Life is but an illusion

“Kusum, I don’t...I don’t see why we need to spend....”

Violent spurts of coughing interrupt the man’s words

“Rakesh, please don’t exert yourself, and I won’t hear another word about your treatment expenses. We’ve been through this a hundred times. We cannot give up hope! No matter what it takes, we will come out of this stronger”, the woman named Kusum replied firmly, gently adjusting Rakesh’s hair into place.

Rakesh crinkled his eyebrows and sighed softly before offering his best attempt at a smile.

Meanwhile, a hospital cleaner stood outside with a wet mop, scrubbing the floor diligently with utmost concentration as if he could see the microbes wriggling away from his grasp. Although focused with single-minded determination, his demeanor was pleasant and carefree, as if there was nothing else he would rather do in the whole wide world.

On the 29th floor of the massive hospital complex was a deserted terrace. Lush, green plants stood at a height of about three feet, decorating the inner parapet. Modest lounge chairs were placed in square-shaped arrangements, and a thin canopy stood erect, providing some much-needed shade at the peak of the summer season. An easy-to-miss figure of a woman stood dangerously close to the outer parapet. Clad in a simple white cotton top and khaki trousers, with her back, turned to the terrace entrance, she had neatly groomed, bob-cut hair that now roared rebelliously to the tunes of the humid wind. Appearing to be lost in her own world, she continued staring at the expansive, clear blue sky.

Tara stared outside the large glass window as she took a break from sorting patient files in the secure cupboard. She wore cotton pants and a buttoned-down shirt in the unmissable color of the hospital - a dull blue. The neatly pinned white tag on her right shirt pocket had her name embossed in block letters - TARA JAISWAL. Beneath that, in smaller font, was her role - Admin Department Intern.

“Guru Ji! Please come in!” Kusum ushered an elderly-looking religious man, clad in a white dhoti and pants, wearing a saffron-colored top.

The man had a free-spirited, long white beard, kind, piercing eyes, and a face wrinkled with the passage of time. The man approached Rakesh’s bed while Kusum fussed about, dusting the sofa near the window, which was already spotlessly clean. She retrieved a washed cotton sheet and gently covered the sofa before bringing out fruits and a jug of water for the Guru.

“How do you feel, Rakesh?” the Guru asked as if he were testing him.

“It’s getting much worse, Guru Ji. The doctors have told us it has progressed much more rapidly over the past few weeks - I can barely breathe these days. Not to mention....”

Small spurts of violent coughs interrupted Rakesh’s speech.

“There’s been more blood coming out from his coughs recently” Kusum added, biting her lips to send the sprouting tears back their way.

The Guru Ji offered neither consoling words nor a sympathetic nod. He smiled and closed his eyes before settling into a meditative posture on the sofa.