Hiccups, page 1
A love story with a difference
HARSH PANDE
JAICO PUBLISHING HOUSE
Ahmedabad Bangalore Bhopal Bhubaneswar Chennai Delhi Hyderabad Kolkata Lucknow Mumbai
Published by Jaico Publishing House
A-2 Jash Chambers, 7-A Sir Phirozshah Mehta Road
Fort, Mumbai - 400 001
jaicopub@jaicobooks.com
www.jaicobooks.com
© Smita Pande
HICCUPS
ISBN 978-81-8495-414-2
First Jaico Impression: 2013
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechancal including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Page design and layouts: Special Effects, Mumbai
“No one has a monopoly on ideas!”
“No matter how severe the storm is, you can still smile!”
– Harsh Pande
Contents
Prologue: The Monologue with God
1 Music and the Flashing Lights
2 Brainstorming
3 Teamwork
4 Prepair
5 Fastermind
6 Hiccups
7 Pessimistic Optimism
8 One Thing You didn’t Know about Me
9 The Award
10 The Happiest Day of His Life
11 The Stalemate
Epilogue: The Calm after the Storm
About the Author
Foreword
It gives me great pleasure and immense happiness to write the foreword for this book HICCUPS by Harsh Pande (Harshvardhan Lalit Pande).
I have been fortunate to be associated with Harsh since his childhood as a treating orthopaedic surgeon. Since childhood he has shown a sense of humour and a sharp wit which belied his age. He always smiled no matter what phase of treatment he was undergoing and encouraged his treating team to perform better.
Harsh displayed exceptionally admirable spirit and intelligence which helped him to achieve excellent results in academics and other endeavours, despite suffering from complicated orthopaedic disorder by birth. As an orthopaedic surgeon, I will always be fascinated by his indomitable cheerful attitude towards life.
He was very well guided and supported by his family in all his efforts.
His entrepreneurship and sagacity is evident from his literary effort so vividly put forth in his novel HICCUPS.
I extend my wishes to Harsh, his family, friends and the readers. I am sure this book will be a very valuable gift to all those who were closely associated with him.
—Dr. K. H. Sancheti
Chief Orthopaedic Surgeon
Recipient of Padma Awards
Acknowledgements
Deeply acknowledge the contributions of:
Digvijay Pande, for encouraging his younger brother in the creation of Hiccups and the subsequent follow up thereafter.
Profoundly – All the Vincentians, COEPeans, corporate associates, friends and relatives who always loved and supported Harsh Pande.
And above all
Harsh’s parents who always encouraged
Harsh to follow his dreams.
PROLOGUE
The Monologue with God
He buried his face in his palms. There was no one to look up to for help. He was all alone. There was light all around him and yet darkness filled his heart. Though the walls displayed pictures of smiling patients and doctors, he felt nothing but dread. The verdict had been delivered, she wasn’t going to return. All the medical jargon that the men in white coats threw around was irrelevant. They couldn’t bring his mother back.
He felt a tear flow down his index finger, leaving a moist trace as it trickled down his right hand. He did not know why, but he wanted to hold onto the tear, he didn’t want to let it flow right through his hand. He commanded it to stop flowing, it didn’t heed his call. There, in that silent corridor of a large hospital, a young man felt the deepest sense of helplessness.
He got up, numb, barely able to command his feet to move towards the glass panel on the ICU door. Every step he took towards the small window made him nervous. He could not bear to watch his mother in that state, but he knew that he had to. He peered through the glass, which was immediately covered with a shroud of moisture from the teary air he exhaled. He observed the way she was breathing; short gasps of inhaling followed by slow breathing out, almost as if she was sighing. At the point where she exhaled completely, his heart skipped a beat as he did not see her breathe in again. He stopped breathing too. His heart despaired for a brief moment, until he saw the white hospital sheet covering her, rise again. It took him nearly half a minute to realize that he was still to take in his next breath. Another teardrop made its way down his face.
He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, barely blinking, afraid that if he did not oversee every breath of hers, she would stop breathing. He wished he could stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, they were blurring his vision. He had never felt so alone in his life before. His hand reached for the rudraksh his mother had given to him. She had told him it would protect him from all harm. How he wished, that it would’ve protected its original owner. As he kissed the sacred bead and placed it back on his chest, he felt the envelope that was kept in his shirt pocket. It contained a cheque, given to him by his uncle. The amount on the cheque was all that a brother’s love for his sister had come down to. He looked at it with resentment but decided that the time to think about finances would come later. Dawn was a few hours away, and he knew he wasn’t going to move from the spot where he stood. He knew that the first sight of sunlight would lift his spirit. He made up his mind, to stand guard all night, in front of the ICU door. No angel of death would be allowed to pass through during his watch.
The stars faded away as dawn approached, replacing the dark night sky with hints of the early morning hue. The night shift employees at the hospital were the only ones moving around. A few of them stopped to look at the man standing in front of the ICU door, but no one bothered to talk to him. It was just the end of another night of work for them, they were preparing to leave for their homes and get back to their families.
For the young man, the only family he had was battling death a few feet away and he could do little but wait and hope. His eyes were tired, his tears had dried up over the course of the night and his feet were numb. But his resolve to stand guard until he saw the morning sun was firm. From the corner of his eye he looked towards the window at the end of the corridor, the sun was just an hour away; hope was just an hour away. That thought gave him the strength to continue his vigil with renewed determination.
The morning signalled the start of yet another day at the hospital. The regular shift doctors and nurses replaced their night shift counterparts. The young man wondered why the emergency ward of the hospital followed the norms of the rest of the hospital wards, with the diluted staffing at night. Pain and death did not differentiate between night and day. He shrugged off such musings from his mind and tried to focus on what was important.
The real reason why he was waiting for the morning was because it would bring back the neurologist in charge of his mother’s case. There were a lot of questions he had in his mind. Things that the doctor had told him yesterday which he had not fully registered because of the state of mind he was in. Not in his worst nightmare did he imagine that he’d have to see a day like the one that had just gone by. He wanted to speak to the doctor again and get some answers.
His chain of thought was disturbed by some movements he saw from the corner of his eye. A few doctors were making their way from down the corridor towards the ICU. Dr. Roy, the neurologist, was leading the way while a couple of other doctors followed closely. He had a file in his hand and a worried look on his face. As the doctors came closer to the ICU, they put on their surgical masks; they had already donned their gloves. The young man was about to say something, when the neurologist raised his hand in a calming gesture and walked past him to enter the ICU.
He peered through the glass panel once again; disappointed by the fact that he couldn’t hear what the doctors were discussing inside. Dr. Roy seemed to be very animated in his discussions with the other doctors, one of whom was a cardiologist. The third man in a white coat was a junior doctor. His mother’s case was probably some kind of a case study for the junior doctor. He shook his head as he thought about it for a second. After a ten minute discussion the doctors were out of the ICU. Dr. Roy tried to feign a smile as he looked at the anxious youngster standing near the glass panel, but couldn’t conceal the hopelessness behind the smile. The neurologist asked the youngster, who was the patient’s son, to follow him. The son looked at his mother through the glass panel and silently promised that he’d return very soon.
He walked briskly, the numbness in his feet receding with each step. As he passed by the window at the end of the corridor, he looked towards the sun. Despite it being too bright, he gazed directly at it, asking the sun to protect his mother while he was away. They entered the elevator and made their way to the floor below where Dr. Roy’s office was located. Not a word was spoken during the interim. Finally they reached his office; the junior doctor pulled out a few X-rays from the file and put them up on the display board. The mix of black and deathly grey on an X-ray made the young man feel uncomfortable. Dr. Roy stood next to the display panel and took in a deep breath before starting off with what he had to say.
Half an hour later, the young man walked out of t
He looked through the glass panel once again, she was still breathing. He heaved a sigh of relief. As long as she’s breathing, she s fighting. As long as she’s fighting, she’s winning. He looked at his mother, speaking to her in his mind as if she could hear him telepathically. He told her, that everything was fine and that it was a matter of time before she’d be back on her feet. He looked at his watch; it was nine in the morning. Exactly two days ago, he was having breakfast at home with her. He wanted to rush through his breakfast and get out of the house to meet his friends for the matinee show. She was telling him to have his breakfast slowly, to chew his food properly. I’m not a child anymore, he remembered telling her. You are to me; she had said. A tear started to form in his eye again; he flicked it off with his finger. This is not how it ends, he told himself. No matter what the men in white coats say, this is not how it ends; he kept repeating the words to himself. You have been through too much in life and so have I. Better days and better times will come, they have to, and you and I will see them together maa, I promise; he said to her in unspoken words. He looked at his watch again. He had a meeting with the dean of the hospital in fifteen minutes. He took one more look at her before moving away.
He was back on the floor below, and turned right to an extended corridor. The senior members of the hospital staff had their offices spread through the corridor. He passed by Dr. Roy’s office and the cardiologist’s office, up next was the Dean’s office followed by a fair amount of empty space with a small temple at the end of the corridor. He was not in a state to laugh, but he found the location of the temple amusing. After one crossed all the senior-most doctors offices and some space beyond, then, after everything else, you could finally come to God for help. He couldn’t say whether the architect of the hospital was a believer or an atheist with a sense of humour.
After he waited for a few minutes in front of the Dean’s office, a secretary walked up to him and asked him to enter. The meeting lasted barely ten minutes, but to him it seemed like an eternity. The Dean informed him about the financial requirements of his mother’s treatment. He asked the Dean how much money he needed to pay and how much time he had to arrange the funds. He did not panic when he heard the massive amount and the short time he had to pay up. The Dean wanted to comfort the young man, he was used to people breaking down in such situations; but he noticed a calm determination about the eighteen year old sitting in front of him. The young man thanked him for the time and walked towards the door. He stepped out of the office and walked straight to the temple. It was time for a monologue with God.
He stood in front of the temple and looked at the idol adorned with flowers and jewels. He looked over his shoulder; he saw a couple, probably married, waiting for their meeting with the dean. No one else stood in the entire corridor; it was safe for him to speak aloud without being noticed. He concentrated on the idol and tried to blank out all other thoughts from his mind. He took a deep breath and began praying with folded hands and a bowed head.
“Over the years I have prayed to You for a lot of things, right from toys to high scores in exams. Today when I think of it, I wasted all those prayers, they involved things that were so trivial. I could have lived without that toy; life would’ve gone on fine had I scored a little lesser in those exams. But today I have come to pray for what matters the most to me – my mother’s life. She is the only light in my world. Do not let that one flame go out. Please… I know that at this moment, there are probably millions of people praying to you. Why should You pay attention to my prayer? Well… this is the last time I will pray to you in this lifetime; regardless of my prayer being answered or not. If it is answered, I will have nothing more to ask of you; if my prayer falls on deaf ears, there will be nothing left to pray for.
From hereon, I forfeit my right to pray to You. For the rest of my life, I will bear every hardship in silence, suffer every misfortune without complaint and strive to achieve every goal all by myself. I promise. Just spare my mother’s life. That’s all I have to ask of You. That’s all I will ever ask of You.”
He closed his eyes and fought back a tear before taking a few steps back, turning around and moving towards the elevator to get back to the ICU. He found himself standing in front of the ICU glass panel once again. He looked through the glass panel and watched his mother breathe. This time he wasn’t nervous or afraid. He knew what he had to do. He pulled out the envelope with the cheque from his pocket. Without batting an eyelid, he tore it into pieces and threw it into the dustbin kept in the corridor. He needed no favours to save his mother’s life. He walked to the elevator and soon he was out of the hospital premises. He was going to make sure that he provided his mother with everything she could possibly need to win her battle. He had no idea how long this struggle would last; all he knew was that he wasn’t going to give up. He would fight and fight until he won; he would fight until a mother was returned to her son.
1
Music and the Flashing Lights
Two years later she woke up from her afternoon nap feeling a little light-headed. She had a notion that there was something important about the afternoon, but she simply couldn’t remember what it was. She walked towards the bathroom with her eyes half-closed. She splashed some water on her face to get over the grogginess. Out of nowhere it struck her; it was the annual prize distribution day at college. She stepped out of the bathroom, water dripping down her chin, and took a look at the wall clock. Half past five. She muttered a few expletives under her breath and rushed towards her bed. She found her cell phone next to the pillow. It showed five missed calls from Suparna, her best friend. She dialled Suparna’s number:
“I can’t believe I overslept” she said to Suparna in a state of panic.
“Forget all that now, get ready quickly. The ceremony starts in half an hour. I’ll come pick you up; you’ll make it on time. I’ll be there in fifteen. Don’t worry!” Suparna said, trying to calm her best friend.
“Okay, thanks!” she said hurriedly and hung up.
She looked at her wardrobe and decided to go with a simple grey kurta and blue jeans combo. The college prize distribution ceremony was not the ideal place for a fashion statement. Besides, she didn’t have the time to put on anything fancy. She got dressed in ten minutes flat, a personal record, and stepped out of the apartment.
As per plan, she saw Suparna arrive in fifteen minutes. Suparna treated her Activa like it was some superbike, zip zapping across the streets, causing near-accidents every once in a while. She knew Suparna loved riding fast, taking sharp turns and cutting across lanes. They weren’t best friends for no reason; she had a tendency to procrastinate while Suparna loved haste.
They reached the college parking lot and then ran towards the auditorium. They entered as discreetly as they could. She looked around and realized that the ceremony had barely started, since the audience looked pretty fresh. She sat alongside Suparna on the nearest empty seats they could find. The Director of the college had just started his speech and she got a feeling that it would be a long one. Half-way through the speech, she was nearing her personal best score in the all-time hit cell phone game – Snake.
