Iha

A chaotic smile choked me last night; the newness of the blissful grief had disrupted my placid world.

Grief I discovered last night, is of 2 kinds. One that is categorical and distinct. In the sense that,one could trace its origin, analyze the sequence of events that led to cause it, list the consequences and read self-help books to fight it.

The other kind is nameless. And adverse; it leaves you with a lump in the throat, a sob in the soul and a void in the heart. Such is the pain that had plagued me yesterday.

His serene countenance appeared within my closed eye-lids time and again and awakened me from the disarrayed thoughts. “Love?” I asked myself, repeatedly. And I guess sleep took over, towards the end of night and flight of light.

This morning too, is filled with disrupted memories.

The first time that I saw him, he was fighting death. I was there; doing everything I could to see him alive.And when he did come out of coma i was ecstatic. I’d experienced a unique fondness for him right then;a connection deeper than ones i'd any other patient.

And I was pleased. To be able to get over the numbness within, to be able to free my crippled self from self-imposed boundaries. And most importantly, to be able to relate to a fellow human being with sensitivity and passionate care. A quality that is so pertinent in my profession; a principle I have valued. A motto that had guided my decisions whenever I was caught in crossroads.

Things changed with time. His smile brought back vigor and fervor in life, I started afresh. I lent a hearing ear to my patients and discovered delight in simple acts of nursing that had long ago become meaningless.

He had a unique sense of humor, one that forced me to laugh aloud; one that triggered and relieved my body and soul of all the baggage. There was light in my iris, cheer in my spirit and laughter in the corridors of the ward.

We talked about everything under the sun. Initially we spent hours together discussing art, movie and literature-we had such similar taste.

I got him books to read during my off weekends and spent the following week dissecting the story line, the beauty (or otherwise) of wordplay, the vivid characterization and the climax. And we often disagreed on one point. I adore happy endings; tragedy is more captivating, he opined.

A feeling much more intense than fondness was growing between us.I had been checking on him first thing in the morning everyday. But today was different and difficult. The ward was heaving with patients and I was busy emptying bed-pans, changing dressings, assisting with the emergency cases.

Finally, much later in the afternoon I managed to get sometime to grab a cup of coffee. I rushed straight to his room.

And then:

"I have only a little time today," I said, walking inside, checking my watch.

His left eyelid flickered, perhaps. There wasn’t any other response.

He was in deep slumber, I guessed. I sat there for a few more minutes, caressing his hair.

The silence was broken by Leela’s heavy footsteps. Seeing me there, she managed a feeble
smile.I wondered if she knew about our relationship,I greeted back with an abashed look.

She came closer to me and took my hands in hers.

“I’m sorry”, she said, pressing her palm against mine.

“For what?” I questioned.

“He has slipped into Coma again. And this time…”

----

I pushed back the wave of tears that threatened to flood my eyes.

It was a long day after that.Artificial smiles,ugly injuries and bandages, nauseating drugs, maddening rush in the wards, shrieking pregnant women.

I got back home much later in the night. I had an urgent shower, a desperate attempt to compose the overwhelming grief.

I sat there in the bathroom just below the shower, letting the water wash over.

And a rotten chaotic smile choked me; the newness of this grief disrupts my placid world.

------------

Back again:

"I have only a little time today," I said, walking inside, checking my watch.

I took me a few minutes to realize he wasn’t in there, I decided to wait.

I sat beside his bed; chewing on the jumbled thoughts and mélange of emotions. My arms reached out to the book I’d lent him last Sunday. Love Story!

I turned the pages one by one tenderly, as if I were caressing his hair. And a light colored leaflet from between the pages fell to the ground. As I bent down, I could clearly read what it read.

“Iha, Will you marry me?”

----

I pushed back the wave of tears that threatened to flood my eyes.

It was a long day after that. Artificial smiles,ugly injuries and bandages, nauseating drugs, maddening rush in the wards, shrieking pregnant women.

I got back home much later in the night. I had an urgent shower, a desperate attempt to compose the overwhelming excitement.

I sat there in the bathroom just below the shower, letting the water wash over.

An euphoric smile choked me; and the newness of this joyous grief disrupts my placid world.
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I adore happy endings; tragedy is more captivating, he opined.

(Iha – Secret Desire)