The Soulmates

As the stretcher made its way through a pale, narrow, lonely hospital passage, the lights flickered like a jerky ECG. It’s amazing how everything inside a hospital ends up being haunting. The smell, the blood, the white, the light. As if on cue, the door creaked. The stretcher was pushed inside a dimly lit room. ′Gold Package - 308′ the door plate read. ‘Gold Package’ term in Nanavati Hospital meant, two patients shared a single AC room. The room being equipped with all the latest Medicare facilities; whichever was essential. A giant ventilator loomed like a dementor over the two bodies lying next to each other in the room. Except this dementor did not suck life out of the body, it shoved it right in.

"Gunjan’s external injuries will heal eventually, but the real damage is internal.“, Dr. Joshi took a pause and continued, ”The lack of oxygen to her Brain tissues has caused an Anoxic Brain injury. A state of deep Coma. Her eyes might be half-open, but she is completely unconscious of her surroundings. One can simply not predict with this kind of case. It may take days or months or even years for her to actually be awake.”

The Kaushik family’s faces hung.

"I want the best available care for my child." Mr. Kaushik’s tired voice choked mid sentence. Mrs. Kaushik sniffled hiding behind her Son’s shoulders. Rohit stood silent, expressionless.

"We are all here for her.“, Dr. Joshi Assured tapping Mr. Kaushik’s shoulder. ”Co-incidentally we have an identical case here in the same room. Tushar Sharma had sustained a similar injury last year. He has been here since. The routines and medications for both the patients will almost be same.” Dr. pointed towards the other bed.

Tushar’s middle aged parents curiously listening the entire discussion from the other end of the room got up to acknowledge.

Mrs. Sharma, Tushar’s mother initiated, ”Dr. Joshi is a godsend. From the day he has arrived, my son has started getting better. I am sure it’s just a matter of days now when Tushar jumps out of the bed and asks for Gajar ka Halwa“, she laughed nervously. Her son hadn’t moved an inch in the last 10 months.

Nobody smiled. Nobody even looked up. The Kaushik family’s grief was recent, sensitive. Unlike Tushar’s family, they hadn’t had the anesthesia of Time blunting out the pain of memories. The smiles were impossible right now.

Tushar’s father, Mr. Anil Sharma stepped ahead and intervened, ”I am sorry for her. We are Tushar’s parents. I can understand what you must be going through right now. No parent deserves to see their child like this" his voice was low but calm.

"Actually, we are Gunjan’s in-laws. Our son Rohit is her husband.” Mr. Kaushik answered, nudging Rohit ahead.

They shook hands.

Hours passed and the people inside the hospital gradually dispersed. The Sharmas left at the dinner time. Rohit dragged his parents home a little later. People without the injected glucose still had to eat on their own. The wind got heavier and colder as the night progressed. The windows’ flaps banged almost rhythmically along with the ‘whoosh’ of the ventilators inside. Gunjan would have never allowed her breath to make so much noise. She hated noise. Unless it came from a magical creature on television. From either Simba or Uncle Scrooge or Albus Dumbledore.

It was almost as if Gunjan had stopped growing up after she had turned 12 in 2006. The year when her parents died. Her father’s best friend, Mr. Kaushik immediately took Gunjan in. The Kaushik family treated her as one of their own. In fact, Mr. Kaushik loved Gunjan more than his own son Rohit. But Mr. Kaushik failed to realize that, a father to his daughter is more than just a Santa Clause. A father needs to be her Guide, her Inspiration, her Companion. She had found her Dad in Mr. Kaushik, but she could never find her Friend in her Dad.

Mrs. Kaushik too, always spoke politely. She never behaved motherly, but she never misbehaved either. The difference between a real family and a foster family is that the feeling of ‘love’ is then replaced by the feeling of ‘care’ sprinkled with generous doses of ‘hesitation’. Gunjan tried to be the perfect child. The Kaushik family was protective towards her, maybe even over protective. She spent most of her time watching TV at home or studying in her room. She topped her classes right through her academics. And when she broke the university record in her final year, everyone around her was really happy. Because, she was now primed to get married to Rohit. Within a month, they were honeymooning in Phuket. Within a year, there were whispers about a baby. Gunjan’s life was moving like a roller-coaster on its way up. Then one fateful moment, the roller-coaster dived down. And brought down Gunjan with it. Down from the 6th Floor. Right on top of a white Mercedes. From the honking alarms of the Mercedes to the sirens of the ambulances, she had quietly slipped into coma. Rohit called it an accident.

“She slipped on the wet floor of the balcony”, he stated. Customarily, the family didn’t doubt the circumstances. Gunjan kept mute, as she had, all through her life. This time though, the coma didn’t help either.

Tushar on the other hand, had a much louder valediction. He kept shouting his friend’s contact number to his parents even while he was being hurried on to the ICU. The friend whom his parents could contact for medical insurance money. That was all he cared about. To ease out his parents’ problems. He was never the one grieving over troubles. He contemplated solutions. If Optimism was an Olympics team, Tushar was its flag-bearer. When you grow up in a modest background and land up a decent job on pure merit, you become the savior of the family. The one with the halo over head and the onus on shoulders. Like all good kids, Tushar reveled in responsibilities. He didn’t work hard out of pressure or pity for his parents’ condition, he slogged because he loved to. Tushar admired his parents. He admired their love for each other. Their family had no relatives, no close friends. They never felt the need. Their 400 sq. ft. 1 Room-Kitchen home had more warmth than the Buckingham Palace.

But now, everything was ruined. The duty wasn’t supposed to be over so early. Tushar had so much to do, so much to achieve. If only he hadn’t pestered his parents to watch Baahubali at Imax. If only he hadn’t booked the movie tickets and the OLA Auto ride. If only the rickshaw had arrived to the left of the road. If only the Audi driver had stopped at the red light. If only his Dad wasn’t there witnessing his Son fly in the air and slam against the divider. If only.

All that they quote about Life being a box of chocolates, or a melting Ice-Cream was probably true, but what if the Ice-Cream cone fell down mid-way. From the 6th Floor. On a highway-divider.