5.15 pm

I didn't go to the hospital today. Instead, I tried to spend time with myself. The last few days feel like I've survived a whirlwind. And I want to take this time to unwind and calm down.

Standing in front of our huge windows, clutching a mug of piping hot coffee in my hand, I'm enjoying the sunset, or whatever I can see of it from the living room in my apartment. I'm soaking in the orange hue that has covered every inch of my living room with its emanating light. I take a sip of the beige liquid, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I'm feeling nervous. I don't quite know why. It's the atmosphere, I suppose. Ever since the world began battling COVID, there's a sense of doom pervading the air. Whether you choose to let it or not, what's going on outside is affecting your life on an intrinsic level. Stories about the plight of the unfortunate surreptitiously make their way to your ears - those suffering from the disease, those suffering without food, those suffering without shelter, those suffering without help. And unfortunately, there is really no right answer, no right thing to do, no right way to go. We're all navigating unchartered waters and the best we can do right now is stick close to each other.

I try and bring my mind back to happy thoughts. It's important to constantly go back to them and continuously remind yourself of your blessings. Otherwise, the grim situation has a way of getting to you. I take another sip. The warmth of the coffee seeps through my being, lightening my spirit. I look around the house. My eyes fall on a picture of Rohit and me, taken before our marriage.

I walk up to it and pick it up. It was taken right outside our sets at Film City. I'm looking grumpy in the photo. I remember being grumpy that day, upset with Rohit over some insignificant issue. I can't recall what the issue was. But in the process, I ruined a perfectly good memory of ours. I pull the picture out of the frame. There is no need to remember anything that is not beautiful.

I'm quiet, as I made my way to the Sukhmani Sippy Hospital. Tulsi's call had rattled me, to say the least. I closed my eyes, fear gripping my being. I should have paid attention to the caller. My tirade could have cost Rohit his life. I still didn't know what had happened to him.

As I walked into his cabin, I bumped into Tulsi who told me that Rohit was still in the Operation Theatre. "I've also informed Dr. Naren and Veena Ma'am," she added. "They should be here any minute."

I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in his cabin and gulp the contents down to cool my brain. I then turned to face Tulsi, trying my best to bring my emotions under control before I said something. It seems like Tulsi has read my mind.

"I don't know Ma'am," she admits. "Seems like a hit and run case. Nobody knows what exactly happened. But what we do know is that Dr. Rohit hit his head somewhere and has had a tremendous amount of blood loss."

I swallow and closed my eyes again. When I open them, Rohit's Mom and Dad enter his cabin. Tulsi tells them what she told me two minutes back. While his Dad gets busy going through Rohit's reports, his Mom and I make our way to the couch in his cabin. We sit next to each other in silence, each apprehensive about the outcome. My head is pounding and I place it on her shoulder. She brings her arm around to caress my face.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to Rohit. All our prayers are with him."

My mother's voice resonates loud and clear. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. I put the picture back. I might not have good memories of that time, but it's a definite reminder of the long way our relationship has come. That's surely worth cherishing.

*****

10.00 pm

"Sonakshi?" It's nearly 10 pm when I receive a call from Ma. I'm surprised she's called on my phone this late. Normally if she has to reach someone this late, she tends to call Rohit.

"Ma, is everything alright?"

She prevaricates, responding to my question with another one.

"Is Rohit back home?"

I glance at the wall clock. Ideally, Rohit should've been back home, but he isn't. However, given the unpredictability with Corona patients, this is hardly surprising.

I reply in the negative and ask her again. "Is everything alright?"

She's evasive. "When Rohit comes back, will you please call me?"

I'm surprised at this unusual request. "Ma, if you're unable to reach Rohit's phone, you can always call the hospital and leave a message. I really don't know when he will be back. If it isn't urgent, I can ask him to call you tomorrow morning."

She pauses, and I can hear her suck hard. She's taking a deep breath in, I suppose to calm her nerves. I sense something wrong with her demeanor.

"Ma," I gently try to coax whatever is troubling her. She cuts me off.

"Sonakshi, please, please call me as soon as Rohit comes back home."

She sounds agitated.

"I will Ma, I promise." She instantly sounds calmer.

"Thank you. Thank you, Sonakshi for being there for Rohit."

She hangs up and I'm left wondering what has managed to shake this extremely calm and collected woman.

*****

11.00 pm

I've been trying Rohit's phone for the last hour; ever since I received that cryptic phone call from his Mom. I'm a tad nervous that he's not responding to my phone calls and text messages. Every minute that goes by without him calling back, I'm worried about the unknown issue at Sippy Mansion that's only worsening.

I'm pacing up and down the living room, working myself up over what, I'm not sure. When Rohit walks through the door shortly after 11 pm, I have this insane urge to lash out at him.

I take a deep breath and I glance at my phone. I've tried his mobile number 38 times in the last hour. This is in addition to sending him text messages and leaving four voicemails on his landline.

He looks at me, defeated, and I instantly sober up. He takes off his coat and tie and makes his way to the couch. I can sense his tension. I move back behind the couch and begin massaging his neck, slowly making my way down his back, trying my best to ease the knots of stress building inside his body.

After moments of silent companionship, he brings my hand forward and kisses my palm.

I tilt his head back and kiss his forehead.

"Come, sit next to me," he asks. I oblige.

He swings his legs up and places his head on my lap. I gently weave my hand through his hair, trying to soothe the wrinkles of stress that have begun to find a permanent place on his forehead.

"What's wrong," I ask after some time.

He doesn't answer. It doesn't surprise me anymore. Rohit is almost partial to his silence.

"I've been trying to reach you for the last hour." He's surprised by the calm manner in which I've expressed myself.

Rohit had just been discharged from the hospital. After a seven-hour surgery, during which I'd possibly died seven hundred times, Dr. Dubey had finally informed us that the surgery was successful. He'd indicated that Rohit was extremely lucky that that shards of glass had only lodged themselves on the surface. There were no internal injuries. He would survive and heal.

Three days later, we found out, from Rohit himself, what had actually happened. He was driving to work and had crashed sideways into another car while changing lanes. It was sheer luck that the car wasn't going too fast at that time. However, the impact had caused the driver side window to crack and shards of glass had liberally embedded themselves into his head.

I looked at Rohit then in the hospital, bandaged, wearing a patient's gown, and lashed out at him.

"You're a doctor right? And you couldn't have been more careful?"

"Sona... it was an accident." He'd tried to reason. But I was beyond listening. All I could remember was that the seven hours I spent waiting for the verdict of his surgery were perhaps the worst seven hours of my life.

"I hate you Rohit for your carelessness." He'd smiled then, which had only further aggravated my anger. I stomped out of his hospital room. Rohit thought all of this was a joke. Well, if he didn't care for me, I wouldn't care for him either.

I should have connected the dots then, realized that it wasn't anger but fear that had prompted me to act the way I did. I should've realized that I couldn't imagine a life without Rohit. I should've realized that the tears I shed when Dr. Dubey informed us that Rohit was out of danger, were actually tears of relief. Sadly, I didn't.

It took me precisely 24 hours to forget the emotions I'd felt at that time. It took me another 10 days to erase all memory of the accident. Rohit was back, so was I. Life would once again be taken for granted.

He smiles. "You truly have changed." I smile. He then brings my head down and rubs my lips against his.

I distance myself from him, blushing. He smiles some more.

"Why were you trying to reach me so desperately," he asks.

I sober up. "Ma called."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Ma?" I lovingly pat his arm. "Yes, Ma, and Papa."

He's sporting a full-fledged smile. "When did all this happen? Is there anything else that I should know?"

I shake my head, picking up my phone to dial Ma's number. I hand him my phone to speak and his eyes widen, shock evident.

"You're actually letting me use your phone."

I laugh. I love this playful Rohit.

I lift my chin up and reply, "Yes I am. And quick, say hello before I change my mind."

He sits up and scooches right next to me. He holds the phone in his hand and places it on speaker mode.

Three rings after, Ma picks up.

"Hello Ma," Rohit chirps. He fondly ruffles my hair as he continues to talk to his Mom. "Sona said you were trying to reach me."

"Yes, Rohit," she replies. She sounds pensive. Surely, whatever was bothering her hasn't resolved itself. Rohit senses it too.

"Is everything alright?"

She responds with another question. "Is Sonakshi around?"

"Yes Ma, she is, and you're on speaker."

I immediately say hello to make my presence known.

"Rohit, Sonakshi, can you guys come here now?"

An odd request. I can sense Rohit's muscles that had been calm just a minute before, tense.

"Is everything alright Ma?"

She then breaks down, crying profusely over the phone. We can hear her sobs in between the incoherent words she's trying to speak.

"Ma, what happened?"

Suddenly we hear Papa's voice on the phone.

"Veena, shhh...calm down..."

"Naren.."

"Papa.." Rohit's voice is frantic. His father picks up the phone and speaks into it.

"Rohit, Sonakshi, Veena is a little upset. Badi Ma is no more."