She Had To Save Papa

#SOS #Delhi #Oxygen

She typed the words on Twitter. Hoping for an RT. The same words she typed so many times in the past. This time it was for her father. She knew it was futile. She had called all her contacts. There was no oxygen. Not even in ICUs. But she hoped. Maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe she’d get a cylinder. She had to save Papa.

Her Papa.

Why did he have to go to that party? How she had pleaded with him not to go. But when Uncle asked, Papa could never say no. It had always been that way. They drank whisky, ate kebabs and sang songs. Uncle must have been infected. He tested positive and recovered. But Papa? Papa was fighting for his life.

She had to save Papa. She couldn’t let him die. “Papa is critical. Does anyone have a contact for an oxygen cylinder?”, she typed in the Apartment WhatsApp group. She didn’t have much hope. But maybe someone might have an empty cylinder that she could try to refill.

Her phone rang. Unknown number. “Beta, why do you have to ask strangers? I have a full oxygen cylinder at home. Come up and take it.” Uncle’s voice came over the phone.

The uncle used to take off her clothes and hurt her inside. Uncle who always got her chocolate. The uncle who shot sly smiles at her. The uncle who she’s spent half her life hiding from. Papa’s best friend. The uncle who gave Papa COVID.

Papa was dying. She had to save Papa. She would do anything to save him. She knew the price she had to pay.