An Act of Love

It was an act of love, she had said. Nonsense. 

I can't ever think of it that way. I watch Ananya fight for her life, and I know, I know I can't let her quit. I can't even let her think of quitting. Not for one second. Stupid, stupid doctors… what do they know? They don't know how extraordinary she is. How much spirit lives inside that little body. Nothing. They know nothing. 

She is in so much pain. Poor little thing. So much pain. Just a little bit more baby girl. Fight for papa, please. I can't let you go. I will never let you go... I will not let it happen again. 

Ah, Uma is here. What a ray of sunshine. She's had my back since 1976. Formidable Uma. Let them tell her it's hopeless. Stupid doctors. Stupid, stupid people. If I have to handle one more snivelling well-wisher… God. Just let us be. Let us cope. We can't be there for your emotions right now. Don't people understand that? 

I can't stop looking at how much Ananya's hands look like Shaila's. Clearly, Shaila and I aren't going to make it. It feels so inconsequential right now - I don't know if it always did, or if I don't have the headspace right now. Either way, the fact that I don't care is telling, I guess. We did make this beautiful girl together, so there's that. But little else. 

Uma looks like she's been crying. She keeps glancing at me and then glancing away. Something's up. 

There's a weird energy at the nurses' station. None of them meet my eyes. Uma's nose is so red. "We need to talk, Arun". Huh, that doesn't sound good at all. She looks off kilter. Shaky. I walk towards the waiting room and she grabs my arm. "Wait." Now she won't meet my eyes. What the hell is going on? "Mum is here." Now she looks at me, the only thing keeping me there are her eyes alone. NO. Hell no. "Just listen… just listen to what she has to say.." Et tu, Uma? 

"I know what I'm asking." She grabs my arm. There is so much pain in her eyes that it is breaking my heart. I hate this. Why would she do this? Why now? I let her lead me into the waiting room. 

Mother. Everlasting mother. So self contained, so cat like, so cold. Ah, she uses a cane now. There is nothing in those eyes but false grief. She should be sad, so she is. If Shaila were here, she'd lap it up. Thank God for Uma. 

"How is she?"

"She's fine. She'll get through this too. There was no need for you to come." Was that pity in her eyes? 

"Look son, I know you don't want to hear this-"

"Oh, here we go. The angel of death makes her case!"

"Arun." Yeah, I'm not cowed by that voice or that face anymore. Nope. 

"Why is it so easy for you to let go, huh? Why?"

"It isn't." 

"Right."

"Will you never forgive me?"

"Seriously? Is this why you're here right now?"

"No."

"So what then?" That came out louder than I intended. I sit, and take a breath. 

"Will you listen?" Oh, the drama. Someone give her an Oscar please. 

"Remember when this happened to papa? Of course you do. Stupid of me." She swallows as if she can't speak. What a performance, really. 

"Do you know who I've loved the most? Out of all of you?" If she says it's me, I'm out of here. 

"No, it's not you." There's that steely gaze I know so well. 

"It's Papa. I've never loved anyone the way I loved papa."

"Loved him to death, did you?" Ah, shit. Uma gasps and looks at me, daggers in her eyes. Mother looks at me pityingly. 

"I know you're hurting Arun. That's why I'm here." Of course you are. 

"I'll say my piece and leave. But do me the courtesy of listening. Just this once." There's that dramatic pause again. 

"I loved- love papa. I saw that man fight for 3 whole years... He was so brave." I feel that old ache in my chest open up once again. 

"We believed he would make it. He would be the one to beat it. Of course he would, right? I was there every step of the way. Every appointment, every procedure. There was no way I was going to lose this fight." For a moment, our eyes meet. I see my determination reflected there. 

"But he did lose. Long, long before he died, son. And he suffered so much. He hurt all the time, everywhere... You know, I think by the end, he was holding on by the sheer force of his will. Like that Kipling poem, remember? The one he had up by his desk?" I nod, awash in a flood of memories. The hole in my chest is a cave now. 

"If. It was 'If' by Kipling." Uma's voice. 

"Yeah, it was. That day, when I looked into that face I loved so much, all I saw was misery. All I saw was how much he was hurting. And for what? For me. Because he didn't want to leave me behind. He was worried about me. Me. When he was on his deathbed. Can you imagine love like that, Arun?" To be honest, no, I couldn't. I don't have that. I've yearned my entire life, for the kind of love I've seen my parents have. 

"I knew then that he was waiting for my permission to go. To let go and be free.

I didn't care what it would do to you or Uma or me… I put him first. Something I should've done ages ago." I watch her wipe her chin - the tears nestling in those soft folds. 

"I didn't need to possess him to love him, Arun... Did you?" There are knives in my chest now. It's so hard to breathe. 

"Please, don't punish Ananya for what you consider my sins." Oh no, you don't. 

"Love shouldn't bind us in misery, Arun!" I leave her and her wretchedness behind. I have a daughter to tend to. 

She's awake, but she isn't lucid. She whimpers so piteously. I call the nurse. She can't administer more, there's no relief for my baby. The nurse takes a seat, stroking my baby's hair. She whispers soft prayers. It is soothing. 

I wake up to screaming alarms. Ananya's little body contorts, her wrists grinding into the sheets, her back slamming into the bed. I step out and watch them work. It's a valiant effort. Never will I hear a word against doctors.

The nurse nods at me; I walk back in. 

Ananya is looking right at me. She's here, for now. The doctor is saying something about a locked jaw, but all I see are my daughter's anguished eyes. Ah, she can't speak. That's what the doctor is saying. She doesn't need words, anyway. Her eyes are doing the asking. The cave in my chest returns full force. I think about all the memories to come, that will never be. I would grieve them, but this is not about me anymore. It's about her. This is her life. Or her death. My job is to love her, as unselfishly as I can.

Relief mingles with peace as I stroke her cheek. The chest cave is... different.

It's okay, baby girl. Go, if you need to. It's okay.

I love you.