The Vigil

She sat huddled in her chair oblivious to her surroundings. The swish of the starched uniform, the ring of metal on glass, the heavy breathing emanating from somewhere around her, did not register at all nor did the occasional sympathetic glance thrown in their direction. Now “their” was not a word she would have cared to use normally, for it implies a kind of togetherness. It was a word that had no meaning for her. Sitting in the chair, staring at the perhaps green walls, she was existing in another dimension of no thought, no feeling and no awareness.

A gentle touch on the shoulder followed by a whispered, “He will be better auntie, relax!” made her look up uncomprehendingly. A face that seemed familiar for a fleeting moment, came into focus for a while. But her tired eyes and brain gave up the fight and the face faded into a blur. Locked in her own world she could not see the picture she presented to the otherwise real world; a frail elderly lady draped listlessly in a chair, unable to come to terms with her disease ridden spouse's slipping away for ever.

The nurses flitted in and out, the doctors came and went. She sat where she was, seeming to shrivel bit by bit with every passing minute. Ever since she came to the hospital in the ambulance with her husband on a stretcher, she sat where she was sitting at the moment. Her lifeless body and dilated staring eyes gave away her pain to the most insensitive professional. They had let her be. To suffer pain is one way to deal with it. After all, they were only watching the petals of an already wilted flower withering away.

Sympathy wouldn’t change the course of events.

In the little time she had been there she had gained a kind of celebrity status, for it wasn’t often that one got to see such absolute grief. In a world where love, marriage and commitments were getting increasingly transitionary, she and her husband represented a dream of eternal love. But she sat, unaware of the emotions she was generating, completely lost to the world. The sympathetic murmurings of those around her fell on her ears unheard.

But there was a voice which still had the power to shake her and bring her back to reality. After being silent for a long while, it rumbled out into the open, a mixture of a moan and a cough. The mist around her lifted and all at once she became aware of the bright room, the bed, the bottles and the usual hospital paraphernalia. And most of all, the scrawny creature huddled on the bed, with its eyes half open, jaw dropping down and unshaven cheeks sunken in. The disease had eaten away the flesh, leaving the skin sagging onto the skull. Fortunately the sheet was drawn up to the chin and all she could see below the neck was a bony, angular structure disturbing the neatness of the bed.

“Have courage auntie, his cough is a positive sign,” an arm gently came around her shoulder.

She turned and she saw her young nephew looking at her anxiously. As she looked at him a small frown wrinkled her already careworn face. I cannot feel anything, she wanted to tell him. No sorrow, no pity, no fear. Perhaps her faded eyes did convey something to him, for his arm tightened around her shoulder for a while.

“Perhaps you should walk around a bit, auntie,” and he forced her to stand up.

She was surprised by the resistance put up by her limbs. They did not feel like her own. They didn’t want to be exercised. Holding on to him, she stood up and her eyes were immediately drawn to an image reflected in the mirror hung on the wall. It seemed so familiar and yet so different.

When she saw the familiar, still boyish face of her nephew behind it, she was surprised to realize that the familiar stranger in the mirror was her own self! She lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek and saw the old woman in the mirror do the same. It can’t be me, she thought in horror, looking at the wizened face and the dessicated hand. His disease has eaten me away too! I didn’t know that I looked like this! In her mind’s eye a youthful teenaged face that had once been hers would have seemed much more familiar.

“Come auntie!” She felt a gentle push guiding her towards the window, she followed obediently and stood there clutching on to the window sill. She looked out with unseeing eyes. Her ears were now carefully listening to the raspy breath of the patient.

“Don’t they have any children, friends or relatives? Haven’t seen any one else other than you!” Perhaps it was some relative of one of the other patients talking to the nephew.

“No, they have been quite cut off from the rest of the world. I believe they’ve had only each other for years.”

“No one at all?”

“So I believe. I hardly know them my self. I’ve just joined college here. So I’ve been over to see them a couple of times.”

“It’s terrible loosing your only companion of years!”

“One is so helpless,” he was beginning to sound a little self conscious.

“Look he’s moving, call her at once.” The harsh tone could only belong to the nurse.

“Auntie!” The call was urgent. She turned towards the bed holding on to the window sill.

The sheet covering him was moving jerkily and his mouth open and shut convulsively. The nurse moved the sheet away a little and put a calming hand on his forehead. The hands shakingly moved to the centre of his chest and joined together as if in prayer. His eyes cleared for a moment, looked around and fixed on her beseechingly.

“Auntie, he wants to say something.” The still boyish voice sounded a little thin and high.

“He’s perhaps asking for forgiveness,” said the more experienced nurse, for once sounding compassionate.

“Auntie!” The cry was anguished, “Say something, he’s dying!”

She just stared into the face and eyes she could not recognize.

“Say you forgive him, he’ll go in peace,” the nurse said softly. It was a request.

She heard a voice which was certainly not her own. It said “I forgive you”. She did not even feel her lips move.

She continued to stare as the hands collapsed where they were and the eyes went glassy. The rasping breath stilled and all she could hear was the rustle of the nurse’s uniform as she moved around giving the necessary finishing touches. She stared at the white sheet which had become a shroud for a long minute and then turned to look out of the window.

“Forgive me God,” she whispered to the sky, “for lying, for I cannot forgive him. I cannot grieve, nor do I feel sorrow. I have spent all that was due to me in his life time. Now there is none left.”

She felt herself being led to a chair, where she collapsed gratefully. So is this how it all had to end? Is there room for a fresh beginning? She rested her head tiredly against the back rest, too exhausted to search for an answer.

The sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds reached her, as she closed her weary eyes. Let today be over, tomorrow will take care of itself, was her last thought as her head sank into her chest.

This story is the unedited version of Manika Lal's collection 'Forever Vigilant'. You can now buy the book by clicking here