Chapter Ten: The Loss

Praveena was interrupted in Andrew’s class the next afternoon. The principal wanted to meet her. Annoyed and a little curious at the same time, she made her way as slow as possible, to the principal’s room.

Again, as she passed Ms Marrie’s room, she saw her reading. Their eyes locked, and Praveena sped up. When she reached the principal’s office, she knocked once and was asked to enter.

As soon as she entered, Principal Vanitha spoke. “You’re mother’s ill. Your father is coming to get you. Wait”. The principal was careful never to betray emotion in her tone — not that she felt any. In her five years as the principal, she had seen countless students and parents who fell ill and then recovered. It was just another day for her.

Not for Praveena though. She didn’t know what to say or do. She stood stunned, staring at the principal like she’d thrown a dumbbell at her face.

“Wait outside,” the principal snapped and waved her away. Praveena turned, her feet carrying her outside the office. The look on her face was fixed and her face had become rather white.

She didn’t have to wait long though. After about ten minutes of confused wondering, the school security guard escorted her father to her. Too scared to utter a single word, Praveena followed her father. The huge lump in her chest was growing with every step she took.

A tough twenty-minute ride later, Kamal was rushing inside a building with a huge banner: The National Cancer Institute. Praveena quickened her strides. She barely noticed the people she passed as she followed her father. She had never been in here before; her parents had always visited this place while she was in school. Nurses rushed to and fro without paying the slightest attention to anyone else. A few patients in wheelchairs were on the move continuously. Praveena almost knocked into an old bald man. “I’m sorry” she hastily whispered, rushing. Her mouth had gone dry. The building seemed to stretch a long way.

In the farthest corner of a long corridor, Kamal stopped in front of a door with a large number seven embedded on it. Praveena rushed to him. Signaling her to be quiet, Kamal opened the door and went inside.

Praveena peeped in and saw her mother. The pillows on either side of her made her appear much thinner than she was. She had tubes connecting to her wrist and her nostrils. The overwhelming scent of medicine and the sight of her mother made Praveena dizzy. She swayed on the spot. Kamal was by her side in an instant. “She’s got Jaundice” he whispered to her.

She didn’t need her father to explain what that meant. Wikipedia and countless other online magazines had given her all the information she needed. Since Geetha’s diagnosis, Praveena had scoured the Internet for anything she could find about the ailment that would take her mother away from her.

Jaundice was the final sign that Death was approaching. Fast.

The thought made Praveena shiver. She could hear her heart beating fast as if it wanted to get away from the cage it was imprisoned.

Praveena sat in a chair away from the bed, staring at the limp and unrecognizable figure on the bed. How could this happen to her? Why did it happen? She couldn’t think straight and she couldn’t cry. Her mind wailed like an injured dog, but no tears fell from her eyes. She just sat and stared.

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Praveena stayed with her mother at the hospital. Geetha has stopped eating and drinking, her skin became a pale yellow, and the look of it sent a chill of dread through Praveena’s spine.

Praveena wanted to hear her mother’s voice, she longed to hear from her mother that everything would be alright. Praveena was ready to believe even in the impossible, if it came from her mother. But she knew it wouldn’t happen.

Her mother was leaving her and she had to watch, heartbroken and helpless.

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Geetha died on Friday.

Praveena had just brought a bunch of tulips into Geetha’s room. For the two days she was in the hospital, Praveena bought fresh flowers to put in the vase next to the bed. Tulips were Geetha’s favourite.
Whenever Praveena walked by the bed to place the flowers in the vase, Geetha would follow her with her eyes and watch in silence, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

On Friday morning, Praveena placed the flowers and looked eagerly at her mother’s reaction, only to find her face turned towards the vase, eyes closed.

Perplexed, Praveena went over to her father, who sat in the chair going through some medical files.

“Pa?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” Kamal responded without looking up. He hadn’t slept well in two days and it showed in his eyes; they were sunken and red. His blue shirt was creased beyond any repair that an iron could do, and his soul was hurt more than he let show.

“Why is Ma still asleep?”

Kamal detected the fear in her voice. He stood and walked up to the bed in one swift motion. He took Geetha’s wrist with shaking hands.

With a shocked expression on his face he backed away from the bed in a rush. Geetha’s hand limply fell on to the bed.

He rushed outside, stumbling in the doorway, to get the doctor. Praveena had backed into the wall, clutching the cold stone for warmth. Kamal was back within the minute accompanied by the doctor. The doctor examined Geetha and delivered the blow.

Praveena stood stunned and watched in horrified silence as her father and everyone else around her reacted feverishly. It made no sense to her, it was all in a rushed blur. She didn’t need the doctor to confirm her fear; Kamal’s look had done that already.
Praveena understood.

Her mother had left her life.

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National Blog Posting Month – Day 11