warm splutters and uneasy comforts
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the weekend didn't start with a bang, it was a stuttering child of an engine forlorn; struggling with blood battles and diseased lungs. choking with envy. my estranged aunt had visited my nanu the week before when he was at home. mai didn't speak to him. mamu wasn't home. unwelcomed; they left within minutes after discussing his further health concerns. for the rest of the week, if things hadn't been worse already, nanu had to be put through dialysis. today, we got a call saying 'the hospital blood bank is short on blood, someone has to come and donate.' we volunteered. we drove to the hospital and waited for something less than 30 minutes before we were even taken into the room where we could donate. the queue was my dad, then me. not having given blood before i was kinda paralyzed with the idea of the warm gushy thick splutter of life from me being taken out to be given to someone else. i was also afraid that my sexual history could be seen within my veins? what if i'd have been living with a STD all this while. the thought bought me some discomfort. there was a constant buzzing sound of something resembling a washing machine in the background. a sound everyone at the lab seemed used to; it bothered me. only later i found out it was a device which checked whether the blood from my veins was coming out at the right speed. that's when my concerns subsided. i sat in the chair cold and damp, looking at the light above. it brought me some sort of dual uneasiness knowing there's lights all over this hospital; again not at harsh as the ones at home, but this dull white light that all patients stare at, in empty rooms, sometimes as they await death; or even a wholesome home-cooked meal. i thought about my blood and how its flow was slow, how the lab technician kept pricking me because he couldn't find the right vein or how the sweet older experienced one held the needle on my arm throughout and asked me if i felt okay. i answered yes, this is for my grandpa. i have to see him. i miss him.
we weren't allowed yet.
visiting hours started at 4.
we went over to my grandparents (now mamu's) house. we ate lunch, mai gave me a bunch of sweets; i stole some imli toffees from my uncle's jar and watched The Usual Suspects on their TV. when it was time we left; over to the hospital; i was the first one to visit. my nanu was in the ICU. my abba, i saw him and i didn't recognise him. his beard had grown, he was shivering. i went forth and said hello, asked him how he was. he wasn't wearing his dentures and his mouth was all dry and voice course and heavy with impatience and agony. he seemed so larger than life, when i was 7-8; living in their house, stealing 10 rupees from his pocket to buy chocos for my almost indecent addiction to cricket cards. i bought 10s of 100s of them over the week. and i thought of this while trying to hold his hand, i lifted his blanket to see that his hands were tied, he had been pulling all the pipes in him till the blood gushed out, he was speaking to me in konkani which i did not understand, i kept replying too much, maybe made him feel like he was about to die. idk man, i kissed his forehead, twice. telling him i loved him. i looked at the dialysis machine and thought whether it was my blood in his veins, whether it would help him, i wished i'd given more of it so he could have it whenever he needed. i left almost in disbelief, i couldn't recognize the man in the ICU bed, but he was my abba. on the drive back home, i fell asleep to the thought maybe i'm getting old, because as you grow old, you lose the people that you love. you lose more people than you often gain. my bruised arm hurts. i need some sleep. i'm getting older.
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