Reflection👥

22. What is written

Dedicated to: Priyadarshini2001

"Unlike the sand in an hourglass that can be turned and made to flow multiple times,  destiny greets us once, but the imprint it leaves is enough to last an entire lifetime."

-Elegiac_Damsel

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14th August

Third-person's point of view:

The night was eerily quiet. 

An overcast sky looked down upon the city of dreams, a city that never sleeps. The secluded streets were silent, the random, sporadic whimpers of strays sounding deafening. The wheezing sound of cars passing by at a quick pace on the empty roads and the occasional screeching noise of brakes being pressed disturbed the serenity of the ambience intermittently. Streetlights glittered, mingling with the flickering lights of the few households that refused to succumb to sleep, and lit up the dark tarmacadam roads. 

The 2 bedrooms flat in Nerul was plunged into a darkness that befitted the night sky. Anindita wasn't home. Apurba was awoken by a sudden jerky movement that came from Agastya laying on the other side of the bed. She sat up in bed, her pulse racing as she saw his body convulsing in spasms that seemed utterly abnormal and in a way, alarming.

She adjusted her clothes before rushing towards the living room where Ms Thomas, the nurse had been preparing to retire for the night. The middle-aged woman was quick to assess the urgency of the situation from Apurba's impatient demeanour. She was yanked up from her seat and pulled into the master bedroom of the house.

"We need an ambulance, ma'am. He needs to be taken to the hospital," Ms Thomas told the distressed woman.

A frantic call was made for an ambulance, and Apurba busied herself in trying to reach out to Anindita via phone. She was unfortunately greeted by the automated responder that let her know that the phone was either switched off or unreachable. Fighting all the frustration, agony, and nervousness, she tried a few more times hoping that there was something wrong with the connection that would be sorted out, the only key being persistent in her attempts to reach out to her daughter.

Unread messages from WhatsApp caught her eye. They were all from Anindita, sent barely 5 minutes ago.

Ani: Hi ma! I know you must be asleep now.

Ani: The flight got delayed due to rain and bad weather. We are going to take off in 40 mins.

Ani: Take care of yourself and Baba. I'll call you when I reach Dubai. Love <3.

Apurba was horrified! She wouldn't be able to contact her daughter for at least 8 hours, even so, there was no way Anindita could make it home before 12 hours. 

She sank into the sofa, her head resting against the backrest, tears of frustration, rage, and a strange fear, rolling down her cheeks. For the first time, she felt helpless and lonely, agitated at her daughter's frequent travelling. She laid motionless on the sofa, oblivious to the silence in the flat, awoken only by the commotion caused by the paramedics who rushed in with a stretcher.

"Ma'am, you are coming along to the hospital, aren't you?" a concerned Ms Thomas asked the dazed woman, resting her hand on Apurba's shoulder.

"I am," she whispered, looking up, staring blankly through red, glassy eyes that reflected her fear.

...

8 hours later, Dubai

Anindita was tired after a backbreaking, long flight. She was sleep-deprived, first with the regular sleeplessness that often troubled her, followed by the physical strain of sitting straight at one place, and the mental fatigue resulting from the long hours of single-minded concentration that flying demanded. Her phone's battery was down, and she decided to charge it up at the hotel, first thing, knowing that her mother would be worried.