Page 165 - Till the Last Breath . . .

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Pihu Malhotra

Pihu’s eyes were immovably set on the other bed in her room, partly

because she was in denial and partly because she felt sorry for Dushyant’s
pitiable state. The number of drips and the monitors monitoring his vital

stats had increased. He wasn’t breathing on his own but through a pipe that
fit into a nozzle in his throat. His body struggled and writhed in pain with

every breath and he looked tormented. It had been almost two weeks since
the incident—when he puked blood—and he had hardly been awake after
that. Now, he got up, took the medicines, whined and moaned and went

back to sleep. Sometimes she noticed Dushyant looking at her, trying to say
something but nothing ever made sense. His speech was reduced to long-

drawn-out mumbles and painful groans.
Only yesterday, she had mustered up the courage to ask Arman if
Dushyant was going to be all right. She was stunned to learn he was dying.

He was just fine, wasn’t he? Her gaze shifted to her own legs which were
being examined by Dr Zarah and a couple of more people she had seen for

the first time. The medicinal routine had started and she was sick of
swallowing twenty pills a day. It had been easy at first but slowly it was

becoming tougher. The pills started to depress her and every time she had to
take one, the bad aftertaste at the back of her tongue served as a reminder of

what she had.
‘Can you feel them?’ one of them asked.
‘Pihu?’ Zarah said to catch her attention.

‘I can’t,’ she mumbled as they kept creeping up her leg. She could see
their hands mould, prick and knead her legs but she couldn’t feel them in

the way she used to. Now, her legs were just extensions of her body that she