Three Lives ... Part V

Just after one and half days of syringed diet, Tulsi was back to work. I was dazed to see him on attic, lying beside HPCL gas cylinder as silent as crud of this lonely planet. “For God sake, take him away from here, why on the earth is he here, get some pity on this poor guy” I squalled. But before his wife answered, I realized that it was as simple as Black and White. They can’t afford his 2 days stay in a private hospital, more over that extra leisure will make him apathetic.

Some say “Time runs” but now I started believing that “Time flies”.
Seconds are converted into minutes, minutes into hours and before you realize it’s another brand new day.

And there I was, tossing and turning into bed on the morning of day zero, too lazy to pull myself out of bed. What amazes me is the fact that how my mother manages to wake up at 4 every morning running, managing all over the house perhaps that’s why moms are called best managers.

I was really proud of my self that morning as I walked towards basing (so what if the eyes were closed). Waking at 9 am (when you are at home) is not at all fun.

Suddenly I saw some thing very unusual; one of my cousin sister was filling some fuzzy but traumatic words in my mother’s ears. It didn’t take much time to conjecture something fishy there. Before she finished the word “Tulsi”, I had climbed those 18 stairs in 3 steps.

The scene in that corner of the room was bone marrow heating.

It looked as if his heart had displaced towards his throat making turbulent blood flow look like a fountain. Adding to the misery, her wife had kept his head in her lap which made her sari blood soaked. Her youngest daughter was crying her throat out as if she was warding ‘Yama’ away.

Moment like that was the true test of your act to work with conviction. I plead both of them to stop making it worst. I took his head in my hand and made him to sit so that the flow stops. It worked, the flow stopped but he looked as if he was struggling to breath. At that moment when I looked towards her daughter I shivered to see the acute pain of being orphan in her eyes.

Before people start standing around us and making this misery a melodrama, I called up my father and sent him SOS signal. I sent one audience from the crowd to bring 'Dr Misra' who practices round the corner. With assistance from other audience, I lifted him up and rushed outside.

But there was no Dr Misra outside; I gave a puzzled look towards standing crowd. I was then told that Dr Misra didn’t like to be bothered in morning before 10am. Perhaps lives struggling between 9am to 5pm were not his area of interest.

But another fact was, Dr Misra had married women half of her age even though her first wife was alive, and that made him untouchable in society. That was very common of our society who definitely does not poke its nose in someone’s personal life. And of course we were part of that society.

My father moved forward and checked his pulse; he was still standing tall in the war against his life. Driver started the vehicle and we moved Tulsi with her wife, who was still holding her head. Father called up few doctor and assured her wife that they are already there for him, and he also accompanied them to the hospital.

Once the vehicle moved away from our focal point, everybody rushed back to normality as nothing had happened few minutes back.

*****

It happens only in marriages when you realize that inflation is touching Milky Way. Aloo,pyaj and Kathal are just half in price in wholesale mandi than city’s open bazaar. No doubt middle men in market will run for life once organized retailer like Wall mart or Ambani try to capitalize this profit.

For a change, buying aloo, puaj and Kathal in ton was really exciting, more over your talent to dig the relation or influence the wholesale vala, so that he gives some discount is a real art. What amazed me was the fact that how these middle men make money by creating a gap in supply chain in the mandi. Shimla Mirch which was in demand that morning (thanks to the Lagan) was saling crazy, and realizing this fact, its price was already tripled before 11 o’clock in morning, the exact one hour before the arrival of the truck. It’s very hippocratic of our politicians and government, who claims that Kala Bazari has been removed long back from India.

Arranging, monitoring and getting things done on time, is quite a challenge in any wedding. Sanjay, Ravi and everybody were on there toes that day. Sanjay took special care of the cooks so that they don’t slip the stuff in there bags. It seems, they demand every thing at least one and half what is needed, and slip the remaining half in there bags. First I thought it was very cynical of us, how can some one be so avaricious, but once my eyes became the witness, I had no option but to put Sanjay behind them. He was a man who can make a slow and not steady to win the race.

No marriage arrangement in this world is perfect. Even when Tom Cruse married her fiancée Kate in castle but didn’t invite media to cover it, they bitched about there marriage. But people, that day, liked our arrangements, except few nay sayers, but no body give a damn to such creatures.

to be continued ...