Page 198 - Till the Last Breath . . .

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Pihu Malhotra

It had been thirteen hours and she was lying unconscious in her bed in a

dreamless sleep. As she opened her eyes, the first hazy images that
registered on her retina were six pairs of curious eyes trained anxiously on

her. Immediately, her head started to echo with voices.
Are you okay?

How are you feeling now?
Is there any pain?
Can you see us?

She closed her eyes again to escape those questions and to process what
she felt at that point in time. There is no pain. I could see them. I still have

some strength. I think I can get up. After taking a few long breaths, she
opened her eyes and looked around. Mom. Dad. Dr Zarah. A previously
unseen ward boy. Dr Arman. Sigh. Dushyant.

‘I am okay,’ she purred groggily as she opened her eyes again.
‘I need to ask her some questions; can I?’ Arman asked the others and

everyone retreated except him.
Arman sat next to her and breathed deeply. For a while, he just kept

looking at her as if he had seen her after months. The sheer fragility of
Arman’s demeanour, like he would break down if he looked at her for too

long, made her feel alive. It wasn’t the brazen charm, or the brilliance, or
the eccentricity that drew her to Arman; it was the frailty and the
humanness behind the facade of arrogance that he so meticulously

maintained.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she said, and reflected on the

words that she had just said. Straight out of an old ’80s movie with a bad