Changing Shades - 15

Chapter 15

Fortunately for Khushi, sleep must have come after some time, and saved her from the thoughts that swirled around inside her head. The next time she next blinked her eyes, it was morning, and the sun was streaming through her window curtains. 

For a moment she blinked in sleepy puzzlement, squinting her eyes against the unaccustomed light. Her tiny hostel room faced west, she never got the morning sun. Had she slept through the day for some reason?

As she struggled to wakefulness, her eyes swept around the unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room, and memory of the events of the day before flooded back with shocking suddenness. Manish ... Pratibha ... the hospital ... Manish was sick, dying ... Arnav's sudden unexplained appearance at the hospital ...

Khushi jumped out of bed, looked at the clock, and gave a small gasp of shock. 

“10.30! How did I sleep so long?! Where is Arnav?!”

She almost threw on her clothes, and ran out of the room. She rushed downstairs to the lobby, and then stopped. She didn't even know the name of the hospital, where Manish was, nor did she know Raj Bahadur's address, or phone number, or anything. She had been in such a state last night, that she hadn't noticed the name of the hospital or the hotel, and Arnav had just taken over everything. 

Where was he? She wondered as she looked around her almost hysterically. Where was Arnav? Why had he not called her? Why had nobody called her?

She went to the Reception desk in the lobby.

 
“I need to speak to Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada,” she told the woman at the desk, and the other girl looked back at her blankly.

Khushi looked at her impatiently, and repeated her query.

"I need to speak to Mr Arnav Singh Raizada," she said again, enunciating each syllable slowly and carefully, as though the receptionist was an idiot. "We came in together late last night. I'm in room 408, he is in the next room. Except that he isn't. In his room, I mean," she added, her impatience growing at the other girl's evident confusion. "I need to contact him urgently. His cell phone is switched off. Did he leave a message for me? Did he say where he was going? Was there any call for me?"

  

“He went out early this morning,” the receptionist answered, thrown off balance by the rapid fire questions Khushi was shooting at her . “I don't think he's back yet, but I'll check.” She dialled a number, but before she could say anything, Khushi saw Arnav walk into the hotel lobby through the front glass doors.

With a hurried word to the girl, she rushed to Arnav.

“Where have you been?” she asked, breathlessly, accusingly, her earlier worry forgotten in this new one. “Nobody called me. You … Raj Bahadur … no one! What’s happening?! Have you seen Manish this morning? Arnav, answer me! Arnav!”

He was looking tired, his face haggard and pale. He looked as though he hadn't had much sleep the last night, she thought suddenly, and felt a ridiculous urge to smooth the lines on his forehead. It wasn't his fault all this had happened, she thought belatedly. In fact, he had no business to be here at all, sorting out her problems.

Why was he here, she wondered belatedly, and then pushed the thought away. There was no time to ponder that now, nor even ask him. She had other, more pressing concerns to think about. 

"Arnav?" she said again, more quietly this time. 

Arnav looked at her as though not really seeing her, and she caught hold of his hand and shook it slightly.

“Arnav! What is it? Where have you been? Why did you not call me? Have you been to the hospital? Arnav, answer me!”

He looked at her then, and his face seemed to clear slightly, gain some focus. “I'm sorry,” he said, and his voice was husky. “I should have left word for you. Too many things…. He tailed off, then looked at her again, and seemed to pull himself together. His voice was more like his normal voice when he spoke again.

“Are you ready? Should we go to the hospital?”

“Haven't you been there already?” she asked, puzzled, and he shook his head, not answering. He ushered her out to a waiting car.

“Where's Raj Bahadur?” she asked, as the car started, and he shook his head again.

“At the hospital. Bear with me, Khushi, will you? Don’t ask me any questions. I’m really not in the mood. It’s been a rough morning.”

“Where have you been?” she asked again, so worried that she didn't even realise she was ignoring what he was saying. “Why didn't you go there in the morning? Where have you been?”

He didn't answer immediately. He looked at her, then looked away, out through the window. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, then looked back at her. His eyes were dark, tortured, and she caught her breath at the anguish in them.

"Arnav ..." she said, reaching out almost without volition, her voice soft.

“I wish to God I’d …” he said, and then stopped. He shook his head again and didn’t say any more all through the short journey. His hands were clenched, his jaw set as he stared out the car window. And was that a glimmer of ... tears she saw in his eyes?

Khushi sat back, and stayed silent through the ride, shaken at the sight of her normally unflappable Arnav so obviously upset.

They reached the hospital, and got out, and walked up the stairs to the first floor where Manish was admitted. And there, Khushi had her second shock of the day.

Her mother-in-law walked out of Manish's room, into the waiting area, just as Khushi and Arnav entered. In her arms was Manish's baby. And following her, in her wheelchair, came Pratibha.

Khushi looked at Manish's mother's face, and reached her side before she knew what she was doing.

“Mummy,” she said, hoarsely. “Mummy. What are you doing here? Oh, Mummy, I … I didn't want you to see him like this.”

Her mother-in-law looked at her. Her face was stricken.

“He's gone,” she said, blankly.  She looked at Khushi, her eyes unseeing. “He's gone. After so many years of searching, I find him, only to lose him. Oh, god, Manish …so many years! So many years of waiting, hoping, wondering, praying. And when I find him, he goes! In my arms! As though he was just waiting for me. Oh, why didn't I come earlier! Why couldn't I save him?!”

Khushi looked frantically at Pratibha. Her face told Khushi more than any words could have.

“When?” Khushi whispered, shocked. “When ….?”

“Just before you came,” answered Pratibha, her voice choked with tears. “He just went like that. He saw his mother. He seemed to recognize her, he wanted to say something to her. Then … he just went. He looked … he looks so peaceful now ….” Her voice broke and she struggled to control her tears. Then she looked at Khushi again.

“I shouldn't cry,” she said softly, her grief showing in her eyes. “We both knew this was coming. I should be happy that I managed to get you here in time, and you managed to get his mother in time to meet him … Thank you, Khushi. I think ... ” her voice broke slightly, but she went on bravely. "I think he will be at peace now. At least he isn't suffering any more."

Pratibha was trying her best to be brave, but the strain showed in her eyes, in the shaky tone of her voice. Khushi's heart ached for the younger girl, even as she tried to absorb the news Pratibha was giving. Just yesterday she had seen Manish, talked to him ... And today he was ... gone? Khushi felt blank.

Manish's mother sat down almost blindly on the worn chair in the waiting room, and Khushi pulled herself out of her own grief and went to her. She sat down next to her mother-in-law and put an arm protectively around her. 

The older lady seemed in a daze, a state of shock. She looked at Khushi again blankly.

“Khushi,” she began. “Khushi, why? Why did this have to happen? Where did we go wrong? He had everything, everything! Why did he throw it all away?”

“I asked him the same question, ma,” said Khushi, softly, gently. “The blame is not all his. Or yours,” she added. “I think we all, me included, must share it. If there is any to be shared at all. Maybe it was his fate, kismet ... ordained that it be this way.”

Manish's mother shook her head. “No, it's our fault,” she said, her voice heavy with grief. “If only I had listened to him more. I should have known him better, realised what was happening to him. You saw what was happening after you got married, and I, living in the same house for twenty-five years, closed my eyes to it. If I had realised earlier, maybe he would be alive today. Maybe we could have tried harder, got him back …done something …more …” she broke off in tears.

Khushi looked at her in despair. “Mummy, don't do this to yourself. You did all you could. All he would let you do.”

But his mother was too grief-stricken to be comforted.