YA' ABURNEE

Chapter 20

Three months. Three painful months I watch her petite form struggle to survive. Struggle to show the world she is one strong of a woman.

They couldn't save my child. And I couldn't let my child take my Erum with her.

Yes, it was a her. Just as I presumed.

I couldn't save my Firdous, my dear daughter.

Indeed Erum is strong, my power-woman. And I have been watching my power-woman being shifted from unit to unit. Intensive care she needs, they said. Numerous wires, numerous machines, numerous bandages. They said she'll die immediately if those were to remove. Not that she's still alive, they said. To them just breathing is not enough evidence of being alive.

I say existing is living sometimes. Dying is easy. Staying alive and fighting for it is what counts strength.

And I will never give up on her. They tried to convince me to let her go. But I refuse. I refuse to believe that one day she will not wake up and say, "Umair, read me my favourite book." That day I will take her head on my lap, bright rays of morning sun will ease upon us through the waving curtains of hospital cabin. I will smooth my fingers down her scalp and read her favourite book to her.

"Excuse me, Mr Hamza?"

I look up to find that same old woman. Dr Nisa. She's an annoying individual. Why should I sign that bond and agree to switch off Erum's machines. She's selfish.

Irritated, I look back to keep staring at the spotless white wall in front.

"Danish!" She emphasises.

Furrowing my brows I look at her. She may be older than me but that doesn't give her permission to call me by my name. "Doctor, I don't want to talk about it. I will not sign." I finalise.

"You're not understanding." She takes a seat at the other end of the orange hospital bench I am sitting on. "A massive accident took place near Dhaka-Chattogram highway. Many living critical patients need ICU."

"What do you mean by living? My Eurm is not dead !" I grit my teeth through every word.

"Okay, okay. She is." She raises both her palms to my eye level. Is she trying to calm me down after what she possibly said seconds ago?

"But understand, please. There is an shortage of ICUs. And there are many patients who I need to save."

"Oh so you don't need to save my Erum?" I get frenzied by the end of the sentence.

"Please, Mr Hamza. Try to understand." She hurriedly gets up from her seat, scared from if I might hurt her. "You're being selfish." She says as she puts a nice amount of distance between us.

I stand up, turning even more psychotic. Yes, I will hurt her if she utters another word.

Scared, she slowly steps back and turns around to leave.

Soon after, a distraught mother come in the hallway, pushing a stretcher. There lies a bloodied figure. A boy of twelve to fifteen, his hand almost dismembered. Whoever did his bandage did a petty job.

"Please, please save my son." The mother screams to the few attendances that ran to help her.

As they took the stretcher from her, leading it inside an operation theater, she droops on the pristine floor. Hiding her face in her bloody hands she weeps.

Crinkling my brows I get up to leave.

No, its not my responsibility to think of others.

Are they thinking of what I might be going through? No. Then why should I?