Desire ✔️

Part 87: Tanhayee

8 January 2017
City Hospital ..cont

It was almost forty minutes before Mihir and Dr Kumar returned and it seemed like the longest forty minutes of Ishita's life. She had sent amma and Vandu akka home with the babies and Ruhi, hardening her heart against her babies cries. Adi had insisted on remaining and she was grateful for his support, holding on to his hand for strength, marveling at how much like his papa he was growing up to be.

She had been despairing, wondering why it was taking so long when the door to the waiting room finally opened and Mihir entered with Dr Kumar.

Her face fell as Mihir looked at the floor, evading her eyes.

"Mihir, kya hua, bolo na" she cried out. (Mihir what happened? Tell me)

Mihir finally raised his troubled eyes to hers. "I'm sorry bhabhi" he said quietly. "We told bhai that it's 2017, that he has been living in Delhi for the past three years, that he has moved on, is happy, successful in his business, but he doesn't remember anything about the last three years. And Dr Kumar wouldn't let me tell bhai about you, about your marriage. I'm sorry."

Ishita nodded slowly, tears spilling down her cheeks. She had been expecting this, but it still hurt, still sent a thousand shards of pain deep into her heart.

"You understand why I didn't let Mihir say anything, dont you Dr Ishita" Dr Kumar said apologetically. "There is no knowing how Raman will react to that news right now. His mind is very fragile. But I do want you to come before him. If he sees you and remembers then it will be okay, since he will know you are alive. But I don't know... let's see. Mrs. Bhalla, auntyji, aap bhi aaiye. Lekin yaad rakhiye please, aap Raman ko Ishita ka sach nahi bata sakti."
(Mrs Bhalla, you come too. But please remember, you can't tell Raman the truth about Ishita)

Mrs Bhalla nodded and took Ishita's hand in hers.

"Chup hoja puttar" she said to her quietly sobbing daughter in law. "Chal" (Be quiet my child, come)

***********************************
Raman's Private Room

Raman lay still in the narrow hospital bed trying to take in everything Dr Kumar had just told him.

2017. It was January 2017. He had lost almost three years of his life. Three years. The last thing he remembered was getting on a plane at Mumbai Airport, to return to Delhi with Mihir. They had decided to move their agency to Delhi, so that he could spend more time with Ruhi, could rebuild his fractured relationship with his daughter. And everything had been organized, their office rented, their staff transferred - the plane trip he remembered taking was the final part of the move, his actual relocation. There was a puja organized for that night at home, he remembered that. He would have met his family and Ruhi there.

But that was three years ago? Mihir had shown him Ruhi's photo on his phone, a photo he said had been taken at his wedding a few weeks back. His little girl was so grown up now, not the chubby shy little five year old he remembered, but a self assured confident young lady of eight. Mihir had told him that Ruhi knew now how much he loved her, was secure and happy. And Adi. Mihir told him that he had regained Adi's custody, that Adi now lived with him, had been standing in the group at the door when he had regained consciousness.

He frowned as he thought back to an hour ago. Why had he reacted the way he had done, to the sound of somebody's baby crying? What was the reason for this pain, this grief that seemed to be weighing him down, that threatened to suffocate him? Mihir had assured him that everything was okay, that their marketing agency had grown from strength to strength, that they were now the market leaders in India. Mihir had also told him that all was well at home, his children, his family were fine. So why this burden of grief. Just what had happened in his life in the past three years? Why couldn't he remember? He furrowed his brows trying to think of just what he had forgotten, just what it was that was so troubling him.