Love, Arnav: An IPKKND Short Story

Part Two: Spiral

Her frown deepened; no, she couldn't understand why she was sweating the way she was.

She shook her head in exhaustion; it felt heavy - as if pulled by something much stronger than gravity. And it kept getting heavier.

Thank you so much for helping the little boy chase his passion from a young age.

I miss you so much, Khushi.

Love, Arnav

Words engraved in her own handwriting came floating through the room to her. She squeezed her eyes shut. But she didn't know it was the letter she had penned down earlier that week. No, not at that moment, she didn't. Because in it, Arnav had told her that he missed her and he loved her.

Love, Arnav...

And suddenly, she was afraid. She felt a band tighten around her chest when she tried to breathe. But why?

Later, Khushi thought to herself, this is not the time to think anything. Nobody would be coming to the room anytime soon anyway. You have all the time to think about this strange thing after the Pooja. She reached the door and pulled down the bolt when suddenly the world spun around her. She tried to steady herself and gripped the handle of the door for support.

She felt a waft of fresh air from the living room come her way. She smiled involuntarily at the soothing feeling that spread through her at first contact. But the next moment, the room revolved around her for the second time and she lost her balance. The last thing she remembered was the panic calls from her family who came running to her. They blurred and disappeared before she could hold on to those images for longer.

Don't you want to attend Lakshmi Pooja?

The words intermingled with one another as she neared the floor. No, they weren't making sense. The tiny pores in the worn-out ceramic tiles became larger and larger as she sank lower.

I'm coming, Buaji!

Love, Arnav...

I'm getting ready!

She recalled random words from somewhere before she drifted into oblivion.

***

"KHUSHI!" Garima sprinkled some water on her face, "Bitiya, please open your eyes! Jiji, bring some more ice for her from the freezer. And a dry scarf to wipe off her sweat."

Madhumati nodded and hurried into the kitchen. She returned after a minute, carrying a tub of ice-cubes in her hands. "Take this, Garima. I will call the doctor."

Garima nodded, "I don't understand it, Jiji. She was fine just now. She even helped me prepare the dinner! I don't know what happened all of a sudden... I don't know how," her words faded as she concentrated on her daughter lying on the bed. She wiped the fresh onslaught of perspiration off her forehead. "She's sweating so much," she murmured, "Bitiya, open your eyes, please, Khushi."

Madhumati threw open a couple of drawers and browsed through the telephone diaries that she had preserved over years. "Doctor... Doctor... Doctor...," she murmured as she turned the pages, "Yeah, there it is, Doctor Sharma."

"I'll go and call him," she told Garima, "You wait here with Khushi bitiya. But I still don't understand. Khushi was watching Television beside me when the doorbell rang and she - hang on - it was a postman, wasn't it?"