Darkhaast

~ 7 ~

If someone asked Mahi three months ago if she'd ever leave for a different position, she would've thought you were crazy. Working at St. Joesph's spoiled her; she grew accustomed to a certain level of trust, opportunities, and kindness. But now, her heart paced with anticipation as she grew late for her job interview. It was ludicrous to hope a taxi would come on time in the pouring showers. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, careful not to let the bottoms of her ironed lilac pantsuit murky from the soaked dirt.

Whoosh! A racing car spewed murky mud onto her.

She felt the mud spattered on her lower lip as she shrieked, "Pagal!" to the thoughtless driver who left her in a lurch. 

A man, mid forties at most, stuck with his nose in the file, was reasoning with another doctor. His hair defied gravity, and the gold speaks in his eyes peaked through his glasses. The woman, younger with straight, long black tresses and a pattern sari, argued, "Abhimanyu, just wait a few minutes; she'll be here. She's the best candidate. I reviewed them myself."

"Dr. Aarohi-" He exasperated.

"I'm here!" Mahi burst into the Dean of Medicine's office a few minutes late. They stared at her; her clothes were stained with dry mud, and her rose gold hair streaks fell out of her now dishevelled bun. Dr. Aarohi shut her eyes in horror while the man chortled.

"She's your best candidate?" He whispered in Aarohi's ears.

"Hi, Dr. Mahi Mehra," unfazed, she extended her hand for a greeting, "Dr. Shalini aur Dr. Kabir ne aapko mere baare mein bataya hoga?" Abhimanyu's hand stiffened during the handshake. The gold speaks that shimmered turned cold.

Did I say something wrong? Mahi wondered. The interview was quick; Abhimanyu shot questions at her, but Mahi swiftly responded with anecdotes from her experience as a researcher and background in pediatric practice.

"Your area of specialization is FASD, but the Indian prevalence of the condition is comparatively very low. Given the limited opportunities to study the affected population in Udaipur, how will our hospital expand your work?"

"I am a pediatric doctor with a foundation in neurodevelopmental disorders such as FASD. As my work attests, I've worked with many different populations and aim to obtain diverse experience."

His fingers traced Nandini's name on Mahi's reference letter, images of their last meeting playing in his mind. He shut Mahi's file.

"Abhimanyu-" Aarohi sensed his rising temper.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Mehra, but I don't  feel you're compatible with our hospital."

"Can I ask why?"

"The Birla Hospital name cannot be tainted by a doctor such as yourself who lacks the etiquette for interview appearance and punctuality."

"Excuse me?" Abhimanyu thought she was insane as he saw her mouth toy with a smile. She grabbed her file, a sticky note, and a pen from his desk.

"Dr. Abhimanyu, kya aapki gardi ka number TN 75 AA 7106 hai?"

"What? Hain hai par uska kya relevance hai?" She handed him the sticky note with Rs. 505 scribbled on it. "Yeh kya hai?"

"Mera dry-cleaning ka estimate hai." The dots still weren't connecting.  

"Jin kapro ki aap tauhim kar rahi hai, unki ye haalat aaj aap ki gardi ne ki hai on Fateh Sagar Road. Aaj subha jab saab," gesturing to Abhimanyu, "befikar, teez chala rahe thi, toh unki car ne mujh par keechar dal diya. Maine aapko tabhi pechaan liya tha jab maine aapki gaadi Dean of Medicine's parking space mein dekhi par shayad aapne nahi pechaana." 

She hugged Aarohi and raised her hands in a Namaste, bidding Abhimanyu farewell. "Rahi baat late ki, uske liya main shama chahti hoon. Baarish ke chakkar mein taxi time pe nahin dhoond payi par mujhe earlier utna chahiya tha traffic ko avoid karne ke liya. Thank you for your time."

"Kya Mahi, yun hi chinta kar rahi thi," Naaz said.

Mahi giggled, reminiscing about Abhimanyu's mouth agape with incredulity.

"Badtaamez banne ki kya zaroorat thi? Ab naukri gayi na haat se," her Mumma, Gurpreet chastised.

"Koi aur mil jaegi na, Nani. Humari Mahi kya kisse se kum hai?"

"Maasi ki chamchi," Gurpreet rolled her eyes. Sitting together on the couch watching Khichdi reruns, the three generations devoured down channa buture.

She wouldn't admit it, but she missed this in Bangalore.

"Maa apne mujhe ghar toh bula liya, ab aapni marzi ki naukri toh karne do."

"Baat toh ase kar rahi hai jaise kissi aur ki sunegi."

The doorbell rang!

"Main jaati hoon," Naaz signed for a bouquet of summer flowers and rested it on the dining table.

"Kiska liya hai?" Gurpreet asked.

"Mahi ka," Naaz hollared.

"Mera?"

"Haan, kisi Abhimanyu Birla se hai."

Mahi bolted into the kitchen and snatched the card from Naaz's hands.

Aapke dry-cleaning ka bill nahi pay karonga, par pehli salary ka advance zaroor de sakhta hoon. Umeed hai isse hisaab bhi barbaar aur kal se tumhe Peds ward mein tumhari attendence hogi.The card read.

"Kamzarf," Mahi remarked. "Maafi tak nahi maangi."

"Piche dekho!" Naaz ushered her to flip the card.

Sorry agar kuch zyaada hi bol diya. Aage se nahi hoga. It was written in tiny print at the bottom of the card as if he begrudgingly wrote it with his mother looming over his shoulder.

"Kal jaogi?" Naaz asked her later that night. 

"Kahan?"

"Birla hospital, aur kahan?"

"Dekhungi," Mahi smirked and rested her head on her niece's as they fell asleep on the couch.