Page 222 - Till the Last Breath . . .

‘I will see what has to be done. You should talk to his parents. They can

be possible donors,’ he said, trying to regain some grip on the situation. His
words had no effect on Zarah whose stifled sobs only got louder. ‘I will pay
if money is a problem,’ he added as another assurance. But deep down, he

knew all this wouldn’t matter. A liver transplant would make him live for
another few days, maybe a month, but his kidneys were still shutting down.

The survival chances of someone with donor kidneys and liver were slim,
and that is if the patient got the organs in the first place.

‘I think I should talk to his parents,’ she said and left the room.
It was time for Arman to accept the truth, too. He had most likely failed.

She might or might not survive the next surgery. From the cabinet he hardly
ever opened, he took out a bottle of Scotch and poured himself a drink. The
tan-coloured liquid slipped down his throat smoothly, burning it a little,

soothing it a little. He picked up the phone and asked for Pihu’s parents to
be sent to his office. As he waited for her parents, he downed two more

drinks. The pain, the agony was still there. He saw the parents walking to
his door, her father stoic, her mother hysterical.

‘What happened to her?’ her dad asked, his forehead riddled with criss-
crossed lines.

‘I am afraid our treatment didn’t work,’ he said, trying to be as doctor-
like and straight-faced as possible.
‘What do you mean?’ her mom said, looking at him with the veins in her

eyes popping out.
‘We have to do another surgery and see if we can make her live a little

longer,’ he said. ‘There are chances … but they are minimal. She might not
have more than a few days.’

‘YOU KILLED HER!’ her mom shouted all of sudden and lunged at
Arman, her hands flailing wildly at him as she tried to grab him. Her father

tried his best to stop her. Arman just sat there waiting to get hit, thinking it
was just. He felt responsible, and if in any way he could assuage the pain of
her mother, he was up for it. Her mother kept shouting and repeating that

her daughter would have been much better without him, even though her
father knew she wouldn’t have. For five minutes, she kept trying to swing at