Room no. 906 English Version

Room No. 906

The sound of the door opening was heard. I quickly turned around; the speed of the light struck my eyes sharply. A dark shadow entered, and soon after, a doctor appeared in a white coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck like a garland.

Had I been promoted to a new room, or transferred from the ICU? Was this good news, or something to be understood or explained? It was beyond comprehension. The doctor held my hand, and I came fully back to my senses.

“Why is your palm blue?” the doctor asked. At once, I looked at my mother’s face, then turned my pale face toward the doctor. He glanced at my clothes and said softly, “First, wash your hands.” My mother, holding the IV bottle, walked with me to the washbasin. The entire blue color washed away with water. The doctor laughed and said, “This is just the effect of your blue kurti.” Hearing this, everyone’s breath eased.

Just then, I noticed a new face peeking at us from behind the curtain. Parvati! On the patients’ chart pasted at the door, along with Room 906, Tapasvi, 21 Female, there was also Parvati, 21 Female.

Her body was extremely frail, her eyes yellow, her teeth the only thing visible. Her cheeks had sunken in, and her arms looked so thin that bangles could easily slip off. The repeated IV insertions had left her veins battered.

Soon, two strangers entered. The first man wore a white uniform and held a cap—he looked like a car driver. The second wore dark glasses, four rings glittering on his fingers. They walked past my bed and went straight to Parvati. A little while later, the elderly woman who had spent the night at Parvati’s bedside packed her bag and left the room.

One of the men arranged the things on the table, while the other placed the fruits he had brought onto the table and sat on a chair. The first man sat on the floor with folded hands, clutching a receipt, his head bent low. Removing his glasses, the two talked for a while. Finally, the man in black glasses pulled money from his suitcase and handed it over. Tears of joy welled in Parvati’s and the first man’s eyes. In this time of suffering, it felt as if God himself had come. They clasped his feet, joined their hands, and expressed their gratitude. Parvati too folded her hands, her eyes brimming with tears of relief.

Looking at his watch, the man rose from the chair, bid farewell, and left quickly, the receipt still in hand. The two remaining men happily unpacked the fruits and began eating. After giving Parvati her medicine, they chatted for a while and placed some clothes, vermilion, a comb, and powder from a small bundle onto her bed. Then, one of them pulled up the curtain between our beds like a wall.

Lying down, I drifted into deep sleep. I didn’t even know when. After a few hours, I felt very cold. My eyes opened; my mother was speaking to the nurse, who was adjusting the IV drip speed. My father entered just then, his whole body soaked with sweat from the heat outside. A hot, dry wind was blowing. After washing his face and hands, he unpacked the fruits he had brought, washed them carefully, and began to make juice.

For now, I had no work to do—just to eat on time and take medicine on time. That bitter medicine was enough to make me feel my loneliness.

Meanwhile, one of the men handed a phone to Parvati. “Your mother has called,” he said. The moment she heard her mother’s voice, her face overflowed with emotions, and tears poured out in one gulp.

My mother couldn’t bear to watch any longer and asked the man, “What has happened to the girl?”

He replied, “Madam  we have had a daughter, not even two weeks old. Both the baby and she (Parvati) have jaundice. The newborn is under a green bulb, and she is here. Even mother’s milk is not allowed, so my queen is fighting death without it. What can we do? We are uneducated. Staying in such a big hospital is difficult for us. Our entire year’s earnings are being spent here.”

Suddenly, a cry of pain was heard—it was Parvati’s. She was struggling with the bandages on her stomach. Her husband jumped up at once. With his support, she slowly made her way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, my father stroked my head gently and handed me a glass of orange juice.