more when she was down.
Avi came inside the small white room with a beautifully arranged basket of white lilies, Devi's favorite flowers. Seeing the flower basket, Saroj burst into tears again and Vasu felt the desire to smack the woman across her face.
“She woke up once,” Vasu informed Avi, not even stopping to think that she hadn't bothered to tell Saroj about Devi waking up. “But she drifted right back.”
Avinash nodded and then sighed when he saw his wife sobbing. “Stop it, Saroj,” he said as gently as he could, but the bite of irritation was there. “She can probably hear us, and do you want her to listen to this, to you crying? She's just sleeping. She isn't in a coma, she isn't dead.”
“Did you talk to the doctor?” Vasu asked quickly before Saroj could say anything to Avi. She didn't want Devi to witness a marital scene while she lay in a hospital bed, forced there by demons no one knew about.
Avi nodded, ignoring Saroj. Her dramatics when overdone became too fantastic to pay any real attention to, and Avi had started ignoring his wife's meltdowns years ago.
“He says everything is fine, just that she might be tired. She should wake up soon enough,” Avi said as he walked up to his daughter. He placed the lilies by Devi's bedside and stroked her hair. “He said a psychiatrist will talk to her and then, if they're convinced she isn't suicidal anymore, they'll release her to us.”
“What?” Saroj said, biting her lip as a new wave of salty tears threatened to claim her. “Why won't they just let us take her home?
We are her parents. We can take her anytime we want, right? We don't need some mental doctor to tell us how she is. What do they know anyway?”
Vasu sighed loudly, but didn't bother to explain that even after Devi came home, she would continue to need medical help. She would need to speak with a psychiatrist, figure out why she broke down like this, and ensure it didn't happen again. This was an illness, and just like you'd go to the doctor if your head hurt too much, you sometimes had to go when your heart hurt as well.
Avi leaned closer to his daughter, kissed her cool soft cheek, and whispered, “You have to wake up,
beta,
time to go home. Devi,
beta,
are you awake?” Avi asked when he saw Devi's eyelids flutter open. ‘Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
Devi nodded.
“Ready to go home?”
Devi shook her head.
Saroj rose shakily and stood by Devi's feet, peering at her face. She wanted to say something nice, something comforting. “Why did you do such a stupid thing? Do you know what a scare you gave us?” she demanded, love and concern turned rancid, spewing out of her as anger.
Avi hissed and Vasu made a clicking sound.
Devi turned her head away from her mother and closed her eyes again.
“Oh, I am sorry,” Saroj said immediately, guiltily. “I love you so much, Devi. The next time she wakes up, Avi, I will tell her how much I love her, how much I … the next time she wakes up … I promise …”
It is tiresome to see the ceiling at all times when your eyes are open. Even when you're alive, it makes you feel like maybe, you are not. But you know that you are alive and that the feeling of lifelessness is just a farce and that's when the tiresome part comes in.
Devi was tired of staring at the white crisp ceiling, the white crisp walls, the white-white-white everything of the hospital room.
She wanted to get up and around. Pop by and see who was in the room next door. Was anyone else here who attempted what she had? And how did that person feel? Guilty cheated, desperate, angry?
As if lying there and having to put up with every member of her family was not bad enough, it really bothered her to have to talk to a psychiatrist. It was for her own good, her father told her as he explained why she needed to see a shrink. She wasn't exactly stupid and had watched enough
ER
to know that they wouldn't just release her into the general population before ensuring
Avi came inside the small white room with a beautifully arranged basket of white lilies, Devi's favorite flowers. Seeing the flower basket, Saroj burst into tears again and Vasu felt the desire to smack the woman across her face.
“She woke up once,” Vasu informed Avi, not even stopping to think that she hadn't bothered to tell Saroj about Devi waking up. “But she drifted right back.”
Avinash nodded and then sighed when he saw his wife sobbing. “Stop it, Saroj,” he said as gently as he could, but the bite of irritation was there. “She can probably hear us, and do you want her to listen to this, to you crying? She's just sleeping. She isn't in a coma, she isn't dead.”
“Did you talk to the doctor?” Vasu asked quickly before Saroj could say anything to Avi. She didn't want Devi to witness a marital scene while she lay in a hospital bed, forced there by demons no one knew about.
Avi nodded, ignoring Saroj. Her dramatics when overdone became too fantastic to pay any real attention to, and Avi had started ignoring his wife's meltdowns years ago.
“He says everything is fine, just that she might be tired. She should wake up soon enough,” Avi said as he walked up to his daughter. He placed the lilies by Devi's bedside and stroked her hair. “He said a psychiatrist will talk to her and then, if they're convinced she isn't suicidal anymore, they'll release her to us.”
“What?” Saroj said, biting her lip as a new wave of salty tears threatened to claim her. “Why won't they just let us take her home?
We are her parents. We can take her anytime we want, right? We don't need some mental doctor to tell us how she is. What do they know anyway?”
Vasu sighed loudly, but didn't bother to explain that even after Devi came home, she would continue to need medical help. She would need to speak with a psychiatrist, figure out why she broke down like this, and ensure it didn't happen again. This was an illness, and just like you'd go to the doctor if your head hurt too much, you sometimes had to go when your heart hurt as well.
Avi leaned closer to his daughter, kissed her cool soft cheek, and whispered, “You have to wake up,
beta,
time to go home. Devi,
beta,
are you awake?” Avi asked when he saw Devi's eyelids flutter open. ‘Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
Devi nodded.
“Ready to go home?”
Devi shook her head.
Saroj rose shakily and stood by Devi's feet, peering at her face. She wanted to say something nice, something comforting. “Why did you do such a stupid thing? Do you know what a scare you gave us?” she demanded, love and concern turned rancid, spewing out of her as anger.
Avi hissed and Vasu made a clicking sound.
Devi turned her head away from her mother and closed her eyes again.
“Oh, I am sorry,” Saroj said immediately, guiltily. “I love you so much, Devi. The next time she wakes up, Avi, I will tell her how much I love her, how much I … the next time she wakes up … I promise …”
It is tiresome to see the ceiling at all times when your eyes are open. Even when you're alive, it makes you feel like maybe, you are not. But you know that you are alive and that the feeling of lifelessness is just a farce and that's when the tiresome part comes in.
Devi was tired of staring at the white crisp ceiling, the white crisp walls, the white-white-white everything of the hospital room.
She wanted to get up and around. Pop by and see who was in the room next door. Was anyone else here who attempted what she had? And how did that person feel? Guilty cheated, desperate, angry?
As if lying there and having to put up with every member of her family was not bad enough, it really bothered her to have to talk to a psychiatrist. It was for her own good, her father told her as he explained why she needed to see a shrink. She wasn't exactly stupid and had watched enough
ER
to know that they wouldn't just release her into the general population before ensuring
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