Waiting Room

Suvarna looked outside the window into the dark, gloomy, still and oppressive night of the monsoons. She was hoping to find those answers that were difficult to come by in the neon lit blinding harshness of the room. Sitting by the window looking at the serene and peaceful form of her husband, if you could ignore the needles and tubes weaving in and around his body; he could well be sleeping. Harsh- just the name itself brought back so many memories.

She still remembered the first time that I had seen him. His winsome smile- not privy to her then but she had still felt enveloped in its projected warmth. Not that she had any particular reason to seek it from anyone. She had had enough, rather more than enough for her own; coming from a large and boisterous family with loving and communicative parents and siblings. Sometimes they pushed you to the attic or even the chajja of your balcony to escape into one’s personal space. Well, she wouldn’t want it any other way either. She loved her life, loved her family, loved the simple mathematics of sharing things between three, which invariably made Amul a more prudent choice than Cadbury’s.

But lately she had been experiencing a seed within her deepest self the need to call something her own; all her own without considering anything or anyone else. Wasn’t this the time of life when you were an individual more than a part of a family? Where the question about her parents is not third in line next to her name and school while playing in the park.

She was her own self now, far from what she had been so far. Even in a big city people had known her as the daughter or later in school as the sister…

Now she was finally what she was intended to be since the moment she was conceived a person, no matter how little, but herself. Nobody knew her other as anyone else’s something, if at all they did know her that is. And then she had seen Harsh. No one else but him seemed to brighten up an already very bright summer day! He seemed to breathe action into the very inert and soggy bunch of students waiting for the orientation to begin. An orientation to the course, the way of life, in the art and science of brewing.

A knock on the door brought her back to her present. A very dreary, sanitized, savlon-smelling present. A nurse pushed in a cart laden with all kinds of pills and injections. She stopped for a word of comfort, sympathy and got back to doing her job and tending her ministrations to her patient. Money, a lot of money can get you not just a private hospital room with the best medical care but also compassion. I do not doubt people’s capacity for compassion, but having a well paid job in a leading hospital leaves your mind relatively uncluttered to perceive trauma and pain in the people around you. It is liberating to come to terms with the fact that the story like life is nobody else’s but your own. So here I drop the pretense of talking in the third person. I am Suvarna and this is my story.

The nurse gave me words of encouragement and appreciation for my constant vigil by my husband’s side; telling me how many such cases came back from coma to lead full lives. Well but I knew better than that. That future could not be ours, was not ours, not for Harsh and Suvarna. I was not being pessimistic, I was holding on to… some reality… Check …

Checking out is what I was doing when he caught me staring at him. Only later did I realize that a question was directed at me and not just him, but everyone else was looking and waiting for me to respond.

“Excuse me! Could you repeat the question please?”

He smiled apparently benignly but I saw the lurking twinkle “why do you want to study wines and brewing?”

Well I was tougher than that, no amount of twinkly brilliance could unsettle me. For long. I smiled, bought some time and composure; shielded my eyes on the pretext of protecting them from the sun.

“Well I am interested in it and want to pursue it.”

I could see him shifting his attention to another student already.

“And I want to employ the extensive lands around Narayangaon near Pune that my father owns into something profitable, which would also provide creative and entrepreneurial satisfaction.”

Now it was my turn to look smug and nonchalant. I have a few tricks up my sleeve too mister; or haven’t you heard the saying- looks can be deceptive. It could have been coined for me.

Nothing in my appearance is remarkable. Small and diminutive with thick plated hair and a very traditional face. Well nothing remarkable till you hear me speak that is! You see, I was brought up with enough love and positive energy around me to give me confidence and eloquence as a speaker with a distinct raspy voice. The fact was only remarkable because it was unexpected coming from someone as unremarkable as me. Anyway I knew I had his attention then, what I didn’t know was how deeply it ran and for what reasons.

College was like one perfect dream; it not only gave me a sense of purpose but also the promise of a brilliant future. I could not have asked for more. So perfect a picture couldn’t have photoshopped it better. Everything seemed to fall into place effortlessly. Or did it? During the course of this time I got to spend more time with Harsh and get to know him more (or so I thought). We spent many an evening together. Talking, laughing, sharing, and arguing. It only seemed a natural progression for him to propose marriage and for me to accept. Or was it the other way around? Who knows for sure? Anymore.

I still remember the evening when I called my father, papa- my Hero, my confidante. His cautionary stance could also not break my bubble; neither could it protect me from our lofty ambitions. Mine and Harsh’s.

We got married soon after, full of ideas, hope, dreams and plans. We could not wait to get our hands dirty and busy with making wines. It was too idyllic to last our lifetime. I didn’t even notice the distance that wedged and was squeezing itself between the two of us. Initially when both of us got back home we were dead tired to do anything other than sleep and be ready for another day. It was understandable for Harsh to put in extra hours and I was more than busy myself. So what if he spent most weekends in Pune? There were always things going on between the vinery in Pune and vineyards in Narayangaon. Infact the only time Harsh wasn’t in Pune was when I was.

We were so involved with our enterprise; our friends all but disowned us, except ofcourse for Karthik, my junior in college. We always got along like a house on fire. Infact the popular joke was that if I had not married Harsh, it would have been Karthik with the third coming as a package deal! We often laughed over it. Something this funny is only funny because its not. But this I know only in hind sight.

I was shaken out of my reverie when Karthik barged into the room. He looked devastated. You see he was not there when the accident happened. Actually nobody was around. Harsh always an early riser was all set to go on site. It was the day we were meeting out short listed potential investors. Our small neat little well run enterprise, all set to take its next leap into the big league. I cant say that I was happy with the decision. I have been managing its promotion, its finances, everything other than brewing. That was the job of Harsh, he had the uncanny touch for these details and production, infact Karthik and Harsh. You see Karthik was by now assisting Harsh in production. This arrangement was working wonderfully for everyone. I had the independence of making all financial decisions, micromanager that I am, I had the freedom and luxury to look and overlook all money matters. Karthik and Harsh were only too happy to be left to their creativity and science as they called it. The only passion that seemed to bind them together was making and brewing wines. Lately they had begun to feel stifled by my inability to manage funds; (read: making capital available for their lofty expansion plans and experiments in the winery.) I was content basking in the accomplishment of successfully launching and managing the production of two labels of our wine, our very own wine. But then I was convinced how my complacence may cost the company its promising future. Funny, that was the first time I noticed how my company or even our company had metamorphosed into the company. I was told how I was being inconsiderate of Harsh and Karthik’s efforts and visions.

I suddenly felt like the third wheel. But it was just a feeling right? Must be the PMS kicking in. It was happening a lot lately so much so that I could no longer differentiate pre from the post. I would have continued to blame it on my hormones if I hadn’t gotten up earlier to overhear Harsh to what could only be Karthik. He had the copyright to call Harsh no matter the time. I had begun to resent it and with good reason as I soon discovered.

“These distances will disappear soon buddy. Just wait till we finalize this deal with the Mallan’s. I am sure Suvarna can be persuaded to sell her share, now that we will have the big guns managing the money.”

“Lately her maternal instincts have also been kicking in”

“Its just a question of waiting. Don’t give up on us yet. Not when we have seen our dream though all these years. Remember it didn’t seem like such a great idea when I bulldozed you into taking the course.”

“Don’t give up on us when we are so close to sealing our future together.”

“Alright see you on the weekend, I am sure we will be toasting to our togetherness.”

Yes!

“Oh come on when has she gotten up this early?

Yes I know. See you soon. Ya I am just going down the stairs and out.

Yup see you soon. Ya love you too.”

He turned, must have felt rather than heard my presence. In fact things would have been entirely different had he not turned just then. Looked me in my face. I saw a fleeting shock, settling into to a devil may care smirk. It was that smirk that galvanized my hands into pushing him away, only away at that point was down the stairs. He slipped tumbled, ever so softly to the floor below into unconsciousness. So noiselessly that neither the maali, nor the driver seemed to take any notice.

At that point I did what any human would, turned back and slept an extra hour, having my mind at rest after so long. I was tired of blaming myself for being unreasonable, suspicious, distant and moody. Things had fallen into place after all. Finally.

I was woken up by Bai, who called the hospital. I was frantic now that the enormity of the situation sunk in. The pacing outside the ward was very genuine, so was the ashen pallor. The bated breath with which I heard the doctor’s verdict was very real too.

“If only you had brought him earlier things may have been different, we could have done something. He was already in deep coma before we could get to him. He will be severely disabled, a vegetable the rest of his life, unless he shows some sign of life and movement in the next 48 hours. ”

I went limp and faded into oblivion. Not with grief.

Now I can close my eyes and relax as I hear my wrist watch beep. Harsh had lain as peaceful as when he was brought and the 48 hours were up. Finally.