Keeping the Promises (2 page)

“M? Is there any hope where we can start your therapy again and try to save you?” Her face frowned as she heard my words; she took a deep audible gasp and I felt every bit of her inhalation and exhalation.

“I’ve my reasons for doing this, Mithu! Maybe someday you’ll understand, maybe not, but from here, it’s irrevocable. I’m dying and no one can change it.”

“I can! We can start your therapies again, and from now, I’ll be here with you all the time, and I’ll not let you die, understand?” I groaned, while she kept weeping.

“Understand, my love?” I raised my voice, as if I was challenging her death, which was nearby and could be arriving anytime soon. I
realized I had been a little loud. Even her father had heard it, and swung the door open to come inside. I stood up.

“Sir, I would like to seek your permission,” I softly demanded. Before I could even explain what it was, he answered me, as if he knew it was coming.

“You can stay here as long as you want son. You deserve the remaining time that is left with her and I would do every possible thing I can to help you in that.”

I was dumbfounded by his guess. After gathering the courage to speak something, I uttered, “Thank you, sir. M, I’m going to bring my clothes and some other stuff. Wait for me, okay?” She nodded and I left the room.

Back in my house, I was packing my clothes and other necessary stuff when my father and brother came into my room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dad scoffed.

I rushed towards them and hugged them both.

“Dad, Bhai! I know I’ve always been a troubled child for you two. I screwed up my life, jeopardized my career, but believe me, I need to go now. I can’t tell you where I’m going, but I need you two to trust me on this. I know you have so many reasons not to trust me, but still, if you ever thought that I was good, please let me go. I promise I’ll come back being better and stronger than ever,” I said. I wasn’t usually a crybaby. They had hardly seen me crying after puberty. They didn’t say anything, nor did they oppose. I considered it an affirmation and took my bag and started to walk.

“Dhruv!” I heard my brother’s voice from behind.

“Yes, Bhai?”

“Remember, if you need anything, and I mean anything, we are just one call away and I dare you to come back with my brother who used to be a better person.” I nodded, smiled and walked out.

I reached her apartment. Her father was waiting for me – to lead me to his parking lot where I could park my car. I followed as he said and parked the car, took my bag from the side-seat and stepped out.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate what you are doing. I know allowing her daughter’s boyfriend…”

I was still speaking when he interrupted me, “Son, she is my only daughter. Right now, we cannot afford the luxury of those negative thoughts; we all have limited time with her, so together, let’s try to make it cheerful,” he said and put his hand on my shoulder.

“We will, sir!” I firmly said.

“And I have a request! Call me dad from now on if you don’t mind. We do not have the time to get you married with her but at least we can enjoy a father-son equation till you are here.” He said with a smirk. I realized we shared the same pain, the same unbearable grief, the same heart-wrenching anguish. She didn’t choose death over me; she chose death over us.

“We will dad!” I gently said and we both went inside.

As soon as I reached her room, I placed my stuff in her wardrobe, which her mom cleaned and emptied for me. I took out some orchids – her favourite flower – which I had bought specially for her.

“You are not moving in here permanently, are you?” She chuckled as she watched me from her bed.

“May be, who knows?” I replied with a wink.

“But what would I get in return to let you stay here?” She moved her eyes, as provocatively as she used to while teasing me.

“I can be your full time caretaker ma’am!” I meekly answered.

“Good! But, not enough! I want you to wake me up with these flowers.”

“Checked!”

“Every morning, I need these orchids. Don’t you dare wake me if you do not have them.”

“As you wish, my blue eyed girl!”

“After that, your special omelettes! You’ll be badly punished if I don’t find it tasty, even once.”

“Checked!”

“You will have to write a story for me, every afternoon when I go to sleep; do not waste your time by just looking at me. Make the best use of yourself, write a story for me and wait till we finish our dinner, which obviously will be cooked by you and only after that, you are allowed to narrate your story to me. If I find it boring, you shall be punished.”

“That was unpredictable, but checked!”

“I’ll take a promise from you, every night before we go to sleep, and you will keep it till your last breath, clear?”

“As crystal ma’am, checked!” I bowed on my knees.

“It’s almost afternoon now, I’m going to sleep. There is a diary inside and an ink pen. You’ll be pleasured to write with it. Now come here and do something useful.”

She fell asleep. I didn’t realize how the afternoon turned itself into an evening. I kept writing, not just any other story, but the story of our life. Words kept coming till I was sure that I had enough for the day. By the time it was already five, and she was still sleeping – quietly, in the world of her dreams. I put down the diary and held her hand. A girl, who meant my life, was on the verge of dying. She could have stayed, at least for a few more years, if she had her therapies or a surgical amputation of the infected limb, which I was yet to see. I was just observing her face, her only visible part. I was lost in her memories when her mom came inside.

“What will you have for dinner, son?”

“Auntie, you’re going to make it now? Wait, I have been ordered to help you.”

“It’s fine son! Just tell me, what will you.”

“You are not getting my point auntie. Your daughter will not see my face until I cook for her.” I chortled; she guffawed, as she understood whose order I was obeying.

“As you wish son, let’s go.”

And I followed her to the kitchen. Dad was already waiting for us there.

“Three cooks for one person? My princess is apparently having a royal treatment,” Dad chuckled.

“Yes, Dad! But let me take the charge now, what does she eat for dinner?” Seeing me call him dad dumbfounded her mother, but in a minute, she was delighted.

“Okay then, I’m sitting outside as it’s the news time.” He said and walked out. I asked her mother what usually she had for her dinner. She said that usually at nights, doctors had suggested only soup for her. They said it mattered a little now, but light food like soup could prevent her chocking due to foreign bodies. Her mother broke into tears. I found that not only dad and I, M had chosen death over her mother too.

I decided to make roasted garlic and tomato soup. As I always had a soft corner for cooking, it was going to be an honour as well as pleasure to cook for my girl. We checked the ingredients – tomatoes, garlic, onion which had to be chopped, bay leaf, salt, basil leaves, fresh thyme, tomato puree, crushed black peppercorns, white bread slices and basil oil. Everything was set. I then cut the tomatoes into big pieces while her mother chopped the onions in the chopper, then I cut a thin slice from the bottom of the garlic bulb, and placed it in a bowl to roast it in an oven until it turned brown.

“It smells good, now what?” Her mother asked as she pulled out the bowl.

“We need to heat two spoons of olive oil auntie!” I softly answered.

“Dhruv, it’s quite unfair that you call my husband dad and me auntie?” She quipped with a smile. I realized we all had turned into eccedentesiasts – people who hide their pain behind their smiles.

“We need to heat olive oil, Mom!” I grinned, and she responded with a smile too. I thanked my God for blessing me with new parents.

She then heated the two-teaspoon olive oil in a non-stick pan. After it was heated enough, I added chopped onion, tomatoes and bay leaf in it. Then I sprinkled salt in it and mixed it until the mixture was ready for some garlic cloves in it. Then I added thyme and one cup of water to cook. It was now the time to add tomato puree and mix it, but not before adding basil leaves and crushed peppercorns in it. It was now tomato’s turn to become soft and it took around ten minutes of covered cooking to do it. I then gently removed the strain and reserved the stock, not before removing the thyme and the garlic cloves from the solids. I let it cool and then ground it to a puree with a little water. I also added the bread pieces and ground once more. I poured the strained stock and the puree into the pan and brought it to a boil but not before adjusting salt, and the soup was ready. I poured it into a soup bowl and made it ready to be served.

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.