Someone to Love Page 7

  ‘Doctors!’ Hema said, mock irritation on her face. ‘Go, Dr Jayakrishna, go save lives.’

  And with one final half smile, Atharv left the room, without, Koyal noted, as much as a glance at her.

  ‘Atharv is usually so cheerful, what was wrong with him today?’ Arjun mumbled as the party settled on the carpet to start their game of cards.

  ‘Maybe a hard day at work,’ Akki suggested.

  ‘He was absolutely fine on our way here … it seemed like he saw a ghost in this room that none of us could see.’

  A ghost.

  ‘Arjun!’ chided Hema. ‘You are scaring me!’

  ‘Um…’ Koyal heard herself say, ‘can I please be excused too? I’m not feeling too well. I think I would like to rest.’

  ‘Oh no, you poor girl, is that why you’ve been so quiet?’ Hema rushed to Koyal’s side and, after fussing over her for a bit, let her retire to her room.

  Koyal shut the door and turned around to crumble to the floor in a mass of tears. Alone in that unfamiliar room, her thoughts began to consume her. Why, she sobbed into her scarf, did God have to put Atharv in front of her just when she had gathered enough courage to put all the terrible things behind her and start afresh?

  Why now?

  All the good things that had happened recently – getting through MBA, the job at SunSoft, her promotion, the transfer to London, meeting Hema, coming to Kent … all of these things led her to the man she had spent ten years running away from.

  And now, at this stage, she didn’t have any more energy.

  No energy to run further or to hide inside.

  No energy to save herself.

  No energy to hate more.

  Atharv.

  With his Mansha and her mum who was busy taking care of the girl. His perfect life. And look at what she had done to hers for the longest time.

  Even as her thoughts picked up strength and rancour, Koyal was aware that she was working herself into a frenzy. She had spent a decade teaching herself to master self-control.

  And one thirty-minute encounter with Atharv later, she was back to being the emotional wreck she’d been then.

  As her breathing became difficult, Koyal screamed silently at herself for allowing herself to crumble in this way. She clutched her chest and fumbled through her purse for her inhaler, her vision clouding. Gosh, no, she couldn’t pass out in Hema’s house.

  The damn inhaler was nowhere to be found. She panicked, fumbling even more, and barely registered the crashing sound of the table toppling over as she slammed against it.

  Thirty minutes in his company, during which he neither looked at her properly nor said a single word, and here she was passing out in someone else’s house – this was the last thought that struck Koyal before she lost consciousness.

  18

  Koyal tried to open her eyes. White lights and a nurse in a blue dress.

  And something very, very reassuring curled around her fingers. Koyal kept her eyes closed for opening them required more strength than she was capable of and focused entirely on her hand. Something warm and familiar and kind. Something that gave her courage. Something that calmed her restless soul. ‘God, please,’ she mumbled to herself, ‘don’t let this thing, whatever it is, leave my hand.’

  Koyal opened her eyes and looked around. There was a huge machine, tubes coming out of which were stuck to her hands and chest. There was someone slumped next to her bed, his forehead resting on her bed, his hands clasped around hers. Was he sleeping? Koyal tried to think but gave up soon enough. It felt nice to close her eyes and that was what she did.

  Someone was calling out her name.

  A voice.

  The voice.

  More familiar to her than anything on the planet. Kind and gentle, but firm. As if demanding, no, forcing her to open her eyes. She had to open them now, she couldn’t not open them. Gathering her strength, she focused all her energies on her eyelids. The same blue and white room. And his face close to hers.

  Even in that state, she gasped when she recognized the face.

  Atharv.

  ‘Hey,’ he said gently, ‘welcome back.’

  Atharv. His face inches from hers.

  How could it be him? No, of course, it couldn’t be him. This had to be a dream, she knew, but a nice one. A dream she didn’t quite wish to wake up from. Oddly, this dream required her to keep her eyes open but it was a losing battle and soon she had to close them again.

  It took a little less strength to open her eyes this time. The room was dark, but Atharv was still there. Sitting on the floor next to her bed, holding her hand with one hand, and a book in the other. He was reading. She wanted to say so many things but was scared that the dream would end should she speak up. Koyal remained silent and closed her eyes. Atharv was there and hence there was no reason to feel afraid any more. He was there even if this was just a drug-induced dream. He was there even if he was not there. Just like he had promised all those years ago.

  Koyal opened her eyes and stared at the sunlight streaming in. Cheerful and bright. She immediately looked on her right.

  No Atharv.

  No hand clasping hers.

  The dream had ended and she was awake. For a moment, an all-consuming sadness overcame her. In the dream, Atharv had sat next to her like he was her friend, the friend he was always meant to be, not the stranger he had become.

  ‘How are you, love?’ a kind-faced older nurse came up to her.

  ‘I…’ Koyal was surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded, ‘I am okay … but very thirsty.’

  The nurse gave her some water and when Koyal said she wanted to rest, the nurse left the room.

  ‘Ms Raje, or is it Ms Ra-ye?’ A doctor came to her bedside a few hours later.

  ‘Ra-jay,’ Koyal pronounced her name for him.

  ‘Right, Ms Raje,’ said the doctor briskly, ‘you had a massive asthma attack which led to some further complications. Nothing we need to worry about now, but I would like to keep you under observation for at least another twenty-four hours.’

  He went on for a bit, telling her in detail what had gone wrong, but Koyal barely heard him.

  ‘Anything you wish to ask?’ he asked in conclusion.

  Koyal thought for a moment. Yes, she had a question. Had he seen a tall, broad man with spectacles and a book walk into her room and stay by her side?

  She knew visitors were not allowed for such extended periods of time and the question itself seemed silly.

  ‘No, I am good. Thank you,’ she said politely.

  It would have been a stupid question to ask. She knew it had been a dream, a very real dream, but a dream nevertheless.

  It was much later in the evening, when the kind nurse was back, that Koyal decided she had to ask. Even if just to be told that she was imagining things.

  Hopefully to be told that she was imagining things. Something, anything, to end the insanity.

  ‘Jennifer?’ Koyal said in a hesitant voice even though Jennifer had to be one of the kindest persons she had ever met.

  ‘Yes, love?’ Jennifer looked up from the file she had been updating.

  ‘Umm … umm … was there … you know, someone with … a book … I mean, a man … in this room?’

  Gosh, she sounded like such an idiot, thought Koyal.

  ‘Dr Jayakrishna, you mean?’ Jennifer asked, pronouncing his name with ease and familiarity.

  Koyal stilled, feeling blood drain out of her face. A million little bombs exploded in her brain. And she felt she could start crying with relief.

  ‘Atharv,’ she said, trying hard to keep both the curiosity and the excitement in check. ‘Was he here?’

  ‘He is your friend?’ Jennifer asked, looking at Koyal as if she had been wanting to ask her this for a long time.

  Koyal nodded. ‘Since we were babies,’ she heard herself add.

  ‘Aah,’ said Jennifer, now smiling, ‘it all makes sense now.’

  Koyal looked quizzically at Jenn
ifer.

  ‘He came in twenty minutes after you were admitted by,’ Jennifer looked at the notes, ‘Arjun and Hema Chandra.’

  Koyal nodded.

  ‘He used to work with us sometime back. We have a world-class neuromedicine department and Dr Jayakrishna was our star resident for a brief stint before, of course, London came calling,’ she said, smiling. ‘So when he came in, all worried and ruffled, which was quite unlike him because he really is the calmest man I have ever met, asking after you and requesting to see you immediately, of course he was allowed.’

  ‘Really?’ Koyal’s heart was beating faster now.

  ‘When he came in, your situation was quite critical, to be honest. We just couldn’t control your blood pressure, it was fluctuating like a sine curve.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Like a mad sine curve. And he just came in, looked at the chart and had a quick word with the doctor. And then, just like that, he held your hand.’

  Koyal could only stare open-mouthed.

  ‘And your blood pressure seemed to stabilize just a tiny bit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know, crazy,’ said Jennifer, laughing. ‘The longer he held your hand, the more stable it became and the lower it got.’

  Koyal could only stare at Jennifer.

  ‘I heard that the doctors don’t really have an explanation for what was happening but it was the only thing that seemed to work. So he stayed.’

  ‘He did what?’ asked Koyal, now biting her lips for she didn’t want to start crying.

  ‘He sat by your bed for seventeen hours just holding your hand.’

  Koyal stilled.

  ‘Atharv?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jennifer, staring at the flushed face of the young Indian woman.

  ‘Is he around still?’ Koyal asked, her heart thumping fast.

  ‘He left as soon as your BP seemed to stabilize on its own.’

  ‘Did he leave a message?’

  ‘I am sorry, no, love,’ said Jennifer, looking intently at Koyal. She was on her way out when Koyal called after her.

  ‘Jennifer?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘He sat by my bed for seventeen hours just holding my hand and that sorted my BP?’

  Jennifer stayed quiet for a few seconds, then walked the distance back to her patient, leaned in closer and said:

  ‘Sometimes, even if we forget our friends, our soul does not.’

  Koyal could only stare as Jennifer smiled, turned around and left the room.

  19

  Koyal walked up to the reception and wondered if she should just run back. Why tempt fate?

  ‘Could I leave a message for Dr Jayakrishna?’ she asked the lady at the reception.

  ‘Oh yes, sure.’

  Koyal stared at the receptionist for a moment, shook her head and walked away.

  ‘The message?’ the receptionist called after Koyal, puzzled, but Koyal did not stop till she was in the safety of her own room.

  Koyal spent two more days at Lady Margaret Hospital in Kent. Both Hema and Akki, feeling needlessly guilty in Koyal’s opinion, visited her each day. Not only that, they also insisted she go back with them for the remaining time she had taken off work to recover and no amount of excuses would make them give way.

  It was late one night, as Hema watched Koyal drink the chicken soup she had made for her, when Koyal finally asked her the question that had been gnawing at her forever now.

  ‘How did Atharv find out I was in the hospital, Hema?’ she asked, taking in a spoonful of the soup, pretending this was just a casual question that hadn’t kept her tossing and turning at night.

  ‘Why, I called him soon after we rushed upstairs when we heard the sound of the table crashing,’ said Hema, eyeing Koyal intently.

  ‘Why didn’t you just call 999? Why him?’ Koyal hoped she had succeeded in keeping the irritation out of her voice.

  ‘Because, my dear,’ said Hema, getting up, taking the almost empty soup bowl from Koya’s hands and heading for the door, ‘when I reached you, you were semi-conscious and repeatedly calling out just one name.’

  Koyal stared at Hema.

  Hema’s eyes bored into those of her younger friend.

  ‘You kept asking for Atharv.’

  And with that, without asking or saying anything more, Hema left the room, leaving a red-faced Koyal to her thoughts.

  Sometimes, even if we forget our friends, our soul does not.

  ‘Do you want me to call him to reception? He is available,’ the receptionist asked helpfully, bringing her back to the present, and Koyal turned pale at the mere suggestion.

  ‘No!’ she said, louder than she had meant to and then promptly turned red in the face. ‘No…’ she repeated in a softer voice. Silently, she sent another angry curse Hema and Akki’s way. Had it not been for their incessant prodding, Koyal would have never ventured within a million kilometres of Atharv’s hospital.

  ‘You should thank him, you know,’ Hema had said to Koyal a week back.

  Koyal had stared blankly at Hema. ‘Thank who?’

  ‘Atharv.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He made life very easy for us while you were in hospital, all thanks to the people he knew from his time there.’

  He sat by my hospital bed holding my hand for seventeen hours.

  ‘And then with patient release formalities too,’ added Akki.

  He saved my life.

  ‘You need to thank him. Atharv is a neurosurgery consultant at Great Whitesbridge Street Hospital and here is the address,’ said Akki and began to tap on his phone to message the address to Koyal as she stared open-mouthed at him.

  Hema had first pestered Koyal, then threatened and finally shouted at her till she had finally relented. Even that morning, Hema had sent her a barrage of messages to make sure Koyal went to the hospital during her lunch break.

  Koyal’s phone beeped, bringing her back to the present.

  Hema. Again.

  ‘Are you there?’ her message read.

  ‘Yes, at reception,’ Koyal texted back immediately and then looked up at the receptionist.

  ‘No, please don’t call him here. I just have a small message for him. Please tell him Koyal Raje came to say thank you.’

  ‘Just that?’ the receptionist asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you want to leave your number or address? Or probably Dr Jayakrishna has it?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said firmly, eyeing the door. She – her heart, her soul – could not bear to be around Atharv any more.

  ‘No problem,’ said the receptionist and asked Koyal to sign a piece of paper.

  Not that difficult, was it? Koyal asked herself, breathing out as she bent over the register to sign herself out. She could already feel relief cascading through her body and she finally unclenched her fingers.

  ‘Is there a delivery for Mum?’ came a voice from right next to her.

  Koyal’s hands and breathing both stopped on their own. She stood there, bent low over the register, frozen.

  From the corner of her eye she could sense that a broad, scrubs-clad form had appeared.

  ‘That would be Dr Surya Jayakrishna, please,’ he said.

  The voice. His voice.

  ‘Sure, Dr Jayakrishna,’ said the receptionist, ‘let me check.’

  Don’t say anything about me, please, please, please, thought Koyal furiously, wondering if she could somehow vanish. Or make a mad dash for the door?

  ‘Oh and by the way,’ added the receptionist and Koyal could have killed her, ‘this lady here wanted to leave a message for you. And now that you are here, may be best for you to just talk to her.’

  Koyal breathed out. Steady, she told herself and straightened up. She turned around to face the stranger who had, many years ago, during one of the darkest nights of her miserable life, cradled her to his chest like one would cradle a newborn.

  This stranger was the man who had only recently sat by
her bed and held her hand for seventeen hours. The stranger she had tried hard to forget but her soul had not.

  Atharv, clad in scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck, was looking better now than he had ever before, Koyal had to give him that. He had never been conventionally good-looking, not as a sixteen-year-old and not now. But there was something about him that was very attractive. A kindness about him that was almost tangible. An aura around him that glowed with intelligence. A presence that nobody could ignore.

  And then, like a bolt of lightning, memories from a decade back hit Koyal and she shook her head. This was the man who was responsible for the mess her life had become.

  He was staring at her and Koyal gulped. Breathe, just breathe, she told herself, sternly forbidding her body to go into the meltdown it had spectacularly dived into when she’d last seen him. Just thinking about it made her toes curl in embarrassment and her heart go fuzzy – both pretty much at the same time.

  Over the initial surprise, his eyes now clouded with poorly disguised anger. ‘How can I help you?’ he asked in a voice dripping with formality.

  Oh, right, so he is the angry one?

  However, even as he spat out the words, Koyal could sense that his eyes were now boring into her face, assessing if she was doing okay medically.

  Part of her was angry at the way he had just spoken to her.

  Another part of her was reluctantly thawing – he cared, that part of her being said, he genuinely cared.

  And the rest of her was groaning. Why, even after all these years, was she still able to see the thoughts flitting through his head? Almost as though she still knew him like he belonged to her. Why was meeting him again so painful in this weird half happy, half mad way? Why, when she could run away, was she not running away? Why, when she could easily not have come here today, was she here? What did her heart want? What was the universe plotting for her?

  ‘I … I just came to…’ Koyal hated how words were now deserting her.

  He stared at her.

  Koyal wondered what he would say next.

  ‘One sec,’ Atharv said to her as his phone rang. He answered it, saying, ‘Mum, please can you wait?’