Maybe not for her, but it was definitely new for me. I was not able to stand seeing my better-half in that state. I was getting frustrated by the nurse's behavior but I knew we were not in a position to do anything which might add to our miseries. I stood beside Khushi, holding her hands in mine in order to prevent her from taking off the saline and ventilator tubes.

*Apart from you, everybody can leave this room,' the nurse said pointing at me.

*Why?' I asked her in a gentle tone.

*We are going to begin the scan and usually we allow attendants to stay only if we need them. I need you to hold her hands throughout the scan or she might take off her saline needle,' she explained.

Dad, Jiju and the ward boy left the room. The nurse closed the door from inside and gave me a sleeveless jacket, to protect me from the rays coming out of that giant white wheel, I think. She then went inside the control room to operate the machine. Back in this room, I was standing, holding my beloved's hands, looking at her face. My heart bargaining with G.o.d, *Anything, but not her.'

Gradually I felt the strength with which she was trying to shake her hands. It was getting difficult for me to hold her firmly without hurting her. No one was around us. I steeled myself to hold her tight.

And I started talking to her.

'Hey, dear. I am so sorry if I am hurting you, but this is for your good. I am doing this because I want you to get well soon. I am doing this because you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I don't want to see that going away from me because I simply cannot think of living without you. Come back to me, please. Open your eyes and see, your Shona is here for you.'

Holding her hands in mine, I bent down to whisper in her ears, *Fight. Fight for me. For all of us. And I promise you, we will provide you the best hospital, the best doctors, the best medicine and the best care.'

For rest of the few minutes, I kept seeing her face.

Meanwhile, the nurse came in from the control room confirming that the scan was done. I realized that the sound coming from the machine wasn't there any more. She opened the door and I saw Dad and Jiju standing outside, looking at me.

With the help of the ward boy, we then shifted her back to the stretcher. This time, I took care to shift the saline pouch, the urine bag and the ventilator along with her. I didn't want anybody to make any mistake this time. After shifting her back to the stretcher, the ward boy wheeled her out of the scan room. We too were walking along with them. Back at the entrance, I saw the reception lady again, looking at me. *I am sorry,' I said and pa.s.sed by her. On the way back to the ICU the nurse took a different route-an elevator that led to the ICU. Our entrance was prohibited. We stood there, seeing them taking her away.

I joined my palms, praying to G.o.d to take care of her and make her get well soon. Then we returned to the ICU attendant-hall, back on the same chairs, amid the same crowd, hearing similar announcements. A little later, Jiju left for home after Dad insisted that he go and take some rest. Dad and I spent the rest of the time in the hospital sitting on our chair, confined to the attendant-hall.

Whatever I had seen in the past few hours was flashing through my brain. Her face, her hands and my one-sided conversation with her.

*Did she recognize my voice? Did she hear me talking to her? Did she want to say something to me?' These were the questions I was asking myself again and again. For hours, I struggled with these questions and bad thoughts at one end, and prayers and hopes at the other.

It was 3 p.m. when Pushkar arrived at the hospital with a lunch-box. I met him while I was coming out of the restroom and updated him about today's CT scan.

*So did the doctors talk about the reports too?' he asked.

*Not yet. They might, during the evening counseling hours,' I said.

*Hmm ... I thought so. By the way, I have got lunch for you and Dad and me,' he said.

*I think it would be better to send Dad back home, so that he can have his lunch comfortably there and rest a little. He seems to be tired.'

*That's fine. I'll be here with you.'

We then moved towards the attendant-hall.

Despite Dad's reluctance, we succeeded in sending him back home.

I had my lunch after that. For the next few hours, Pushkar and I were talking to each other, about our office, family and friends. And our Khushi.

It was 5.30 in the evening when we saw Deepu coming out of the elevator. The visiting hours had started and I knew he was here to see his sister. He sat beside us, talking about the little problem with his car and that it needed servicing. Dad had already told him about the morning's CT scan.

When our turn was announced, we asked him to go ahead to the ICU. Back in the hall, Pushkar and I were worried about the CT-scan report. Our eyes were glued to the ICU door, waiting for Deepu to come out with some update from the doctors. And nearly fifteen minutes later, we saw him coming out. We got up from our seats and went to him.

*The doctors say that the blood clots are still persisting in didi's brain. But the good thing is that they have not worsened,' he said before we could ask him.

*Anything else?' I wanted to know.

*Nothing as such. She is in a subconscious state and moving her hands and legs.'

We stood near that ICU door for a while before we walked back to our seats, where we sat for another hour or so. Meanwhile, Dad called up Deepu on his cell. He wanted me to come back home. Though I was not willing to leave the hospital, the frequent announcements finally made me leave. According to the announcements, only the attendants having ICU pa.s.ses were allowed to stay back on this floor and the checking was about to begin. We just had two pa.s.ses with us and one of us had to leave. I did not feel like asking either Pushkar or Deepu to do so and so I agreed to go.

*I'll drop you home,' Deepu said.

*OK,' I said looking at him and Pushkar.

*Have some tea at home and relax a bit. You've been here since morning,' Pushkar said, patting my shoulder.

*I will. See you later.'

*See you.'

While going down in the elevator, I was asking myself-and G.o.d, if He could answer me-when she was going to open her eyes and talk to me. When would I hear the doctors say that she is out of danger? When will things be all right for all of us again? I begged G.o.d to talk to me and answer my questions.

Once at the ground floor, we came out of the hospital. It was cold outside. Deepu was saying something to me which I ignored, stuck in my one-sided conversation with G.o.d. Looking down at the road, lost in my thoughts, I walked out of the hospital exit following Deepu's footsteps.

*That's our car, over there,' Deepu pointed.

Without responding, I followed him and got in the car. My silence was obtrusive. But then something happened in that car which made me feel good and broke my silence. The moment he started the engine, the music system turned on and the paused song continued: *I am gonna wake up ... It's not my time to go ... I guess I will die another day ...'

I heard the words very clearly, coming out of the music system in his car that night. Making myself comfortable on the seat now, I was wondering if this was just another song or if it was G.o.d himself trying to make my conversation two-sided, or if this was Khushi somehow conveying what she wanted to tell me when I was holding her hands in mine. I don't know what it was but, those lyrics were more than just words. Or maybe it is human tendency to choose something which gives the maximum comfort.

*Amen,' I wished in my heart and, feeling a little better, started talking to Deepu.

We reached home and after a while Deepu was about to leave when Dad asked him to have dinner first, so that he didn't have to come back again. In the living room I saw Jiju and Daan playing with each other. Seeing me, Neeru prepared some tea for both Jiju and me. For the next half an hour, the entire family was in the living-room. That night, we had our dinner at around nine, after which Deepu left for the hospital. I wanted to go back to the hospital with him, but I knew Susant was going to accompany him there for the night. Moreover, someone at home mentioned that Susant would be traveling to Chandigarh tomorrow and would return after two or three days. I thought I'd replace him on those successive nights. Pushkar was supposed to leave for his office that night for some important calls.

I spent that night in her room again, on her bed. Before closing my eyes I recollected moments from our happy days and prayed to G.o.d to heal her. And so another day in my life pa.s.sed in prayers, hope and anxiety.

The next day was pretty much like the previous one. Dad, Jiju and I were at the hospital by 10.30 a.m. Deepu told us about the doctors' plan to operate on her thighs and jaw that very day. According to them, she was in a better condition now and thus they were going ahead with the surgery. We were asked to replace a jaw-plate at the hospital bank, as the doctors were going to use one while operating on her jaw. Moreover, we had to arrange four blood donors for replacement as approximately four units of blood was going to be used for the operation.

I didn't know about this blood-replacement principle earlier. Dad told me that whenever a blood unit is used for a patient, the same amount has to be replaced by the attendants of the patient, usually within twenty-four hours. It was not about getting some certified blood from a blood bank-what we needed was people who would donate their blood in this hospital's blood donation center.

*So we are now supposed to search four donors whose blood groups are A+ and are willing to give us blood in the next twenty-four hours?' I asked Dad. I knew that, in her entire family, only her Dad was A+ and everyone else was O+, even me.

*No, for replacement, donors can be of any blood group. The only condition is that an equivalent number of units needs to be donated. And we already have arranged the donors,' Deepu clarified.

*Who are they?' I asked *Two of Susant's close friends, the admin from CSC and me.'

*Even I can be a donor. We can ask one of Susant's friends to stay back,' I said.

*Everybody is here by now and we should judiciously use persons from our family to donate blood. There can be worst-case scenarios any moment, where we might not find others to donate blood on time. Remember, if you donate blood now, you can't for the next three months.' He had a point. I just wished that the worst-case scenarios would not arrive.

*I will go with Susant's friends to the blood bank and after that I will leave for home. Need to have some food before donating blood,' he said and went off.

My cellphone rang, then. I looked at my watch while taking the cell from my pocket. It was 11 and I knew this was mom's call. She would ring me twice everyday to get an update about our discussions with the doctors.

*Sat Sri Akal, Mumma,' I said, moving out of the crowded hall.

*Sat Sri Akal, beta. How are you?'

*I am fine. How is your backache? Any relief?'

*It's the same as before. It becomes troublesome at times, but I am fine. Any update on Khushi's condition?'

I told her about the doctor's decision to operate on Khushi today and the blood replenishment thing. She expressed concern about the operation and I tried to comfort her, saying it was because Khushi was better today that the doctors could take this decision. As usual, she also asked me about Khushi's mother and rest of the family. Before hanging up, she consoled me, as always, saying that G.o.d is great and would take care of her.

*Yeah, I know she will be fine. You take care and I will call you again in the evening.' With that, I hung up and moved back to the attendant-hall to locate Dad and Jiju.

*They are going to start the operation at 1.30,' Dad told me.

*Do we need to do anything else for the operation, apart from the donors and the jaw-plate replacement?' I asked.

*I asked but, according to the doctors, we don't need to do anything else at our end.'

The operation began on time, that afternoon. I was told that it was going to take at least three hours. We all were now sitting in a different waiting-hall on the 1st floor of the building. In front was a door with *OT' written on it and a red bulb above it which was switched on.

The anxiety and the chill were back in me and I think it was the same with all of us. We were scarcely talking. Stranded between fear and hope, pacing up and down the waiting-hall. Time stood still. Minutes pa.s.sed like hours, hours like days. And all along, there were our fears and hopes, battling with each other, winning and losing at different moments.

I stood at the window, watching the traffic outside and the weather which was changing drastically. All of a sudden it was getting dark. Black clouds hovered in the skies of Faridabad. It was going to rain heavily. I was still looking through the window when my phone rang. It was Happy. I picked up his call.

*Hey! Happy veer.'

*Hey! How is my brother doing and how is my bhabhi now?'

*They are operating on the fractures in her thighs and jaw. It's going to take two more hours.'

*But when I last called, you said the doctors were not going to operate on her so soon?'

*Yes, but this morning they said that she was in a better condition to be operated now.'

*That means she is improving.'

*I hope so. I just want to see her well yaar,' I said in a low voice.

*Oh, come on, buddy. She is going to be absolutely fine. See, she has shown some improvement, that's why the doctors have gone ahead with the operation. It's just a matter of time and we will be dancing together to the beats of bhangra at your engagement ... What say?' He tried to console me and make me feel better.

*Yeah,' I said. *I just need her so badly ... every d.a.m.n thought is shaking me inside and ... You know how madly I love her. I feel so lonely in this crowd just because I am not able to talk to her.'

*I know dear. But take this as a challenge, as a test, and I am sure you will come out of it with flying colours. Just think of the good time which is going to come after this hard time, when she will open her eyes and talk to you.'

I wished every single letter of what he said would come true, no matter what. I was about to ask him something when, all of a sudden, I started losing his voice. I could see water splashing on the window, a few inches from my nose. In no time, it had started raining heavily and all I could say was, *I can't hear you ... It's raining heavily,' before the phone got disconnected.

I looked out of the window to see people rushing into the hospital or their vehicles. Seeing that rain, all of a sudden I had this unbearable urge to hear her voice. She used to enjoy the rains while talking to me and, maybe because of that, I too had developed a romantic tendency to talk to her when it rained. It was a long time since I had last heard her voice and I badly wanted to hear my beloved voice again.

I ran outside in that heavy rain. I searched for a cyber cafe and satisfied my urge by listening to the voice messages she left for me while I was abroad.

I was completely drenched from outside.

And from inside.

One evening, just like any weekday evening, I am playing snooker with my friends at my office's health club.

Khushi is giving me missed calls, wanting me to call her. The balance in her cellphone is low. But I am not calling her back. I am busy playing my game. In a couple of months there is a Snooker tournament in Infosys, Bhubaneswar, and I am practicing hard for it.

My phone rings for the third time. I disconnect.

She calls again. I am p.i.s.sed off and pick up the call.

*What?'

*Why aren't you picking up the phone?'

*I am practicing snooker. You know that I am busy playing at this time.'

*You don't have time for me? Not even five minutes?'

*Khushi, please! Can we talk later? They all are waiting for my shot.'

*Ok, bye.'

I keep my cellphone far away from the snooker table and resume playing. An hour later, after winning the rack of the last game, I go back to pick my phone.

There is a message in it. From her.

U might be happy 2 win d tournament, bt someday u might b sad, wen u might wish 2 tlk 2 me bt I might not b able 2 do so.

Nothing changed. Even after four days, things remained the same-her unconsciousness, the doctors' inability to say anything definite, our fears, our prayers and our tears.

Time and again, we were asking the doctors if we needed to take any second opinion on her treatment. If we could get her treated somewhere else before it was too late. But they were non-committal.

With each pa.s.sing day, her battle with death was getting more difficult. Constantly being on the ventilator, she got pneumonia, her lungs were lacking blood. She started bleeding somewhere inside her intestine. She had already been given ten units of blood but her falling blood pressure didn't gain any sustenance.

The threat of the worst changed me. All of a sudden, I started believing in all kinds of superst.i.tions and myths. Had anyone told me-*Pick up a few pebbles from the road and eat them. It will save her.'-I would have done that too. I was so desperate to make her well that I was ready to do anything. Anything. Without a second thought.

The mental burden I was carrying-we all were carrying-was just too much. Waiting, hoping for some good news, which we did not get. Instead, the bad news, the new miseries kept piling on. I could even feel my helplessness and frustration leading to a mental breakdown. And it was hard to stay positive and not lose my cool and patience.

Later that evening, the doctors permitted us to take a second opinion for her treatment. Which meant that they felt they could not do more. Her condition was deteriorating.

We all made up our mind. Apollo Hospital was our last medical hope.

Moving a patient who was so serious was going to be the toughest part of her treatment. Taking her out from the atmosphere of a protected ICU into the open air full of bacteria and viruses, then her transit from Faridabad to Delhi in an ambulance, running amid the busiest traffic-all this involved so much risk. Even the thought of it gave me jitters. A single mistake could lead to disaster. But we had no other alternative.