Page 61 of Can This Be Love?

1.00 p.m.

I have asked one of the ward boys to wheel Dad back to his room. I will wait for the report.

2.00 p.m.

When the doctor handed me the large envelope, I wasted not a second in pulling out the report from it. My untrained eyes scanned the report anxiously. It took me a few seconds to figure out what I was looking at.

The cranial cavity still had dark shadows in it.

My heart sank as I realized that my worst fears had come true. The bleeding had not stopped … Dad would be operated on again, he would spend another couple of days in that horrendous ICU with sick patients all around him…

Thoughts like these created havoc in my head, panic building up steadily inside me. Then, clutching the report to my chest I ran, as fast as my legs could carry me, without really knowing where I was going. It was only a few seconds later that I realized that that odd, unpleasant noise irritating me was the sound of my flip-flops flapping against the concrete floors as I raced across the hallways leading to Dr Verma’s room in the other wing of the hospital.

It took me a good few minutes to reach the hallway of Dr Verma’s cabin, even though I was running so fast that my stomach was hurting. My legs were automatically taking me to the man I needed to see.

‘Purva!’ I screamed, as soon as I saw him.

He was walking out of Dr Verma’s cabin and stopped short when he spotted me. I continued to run towards him, gesticulating with the damn report. Purva broke into a run himself and met me midway, a few anxious seconds later.

‘Kasturi!’ he said, grabbing my elbow, his face white with worry. ‘What happened? Is Dad okay?’

‘No,’ I said, clutching the sleeve of his shirt, all formality forgotten in that moment of sheer desperation. I vaguely recalled gifting him this shirt for his birthday. ‘The … report … it’s happened again … there is blood everywhere!’ I stammered, clutching my throat that suddenly seemed parched, breathing in bursts, tears streaming down my face.

‘Give it to me,’ he said brusquely and held the report against the sunlight that streamed in from one of the windows. For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at the report, his brows knit in concentration.

‘Who said there has been more bleeding?’ he asked, turning to face me.

‘The cranial sac is all dark…’ I said, pointing a shaking finger at the scan. ‘It was dark like this in the previous scan too and Dr Advani told me it was so because of the blood that had collected in the cavity,’ I rattled off breathlessly, staring at my hand that was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Purva gently put a hand on mine to stop it from trembling and when he spoke, which he did a few seconds later, his voice was very gentle.

‘Kasturi,’ he said, bending a little bit so that his face was at level with mine. ‘The cavity is dark because it contains water – the same water that was used to wash away the blood. There is no bleeding.’

‘Wh … what?’ I said, my mouth open, suddenly feeling weak with relief.

Purva hastened to grab me by both my arms, lest I fell in a heap on the floor.

‘Kasturi,’ he said, almost holding me. ‘Dad is fine. With a scan as clean as this, he will be discharged in a few hours. The surgery was successful!’

I stared blankly at him.

‘But the brain … it’s still in one corner…’

‘It will ease into its original size in a few days. It’s absolutely normal.’

‘Oh,’ I said, closing my eyes and, feeling Purva’s warm body next to mine, found myself caving into his chest almost involuntarily.

‘It’s over, Kasturi … he is absolutely fine,’ he said as he pulled me closer. His gentle hands stroked my hair for a few minutes and I clung to him, eyes closed, willing my breathing to normalize.

‘It’s over,’ he muttered again, more to himself than to me. That reminded both of us of something else that was now over.

The next instant, we looked at each other and, embarrassed at how close we were, withdrew. Purva looked everywhere but at me.

‘I will get going,’ he said, under his breath and hurriedly walked away.

2.01 p.m.

Still trying to digest what just happened, I pulled out my phone and found myself staring at it. Text from Anu. Succinct and shocking.

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