ONE
“Hello,
I’m Dr Khongsai!”
Pavithra
looked with little disguised condescension at the tall, white-shirted, black-tied
young man standing indecisively at the door to her doctor’s cabin. His
hesitation was amply evident, from the unsure smile on his face to the position
of his dusty brogues, one placed inside the room and the other, still dithering
outside. His tiny almond eyes and his name gave away his origins, in all
probability he hailed from Manipur itself.
“The
newbie!” She told herself. “Still not learnt to prefix his name with his rank!
And those shoes..... seems they’ve never seen polish in this lifetime........!”
Pavithra wrinkled her nose in disdain.
“Yes?” She enquired severely.
This
peremptory ‘yes’ achieved its objective. The young chap was now totally
rattled.
The
previous informal ‘Hello’ forgotten, he now stuttered, “Madam, Dr Ganapathy Sir
asked me to meet you........” The rest of his words faded into a cowering silence.
The
respectful ‘Madam’ cooled Pavithra. “Come in. Sit!” she ordered, pointing to
the blue felted chair opposite her doctor’s desk. The chap obeyed, leaving his
hands to hang meekly by the chair handles.
“Just
got commissioned?” Pavithra asked. Of course, the question was rhetorical. She
knew this must be the new medical officer, MO as he would henceforth be known
to all, the doctor who had just joined the armed forces medical services and had
got assigned to this little hospital located somewhere in the wilds of Manipur.
“Yes,
Madam!” The fellow nodded.
Pavithra
couldn’t help but laugh at the vigorous nodding that he gave his head. It reminded
her of the famed South Indian nod, the ambivalent one that got even fellow Indians
from beyond North of the Narmada thoroughly stumped. Of course, she was careful
to keep the laugh well within her. It wouldn’t do to appear frivolous before
her junior. It was rather strange though, how this fellow from faraway North
East India should have such similar head-nodding habits as her own people!
“So,
what’s your name again?”
“Dr
Len Khamkhosat Khongsai.”
“That’s
quite a mouthful.” Pavithra thought, again within her mind.
“You
should now call yourself Captain Khongsai.” she said, her tone a little
superior. “You’ve been commissioned into the Indian Armed Forces, haven’t you?”
The
chap rewarded her with another vigorous, ambivalent nod. “OK Madam!”
She
couldn’t resist the impulse to tick him off. “And you must learn to polish your
shoes. They should shine such that you can see your face in them!!!”
Khongsai
taken aback, looked at his shoes and then at her, sheepishly. “Yes Madam!”
Her
next question, changing track, was one invariable between two doctors meeting
for the first time. “Which college?”
“MMC.”
Pavithra
knew of the MMC, short for Manipur Medical College, the only medical college in
the entire state of Manipur. Of course, it was an excellent one, somewhere she
often transferred her own patients that required specialised consultation or
surgery when these were beyond the capabilities of the tiny army hospital here at
Irong.
Though
she had scant regard for Khongsai himself, at least till now, out of respect
for his medical college, Pavithra ordered for tea for both of them. Again the
chap gave that ambivalent Southie nod, “No, no, Madam, I don’t drink tea!”
“Never
mind,” Pavithra told him grandly, “you needn’t drink it. Just sip!”
The
tea arrived, two steaming cups of a muddy brown brew, fragrant with ginger. The
tea maker had boiled tea dust and bits of ginger in milk with such zeal that a
brown skin had formed atop the tea, wiping out the last vestiges of its
identity as ‘Tea’. This was the drink that defined the Indian Army as Pavithra
had learned over her last 14 months here in this institution and how she adored
the concoction. She sipped happily and with the brew having improved her mood,
they got talking.
It
turned out that both Dr Khongsai and Pavithra had passed out of medical college
in the same year but Khongsai had spent a year as what was known as a house-jobber
at MMC itself, in the orthopaedic department. Then the lure of the army
beckoned, the olive-green enticing him like Sirens singing to Ulysses; and so
he had joined, against all caution thrown at him by his parents and his
friends.
As
they drank the tea, Pavithra gulping and Khongsai sipping as ordered, she found
that it was quite easy to talk to this fellow, he being so without airs; and thus
her earlier adopted stance of the ‘superior officer’ changed, both due to her
sense of natural fairness as technically they were both of the same seniority
and more so by Khongsai’s sheer affability.
“I’m
Pavithra!” She offered her hand with her special big smile.
The
fellow was charmed. “Len!” he smiled back, the numerous laugh lines around his
slanted eyes dancing in delight.
“Come,”
she offered kindly, “I’ll show you around the hospital.”
And
so began the friendship between Pavithra and Len, the Indian Army bringing together
these two young people from two extreme corners of the country, one from its
deep South and the other from its faraway East. It was an easygoing friendship,
unselfish, without any undercurrent of professional competitiveness, nurtured
by Pavithra’s innate kindness and Len’s uncomplicated affability. In fact,
Pavithra kind of adopted Len, teaching him the ropes of being the ‘MO’,
something that was rather different from being just a house-jobber or a doctor
in civvy street.
Equal-aged, they spent most of their time together, eighty percent of it in the
hospital, managing patients and staff and each other with the innocent carefreeness
that typifies youth. Sometimes, they'd walk down to the little village bazaar of Irong and at its sole food shack, the only one that stocked Kwality's ice creams, have one each, Len preferring a Vanilla Cup to Pavithra's Chocolate Cone.
Len’s knowledge of Hindi being next to nil, Pavithra took
it upon herself to teach him the basics, for it was the working language of the
hospital; and to the amusement of the senior doctors there, Pavithra was often found
explaining the finer nuances of the language to Len in her own heavily Malayalam
shaded Hindi.
The
current boss of the Army Hospital Irong and by default their boss too, was a
certain Colonel (Dr) VVV Ganapathy, graduate with distinction, Madras Medical
College circa 1969; small as a mouse, bald as an egg, sly as a ferret and as
black as the blackest of coals. This gentleman, designated in army parlance as the grand sounding ‘Commanding Officer’, seeing how smoothly and effectively
Khongsai dealt with the hospital staff in spite of his unending struggle with
Hindi, realised his potential as an administrator. And being an astute
administrator himself, Dr G instituted Len as the Chief Administrative Officer
of the little hospital and gave him his own tiny office, all done up with pink curtains, brand new sofa and a spanking new computer with Windows Pentium II.
And
thus they worked, Pavithra and Len, in tandem, one in the tiny Casualty Department
of the hospital and the other in its Administrative Section, effectively
running the little hospital all on their own, carrying it on their young
shoulders. It left the aging Dr G reassured, content and with plenty of free
time on his hands, time that he spent delivering long sermons to the doctors
working under him. While a few of these dealt with how an ‘MO’ should behave,
most of them comprised of interminably long descriptions of Dr G’s more than 35
years experience as a doctor to the Indian Army.
One
of his pet topics was of how the key to being a good administrator was acquiring
the art of being at the right place at the right time. That evening, after
having stationed his two trusted lieutenants and long suffering sermon
audience, Len and Pavithra on the very comfortable sofa in his office, he was expostulating
on how destiny had always ensured that he arrive just at the moment some
wrongdoing in his hospital was being perpetrated. While Pavithra had dozed off (she
had perfected the technique of sleeping with her eyes wide open long back in
med school itself), Len was forced to listen, as he did not possess this life
saving skill. As Dr G droned on and on, Len was bored to the point of
collapsing. In desperation, he took out his little note pad, drew a Big
Cat like creature complete with a curving tail, coloured it deep black,
labelled it ‘Black Panther’ and surreptitiously inched it over to Pavithra,
poking her with his pencil to wake her up. Pavithra, jerked out of her open-eyed nap, took one look at that cartoon and burst into loud laughter!
Of
course, she recovered immediately, better sense prevailing. Completely
embarrassed, she clamped both her hands over her mouth in reflex, looking guiltily at Black
Panther who seemed to be frozen with shock. As she profusely apologised to him,
Dr G, completely flummoxed and maybe even a little dazed, waved both of them
away, wondering what it was that had been so funny in what he had been saying, to
provoke such violent laughter from this normally well behaved girl. Released from their captivity, both Len and
Pavithra fled for dear life, as quickly as their legs and propriety would allow.
Now far away from the office, under the open sky, Pavithra took a repeat look
at that daft doodle in Len’s note book and dissolved into laughter again, her
laugh tinkling, playful, innocent...............!
And
that was exactly when Captain (Dr) Len Khamkhosat Khongsai fell irrevocably in
love with Captain (Dr) T Pavithra. And this fall was so silent that for some
time even Len was unaware that he had fallen! It was only over the succeeding
days and weeks when he found himself thinking about her at odd hours like
mealtimes, on the badminton court, while puncturing a patient’s vein or
admonishing the nursing boy, that he realised something was not quite the same.
Instead of spending time in his smart new office, he found himself slinking off
more and more to the Casualty Department to sit on that blue felted chair before
Pavithra, sipping endless cups of that vile mudwater she called tea, watching in silent fascination the ebb and flow of emotions on her face..............!
Of
course, he managed to hide his threatening-to-overflow emotions well and it
seemed Pavithra had no inkling at all of his ‘Fall’. Every night as he retired
after dinner, having said a casual good night to her, pretending an
indifference he did not in the least feel (he’d rather have swept her up in his
arms and kissed her good night), he promised himself he’d lay bare his soul to
her tomorrow.
“Kal
pucca!” He assured his own self, using this new word-phrase he had learned
during his Hindi lessons from her.
But
the ‘kal’ it seemed was too far away, difficult to reach. Len was a shy young
man but it was not just his shyness that was keeping him from telling all to Pavithra.
There were other things too, such as his God and hers, his home and hers, his
mother-tongue and hers, all vastly different, separated by the entire breadth
of the country, the complete five thousand kilometres of it........! Len was quite
conscious of this distance that he would have to cover; but at that precise
moment, what stood before him like the nearly insurmountable Everest, was his
own inability to summon up enough guts to lay bare his soul to Pavithra.
And
so ‘status quo’ it remained, Len adoring in silence, Pavithra oblivious
and the patients pouring into Irong Army Hospital unaffected by the cyclones
raging in Len’s heart.
Then
came what could only be termed as the ‘Big Bang’ in Len’s life. If I said that
it ended Len’s life, it would be a hyperbole of the bad kind, but at that time
to Len, it felt indeed as if his world had ended. And unlike how Eliot said it
would, it didn’t end in a whimper but with Pavithra arriving into his ‘Chief
Administrator Officer’ office with her dream smiling lighting her face and a maroon envelope liberally sprinkled with gold glitter in her hands.
That
gold flecked maroon envelope portended ‘the end’ to Len. His heart was beating
like a hammer inside but he feigned indifference.
“Kya
hai?” He asked putting as much nonchalance into his voice as he could muster,
shifting to newly learned Hindi to keep at bay the quivering in his throat.
“I’m
getting married, Len! Shaadi ka card for you.” Smiling a little shyly, Pavithra
tucked the glittering invite into his hands.
Len
could feel his world whimper as it ended slowly.....painfully....!
“When?”
“Next
month. 18 April . You’ve got to come.”
“Ok,
ok thanks......” was all that he could mutter.
Pavithra
seemed a little hurt by his lack of response.
“You
didn’t ask kaun hai?” She asked, touchily.
“You
never told me you were planning to get hitched!” Len counterattacked.
“It
was really sudden for me too, Len.” Pavithra was apologetic. “The proposal had
been sent to his family but they were taking time to say ‘yes’. Last week, he
agreed and now Appa has sent me the first invitation card as a sample. I’m
giving it to you!”
“Ok,
so who’s this ‘He’?”
“Ohh...”
the pride in Pavithra’s voice pierced through Len’s heart. “.....he’s my senior from
college. He also joined the army and is now at Bombay, first year Orthopaedics.
College topper!” She finished.
The
finality in her voice left nothing for Len to say.
“Chai
....” His words sounded purposeless to himself.
“No
thanks. I have to go meet the Black Panther and tell him.” Pavithra refused.
She
waited for a moment as if she expected Len to say something. But when he
just gave his ambivalent Southie nod, “OK”, Pavithra rose and stepped out of
his office door.
It
was then that Len called out, “Congrats, Pavithra.......”
But
Pavithra had already left.
And
in the silence she left in her wake, trying to piece back his Life Plan, Len made
up his mind: this Army was not meant for him any more!
TWO
Saturday
was the most relaxed day of the entire week for Pavithra. That was mainly because
her Cardiology Clinic was closed on Saturdays. Of course it did not mean that
she was free on Saturdays. She had plenty of other work to do : take classes
for the senior residents, conduct special clinical rounds for them, carry out the
meticulous ‘Pavithra Madam Special’ inspection of her Cath Lab and the Cardiac
Care Unit and of course attend to the odd elderly patient, who dropped in,
vehemently bent on consulting only Brigadier (Dr) Pavithra Ramesh, Chief
Cardiologist, Army Hospital Bangalore with serious symptoms that ranged from
‘gas in the head’ to ‘worms in the jaw’ to bossy daughters-in-law and selfish
sons. Pavithra gave them all a patient hearing and they of course loved her for
it, some of the really old ones according her the respect they accorded their
Gods. Pavithra loved her profession and her work and in spite of those odd days
when she wanted to give up everything and run away to the Andaman Islands or
perhaps to her old love, the Irong Army Hospital, she in truth would not have
given it up for anything in the world.
It
was around ten thirty in the morning and after an intensive forty five minutes
class with her residents, Pavithra was sipping her first morning coffee, a pure
latte that she brewed herself, when her medical assistant knocked cautiously at
the office door.
“Madam,
there’s a patient. A cadet from the Air Force Academy.”
“OK,
send her in, Mahesh.” Pavithra put her cup down.
It
was a young girl, in fitted faded jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt. Her
Mongoloid features and fine straight hair told Pavithra she was from somewhere
in the North East.
“Sit
child.” Pavithra indicated the patient stool before her.
“What
is it?” She enquired.
Of
course, she had a fair inkling of the matter. This child would in most
probability be a candidate for the Air Force Officers’ Academy situated next
door, found to have some abnormality in her heart during the preliminary
medical examinations, and now sent to Pavithra for her expert views on the
matter.
And
she was right. The papers the girl carried spoke of the suspicion of a specific
type of abnormal sound in her heart that needed to be checked before the girl
could be considered fit for the rigorous pilot training.
“Where
are your parents....Purity?” Pavithra asked glancing at the medical documents on
the desk for the girl’s name.
“My
Dad is in Delhi, Aunty.”
“You’ve
come alone here?” Pavithra asked in great surprise. “What about your mother?”
“My
Mummy is no more. I have come with my aunt.” She pointed to the door. “She’s
waiting outside.”
Pavithra
pressed the bell for her assistant to let the lady in.
The
elderly lady was wearing a ‘phanek’, that unstitched sarong like garment, loom
woven, worn by women all over Manipur.
Pavithra’s
heart gave a skip.
She
asked the girl eagerly, “Are you from Manipur?”
“Yes
Aunty. But I’ve lived in Delhi all my life.” She clarified.
Since
her heavily wrinkled old aunt did not seem to be very proficient in either
Hindi or English, Pavithra chatted with Purity as she went through her
documents once more.
Having
read the referral notes in detail, Pavithra began her examination. As she put
her fingers on the girl’s pulse, she noted that it was bounding as if she were
running a marathon.
“Anxiety!”
she smiled to herself and then patted the girl on her shoulder.
“Do
I scare you child?”
“No,
no Aunty, not at all!” The girl answered, embarrassed.
“Then
why are you so tense?”
Pavithra
was surprised and a little rattled to see Purity’s eyes tear up.
“Now,
now!” She patted her again. “What is the matter?”
“Aunty,
I do so want to get selected.” Her voice was plaintive. “I’ve always wanted to
be an Air Force pilot.”
“And
Daddy would be so unhappy if I don’t get through.......!” she finished, a small
sob escaping her bosom.
Pavithra
smiled reassuringly. “It’s wonderful that you want to be a pilot. And that
means you’re a brave girl. See, you’ve already made it this far. So let’s not
talk about ‘not making it through’ till I examine you completely. Right?”
Something
in her voice calmed the girl. Pavithra offered her a glass of water, waiting as
she finished it.
When
she next resumed her examination, Pavithra noted with a smile that the girl’s heart
was beating more normally now. “Good,” she thought. “She’ll make a good pilot!”
This ability to calm oneself down would definitely help her during any crisis
in her tough profession.
After
asking Purity to change into a hospital gown, Pavithra put her through the paces
of a detailed cardiology exam methodically, first examining her with her stethoscope,
then on the treadmill and finally with the echocardiogram. Everywhere the tests
returned absolutely normal, telling her that the girl had a strong, healthy
heart that was absolutely fit in every way.
After
Purity had changed back into her own clothes, she invited both of them to the
chairs opposite her.
The
girl was once again quivering with excitement. “Aunty..........???????”
“Absolutely
normal!” Pavithra assured her. “Can’t wait to see you fly the fighters, young
lady.......!”
At
first the girl just looked at her, shocked into a happy silence and then recovering,
rushed up to Pavithra and rather endearingly, gave her big hug!
Pavithra
was touched. “Thanks love. But don’t go hugging yours instructors in pilot-school...!”
She teased.
As
she wrote out her examination report, she became aware of the girl staring very
hard at her name tab.
She
looked at her askance, “Anything child?”
“Aunty....,”
the girl was smiling delightedly, “we share names.....!”
Pavithra
was surprised, “We do?”
“Yes.
Pavithra and Purity!!!”
Pavithra
couldn’t help laughing, echoing her delight. “Yes, of course we do. You’re one
bright young girl!”
She
finished writing her notes and summoning Mahesh, handed them over to him.
Purity
and her aunt rose to leave. At the door after her aunt had stepped outside, Purity
turned back.
“Aunty, I am Purity Khamkhosat Khongsai. My daddy is Dr Len Khongsai.”
Pavithra
looked up with a start.
The
girl was smiling at her. “Daddy’s told me all about you and the Irong Army
Hospital!”
Pavithra
felt her heart change beats inside her, drumming now to some forgotten yet
familiar rhythm.
“So,
how is Len?” she managed, a little weakly.
“He’s
fine, Aunty. He’s an eye specialist.”
“I
know.” Pavithra murmured.
“Purity,
do give him my regards. And am sorry about your Mummy.”
Purity
had a bright smile on her face. “Will do, Aunty.”
They
exchanged contact numbers and addresses, promising to keep in touch.
Purity
made it through the Academy entrance and was soon wearing the coveted title of
‘flight cadet’. And though Len never once met or called her, his Purity was
true to her word. She made sure Pavithra and Ramesh were appointed as her local
guardians and she was there on Pavithra’s doorstep at every little break she
was allowed during her nearly eighteen months of rigorous training. Nishith,
Pavithra’s son became especially fond of Purity and they would often hang out
together, the older Purity teaching the youngster to swim and to play tennis.
Then
as her training drew close, Purity landed up at Pavithra’s one evening.
“Aunty,
would you and Uncle Ramesh come for my Graduation Ceremony? We are allowed two
guests, you know.”
Pavithra
couldn’t help but ask, “And your Daddy?”
“Oh,
he will also be there. He said he couldn’t wait to meet you.”
Pavithra
had grown fond of this feisty, motherless young girl and was honoured by her
request.
“It
will be an honour, love. We’ll be there, both Uncle Ramesh and me. For sure,
Purity, we’ll be there.”
Three
It
was a sea of blue on the tarmac, where nearly hundred and fifty young men and
women attired in the smart blue of the IAF uniform were standing to attention,
taking oath during their Graduation Parade. Very few eyes on the stands around
Len were dry as these young people who had gathered in the beginning as ‘Flight
Cadets’ on the black tarred parade ground, now marched out as commissioned Flying
Officers to the poignant strains of Auld Lang Syne.
Purity,
by virtue of her height, stood out and was easily spotted by Len during the
paces of the solemn ceremony and he too was forced more than once to draw out
his kerchief, remove his glasses and dab at his eyes during the parade. But
now, the formal ceremony was over and the ecstatic young officers had come up
to the stands to meet their eager parents, siblings and friends and most were busy
posing for photographs and taking selfies. Purity, too, had come bounding up to
her Dad and overwhelmed, Len had engulfed his little girl in a great bear hug.
Now she had left for a selfie break with her batch mates, leaving Len to look
around for Pavithra. Purity had told him she had promised her she would be
there, both she and Ramesh. In that mela of blue air force uniforms, Len soon
spotted Pavithra in her crisp olive sari and red collar tabs. He walked up to
her.
“Hi,
Pavithra!”
She
whirled around.
He
couldn’t help adding, “You don’t seem to have grown much since I saw you last......” a little cheekily.
Pavithra
laughed her characteristic tinkling laughter. No, that had not changed. And
as he looked at her fondly, Len realised she hadn’t changed much at all. Of
course, she had put on a few kilos but this suited her, gave her gravity. She
removed her uniform cap for a moment to reveal salt and peppered hair but other
than that, the red collar tabs and the Ashok Stambh added to the three stars he
was used to seeing her wear as a captain, she was still Pavithra of Irong Army
Hospital; dark, luminous eyes, single dimple on left cheek, regulation tight
bun in a net and that ringing laughter........!
“It’s
good to see you, Len!” She shook his hand.
“And
congratulations. So sweet of Purity to invite us over.”
Len
nodded, “Thanks Pavithra, for all your help!” He was deeply grateful.
“But
I really didn’t do anything, you know, Len. The child’s heart is absolutely
normal.” Pavithra cut him short.
“Purity’s
is very fond of you, Pavithra. These last eighteen months, I’ve been much
assured, knowing you were here looking after her.” A slight catch edged Len’s
voice.
“And
of course, my daughter is majorly impressed by you. Says you’re way smarter
than me!”
Pavithra
rewarded him once again with her laugh. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Smart
suit, Len!!!”
Len
was glad he had got a special tweed stitched just for Purity’s Graduation Parade.
“And
I see you’ve not forgotten how to shine your brogues......!” Pavithra was
giggling now.
Len
joined her and it was as if the last thirty two years had never come between
them.
Purity
came bounding up the stands once more, clutching at her cap. On seeing
Pavithra, she stopped short, adjusted her cap and saluted her smartly. Pavithra
reciprocated and then gave the girl a big hug. “Thanks for saying I’m smarter
than your Dad,” she pretended to whisper, her voice purposely loud for Len to
hear. “though you know, during those
days at Irong, people said he was smarter than me. After all he was the Chief Administrative Officer of Irong Army Hospital.......”
Len coughed in embarrassment.
Purity
laughed, unabashedly. “Aunty, please join me and Dad for dinner tonight!” She requested.
But
Pavithra and Ramesh had another engagement that evening.
Just
then, a friend called out to Purity and as the girl bounded down the stands
once more, nimble like a gazelle in the Savannah, two pairs of fond eyes watched her
retreating back.
“So?”
Len asked.
Pavithra
was confused. “What ‘so’?”
“So
you still think I’m unpatriotic?” Len asked. He avoided looking at her. Instead
he looked at the cadets milling around in a circle, laughing and giggling, blue
uniforms glistening in the sun.
Pavithra
stiffened.
Len
felt he owed her an explanation for his abrupt, apparently irrelevant remark. “I
think you mayn’t remember, Pavithra. You’d said that I was unpatriotic.”
But
Pavithra had not forgotten. No, she hadn’t. She remembered it very well. It had
been at that party she had thrown for all the doctors of the hospital after she
came back from her leave, on the occasion of her having got engaged to Ramesh.
It
had been just them inside the cane gazebo that day, Len standing against the
bar counter with an elbow over its countertop and she leaning against the back
of a bright maroon sofa. She had been feeling quite satisfied at the way her
life was turning out.
“Ramesh
has just entered second year of his Orthopaedic resident-ship.” She had
announced, not being able to keep the little boastful tone creeping in. “He’s
the best in the batch.”
“Len,
you’ll be his junior if you get through the entrance exam this year,” she had
continued happily, “You like Ortho, isn’t it?
Pavithra
had thought she was being inclusive. But Len had given a queer shrug of his
shoulders and had retorted, a little too vehemently, “I hate Ortho. Who told
you I want Orthopaedics?”
Pavithra
had been surprised. She had always been under the impression that Len loved broken
bones and all that was required to mend them, especially those gleaming
orthopaedic surgery instruments that looked like they belonged more to the car
mechanic than to a surgeon of humans. She, in contrast, liked the abstractness
of general medicine with its algorithms and reasoning, for it was a little bit
like being a sleuth and a poet simultaneously.
She
had opened her mouth to argue but Len had silenced her with his next pronunciation,
“I’m leaving the army this year!”
Pavithra
had been shocked, completely thrown off balance.
She could only mutter,
“Leaving!!!!”
“Yes!”
Len’s jaws had been clenched. “The money is ten times more out there in civil
practice, Madame, in case you didn’t know.” The sarcasm in the ‘Madame’ did not
escape Pavithra.
It
was then that she had blurted out, unnecessarily loudly, “You’re unpatriotic!”
Something
had happened to Len’s face at her words. The laugh lines that always circled
his almond eyes had slowly crumbled. When they reformed themselves, they were
no longer lines of laughter, just plain lines on his face that expressed
nothing, gave nothing away. Len had not answered her. He had kept sipping at his
rum as before, only the pace hurried, as if he needed to finish fast and order
another.
Pavithra
had regretted her words the moment they had left her mouth. But she hadn’t
apologised. She had stood there, belligerent, lips pressed together, staring at
the bar attendant pouring another fresh rum for Len. Black Dog, Len’s
favourite. How she hated that foul smelling drink that tasted of burnt cigarettes
and Harpic, coloured with Coke!!!! She had wanted to say sorry and at the same
time, did not want to, a queer situation. And Len, by going deathly silent and
gazing unseeing somewhere into the distance had not helped at all, only
complicating the already uncomfortable air between them.
It
was Black Panther who had saved her that day. He had called out aloud,
summoning her to meet some lady cardiologist from MMC who had joined them at
the lunch. Pavithra had been glad for the respite it gave her from that
embarrassing, unnerving silence that had fallen between her and Len. She had
left the gazebo rather rudely, without a word to Len, walking rapidly towards
the little group of Black Panther, Mrs Ganapathy and Dr Lucy Akoijam,
discussing busily about why young women doctors these days were not taking up
cardiology as a field of specialisation.
Pavithra
had stood in their midst, her mind far away from cardiology and women doctors.
She was feeling terrible for what she had said to Len but she was not going to
apologise. No, why should she? It was he who was leaving the service. She had
always thought they were a team, she and Len and would be like that for ever.
They would take their postgraduate entrance exam together, while she would opt
for general medicine he would take up surgery, they would grow in service
together, get posted to pretty places together, she the physician and he the
surgeon, their families would be friends, have lunches, dinners, picnics
together, Len and Ramesh would go golfing and fishing, their children would go
to the same school, play together every day in the evenings.....They would grow
old side by side, she and Len, graying, becoming fat in the middle, still joking about their Black
Panther and Black Dog rum days.......always together.........! She had it all
planned out and pictured in her mind neatly....And now suddenly Len had gone
and spoilt everything by opting to leave the army. She had felt let down,
ditched, hurt. Terribly hurt.
And now that errant hurt was prickling at her
eyes and wringing out her throat. But it wouldn’t do at all to cry before Black
Panther. So she had excused herself and had hurried to the ladies room, where
after locking herself in, she had sat on the toilet seat and tried to figure
out her reaction, wiping her tears with wads of toilet paper. But what her
heart told her was not something she had wanted to hear, for it threatened to
unbalance her neatly planned out life. Always practical, she had locked this
thing up deep within, securely, had washed her face vigorously with the ice-cold
water, reapplied her compact and her
kohl and had emerged from the washroom, completely self-assured and composed as
if the little episode had never occurred at all.
But
Len and she never really got back the old easiness between them again. For the
remaining two months that they spent there at the hospital, they carefully kept
to themselves; both studying almost viciously for the examination they were to
take. They did well, both of them at their respective examinations. They had
left Irong Army Hospital soon after their exams, Pavithra to Bombay to pursue
her MD in Medicine, continuing as an army doctor and Len as they say, to civvy
street, for the much coveted post graduation in Ophthalmology at the famed All
India Institute of Medical Sciences in Delhi.
That
was more than thirty years ago. And Len had been wrong. Pavithra had not
forgotten. And she still profoundly regretted what she had said that day.
Pavithra
watched Purity milling around in the midst of those enthusiastic cadets. No
that was a wrong term for these young women. They were officers, officers and
pilots. They would take to the skies now, often and when needed, guarding the
country’s precious sovereignty and freedom. Looking at that fresh faced young
woman smiling confidently for the hundreds of press photographers and television
cameras jostling around, Pavithra felt very proud, immensely proud, as if she
was that young woman’s parent. And along with the pride, she could also feel
the little hint of trepidation that would always remain with the proud parents
of these girls. The pilot’s job was not an easy one, their lives fraught with
danger each time they flew their crafts into the blue. So it was not just these
girls that were fearless, their parents too were immensely brave for daring to
let their precious daughters spread their wings into the sky for the country.
And Len was one of them.
She
understood very well what he had hinted at, with his question. She had been
naive and foolish and selfishly impetuous in branding him unpatriotic that
afternoon. Of course, she had been young and hurt. But that could never be an
excuse.
She
touched his tweed coated arm, gently. Len turned, surprised at her touch.
Pavithra
looked up at him. “I’m sorry Len.........! And thank you for naming her Pavithra!”
Len
looked back, slant-eyes probing. Then behind the imported rimless glasses,
his old, now deepened laugh lines settled themselves into a familiar smile.
“She’s
pretty, your Purity,” Pavithra went on “Pretty and smart and brave, Len. You’re
a lucky Dad.”
“Thanks,
Pavithra.”
Ramesh
walked in, the stars glistening on his shoulders, just like Pavithra’s. She
introduced them to each other but there was really no time to chat. People were
departing, the gleaming ambassadors lining up at the exit to pick up their
heavily starred passengers. It was time to go.
“Thank
Purity for the invite, Dr Khongsai. And do join me for some golf and beer
someday soon!” Ramesh clapped Len on the back amiably.
Len
smiled politely. “Sure, thank you. Good bye.”
One
by one the star-plated cars left the venue. Soon other spectators, parents,
guardians and the newly commissioned pilots were also lining up at the exit,
gently jostling one another in their eagerness to leave.
Len
watched the exiting crowd, waiting for it to thin. Purity came up and stood
next to him.
“What
about an ice cream Dad?”
“Sure!”
Len laughed. “But treat’s on you, Pavi.”
“But
I’ve not got my pay yet, Daddy.” Purity protested.
“Ok,
I’ll pay but consider it a loan. Don’t you forget to pay me back when your pay-check
arrives!” Len warned.
“Done,
Daddy!” Purity promised. “The ice cream parlour is on the other side of the
road. It’s close. Let’s walk, Daddy.”
She
linked her arm through his.
“Let’s.”
agreed Len. “I think I’d like a Chocolate Cone!”
They
sat at the little Kwality Ice Cream outlet right on the busy main road,
savouring their treat, watching people and cars and buses rush by.
But
neither of them were in any rush today. Len felt very comforted just now,
something he had not felt for a very long time. And it was not just because of
Purity’s successful completion of training. That too, of course, undoubtedly, but
it was something else too.
“Love’s
such a funny thing.” Len thought as he ate his chocolate filled treat; “In
reality, it isn’t all that complicated, not at all like you’d expect it to be, needing
something momentous to achieve completeness. Nope, love was very simple really,
requited by very ordinary things: a glance, a touch, a word...............!”
Her
hand had been gentle against his arm today, her eyes dark with feeling.
And
for Len, that was enough.
