Page 153 - Till the Last Breath . . .

Zarah unscrewed the drips and helped him down his bed. On their way

out, Zarah picked up Pihu’s chart hanging on the entrance of the room and
said, ‘Her birthday isn’t until two weeks from now. I think you should get
her something.’

‘You think I will still be here after two weeks?’ he asked, his voice
reeking of nervousness.

‘There are tumours in every place we see, Dushyant. You’re lucky to be
alive. I think you will be here for a really long time,’ she said.

‘I really need that smoke.’
Both of them left the room and walked through the corridor wordlessly

and rode the elevator to the sixth floor and then went to the balcony. Zarah
had a few joints—perfectly rolled—in her handbag and Dushyant was
pleasantly surprised, if not downright impressed.

‘That’s good,’ he said after inspecting the joint carefully between his
fingers.

‘What? You think I can’t roll a joint?’ she asked.
‘You don’t look the type. But anyway, you don’t look the type who

would risk the life of a patient, too, by unhooking the meds and getting him
high,’ he chuckled.

‘I am not risking your life. It’s to soothe your pain. This is medicinal
marijuana! It’s totally legal,’ she claimed.
‘It would be legal if you weren’t stealing it, which is quite obviously the

case here. And I don’t think they give it you so that you can pull a patient
out of his bed and make him smoke it,’ he said and took a long drag. The

smoke scraped his foodpipe on the way down and dulled his senses.
‘Whatever.’

‘Okay, fine. I agree this soothes my pain. And it’s incredibly strong,’ he
noticed. ‘But what pain are you soothing?’ He passed the joint to her.

‘Nothing.’ She shrugged.
‘C’mon. You can tell me. I am almost a dead man. Your secrets are going
nowhere,’ he pressed. ‘I am sure you can trust me. A few more days and

you won’t even see me any more. And if you think I am not worth your
trust, you can kill me in my sleep.’