The Rules Of Pursuit

64. Liberation

I hated the smell of Hospitals. The bleach and medicine mixed cold air made me nauseous. Avinash had his back to me, as he stood beside his father's lifeless body, surrounded by people I didn't recognize. His mother was standing next to him, her eyes swollen and red. The other occupants of the Intensive Care Unit curiously stared at them.

I was not sure whether I should let him know of my presence or let him grieve.

I decided to go with the latter, which proved to be a futile attempt, since my phone's ringtone, made him aware of my presence. Before Avinash could turn around and find my standing there, I blurted out an "Excuse me" and hurried out of the ICU where Mr. Chauhan's lifeless body lied.

The call was from my father.

"Meena what happened?" His voice sounded troubled.

"Avinash's father expired." I said softly.

"Avinash, your boyfriend?" My father asked.

"Yes Ba. I am at Jaipur with him." I didn't know why I told him this, knowing fully well that he was going to freak out.

"Have they cremated him yet?" I was surprised to hear his calm voice.

"No we are at the hospital." I replied.

"Which Hospital?" Ba inquired calmly.

I shared the name of the Hospital with him. He told me to take care of myself before disconnecting the call. I pocketed my phone and turned around to find Avinash standing right infront of me.

His eyes were distant and glazed. The warmth had left those hazels, replaced with pain instead. His brows crunched together, lips quivering. Those broad shoulders caved in, accepting defeat. He shook his head slowly, trying to tell me that he couldn't restrain his father from leaving.

I closed the distance between us, letting him breakdown in my arms. His arms squeezed me tightly as his head buried in my shoulder.

Even though we never voice it out, but we all struggle to find the right thing to say, to someone who has lost a loved one. Our words never really make any difference, or reduce their agony. I chose silence instead of those consoling words, while I rubbed his back, trying naively to rub away the pain that coursed through Avinash. He shuddered violently, his cries of agony echoing against the walls of the cold corridor.

He held on to me, like a shipwrecked man holds on to a life buoy in the middle of the ocean. Avinash Chauhan, wasn't strong and sorted anymore. He was a vulnerable, shattered, despaired boy, who wanted to hold on to me. I felt like he wanted me to save him from spiraling into the darkness of gloom.

"Avi," A woman's voice made him break away. She was one of those unknown faces who was standing near Mr. Chauhan's bed with Avinash's mother. "Vrinda said she will reach by noon, should we tell the hospital to discharge..." she struggled to find the right word before saying, "your father?"

"Okay." Avinash said in an unfamiliar hollow voice. "Come." He motioned me to follow him.

His father still had tubes and pipes attached to his hands and throat. The ventilator monitor displayed a flat line. The defibrillator stood useless next to the bed. A nurse pulled the curtains around the bed, so that the rest of the patients couldn't pry.

Mrs. Chauhan looked at us when we entered the ICU.

"You go home Ma." Avinash said in that unfamiliar tone, "I will take care of everything here."

Her mother managed a little nod, trying not to cry.

"Tell Uncle Amit to take Brute to our place." Avinash said absentmindedly.