ON my way to the hospital that night, I prayed, “Please, God, help her to recover.”
The scene at the hospital’s ICU was chaotic, with deeply worried family and friends all wanting to know the status of the accident victims. Hospital security took a long time to bring the situation under control. Doctors came out to speak to the tearful relatives, assuring them that they were doing their best to save the accident victims.
Two hours later, there were screams from relatives whose loved ones had just succumbed. I felt a knot in my stomach that made it hard to breathe. I went outside, walked a little, and took deep breaths until I could breathe normally again.
I went back inside. No one knew me, and I did not know her family, so I stood quietly in a corner, hoping to hear an update on her condition. What I knew so far was that she had suffered severe injuries and was in a coma. I continued to pray for her recovery, feeling a pain I had never experienced before. I hadn’t known her for long, but she had won my interest with her warm smile, beautiful laughter and cheerful personality. I left the hospital close to midnight after one of the attending doctors suggested to her mother, “Please go home and get some rest. She is still in a coma, but she will pull through.”
“I want to be here when she wakes up,” she sobbed quietly.
“You have to be strong for her.”
The mother nodded and wiped her tears. “I will try. Thank you, doctor.”
Ahana’s sister took her mother’s hand and led her slowly down the stairs. I felt so sorry for the family, their pain and worry, and as I walked home, my concern for Ahana grew deeper. She was so full of life, so vibrant, with a pleasant and selfless nature, and I asked, “Why did this have to happen to her?”
The universe, of course, gave no answer, and I knew the only thing to do now was keep her in my prayers.
I went back to the hospital the next day, but there was no news. She was still in a coma, and three nights later, as I sat alone outside the ICU, a female intern passing by stopped and called my name. “Satesh, sir?”
I looked up with a little start, not recognising her, and before I could ask who she was, she said, “I’m Navita. My father Amit, works on your farm, and when he needed assistance for me to further my studies, you funded my university studies.”
It took me a short moment to recollect; then I said, “Oh yes, I remember, and you’re now an intern.”
“Thanks to you.”
“You’ve done great.”
She smiled with appreciation, then asked, “So what are you doing here so late?”
I told her about Ahana’s accident, the coma she was still in and that I was waiting for a word on her condition.
“Okay, let me check with the nurses.”
She went into the ICU and came out ten minutes later with news that did not ease the deep worry in my mind.
“Her injuries are severe, and the doctor can discuss them only with her family. She is still in a coma but stable.”
The worry must have reflected on my face, and Navita said as a way of comfort, “I’m sorry, but don’t give up. Just hold onto hope and faith; they can work miracles.”
She took my number and said, “I will check on her status during my shift and send you an update.”
“Thank you.”
Four days later, a message came on my phone: “She’s awake.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said. That was the best news I had heard, and it filled my heart with pure joy. I didn’t go to the hospital, though, for two nights, knowing family and friends would be visiting her. I had to wait a little more and visited when Navita was on duty. She had already spoken to the doctor on my behalf, and I was allowed to see Ahana for a few minutes.
My heart was racing as I neared her bed, and I inhaled deeply to control my emotions as I looked at her, hooked up to so many machines. The nurse in attendance quietly called her name, and she opened her eyes. It took her a moment to register I was standing there; then she smiled weakly. “Hey, you’re here.”
I smiled and said, “I’ve been here from the first night.”
“That’s good to know you care.”
She closed her eyes, then reopened them and said, trying to sound cheerful, “I still want to do that tour.”
“Yes, of course. Whenever you’re ready.”
She smiled weakly again and said to me, “Come closer.”
I looked at the nurse, who nodded, and moved closer to her bed. She reached and touched my hand, whispering softly, “Pray for me.”
The request really touched my heart, and I responded, my voice shaking a little, “I’ve been doing that, and I will continue to pray for you.”
She smiled, tears glinting in her eyes. “Thank you.”
I did not know how severe her injuries were, but it was clear she had a battle on her hands to recover, and as the days went by, she improved slowly but steadily. I got to see her a few more times, and my heart rejoiced at the progress she was making and the warmer smile on her face.
The doctors declared she was out of danger, and she was moved to a private room with fewer restrictions on visitors. We got to talk a little more, and she said, “Thank you for keeping me in your prayers.”
“It’s all I could have done for you.”
“And you came every night?”
“Yep.”
“It’s nice to have someone like you as a friend.”
I looked at her and knew then what my heart had been trying to tell me: from the first time I met her, I had fallen in love with her.
For the next few days, I got caught up in the farm’s business and preparations at home for Diwali. Our family always celebrated the festival of lights with splendour, but this year, my friend was still in the hospital, and it took away a little of that enthusiasm from me.
One week before Diwali, I visited her, but I was stunned by an unexpected change. She looked distraught, and her warm smile was gone.
“How are you doing?”
She shook her head a little, and I could see the deep pain in her eyes. I touched her hand gently and asked, “Ahana, what’s wrong? You’ve been recovering so well.”
She nodded, tried to talk but choked; then, after a long moment, she said, a tremor in her voice, “The doctors said I may not walk again.”
To be continued…
Fables