Someone to Love Page 10

  Koyal paused, breathless and hot with anger.

  Atharv was staring at her, his face expressionless.

  ‘And, while we are at it, that girl is miserable. Do you know why? Because she doesn’t remember her own mother! When you lose someone you love, all you have is the memories. How can you not share her memories of her mother, Atharv? You have to create them for her! She needs them to help her through the tough times. You need to speak to her more often, be with her, spend time with her, tell her about Nili…’ Koyal exhaled deeply when she was done with her rant, still feeling very indignant. It was when she now looked at Atharv’s face that Koyal wondered if she had overstepped a line.

  Atharv, eyes hard and narrowed, took a step closer to Koyal and she found herself stepping back. Something about him scared her now.

  ‘You are right,’ he said in a low growl and Koyal stared.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I am the parent, not you.’

  Koyal blinked at Atharv.

  ‘Don’t you dare interfere again in my personal matters, Koyal Hansini Raje, don’t you dare. Just stay away from us.’ He turned and walked away.

  24

  Days turned to weeks and weeks turned into months. Winter gave way to spring, and London changed colours again. The grey and the black gave way to a million little flowers that cropped up in every nook and cranny. The sunshine, bright and happy, doused everything in joyful yellow.

  Koyal drowned herself in work, the only way she knew of keeping her mind off those words.

  Atharv’s words from the night of Mansha’s party refused to leave Koyal for a long time. They reverberated in her head and made it their home. In the tube, at a party, all she could do was think of what Atharv had said to her.

  He wanted her out of his life.

  Koyal wondered why these words hurt as much as they did. Didn’t she already have a very low opinion of Atharv? Why then was she so surprised by his harshness, she wondered, and never got an answer.

  Meanwhile, she cut off all contact with both Mansha and Surya Aunty. They called and texted. And Koyal made excuses about being very busy so she didn’t have to meet either of the women in Atharv’s life.

  If he wants me out, out I shall remain, she said to herself, biting back tears.

  Later, whenever Atharv thought of that morning, the early spring flowers would, oddly enough, come to mind first. He was still in his scrubs and as he stepped out of the OT, he had peeped out of the window to admire the white blooms when his PA, Jane, came rushing to him.

  ‘Mansha!’ she exclaimed, her face pale with anxiety. ‘She fell off the swings at school and has hurt herself. The school called sometime back … you were in surgery and I couldn’t get hold of your mother…’

  Atharv looked at his watch – he had been in the OT for seven hours.

  ‘What kind of injury?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘When did the school call?’ His voice was calm but his heart was thumping madly.

  ‘Three hours ago.’

  Atharv paled. Every bit of him wanted to scream at Jane but he said nothing.

  ‘I … the operation so … I …’ Jane was mumbling, but Atharv had already dashed out of the hospital.

  Three hours, he kept repeating to himself, aghast.

  For the first time in years, Atharv found his hands trembling as he turned on the ignition of his car. At every red light, he dialled the school, but because it was now beyond office hours, no one picked up and that made it all the more worse. His mother was travelling in the remote parts of Nepal with some friends and there was no way the authorities would have reached her.

  Mansha, his Mansha, his little baby Mansha, was hurt and alone. The image of her lying in the hospital, heavily bandaged and alone, simply refused to leave him, and he pressed harder on the accelerator, panic rising with every passing second.

  By the time he reached the school, Atharv was a mess. He hastily parked his car, dashed into the building and ran for the school infirmary.

  ‘Mansha Jayakrishna,’ he breathed out to the nurse at the reception.

  ‘Down the first corridor,’ she said after checking her computer and Atharv found himself running faster than he had ever run before.

  Breathless, he opened the door of the room ready to burst in, scared of what horrendous sight would meet his eyes, and stilled in surprise. The room was dimly lit at the moment and the soft glow of the only table lamp bathed everything in a gentle yellow.

  Mansha was there.

  But not all alone as Atharv had feared.

  Instead, she was curled up in a woman’s lap, arms wrapped around her waist and head buried in her chest.

  Atharv craned his neck to get a better look, curious about the woman. At first look it did not appear to be anyone he recognized. He strained his eyes. ‘Koyal,’ he mumbled, his eyes widening in surpise as he recognized the woman holding his child.

  Koyal, dressed in office formals, her hair loose, was humming a song and gently rocking Mansha in her lap. It was, if anything, the most peaceful scene Atharv had set his eyes on in the recent past.

  As Atharv stared, he felt all the stress that had been building up inside him over the last one hour begin to recede from his body.

  He exhaled sharply and pulled out of the room without a sound, too shaken still to meet or speak to the girls. He closed the door behind him as softly as he could and rested his forehead against the cool metal of the door, trying hard to even his breathing.

  ‘She’s okay, she’s okay,’ he mumbled to himself, forcing his heart to begin beating at a more normal rate.

  He stood unmoving like this, his head against the door.

  Breathing.

  Thinking.

  Trying desparately to calm himself down.

  Nothing worked and his heart, restless as an angry lion, refused to listen to him. Finally, he opened the door and went in.

  Koyal looked up.

  Their eyes met.

  She is okay, her eyes said to his.

  He nodded. He stood like that, at the door, his hands folded against his chest for a few minutes, and then walked towards Koyal and Mansha.

  Koyal’s eyes, kohl-lined and beautiful, followed him.

  Once he was next to them, Atharv sank to the floor and sat cross-legged next to Koyal’s feet. He rested his forehead against the soft edge of the bed.

  He breathed deeply, forcing the tension to leave his body.

  A few minutes later, a hand tapped him gently on the shoulder.

  Koyal.

  Do you want to hold your daughter? her eyes asked him.

  He shook his head, a tad helplessly.

  No, you do it, you are going to be better at it anyway, his eyes replied to hers.

  Mansha, fast asleep, stirred for a bit, gave a satisfied little grunt and went back to sleep, unaware of the torment her father was going through.

  The three of them stayed like that, in the semi-darkness – Koyal on the bed with Mansha asleep in her arms and Atharv on the floor next to them – for a long time.

  Not a single word was uttered between Koyal and Atharv during this time. Yet a hundred were spoken, heard and understood.

  25

  ‘Slight concussion and a broken wrist that should be fine in three to four weeks,’ the doctor said and Atharv nodded. In the last couple of hours, they had managed to shift Mansha from the school infirmary to Atharv’s hospital.

  ‘Thank you, Mark,’ Atharv said to the doctor and turned around to walk towards Mansha’s bed. He was about to comment on Mark’s diagnosis when his eyes fell on Koyal.

  It was close to midnight and Mansha was fast asleep on her bed. Koyal, still in her formals, was sitting by her side, gently caressing the girl’s forehead.

  Feeling eyes on her, Koyal looked up and saw Atharv staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

  She saw him shake his head and heard him clear his throat. Throughout the evening he had been polite, but perhaps th
at was because he was shaken up by Mansha’s injury. Now that things were looking a lot calmer, Koyal wondered if he would go back to being rude.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Atharv said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  He is going to ask me to leave, Koyal thought to herself, surprised at the panic she felt begin to swell inside her. To have someone who loves you is great but it is equally important to have someone to love. After years spent alone, Koyal had finally let her guard down for little Mansha. And the last thing she wanted was to leave the little one when she needed her Koyal Aunty more than ever.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, pursing her lips and crossing her hands across her chest. She gulped. When people treat you like they don’t care, believe them, Koyal told herself ruefully. And don’t go looking for excuses to stay around them.

  ‘That day at the Mansha’s party I told you…’ Atharv began.

  Something in Koyal’s stomach gave way and she looked around helplessly, hating how she had yet again become a prisoner of her emotions. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ she said hurriedly, cutting him off. ‘I understand. When they couldn’t reach you or Surya Aunty, Mansha gave them my number. That is the only reason I came here. I haven’t…’ Koyal bit her lip now. ‘I have not spoken to Mansha even once since you asked me to stop. You can check my phone if you want to … I…’

  And Koyal bit her lip again to stop them from quivering. She felt angry with herself for allowing herself to love again.

  ‘I… ’ she said, wildly gesticulating as tears sprang to her eyes, ‘I … will get going. I’m sorry … she is your daughter and I have no right to…’

  Without finishing her sentence, Koyal bent forward to snatch her bag, got up and ran for the door before she burst into sobs in front of Atharv.

  Koyal ran as fast as her legs could carry her, desperate to get as far from Atharv and Mansha as possible. She had spent ten years hating Atharv and had fallen so madly in love with his little daughter. What a pathetic little story hers was. She deserved this.

  ‘Koyal!’

  She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a voice that she would know anywhere. And it was calling her name for the first time in ten years.

  I hate him, she said desperately to herself, feeling helplessness of a curious sort overcome her. Then why couldn’t she just walk away?

  ‘Koyal, stop! Please!’ Atharv shouted again and Koyal could hear him running towards her.

  Koyal brought her hands up to cover her eyes and began to cry bitterly. There is power in acknowledging your weakness. Standing in the hospital corridor, crying, Koyal admitted to herself that no matter how far she ran from Atharv, she’d never be free of him.

  ‘I … I…’ Awkwardly Atharv stood in front of her, staring at her tear-soaked face.

  ‘I said I’ll never meet Mansha again, why the hell are you following me!’ hissed Koyal angrily.

  Red angry eyes.

  Lips that quivered.

  A bunched-up fist.

  Atharv took in every detail, not missing a single thing.

  ‘What now? What more do you want? Do you want to scream more? Shout more? Do you need an audience so that you can embarrass me more?’

  Atharv stared at Koyal.

  ‘Speak up, Atharv! Or just please get out of my way so that I can leave,’ Koyal said, getting more agitated with each passing second. Even in that moment of extreme passion, some of her anger was directed at herself. Why, after all these years of training herself to rein in the emotions, was she such an emotional wreck in front of Atharv? Why couldn’t she change? Why couldn’t she be stronger? Why did all self-control desert her in front of the one man she needed to be very strong in front of?

  ‘I need to leave,’ she mumbled again, red-hot tears coursing down her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t go,’ he repeated, his eyes boring into Koyal’s.

  Stunned at his words, Koyal felt her shoulders sag defencelessly.

  ‘I came to say sorry, Koyal. I wish I had not said those things to you. And I hope you will forgive me,’ he said, his words enveloped in regret. ‘Please continue to be a part of Mansha’s life. She misses you.’

  Koyal stared open-mouthed at Atharv who now turned to go back into Mansha’s room.

  A few steps away from the room, he paused, turned around to face her once more and said, ‘It’s hard to grow up without a mother, harder when the father is me.’ His eyes bored into her. ‘I’ll wait for you inside,’ he added and opened the door.

  A few minutes later, when Koyal followed Atharv into the room, she found him sitting slumped on a chair, staring at Mansha and thinking, thinking hard, a sad, faraway look on his face. Something about how he was sitting, tired and lost in thought, touched Koyal’s heart. And that was when it hit Koyal.

  You often hear people saying they are sorry, but it is when you are able to see the pain in their eyes and hear the ache in their voice that you recognize that in hurting you they have hurt themselves more.

  26

  Love is staying up the whole night with a sick child.

  Atharv, bleary-eyed and sombre, did not say another word to Koyal, but a truce of sorts now existed between them.

  When Koyal woke up the next morning, she was still curled up on the little sofa next to Mansha’s bed, but a man’s jacket, large enough to cover her, was neatly tucked around her.

  She looked up at Atharv, startled. He said nothing and looked away.

  ‘So,’ said Atharv in a cheerful voice, and Koyal and Mansha, who had been playing a quiet game of Ludo, looked up together.

  ‘I hear,’ he said, coming closer to Mansha’s bed and holding her little hand, ‘that you want to talk about Mummy?’

  Koyal stared at Atharv, not believing what she was hearing.

  ‘Yes!’ came the eager squeal.

  ‘What do you wish to know about your mother?’ Atharv asked, smiling kindly, looking more like the Atharv from back then.

  ‘Who was her favourite person in the whole world?’ Mansha asked, sitting up in her bed. She was, Koyal noted, already looking many times better today.

  ‘You, of course,’ Atharv said and Mansha smiled shyly.

  ‘Did she like me even though she fell ill because of me?’ Her large eyes looked expectantly at her father.

  What?

  Surely this was just Mansha’s fertile imagination playing up, but one look at the stunned expression on Atharv’s face and Koyal knew there was a lot more to it.

  ‘I should leave,’ she mumbled, feeling like an outsider. And, truth be told, her heart was thumping in her ribcage, already afraid of Atharv’s reply.

  A large warm hand on her knee, gently asking her to remain seated, took her by surprise.

  Koyal’s eyes flew to Atharv’s face. He was not looking at her – his eyes were focused on his daughter, but he was asking her to stay. Koyal stared at his hand, spotlessly clean, large and oddly kind-looking. She closed her eyes, these were hands she had, at one point in time, trusted the most in the world.

  ‘Oh gosh, no,’ Atharv was saying, ‘she didn’t get ill because of you, darling. Whoever fed you that rubbish?’

  ‘I’ve heard a lot of people say that, when they think I am not listening.’

  ‘She found out about her illness when you were in her tummy, but you were not the reason for it in any way.’

  ‘What did she do when she found out about it?’

  ‘She lived long enough to bring you safely into the world, which was what she wanted to do the most.’

  Mansha stared at her father, thinking.

  ‘Do you dislike me, Daddy?’

  Atharv eyes grew bigger and instantly wet at the question.

  ‘Why would you say that, Mansha? Whatever makes you think I don’t love you?’

  ‘Because you never celebrate my birthday. You don’t want to celebrate my coming into this world.’

  Atharv stared at his daughter, unable to think o
f a reply.

  Say something, Atharv, Koyal pleaded with him silently, rooted in place. Atharv turned to look at Koyal, who immediately read the helplessness in his eyes. She knew, just like old times, that Atharv needed her help. Desperately.

  ‘You know what,’ she said in a fake chirpy voice that she hoped did not give away her real feelings. ‘Atharv, if you are okay with it, why don’t we celebrate Mansha’s birthday today? With you?’

  ‘What? In the hospital?’ Mansha asked, incredulous and successfully distracted from the question, but her eyes were already shining.

  ‘Two birthday celebrations in one year? How cool is that?’ asked Koyal excitedly and Mansha nodded vigorously.

  ‘Should we, Atharv?’ Koyal asked, looking tentatively at Atharv.

  Atharv looked at Mansha and then at Koyal.

  ‘Yes, let’s have a birthday party!’ he shouted.

  It was later in the day, when the birthday celebrations were done, that Koyal found herself walking out of the hospital after over thirty-six hours. Surya Aunty, who had hurriedly flown back and had reunited with her granddaughter, was with Mansha now. Atharv was back on duty, but still in the hospital. The birthday celebrations had been a big hit and were in a way a fresh start for father and daughter – Mansha had cut a cake and had taken six pictures with her father.

  ‘One for each year,’ she had said primly and Koyal felt her heart break all over again.

  Koyal was lost in these thoughts when she heard the sound of running feet, and much to her surprise, Atharv materialized by her side.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. A half smile.

  His eyes look so tired.

  ‘I…’ he mumbled, ‘I … wanted to say … er, thank you … for the birthday party in the hospital … and everything you did.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, smiling.

  He looked at his feet and then continued to walk beside her.

  ‘I … um … because of my work, my attention is usually divided, so it’s Mummy who takes care of Mansha’s needs, really,’ he said, shrugging.