“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” she said

“It’s only a corollary to your story told yesterday,” I said.

Raghu was three years senior to Ramya in the Kodur Medical College, where ragging was traditionally bawdy. When she stepped into the campus that morning, he was the first to step up to her. As she was at a loss as to how to handle her first encounter, he counseled her how to take it in its stride. He said he abhorred the idea of ragging as he felt it’s a violation of human rights but conceded that there was no way he could help her avoid it. And that set the tone for the love tunes of their long courtship. Soon after her graduation, they tied the knot, but, owing to her miscarriages, they had to give up the idea of augmenting their union. With both of them specializing in nephrology and endowed with his family wealth, they set up the Kidney Research and Rehabilitation Center. Though conceived to cater to the ailments of the locals, in a short time, it grew in size as it gained on reputation. And that was owing to his attitude to perfect and her zeal to excel.

While she was sorry she couldn’t make him a father, and even before they could adopt a child, fate made her his widow. The drunk driver who rammed a goods carrier into his Santro was aghast at realizing that he caused the death of the doctor who had given a new lease of life to his wife. That was two years back. While the repentant driver is serving the sentence, vowing to fight against drunken driving after his release, she had taken his wife as an ayah at the hospital.

Her parents and in-laws alike want her to remarry but she was averse to the idea of a fresh nuptial for the possibility of it bringing into her life a lesser soul than the departed one. But as she wasn’t able to overcome her craving for a companion, she was truly in a dilemma, to be or not to be a bride again. When we met, she felt like I filled the emotional void in her life. But diagnosing the impending threat my heart-excess posed to my life that is besides being the bane of my kidneys, she was wary of losing me to go back to square one. But yet she thanked God, with all her heart, for placing me in her expert care to try and secure me for her sake.

So she flew heart surgeons from Mumbai post-haste to sever that which I held dear to save a pregnant woman. She was glad that my other full (that’s her phrase) saved not one but two lives, besides mine that is. By the way, as the beneficiary was not a male, that didn’t tickle the misandrist in me. As for my scar, she saw it’s akin to a plaque that kings of yore laid to symbolize their exploits, and wanted to have one for her by donating her kidney to me, even as I have another receiving hers.




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