel, all his expectations dropped in a swish. They were no better than warehouses, with broken windows and faded coloured walls.
“Girls’ hostels are better Ansh!” Ansh’s mom said.
“It’s okay mom! They always get the advantage,” he gagged.
As Ansh was taking charge of everything, he asked his parents to wait outside the warden’s office and went in.
“Hello sir! We are here for…” Before he could finish his sentence, he cut him off,
“I know, for room possession. Sorry son, but you’ll have to wait for a while. Room allotments will take place in the evening,” he politely answered.
“But sir, my parents are with me and I have bulky luggage.”
“Don’t worry about that. Let me talk to your parents,” he said, settled his spectacles and stood up.
“Why the hell did I not send my parents first?” Ansh thought.
The warden walked out from his office and Ansh followed him. He shook hands with his father, “Sir, we are yet to get the full list of merit students and students from management quota. So, your son will be allotted a room in the evening. Keep his luggage inside the store room. You’ll get a badge from a guard outside. Stick this badge with your luggage, write his full name and admission number on it.” They followed everything he instructed and finished those formalities.
Then Ansh turned to his parents, “Dad-mom, you two should leave now. It will take two-and-a-half hours to get back to Ahmedabad and I want you to reach before afternoon! It will get hotter then and would trouble you to drive a non-AC car. I’m going to college now.” Ansh said, keeping his ideal son image alive.
“Don’t worry about us, son! We will be fine.” Ansh’s father said with a gentle smile and turned to his mom, “Let’s go then!” Ansh’s mom nodded. But since being a mother, she had to cry, she did. Only after calming her and seeing them off, Ansh went to college.
After having a completely absorbing first day at college, Ansh went to the hostel. He went to the storeroom first to get his luggage, but it wasn’t there. The guard said that his room partner had already taken the possession of it, which made Ansh agitated. Fumed, Ansh rushed to his room and all his anger was gone in a swish when he met his room partner there.
“Gajju? What the fuck is this?” Ansh asked in astonishment.
“Ah, I just couldn’t miss this million dollar expression of yours! That’s why I kept it from you. Dad took my admission in NRI quota. Now get ready for a six-year long honeymoon baby!” Dhruv simpered.
“With pleasure, you Asshole!” Ansh retorted. They were extremely delighted with the way things were going. On the same night, they ascertained three new friends – Shilpan, Aakash and Harsh who were lodged in the same lobby and belonged to the same city, Ahmedabad.
“That’s it?” She asked as I finished.
“Yes, for one day, it’s adequate,” I answered and reached her hands under the blanket.
“Since when are you and Ansh best friends?”
“Since the day we marked our footsteps in school.”
“Hmm. Okay.”
I gently rubbed her hands and took her in my arms.
“Now it’s promise time Mithu!” she murmured.
“Your wish is my command ma’am!” I bowed my head a little.
“Promise me! You’ll write a book on it and publish it.”
“What? Baby, writing for you is a different thing and writing a book is entirely different. They are great with words and I neither have the writing skills nor the command over language or a good vocabulary to stand a chance,” I said trying to be as truthful as I could.
“Don’t grow sceptical on yourself, Mithu! I know things about you, which even you are completely oblivious of. Besides, our love story has to be conveyed and that would be your best dedication to me after my death.” She squeezed my palm to provide the faith I needed at the first place.
“Okay, I promise. Now kiss me and go to sleep.” I took her in my arms again and we slept, but not before blessing our lips with the goodnight kiss.
Is she really going to die? Can I convince her to start her therapies again?
The thought kept me awake for the entire night with M in my arms.
Six months have passed and not even a single day has dawned when he woke up and was not in tears. If you ask me, I believe he badly needs to see a psychiatrist, but I’m afraid to bring that up right now. Right now I’m just doing what he needs the most and what I was asked to do – be his unconditional support.
He is entering the coffee shop, with his laptop bag tucked around his right shoulder. He looks tired, depressed and preoccupied. This is not my best friend from childhood – this is a person who is broken and desolated with every living cell in his body.
“So, how was it?” I ask after he pours himself a glass of water.
“Horrendous, but better than the first day,” he softly answers.
“Can you narrate it?”
“Sure.”
And he starts reading.
2 February
By the time I woke her up, she already had a plate containing orchid flowers and an envelope beside her. I woke her by rolling a leaf of orchid on her face. She gradually opened her eyes and blessed my morning with her smile.
“Morning!” she mumbled.
“Morning, my love!” I wished her with a brief kiss and helped her get up. She then picked up the envelope, opened it and read the note I had written for her.
Your blue sharp almond eyes,
Having a language of their own,
Never ending their temptation, seduction,
A glance of them strong enough to make me miss a beat,
You cannot take that away from me.
She blushed as she read.
“How was it?”
“Good! For a start…”
“You smart bitch!’
“Your smart bitch!”
And she won this one. In the past two years, I had won almost all our outsmarting competitions. I didn’t mind losing now – I could lose it all my life if it helped.
“I’m hungry now!” She cutely demanded by twitching her radiating face.
“Let me make the omelette for you,” I said and stood up and saw our folks standing there.
“Good morning kids!” Dad wished enthusiastically.
“Good morning dad!” We echoed together.
“I’m going to make the breakfast for us,” I voluntarily opted.
“You’ll need my help in that,” Mom said.
“Okay, till then I’ll bathe my princess!” said Dad with a smile. They didn’t leave the room before noticing the orchids and envelope with a proud smile on their face.
Mom and I headed for the kitchen. As we reached, she – as a woman, always curious about recipes – told me, “So now you can teach me the secret of your special omelettes. I’ve heard a lot about them.” She chuckled.
“Anytime mom!” I grinned.
“What do you need?”
“Six medium peeled potatoes, one yellow onion, five eggs, two boiled eggs, chopped red peppers, two-three cups of olive oil and a pan to fry.”
Within five minutes she placed everything I had asked for on the platform. I then slowly started cutting the peeled potatoes in half – trying my best not to cut them paper-thin.
“Why are you being so careful with the potatoes? We could chop them in the chopper!” Mom asked curiously.
“Well, always take care of not using the chopper for making this omelette. It will cut them too thin, which will ruin the shape and taste too.” She nodded her head and started cutting the peeled onions.
After cutting the potatoes and boiled eggs adequately thin, I mixed them with onions and salted the mixture. I then picked up a non-stick frying pan, heated the olive oil on medium heat. By carefully placing the mixture of potatoes, boiled eggs and onion into the frying pan, I spread them all over the surface. I revealed the first secret to her,
“At this point, you must take care of not burning the potatoes. It will affect the taste otherwise. The oil should cover almost all the potatoes.” She nodded in affirmation and I poked a piece of potato with a spatula to check if it breaks in two – it did. I signalled to mom that the potatoes were done. I then removed them from the pan with a spatula, allowing the oil to drain. After frying them, I placed the potato and onion mixture in a colander for a few minutes to allow more oil to drain. I did not forget to place a plate underneath to catch the oil, which I was about to use later.
It was now the time for my favourite part, cracking eggs. I cracked them in a large mixing bowl and beat them with a fork. I poured it in the mixture of onion, potatoes, and boiled eggs and mixed them together with a large spoon. I then picked up the smaller non-stick frying pan and let it heat on medium heat. When it started stirring, I placed the mixture into the pan and spreader it evenly. I then revealed two more secrets.
“Mom! One, do not forget to add chopped red pepper. Adding it later has its own reward. It will make the omelette a little more spicy and delicious. Two, allow the egg to cook around the edges.” She smiled at my determination and only then I realised how much I was sweating. I was delighted and at the same time optimistic for my hard work to pay off.
I then carefully lifted it up to see if it was browned enough or not – it was. It was going as I had hoped. Inside of the mixture was not completely cooked and the egg was still runny. I revealed my fourth secret to her.
“Mom, after cooking one side for four minutes, make sure that the bottom is brown just as it is; realise that it is now the time to flip the side. Do it by placing a dinner plate over the fr
ying pan and then flip it over but, not before warming it for thirty seconds.” I showed her as I said. I then shaped the sides of the omelette by spatula. After five minutes of cooking, I turned off the heat. I then revealed to her my fifth secret.
“Now that we have our omelette ready and cooked, do not get excited. Keep your calm and let it sit in the pan for two-minutes,” I quipped. She, by the time was impressed with my art of cooking, and patted my shoulder in appreciation.
When our princess arrived, breakfast was already waiting to go inside her ravenous mouth. Dad drove her beside me and I placed the napkin on her lap. I then picked up the butter-knife and fork, cut a slice from it and fed her.
“Mmm… This, I missed even more than you,” she gagged with a blink in her magnetic blue eyes.
“Obviously, a fat omelette is better than a fat boyfriend,” I simpered; she clenched her teeth with anger. I won this one. I can’t let her win each one without making an effort; it was against the rule. She ate her portion slowly and peacefully until she had her stomach full. I drove her to our room where she could rest while I held her hand.
In the afternoon, Ansh came. I needed him for the part I was writing. At first knowing that I was writing our story for her astounded him. Even with the pain in his heart, he told me everything I asked him, as honestly as he could. When he read the part I wrote, he said he would come back at night to hear my narration.
True to his words, he arrived just after dinner. Dad had already prepared the guest room for him to stay. After having coconut carrot soup made by me and mom, we three headed to our room where the words written in my diary were waiting to be told. After placing my girl on her bed, I sat beside her and Ansh sat on the chair.
Keeping the Promises Page 2