Page 34 - Till the Last Breath . . .

The doctor looked at her parents and started to ask them about their

families. ‘So Pihu’s grandparents? They are still alive?’
They let the doctors know whatever he needed and the doctor noted
everything down on a small pad. She knew he was yet to make any sense of

it. But he had a hunch about what Pihu had.
‘We need to do some more tests,’ he said, ‘to check the nerve reactions.

Nothing major.’ The doctor smiled. Pihu smiled back at him. Does he
know? Why is he smiling?

‘I am sure it’s because of stress. She is a medical student, you know. Lots
of pressure, big books, late nights, you know? She is a brilliant student,

topped the region in her board examinations. She wants to be a surgeon.’
Her mom’s chest swelled with obvious pride. The doctor nodded
approvingly.

‘Do you know what’s wrong with her?’ her father asked, keeping down
the fake brain.

Please don’t ask, Dad. I am dying. Slowly. Please don’t ask.
‘Let’s wait for the results,’ the doctor answered and whisked her away to

the testing room.
It took the doctor three hours, a battery of tests and consultations with

other doctors to come to the conclusion Pihu had reached days before. She
had noticed the expressions of shock on their faces while her doctor
discussed the case with other doctors in her presence. As they talked and

looked in her direction, with pity on their faces, she was sure they didn’t
know that she already knew. Some of them even called their counterparts in

other hospitals for a second opinion.
‘Did you figure it out yet?’ she asked the doctor, who shifted restlessly in

his place.
‘We are just getting a final confirmation from an expertdoctor in

Mumbai,’ he said. She felt sorry for the doctor, too. Why should he be a
part of the gloom that was about to engulf her family?
‘I know what I have, doctor,’ she said, her head hung low.

‘Excuse me?’
‘I am a medical student. First year, Maulana Azad. I did the tests myself.’