waiting

Waiting

The air inside the visitor's room had become stale. They were far too many people huddled together in-groups of two or three and some were single like him. Many had fallen asleep after they had recovered somewhat from the initial anxiety of admitting their relatives and friends. Now tiredness had replaced their anxiety.
His mouth tasted sour after the sleeplessness of the two previous nights. He longed for a smoke and got up to light a cigarette. No amount of anti-smoking campaign had succeeded in curing him of his desire to smoke in times like this. Some kind of companionship, temporary oblivion, the cigarette gave him. An escapist's attitude, he knew. Most women, at least in India, did not smoke, no matter how trying the situations they faced. Must be stronger than people like him. He wondered how long this wait would continue.
Suddenly a young girl in her twenties sitting in one corner of the room caught his attention. She was wearing spectacles but he could clearly see the glasses had been stained by tears and had become misty. He easily spotted the mark running down her cheeks, which her dried-up tears had left. He tried to remember if she was there last night. Amazing how little you notice around you when you are preoccupied with your own thoughts. She looked so frightened, lost so vulnerable, She was big enough to be his daughter; yes he reflected; if he had married and had settled down, she could well have been his daughter. A sudden surge of compassion engulfed him. He wanted to put his arm around her just to re-assure her. Perhaps her relatives had taken a break while she kept vigil. But her eyes were closed and her hands locked in prayer. Was she sleeping or was she praying? He really couldn't tell. It wouldn't be right to disturb her. She might even take offence with his uncalled for solicitousness.
He left the room and came out. At once he felt his tiredness lifting. He lighted his cigarette and thought a cup of coffee would be welcome. He proceeded to the cafeteria of the nursing home. He was surprised to see an almost festive mood in the cafeteria as if it was more of a coffeehouse or snack bar where people had congregated to talk themselves mad to relieve their tension. The noise and the bright lights shocked him into realizing that outside the visitor's room, a whole big world existed about which he had almost forgotten in the last two days. Probably, his problems were not half as important as those of the girl in the visitor's room. After all, he had reached an age when you learn to take most things in your stride after having experienced myriad of events, both good and bad. And this was not the first time Mother was ill. She had gone into diabetic coma twice before and had come out of it gradually but this time of course the stroke had been a massive one and age too was a factor. She was eighty. Moreover, in addition to the paralysis that had affected her left side, she had developed pneumonia and her kidneys had stopped functioning. The doctors had put her on the dialysis machine and were now using a ventilator to ease her breathing. Her brain was dead and yet she continued to live. But for this young girl, he thought, it might be her first brush with death. Who was it? Was it her father, mother, brother or sister? Painful and traumatic anyway. In time, she would learn to cope like all people do in course of their lives. But youngsters should be insulated from such harrowing experiences. As though out of a strong sense of urgency to protect the girl immediately, he got up to go back.
A loud wail numbed him as he opened the door of the visitor's room. Two middle-aged women were crying inconsolably as the body of a young boy in his teens was wheeled out of the ICU. Cabin No. 4, next to Mother, he knew had head injury, a case of accident. It was pointless to offer any consolation. People are so lonely in their own private sorrows at times that even solace becomes an intrusion. His eyes searched for the girl sitting in the corner. Her mouth was covered with her cotton 'dupatta', her glasses were off, there were dark, big circles under her eyes that were sunken and her body rocked with her sobs. She kept on looking at the two women near the door and yet her eyes had a vacant expression almost looking through these women and setting at a point beyond them; far away.
She needed some help.
"It's all right, my dear girl. Now, now, just relax. Calm down. Are you alone?" She could not speak but shook her head to affirm her singleness.
"Would you like some water? I'll get you some." Her agony was much less as she slowly emptied the glass.
"Would you like some coffee?"
She again shook her head to refuse his offer.
"All right. Who's ill, my dear?"
She started sobbing all over again. He put his hand on her head as if to bless her.
"It's my mother. She, she has had a cardiac arrest. Last night I brought her here. And, and _______________".
She covered her mouth once again so as to cry inaudibly.
"Now, don't worry. She'll be O.K. Where's your father?", He asked sitting next to her.
"I don't have a father, I never had one, I wish I had".
She had managed to stop sobbing and was now wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry about it but believe in the fact that she will be all right. Did you speak to the doctors? Who is treating her case?"
"Dr. B. Gupta. He says I'll have to wait. They can't say anything until 72 hours have gone by. Her condition is not stable".
"You're lucky, child. Dr. Gupta is a very competent physician. Your mother is in safe hands. I know him. He's treating my mother too. If you wish, I'll speak to him".
"Oh, please do!" There was entreaty in her eyes. "I don't know what to do."
"Sure. But you've got to promise me something".
She raised her eyes questioningly.
"Promise not to break down like this again. If you cry, you will lose the courage and the positive waves you can send her through your prayers. Promise?"
"Promise".
A bleak smile crossed her lips but was soon lost somewhere behind those hollow-eyes.
"That's a brave girl. I'm Pranesh Choudhury. What's your name?"
"Shalini".
"Shalini, now would you like a coffee? It much better outside".
She thought for a while and then agreed.
In the cafeteria, she walked straight to the basin to wash her tear-stained face. Pranesh realized she was rather good looking. Fair, tall slim with black wavy hair caressing her shoulders. She could be attractive in happier moments. What a pity she had to contend with such a situation when she was so young and that too all by herself.
"Where do you live Shalini?"
"I'm doing my post graduation in Genetics in Hyderabad. I'm in the hostel but my mother lives here in Sonari. Her own house; her ancestral house. Do you live here?"
"No, I live in Delhi now. I was in the States for eight years but now I am working in Delhi. My mother lives here in our house in Ambagan. Do you know Ambagan?"
"Yes in Sakchi."
She looked quite composed now sipping her coffee. "So, you see Shalini, both of us have so much in common. Both our mothers are alone and live by themselves, but the difference is your mother must be much younger than my mother".
"Yes and to be suffering so much. I know its all because of me, she keeps worrying about my future."
"But why does she worry about such a capable girl?"