Iss War Ko Kya Naam Doon?

Iss War Ko Kya Naam Doon? (7)

Khushi's parents asked for permission to arrive late at the Office today, for their dear loving daughter had fallen ill with a fever. Shashi, busy in the kitchen, prepared soup, hoping his butterfly wouldn't protest drinking it. He chuckled at his own absurdity — Khushi and tasteless soup? Never. But he remained determined, focused on cooking the nourishing broth for his daughter.

Garima and Madhumathi hovered over Khushi, gently applying cold compresses to her body in an effort to reduce her fever.

Meanwhile, Shashi emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming bowl of soup, "Soup is ready."

Khushi, who had been lying on the bed, occasionally giggling as the damp cloth touched her skin, emitted a feeble grunt at the mere mention of soup.

But her mother's stern expression brooked no argument; she insisted that Khushi drink the nourishing broth.

Her daughter's frowning face and protests didn't change her decision. Eventually, they departed for their respective offices, leaving Khushi in the care of her buaji.

"Titaliya, ye lo, kaada, peelo," Madhumathi came into her screaming the words only to stop in her tracks.

(here, take this herbal remedy and drink it.)

Her niece had a fever, didn't she?

Oh, yes, she did. But did that stop her from being naughty? Not a chance! Khushi's fever seemed to fuel her mischief. Madhumathi watched, her heart pounding, as her niece balanced precariously on the high windowsill. The wounded ankle hovered just an inch above the ground, while the other foot clung to the grill. Outside, the cat sat, its eyes fixed on the girl, as if her partner would step out anytime and play with her.

Khushi pouted as she wasn't permitted to go out and play with her. Her sad eyes gazed into the cat's longing gaze. The cat, oblivious to its partner's plight, continued its unwavering gaze. Little did she know that her partner was sick with a fever, and arrested in a bedroom.

"Arrey O Parameshwari," Buaji scolded, "you should be resting! Did you forget you're sick? Dekhat kya rahe ho uss billi ko? Uss nanhi si naadan si jaan ko chod do aur aur aajao apne bistar par, leto yaha."

(What are you looking at that cat? Leave that innocent little soul and come lie down on your bed here.)

Madhumathi put the glass aside and gently lifted Khushi from the windowsill, tucking her into bed.

Only to get her protests in return.

"Buaji," Khushi pouted weakly, her eyes pleading. She has been getting bored lying on the bed since morning.

Madhumathi ignored her protests and checked her temperature and it was burning at 102. It was afternoon and she should have been better by now, at least 100 if not 98. She decided it'd be best if she got Khushi to the hospital. The wound on her ankle will also be checked for any infection.

"Jaldi se ye kaada peelo, we will go the hospital, teek hai?" Madhumathi put the glass to her lips as Khushi wrinkled her nose with a strong smell and her lips jutted together in protest.

(Drink this fast, we will go to the hospital, okay?)

Khushi pouted. She doesn't like the smell of the hospital and the big injections they give. "Buaji, what's the need to go to hospital? Please, na, buaji, I don't want to go to the hospital"

Buaji's stern glare left no room for negotiation. "In this matter, your wants and wishes will not be heard, sanka devi. You must go to the hospital, and I'm taking you. Got me?"

And so, they embarked on their journey — a taxi ride with a protesting Khushi cradled in Buaji's arms.

Subadhra Devi watched them as the Taxi drove away, standing on her terrace.