Page 58 of Can This Be Love?

‘Your specialty, Doctor Sa’ab?’

‘Ortho,’ he said.

I rolled my eyes. This covert way of checking if Dad’s memory was working fine was ridiculous. Of course, as soon as Dad had come into his private room, I had asked him what two-plus-two was. He had smiled and rattled off the multiplication table of thirty-seven, which had Mum really worried for a second; after all, seventy-four was not the sum of two and two.

‘Your name, Doctor Sa’ab,’ she asked again.

Dad looked at her and, with a straight face, said, ‘Pintu.’

Pitajee laughed for two minutes without stopping. Seeing him in splits, Mum joined in, as did Anu. Even I managed a small smile. The nurse on the other hand, scuttled out as soon as she could.

8.00 p.m.

I was sitting on the floor outside Dad’s room, taking a moment to myself. I rested my head against the wall as sounds of laughter from the room reached me. Purva, Mum, Anu and Pitajee were inside, entertaining Dad. Eleven times since Dad’s surgery, various doctors have tousled my hair and told me that subdural hematoma is an uncomplicated surgery. I am, of course, ready to kill anyone who repeats that to me. It is my dad. Even if subdural hematoma needed the simplest surgery known to man, it happened to my dad and, because of that simple fact, it is, for me, a big deal.

I was thinking these angry, dark thoughts when someone touched my hand gently, startling me out of my reverie.

Pitajee. He joined me on the floor and held my tightly-clamped fist. I smiled weakly at him, eyes tearing up for no reason. Slowly, finger by finger, Pitajee unfurled my fist. It was then that I realized that I had had my hands balled up in a fist pretty much ever since I had got that call from Mum. It is something I do whenever I am stressed.

‘Relax now, Kas. We are all here and will see this through,’ he said, putting a hand on my head. Snuggling close to him for comfort, I rested my head on his shoulder and we sat like that, watching people walk by.

‘Pitajee,’ I said, staring at the wall in front of me.

‘Hmm?’

‘I messed up.’

He said nothing.

‘I made a terrible mistake.’

Still nothing.

‘I love Purva.’

‘What about that scum-eating, cheating bastard?’ Pitajee asked finally.

I grinned. ‘I would not know.’

A satisfied sigh from Pitajee.

‘I won’t bug you with questions, Kas, but I do have a comment,’ he paused and then continued when I looked at him quizzically. ‘You are the biggest idiot on this planet, Kas.’

‘Yes,’ I said, nodding my head in agreement. There was no denying that now.

‘You need to be worried, Kas,’ he drawled.

‘Why?’ I asked, sitting straighter.

‘Purva’s Mum is keen for her son to be married as soon as possible. She mentioned something about planting a pretty girl in front of him so that he can get over the crazy girl who returned the engagement ring. And,’ he continued, mimicking my sing-song voice, ‘in case you did not realize it, you, my dear, are the crazy one.’

I slumped back against the wall. I had certainly not seen this coming. ‘And Purva?’ I asked.

‘He is trying his best to get over you, I think,’ said Pitajee, the sadness in his voice unmistakable. ‘You are so stupid, Kas,’ he added, as an afterthought.

I could not agree more, Pitajee.

9.00 p.m.

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