Page 107 of 12 Years
I’d woken up on a narrow bed with a stiff white sheet under me and a brown blanket over me. I saw wires attached to my chest and an IV drip going into my hand. Okay, this lookedlike a hospital. Was I dreaming? Was I dead? Was this where the newly dead first arrive? After all, even on earth, newborns generally arrived in a hospital first.
‘Patient woke up!’ someone shouted.
Okay, thiswasa hospital. And I was the patient.
My mother came running into the room. What was my mother doing here? More importantly, what wasIdoing here?
‘Saket,’ my mother whispered, hugging me tight.
However distant you might feel from your parents, a mother’s hug always feels nice.
‘How are you feeling?’ she said.
‘Why? What happened to me?’
My father entered the room at that moment, his face more emotional than I’d ever seen. A nurse followed him in, and she helped me sit up, propping the pillows behind my back.
‘Sorry, where am I? Which hospital is this?’
‘Holy Family Hospital,’ my mother said.
‘When did you come to Mumbai?’ I said, still puzzled.
‘Five days back,’ my father said. ‘Mudit called us.’
‘Where’s Mudit?’
‘He’s on his way.’
My parents didn’t tell me what had happened. They kept the conversation light, talking about how big the tomatoes had grown in their vegetable garden back in Chandigarh and how this winter was particularly cold.
Mudit arrived half an hour later.
‘Doing okay, bro?’ he said.
‘Yeah. Do I really need to be here?’
‘Yeah, bro,’ Mudit said. ‘You definitely did.’
My parents left the hospital to get some rest at my place, leaving just Mudit and me in the room. ‘What happened to me, Mudit?’
He told me the whole story. I’d passed out drunk on the window ledge in my apartment, rolled over and fallen to the floor, hitting my head on the ground. Even though it was just a three-foot fall, I’d hurt myself badly. I remained unconscious for an entire day and night. It was Mudit who found me the next day. He’d come to check on me after I hadn’t answered my phone. When I didn’t respond to the doorbell, he called a locksmith to open the door. They found me lying on the floor, with a pool of blood around my head and a nasty gash on my forehead. He rushed me to the Holy Family Hospital in Bandra, where they admitted me immediately. I’d lost blood, was dehydrated and my system was full of alcohol. Mudit donated his own blood and watched over me until my parents got there. I remained in a near-coma-like state for five days, surviving on IV drips.
‘Wow, so much happened. I’m sorry, Mudit. I’m an idiot.’
‘This girl, man. And yeah, you really are an idiot.’
I stayed silent.
‘If I hadn’t come to check on you, I would’ve lost my best friend. Your parents would’ve lost their only son. But no, it’s all about that chick. We mean nothing to you,’ Mudit said.
I lowered my head.
‘Career, family, friends, your health. Nothing matters. It’s just Payal, Payal, Payal.’
‘No, it’s not like that,’ I said weakly.
‘It is. She’s married to someone else now, by the way.’
