Convalescence

A fantastic lunch was laid before us. The plates decorated with cuisines so much, there was not a bit place left. Aditya sat right infront of me to the other end of the table, from where he threw mischievous glances which perfectly delivered his thoughts about delicacies that were laid before and infront of him. The rest of the family, for a family gathering it was, crowded themselves with their own endlessly discussions. Nikita, my maternal cousin, would now and then check me to rectify a certain reference she would make while vigorously engaging in verbal battle with Harshavardhan; his half words inaudible to me, he filled his mouth before returning to the fight with I guess fear that the food would run out. Or perhaps it was just his style. Like uncle Prabhakar's: his cloudy blue eyes ran to to the edges every time he heard something that interested him, adding his opinion with a gentle nod. His vitiliginous skin made his deposition even more dramatic. Though not more than grandma kaushalyabai's, for whom even everyday meal was not easy let alone this banquet. Her thick lens would slip down everytime she bent to take a nibble. Poor creature, she would smear it with rice while putting it back up. Interestingly, now she couldn't fool me like she used to before when she would raise her eyebrows as if greeting me. Only to later learn that it was involuntary, happened all the time, and a graceful gift of old age. 

     You see, Aditya is a curious personage. He would strip you naked in his mind, and explore you tip to toe, all while a brotherly coy smile on his face. A fascinating cousin he is. Not at all what consensus calls 'innocent' . And nothing at all like his aunt. My mother, the genial being roamed around the table with an absolute keen eye, and filled every plate before anyone asked. Smiling now and then, to imply she was absorbed in their chatter, though not a bit. Because all her senses, except for her eyes, where directed towards the hall where Surbhi was watching the unacceptably melodramatic TV serial. Poor Karan was robbed of his beloved due to a secret promise he made to his father, all while the rest of the family fretted over why wouldn't he just run away with her. 

   The dining room was left vacant as everyone migrated to the terrace. The ramble of recollection of old memories continued as late as mom had completed everyone's sleeping arrangements. The gathering of insect below was far more active than ours. They filled the moonless night with thickness of calm. This calmness almost distracted me enough for Aditya to slip his hand from above Alok's head to wander his fingers in my coffee streams where my own hand caught his suspicious action.

  "How pensive." He said looking at the dimlights of the sky, who glowed even more in the moon's absence. 

  "She is always like that." Unnecessarily Alok replied. His gaze towards Nishigandha, who sat alone, resting her svelte cheek on as much thinner palm. 

  "I am coming back, you know. I don't see any need for you to be so shook." Aditya continued after the halt. Alok said something that didn't interest me a bit. But my thoughts troubled me more to give even a little damn about him. I wish I and Aditya were alone in that kennel below. Tommy wouldn't mind Sleeping out for a night. That little lodging will be far better than this place.

"I am filling in for a post at Pune government hospital. You know the circumstances. It's almost an absolute duty for me." Aditya's words echoed in my mind again. Him being my cousin was a stricture big enough in our affectionate adventures. How easily he avowed to his father that he wasn't beyond his decision, when a topic about some distant relative, a girl educated equivalent to him, was discussed. And the answer,' it will be alright.' 

"You worry about me too much. I will expiate at your feet when I come back. Do absolutely anything with me as you would please." Repining won't help. That I knew. We locked our hands that rested on Alok's raising and slumping stomach, his snoring wasn't irritating though; I just didn't care 

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Everyone was choleric to me. Every word by anyone at all roused a feeling of dissipation. Nonchalantly, carefree as his usual self and with certain degree self absorbed, Aditya stood out with his parents. They had more authority over him than my entire being. They could make his stop, if they wished. And I couldn't as much bid him adieu beyond of our brotherly visage. His mother, that deliberate woman who exacted him with as much service she could, harangued him till he turned pale. To think he was insipid because of the apparant separation from me would be a luxury too unaffordable for me. He lumbered towards his car, that I saw through the window which belonged to some certain room. Nothing to me. He embarked on a great journey, too despodent to say goodbye to me. 

*******"**************************

"Vaccination is a bother. But I don't mind. It will do good. I am prepared to wait it's all done." That exhausted voice of his, yet somehow elating all my senses altogether was being transferred to me through this feeble piece of technological excellence, since last 11 days, counting that last one day we had together. "People are actually happy to get stung. But it's sad truth that this single dose won't do." He went on. The amorous and the social of me fed on every single of his word. 

"How much good you do. . What about your dinner though?" Our conversations then would be of little serious tone. All I could do was to keep his spirits high. "Never remove your mask while you are on duty. Make sure no one sees that your splendid face of yours." A little teasing. And our household chatter would go on for hours, in the evening. I walked infront of my house on the road. But now and then the pungent smell of chemicals would take sieze my nostrils. Sprayed on the onions to preserve them longer, by our neighbour. And then to do this all only to sell them at trivial price. It doesn't even cover the cost of expenditure till the yield. But guess that's how it goes for farmers.

"Damn. I'm going to be rich. Three acres. All these mangoes trees. My own well. Four cows. Why did I even became a doctor." Aditya would tease me. He love this village, the farm life as much a snail loves it's shell. It was a hiding for him from all the rustle of his otherwise hectic lifestyles. Like last year, when he came we went to a nearby temple where a yearly festival gathers fifteen to twenty villages together. Oh ! What crowd, what fun, and what shops ! 

This year though it wouldn't be anything like it. Everything's cancelled now due to the pandemic. But we did pay a visit to goddess two months ago. Rather more to go swimming in the river that flows near the temple. After we had played to hearts content, we went back to the temple. Outside were many women sitting. Selling flowers, garlands, and sarees to offer to the goddess.

"It's the season. Look your little bank's already full." Aditya said to one of them while I bought flowers from her, directing towards her little tin can in which she treasured her earn. 

"Ought not. There's no people this year. Everyone's afraid of that disease." She replied nonchalantly. 

"You are not afraid ?" He asked while paying for the flowers. To this she responded by shaking her head little. She would have perhaps told a sad tale if her mouth wasn't full of tobacco, which she spit now and then, colouring the beautiful gravel path. 

   But this were mere memories now. The long talk we had every day did not soothe my heart. Nor did the sudden trip to my brother's in laws. His grandfather in law passed away. The invalid was bed stricken for not less but three years. However much you may love somebody but to look after an old person whom you had to clean tip to toe two times a day was bothersome. The old man wasn't quite wise as one of his age should be. So it made the suffering even worse. It's obvious no one was sad when he left for good. Their eyes were dry. Unsympatheic. Rest of the face was covered with mask. Lunch though was consumed with gaiety. In Indian tradition, when someone dies you don't cook in your house for ten days. Neighbours, if generous enough, provide you with food. So there was quite variety in the banquet. Then ensued the discussions.

"Bad disease. Really. One can do nothing Shyam. See these hairs? I will be a monkey by end of this month." A certain relative whose name I don't remember turned on the tap. Mocking obviously, because there wasn't anything on his head. Pray, for a bunch of weed here and there. 

"Politics. Wait till next when election begins. What rules ? What restrictions? All's foul play. Forgh nayohf. .. ." As uncle Shyam stuffed his mouth full, I didn't understand the rest. But such in general was the whole colloquy. Everyone participated. I didn't bother to keep track. 

"Ten doctors. Yes. Ten doctors in our city alone dead. God knows what they do in those isolated hospital."

"I know. We know. They are doctors. How they get the infection? Unless all the stuff they do taking advantage of the situation."

"No Shyam. This is bullshit. They are working hard, putting their lives in danger and. .  .'

"I didn't say about your son in law, if that concerns you." And the whole thronging bust into a hideous laughter. Blood rushed to my head which was already hot. The air became so thick I could hardly breathe it in. It was true. Doctors were dying. Powerless as I was, could only wish him to be safe. I could not move his resolve, which I did not intend to do anyway. Neither could I interfere with his fate, which I had no control over. 

It was evening as we reached back home. The whole consequence rendered me unable to call Aditya. I must pass the evil, dreadful night. That is, if I can.

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The whole surrounding was filled with extreme cold. The chill cut through my skin, passed through my muscle and veins, and froze my bones. My chilblain structure stood erect, unable to move. Suddenly it started to pour wildly. A waterfall ran right in the middle of the city, around with numerous funeral pyres burnt with crimson flames. A woman wept hideously while beating her forehead with her own had. A child beside her was vigorously swinging a lit lamp, that a few moments later slipped from it's hands and fell open an already burning pyre. The collision shook it a little. Some burning woods fell down. Through that emptied space dangled a half burned hand. It adorned a ring. I tried look closer. My eyeballs moved insanely but I couldn't open my eyes. As if someone held me down, I couldn't get up. But somehow I sprang up , and heard a deep coughing. 

Though not completely consious still I followed the noise. In my parents bedroom, my mother stood by my Papa's side as he coughed continually. Dressed quickly, put on mask, I was ready and off to the government hospital just within an hour. A little doubtful. The rapid test wasn't 100 % accurate, people would said. But it would take awfully long time to get the scan test results. Minimum three days, time that I didn't wanted to waste. But still, I had him tested, positive it came. All meantime he roamed freely without mask,and emptying his nose wherever he wished. To reason with him is to shame reason itself. I tried. The obvious result, as usual. I informed my trembling mother, who I know was in a bad shape at home. And we rushed to the government sponsored centre. Where, by the time we reached, was no bed available. My breath got thicker again. It became too hard for me to descend the stairs. I slumped my way to the doctor. Told her about the situation. And with her help I managed a bed for my old man, who all this time wandered around seeing familiar faces. Quite many were around. As if from each street five people have been bought here. On each floor at least four or five such faces. A terrible reality. 

Another three evenings I came home late. Mom welcomed, the day I admitted father, with an obviously fake jolly countenance. That much I knew her. As the news spread, till twelve o'clock that night we both kept answering phone calls. Some curious, some anxious and few caring. I remembered I haven't shown water to the cows. Out I went and did it. And fell on the bed. Two more awful days passed. Father came home.

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        "Aditya"

The phone screen glowed. Messages.

"Father told me. Hmm . . . Don't worry he'll be alright. ."

   " We sent three dead bodies in a dumpster. There were no ambulances. I was beaten. Just few bruises. It's understandable, isn't it? Any relative would do. 

.

.

.

"I am just a trainee doctor. But I think I at least would how expressed concern." And I called him right then. He, for goodness sake, picked up my call. My heart melted and flowed in streams as did my eyes. The coughed weeping on the other side emptied the last drops of my liquid heart. Hours that day we spent in our soliloquy. He informed he was return on the eve diwali. I was to meet him at the apartment he owned, for us to be alone. Our little house was not adequate for us three to be in quarantine, so permission was readily granted. Though Aditya's arrival undisclosed. I started counting seconds to our meeting. Since the flood had vanquished, the soft mud will leave his footprints, for me to follow. 

****************************

A figure covered in PPE kit stood before me. The obvious smirk of those tear soaked glistening lips, would be hard for me to recognise? Until he possessed the same soul I would recognise him even he were to turn into Tinkerbell. I clasped my fist, breathed fast. He went to the bathroom, undressed, bathe with warm water, applied sanitizer, and then again stood before me. His chest heaved or I don't know if his grecian physique trembled: he was how I wished him to be. Every shard of him intact. He dig his heavy head on shoulder and burst boundlessly. His whole being shivered. Those nails hurt, but I didn't mind. They would go deeper but I would still rejoice. They did left my back as he stood tall and lost we were in oral embrace, that didn't end till we were almost out of breath. 

For next three days his hairs nuzzled my cheeks. He just laid his head on and played with my fingers and anything else that was within the reach of his hand. But not my heart. Not that it wasn't within his reach, for he already had hold of it. His hot blood scorched all the anguish that had layered on my skin. This sensation I had not had since the festival of Dussehra, when we had gathered for that feast. Now lord Rama had returned from Lanka where he defeated demon Ravana on the day which celebrates Dussehra and return today, which observes Diwali. A month worth travel his and mine. Though I did fought a war. Nor like Ravana had kidnapped Sita, Ram's wife, had my beloved been separated. But, does one need a reason to celebrate? 

The television was shut from our time. The news of ambulances waiting in lines outside funeral sheds, dogs snatching half burned limb from pyres that were burnt without adequate wood, or the son who refused to take his dead father's body, it all reminded him of what he came through. I intended to relieve him of everything. We did not leave the room. Adequate care we took, for us and others. 

We adored each other, and he flew through my being - chuckling, smiling, and I cooking and feeding him. Easily we went in and about each other's existence like butterflies play under the bluebells. Yet endless longing. I longed for him, he longed for affection, and the world longed for rest.