Dear Diary
Things are fucked up. I really mean it. Aimless, jobless, clueless — happiness gone, frustrated, angry, and what not: thank you corona.
Day was going just like it was for the past 10 days: wake up in the hospital, eat outside the hospital, look at the patients coming to the next ward, hear patients and their relatives crying. But it changed when Divya came to the next bed. I was there in room no. 3346 being the attendant of my father. Divya had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. She was just twelve and had some problems with her breathing. The entire ward became just chaotic. I stood silent while there were 6 nurses, 4 doctors, an expressionless father and Divya. She was given additional oxygen support and all I could see was her big eyes fighting desperately to capture all the oxygen by expanding her chest as much as she could.
The chaos continued for 3 hours and then there was complete silence. I could hear her breathing. While my father was asleep I was staring at her. Her eyes too were transfixed at me. She waved hand at me and I went near to her. “Call Papa,” she said and I neither had her father’s number nor the phone. I hate mobile and don’t keep it along with me. I reached to my father’s phone to find it dead, called nurse and rushed downstairs to find her father taking a smoke at the exit. I couldn’t sleep the entire night and kept looking at her. She too didn’t sleep.
I don’t know but her father remained unavailable most of the time and I started being the attendant for two patients: Divya and my father. After three days, she waved at me.
“Why don’t you keep mobile phone?” she was talking for the first time without having any breathlessness.
“I don’t like mobile phones,” I replied as I sat in the chair next to her bed.
“I might die soon,” her eyes were shining while she uttered the most absurd statement I ever heard.
I was stoic and I was not ready to handle such situations in my life, “you've beautiful eyes, and it reminds me of someone,” I tried digressing the situation, but in vain.
She fell asleep all of a sudden while all my sleep was gone. I sat there looking at her the whole night. Every time her chest would expand, I would run to call up the nurse. She woke up in the morning to find me by her side while her father was out for breakfast. I don’t know why but I kissed her on the forehead as soon as she opened her eyes.
“Why you kissed me?” she asked with her eyes bigger than usual and a morning smile.
“Because no one kissed or kisses me. My father is pretty strict, my maa too never showed such gestures to me, so I just wanted someone to do to me, but instead I did it to you,” I was bad at justifying.
“You too aren’t loved by your parents?!” Her question somehow tore me. I understood why her father stayed away most of the time.
“No…no...no...middle class families are like this. They love but they don’t show it.”
She smiled and turned her eyes towards my father.
We started talking for hours and hours. I used to recite her stories about my life; she would keep asking me about my friends, family, work, studies, games I play – every single thing she could think of. Despite nurses' continuous warnings, I chose to talk to her. She too liked talking to me. I started giving her morning kisses, and the night kisses.
“I will die…” she said and started looking outside the room avoiding contacting eyes with me.
“Divya…” for the very first time I took her name and she responded by her big beautiful eyes at me, “nothing will happen to you. Trust me. Hope for the best, we should keep up the hopes.”
“Do you've a girlfriend?” she was good at changing topics.
“You're the first girl asking me this,” she didn’t get my joke and fell asleep.
My father was about to get discharged but I was waiting for her reports. Her reports came and doctor started explaining something to her father. Her father was phlegmatic. I joined the doctor outside the ward to ask if everything was alright; but it wasn’t.
My eyes were teary…but I taught her not to lose hope. I wiped my tears off and went straight to her. Before I could say anything she said, “Come and meet me daily. Tell me stories. I love your stories – they are dreamy.”
“I'll come and meet you daily. But promise me one thing, will you?” I asked her sitting next to her holding her hand.
“Yeah…” she smiled with her big roving eyes.
“You're never ever going to say anything…bad about yourself,” I stuttered, “hope for the best…OK?”
“I am not going to die,” and she giggled.
I went to meet her every single day despite the fucking lockdown or corona…nothing was stopping me from meeting her. I used to sit with her, greet her with a forehead kiss, leave her with my stories, and a goodbye kiss on her forehead. She believed in my stories which stood for Hope: be it failing in an entrance exam, heartbreaks or going through the surgery of my mother.
She liked my forehead kisses because she too never got them from anyone. One fine day, she was gone. She was gone…I asked the nurses and they said she was doing fine. Her reports came good. I didn’t take her number; I don’t know where she would be; but I know she would be fine, and she would hope for the best because hope is a good thing – that’s what my stories taught her, and I hope she would live.
Things are fucked up. I really mean it. Aimless, jobless, clueless — happiness gone, frustrated, angry, and what not: thank you corona.
Day was going just like it was for the past 10 days: wake up in the hospital, eat outside the hospital, look at the patients coming to the next ward, hear patients and their relatives crying. But it changed when Divya came to the next bed. I was there in room no. 3346 being the attendant of my father. Divya had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. She was just twelve and had some problems with her breathing. The entire ward became just chaotic. I stood silent while there were 6 nurses, 4 doctors, an expressionless father and Divya. She was given additional oxygen support and all I could see was her big eyes fighting desperately to capture all the oxygen by expanding her chest as much as she could.
The chaos continued for 3 hours and then there was complete silence. I could hear her breathing. While my father was asleep I was staring at her. Her eyes too were transfixed at me. She waved hand at me and I went near to her. “Call Papa,” she said and I neither had her father’s number nor the phone. I hate mobile and don’t keep it along with me. I reached to my father’s phone to find it dead, called nurse and rushed downstairs to find her father taking a smoke at the exit. I couldn’t sleep the entire night and kept looking at her. She too didn’t sleep.
I don’t know but her father remained unavailable most of the time and I started being the attendant for two patients: Divya and my father. After three days, she waved at me.
“Why don’t you keep mobile phone?” she was talking for the first time without having any breathlessness.
“I don’t like mobile phones,” I replied as I sat in the chair next to her bed.
“I might die soon,” her eyes were shining while she uttered the most absurd statement I ever heard.
I was stoic and I was not ready to handle such situations in my life, “you've beautiful eyes, and it reminds me of someone,” I tried digressing the situation, but in vain.
She fell asleep all of a sudden while all my sleep was gone. I sat there looking at her the whole night. Every time her chest would expand, I would run to call up the nurse. She woke up in the morning to find me by her side while her father was out for breakfast. I don’t know why but I kissed her on the forehead as soon as she opened her eyes.
“Why you kissed me?” she asked with her eyes bigger than usual and a morning smile.
“Because no one kissed or kisses me. My father is pretty strict, my maa too never showed such gestures to me, so I just wanted someone to do to me, but instead I did it to you,” I was bad at justifying.
“You too aren’t loved by your parents?!” Her question somehow tore me. I understood why her father stayed away most of the time.
“No…no...no...middle class families are like this. They love but they don’t show it.”
She smiled and turned her eyes towards my father.
We started talking for hours and hours. I used to recite her stories about my life; she would keep asking me about my friends, family, work, studies, games I play – every single thing she could think of. Despite nurses' continuous warnings, I chose to talk to her. She too liked talking to me. I started giving her morning kisses, and the night kisses.
“I will die…” she said and started looking outside the room avoiding contacting eyes with me.
“Divya…” for the very first time I took her name and she responded by her big beautiful eyes at me, “nothing will happen to you. Trust me. Hope for the best, we should keep up the hopes.”
“Do you've a girlfriend?” she was good at changing topics.
“You're the first girl asking me this,” she didn’t get my joke and fell asleep.
My father was about to get discharged but I was waiting for her reports. Her reports came and doctor started explaining something to her father. Her father was phlegmatic. I joined the doctor outside the ward to ask if everything was alright; but it wasn’t.
My eyes were teary…but I taught her not to lose hope. I wiped my tears off and went straight to her. Before I could say anything she said, “Come and meet me daily. Tell me stories. I love your stories – they are dreamy.”
“I'll come and meet you daily. But promise me one thing, will you?” I asked her sitting next to her holding her hand.
“Yeah…” she smiled with her big roving eyes.
“You're never ever going to say anything…bad about yourself,” I stuttered, “hope for the best…OK?”
“I am not going to die,” and she giggled.
I went to meet her every single day despite the fucking lockdown or corona…nothing was stopping me from meeting her. I used to sit with her, greet her with a forehead kiss, leave her with my stories, and a goodbye kiss on her forehead. She believed in my stories which stood for Hope: be it failing in an entrance exam, heartbreaks or going through the surgery of my mother.
She liked my forehead kisses because she too never got them from anyone. One fine day, she was gone. She was gone…I asked the nurses and they said she was doing fine. Her reports came good. I didn’t take her number; I don’t know where she would be; but I know she would be fine, and she would hope for the best because hope is a good thing – that’s what my stories taught her, and I hope she would live.
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