Just An Ordinary Love Story

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.