So I say, ‘It was her decision.’
My mind wanders off to what the future might have looked like had things been different. Aanchal and I in a one-storey rowhouse. Downstairs it would have been her and me, upstairs Rabbani and Baba. We would have had a little garden with our three-year-old kid plucking flowers, and Gaurav monkeying around with Baba’s blade-runner prosthetics. These warm visions of the future hurt even worse because it was within my grasp. Gaurav’s a brother, I love him more than I should. And her parents love me more than I have given them reason to. If only Aanchal . . .
The gnawing ache in my bowels intensifies.
‘Are you okay, Daksh?’ asks Uncle. ‘You’re sweating.’
‘I’m fine . . .’ My voice is punctured by a groan. A shooting pain rises from my lower abdominal area. ‘I must have eaten . . . something bad.’
‘Aunty has homeopathic—’
Before he can complete what he’s saying, my knees buckle under me. The pain’s unbearable.
My words slip out in a painful whisper.
‘I think I need to see a doctor.’
11.
Aanchal Madan
‘You should have gone with him,’ Maa scolds Papa, who was sitting next to the driver, commanding him to drive faster and cut between lanes.
‘How would I know he would require an operation?’ Baba shoots back.
‘You know nothing only. He was in so much pain and you didn’t think you should go?’
Papa shakes his head. ‘I thought it could be food poisoning.’
‘And only he got it? No one else. You say anything. Poor Daksh,’ Maa says. ‘He has no one here.’
That’s a bit rich because not only us, but every other person in the sangeet who was dancing and drinking with him has gone to the hospital after him. It’s as if he’s been spreading pheromones in the air.
Maa locks her gaze on me. ‘What did Gaurav say about Daksh? Is he okay?’
‘He said they will operate on him in an hour,’ I answer.
Maa nods.
No one speaks another word in the car, which is a relief. Gaurav’s damning revelation should have triggered a torrent of judgement and vitriol from my parents, yet it has been remarkably restrained. Maa refused to speak to me and Papa, and instead of speaking to me, she wanted to talk to Daksh.
But Daksh distracted everyone by doubling over on the beach. Suddenly, the wedding party, which had been too drunk to even remember their own names, descended to the lobby, called an ambulance and then took a fleet of taxis to the hospital. While I am indebted to him for this timely distraction, I am surprised at the degree of affection these strangers have for a guy they met only hours ago. It’s not the first time that this has happened. Time and again, I have seen people at Gaurav’s events—the shrewd marketers, the ambitious brand executives—turn mellow and treat Daksh like he’s one of them. Last year, I told Gaurav he was stupid to be splitting the revenue of Phoenix Rising Gaming evenly between Daksh and him when it was he who was the undisputed star gamer. Gaurav looked at me as if I was an old, evil hag trying to poison his ears.
‘You don’t know where I would have been had he not been there,’ Gaurav had said coldly to me.
‘You would have found another way.’
‘I would have lost my way. You don’t know anything.’
The hospital—even the emergency section—is calmly and weirdly inviting. There’s an aroma of coffee and freshly baked goodies wafting in the air from the coffee shop nearby.
We take the elevator to the third floor. Outside his room, Aditya and a bunch of his friends are waiting. Some of them are still in the suits they were wearing at the party. They all look worried, drunk and hungover at the same time.
‘Are you not even going to come inside?’ asks Maa as I stop at the door.
Papa holds my hand and drags me inside the room behind him. For all I know, in their minds, they have gotten me married to Daksh because he impregnated me. They would learn it the hard way. Just because Vicky has seen me naked doesn’t mean he owns me, and just because Daksh got me pregnant doesn’t mean I owe him something.
Despite his condition, Daksh appears to be without pain. His kurta has been removed and he now wears a flimsy hospital gown, barely held together by strings. As we enter the room, Daksh greets us with a pained smile. As he doubles over a little, I notice his strained biceps, which is a strange thing to be noticing about him. I find myself weirdly wondering if the gown is the only thing he’s wearing right now.
