Harsh Pande - Hiccups

A love story with a difference

HARSH PANDE

JAICO PUBLISHING HOUSE

Ahmedabad Bangalore Bhopal Bhubaneswar Chennai Delhi Hyderabad Kolkata Lucknow Mumbai

Published by Jaico Publishing House

A-2 Jash Chambers, 7-A Sir Phirozshah Mehta Road

Fort, Mumbai - 400 001

www.jaicobooks.com

Smita Pande

HICCUPS

ISBN 978-81-8495-414-2

First Jaico Impression: 2013

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechancal including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

Page design and layouts: Special Effects, Mumbai

No one has a monopoly on ideas!

No matter how severe the storm is, you can still smile!

Harsh Pande

Contents

Foreword

It gives me great pleasure and immense happiness to write the foreword for this book HICCUPS by Harsh Pande (Harshvardhan Lalit Pande).

I have been fortunate to be associated with Harsh since his childhood as a treating orthopaedic surgeon. Since childhood he has shown a sense of humour and a sharp wit which belied his age. He always smiled no matter what phase of treatment he was undergoing and encouraged his treating team to perform better.

Harsh displayed exceptionally admirable spirit and intelligence which helped him to achieve excellent results in academics and other endeavours, despite suffering from complicated orthopaedic disorder by birth. As an orthopaedic surgeon, I will always be fascinated by his indomitable cheerful attitude towards life.

He was very well guided and supported by his family in all his efforts.

His entrepreneurship and sagacity is evident from his literary effort so vividly put forth in his novel HICCUPS .

I extend my wishes to Harsh, his family, friends and the readers. I am sure this book will be a very valuable gift to all those who were closely associated with him.

Dr. K. H. Sancheti

Chief Orthopaedic Surgeon

Recipient of Padma Awards

Acknowledgements

Deeply acknowledge the contributions of:

Digvijay Pande, for encouraging his younger brother in the creation of Hiccups and the subsequent follow up thereafter.

Profoundly All the Vincentians, COEPeans, corporate associates, friends and relatives who always loved and supported Harsh Pande.

And above all

Harshs parents who always encouraged

Harsh to follow his dreams.

PROLOGUE

The Monologue with God

H e buried his face in his palms. There was no one to look up to for help. He was all alone. There was light all around him and yet darkness filled his heart. Though the walls displayed pictures of smiling patients and doctors, he felt nothing but dread. The verdict had been delivered, she wasnt going to return. All the medical jargon that the men in white coats threw around was irrelevant. They couldnt bring his mother back.

He felt a tear flow down his index finger, leaving a moist trace as it trickled down his right hand. He did not know why, but he wanted to hold onto the tear, he didnt want to let it flow right through his hand. He commanded it to stop flowing, it didnt heed his call. There, in that silent corridor of a large hospital, a young man felt the deepest sense of helplessness.

He got up, numb, barely able to command his feet to move towards the glass panel on the ICU door. Every step he took towards the small window made him nervous. He could not bear to watch his mother in that state, but he knew that he had to. He peered through the glass, which was immediately covered with a shroud of moisture from the teary air he exhaled. He observed the way she was breathing; short gasps of inhaling followed by slow breathing out, almost as if she was sighing. At the point where she exhaled completely, his heart skipped a beat as he did not see her breathe in again. He stopped breathing too. His heart despaired for a brief moment, until he saw the white hospital sheet covering her, rise again. It took him nearly half a minute to realize that he was still to take in his next breath. Another teardrop made its way down his face.

He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, barely blinking, afraid that if he did not oversee every breath of hers, she would stop breathing. He wished he could stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, they were blurring his vision. He had never felt so alone in his life before. His hand reached for the rudraksh his mother had given to him. She had told him it would protect him from all harm. How he wished, that it wouldve protected its original owner. As he kissed the sacred bead and placed it back on his chest, he felt the envelope that was kept in his shirt pocket. It contained a cheque, given to him by his uncle. The amount on the cheque was all that a brothers love for his sister had come down to. He looked at it with resentment but decided that the time to think about finances would come later. Dawn was a few hours away, and he knew he wasnt going to move from the spot where he stood. He knew that the first sight of sunlight would lift his spirit. He made up his mind, to stand guard all night, in front of the ICU door. No angel of death would be allowed to pass through during his watch.

The stars faded away as dawn approached, replacing the dark night sky with hints of the early morning hue. The night shift employees at the hospital were the only ones moving around. A few of them stopped to look at the man standing in front of the ICU door, but no one bothered to talk to him. It was just the end of another night of work for them, they were preparing to leave for their homes and get back to their families.

For the young man, the only family he had was battling death a few feet away and he could do little but wait and hope. His eyes were tired, his tears had dried up over the course of the night and his feet were numb. But his resolve to stand guard until he saw the morning sun was firm. From the corner of his eye he looked towards the window at the end of the corridor, the sun was just an hour away; hope was just an hour away. That thought gave him the strength to continue his vigil with renewed determination.

The morning signalled the start of yet another day at the hospital. The regular shift doctors and nurses replaced their night shift counterparts. The young man wondered why the emergency ward of the hospital followed the norms of the rest of the hospital wards, with the diluted staffing at night. Pain and death did not differentiate between night and day. He shrugged off such musings from his mind and tried to focus on what was important.

The real reason why he was waiting for the morning was because it would bring back the neurologist in charge of his mothers case. There were a lot of questions he had in his mind. Things that the doctor had told him yesterday which he had not fully registered because of the state of mind he was in. Not in his worst nightmare did he imagine that hed have to see a day like the one that had just gone by. He wanted to speak to the doctor again and get some answers.

His chain of thought was disturbed by some movements he saw from the corner of his eye. A few doctors were making their way from down the corridor towards the ICU. Dr. Roy, the neurologist, was leading the way while a couple of other doctors followed closely. He had a file in his hand and a worried look on his face. As the doctors came closer to the ICU, they put on their surgical masks; they had already donned their gloves. The young man was about to say something, when the neurologist raised his hand in a calming gesture and walked past him to enter the ICU.