Delhi or Dilli-bustling streets, endless chai tapris, and a city where dreams are both made and broken. In this chaos, Anchal is focused on her career, dodging her parents' shaadi ki baatein, while Varshith, a perfectionist set to inherit his father...
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| Red Strings and IV Drips |
It had been long past sunset, as Varshith Kashyap lay knocked out on the hospital bed in PACU. The surgery had been successful. Thank Heavens, the accident wasn't any fatal and he was saved, having reached hospital on time. It was revealed that it was a motorcycle rider who had accidentally hit him. The elder man too was injured in the accident but it wasn't as bad as the young Kashyap.
Varshith, on the other hand, had a heavy concussion, got his left arm fractured and lost a lot of amount of blood.
Vijay Kashyap sighed heavily, glancing up at his injured son. He was in a frenzy when he learned about the accident from his niece, and had rushed over to the hospital as soon as universe allowed. He must wait for his son to wake up and recover before asking him a few questions. He knows about his meeting with the damned man from his and his wife's dark past. He had waited for his son to come to him on his own and demand the truth, but instead this unfortunate event unfolded.
Vijay looked at his wife, Varsha Kashyap, across the bed, who continued to sniffle occasionally, staring at their son as if he might disappear at any given time. This was the most he has seen her showing emotions that involved their son. If only she had shown the same affection when Varshith could witness it.
The couple glanced up when the Doctor entered with her assistant male nurse in tow. She requested them to wait outside while she checked upon their son. Varshith was stable and his blood pressure wasn't low anymore. They watched as the young man slowly came to his senses, looked around his surroundings before his gaze landed on them.
"Hello, Mr. Kashyap. I am Isha Khanna, your doctor who operated on you today." The lady in white coat introduced herself, her tone soft, watching as the young man blinked at her. "Do you remember your name, Mr. Kashyap?" She leaned in slightly.
Varshith thought for a second. "V-Varshith Kashyap." He let out. His head hurt as if someone smashed it with a hammer.
Dr. Isha smiled and nodded. "Very good. Now, can you tell me if you are hurting somewhere?"
Varshith gulped. His throat parched and dry as a sandpaper, he needed some water. "My head. My back." He breathed out. "Can I have some water please?" He requested.
"Sure." The nurse pressed the button for head elevation and helped the lad settle in a comfortable position, being absolutely careful of the plaster on his left hand and helped him with a glass of water. "You got into an accident with a bike and lost a lot of blood. You had a heavy concussion, that explains your headache and your left arm is fractured. So you must put on that plaster for a while. And your family is waiting right outside." Dr. Isha filled Varshith with the important information of his condition.
Varshith nodded, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
Dr. Isha then swiped the green curtain beside his bed and was surprised to see the young woman laying there already awake, staring at the ceiling.
