Grains Of Sand - Chapter 3

After a full week’s rest, Mini was back. Both of them did not discuss anything about their first kiss or their last conversation. It was evident not only to them but to all the students and members of the Yoga class that both of them were in love.

Mini kept complaining of leg pain. When they were practising one lift and Ankit had to twirl her in the air, the pain was unbearable to her.

‘You almost fell off. I think you should visit an orthopaedic.’ Ankit advised.

‘I think it is the weakness after the fever but will go to a doctor.’ She replied with a smile.

‘Come on then. I will treat you bitter-gourd juice.’ She laughed and joked back that she would only have it with sugar.

Mini ordered a banana milkshake, and Ankit ordered dry fruits milkshake. ‘What are you scared of?’ Mini asked.

‘You won’t understand, Mini. You don’t know how it is to lose hope. To feel that there is no tomorrow. All that you have planned – your career, your family, a new house, a new project, a dance video – everything has gone for a toss. The realization that you will not be able to dance, get married, have kids, and go places is killing in itself. It is waking up one day to find out that you are invited to a feast. And what do they serve? All types of bitter gourd dishes.’

‘Bitter gourd again. Looks like you love it.’

‘On the contrary, I hate it.’

She sighed, ‘But that is all over. Isn’t it? You fought a war. You beat the enemy once. You can do it again.’

‘I am afraid to be in that position again. On the edge of the sword. Sometimes I have these nightmares where I am lying on a hospital bed.’ He sipped the last of his banana juice.

‘I think you are lucky. You are getting a second chance.’ Ankit cut her off. ‘My mother tells me the same but I hate the thought of second chance.’

‘There are so many theories of death and rebirth of hope and karma. Sometimes, it is confusing…’ Ankit cut her off again, ‘You believe in rebirth? What is your theory?’

She took a deep breath, ‘I think death is a giant bubble-maker.’

Ankit coughed, ‘you what?’ He gave out a loud laugh. ‘Bravo, you are now a philosopher too.’

Mini dismissed his sarcasm.

‘I never quite understand

The climax of life.

I imagine sometimes,

How does it feel to die?

I think death is a giant Bubble maker

It sucks the life and makes bubbles.

Bubbles of different colours

The colour of the bubble

is the colour of our soul

Red, blue, green,

Black, white, grey

Multi-coloured and colourless.

The soul is entrapped in it

And we float in

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the void

Multiple bubbles

For millions of years

We don’t dash at each other

We are just afloat, asleep

And when we are ready

The bubble breaks

And we slid into another bubble: the womb

Again floating for nine months

And when we are re-born

The colour of our bubble

Assumes our character.

And once again the cycle starts

Only to end in a bubble

And To begin again.’

‘Wow. What a romantic view!’ He laughed again. ‘But if you are so much inclined to romanticism, you should do better in the department of kissing.’

Mini blushed, and he could see the tinge of red suffusing from her cheeks to her nose and chin.

‘I will teach you.’ He winked.

Mini had a tough time learning, not kissing, but dancing, partly because of the leg pain and partly because she was unable to control her energy. Ankit was mad at her sometimes because the lifts would not come out well. Once they both fell, and Ankit almost broke his back.

‘Mini, what is going on? Did you show to the orthopaedic?’

‘He said it is all fine.’

She insisted on practising the lift. Ankit lifted her on his shoulders, and as she slowly slid from his shoulders, he caught her and twirled her, and when she landed, she yelped in pain. She could not stand up. Her left leg was almost twisted. Ankit had to call an ambulance.

The doctor had informed her parents and Ankit that she had Granger’s disease, a very rare disease, and the infection spread so much in her left limb that the leg had to be amputated. Otherwise, the infection might spread the entire body, and she could die of the infection.

Her parents cried. They asked the doctor several questions. There were no answers. It was a rare disease, and no one knew how she caught it. They never had answers. Ankit suddenly remembered Mini’s words. She had said that she would be glad to offer her legs or hands to God if his cancer never returned. Tears filled his eyes. He asked the doctor only one question, ‘Will she be able to dance?’

‘With the help of the prosthetic leg, she should be able to dance. In fact, she can run and can do a lot of things. But right now, to save her life, it is necessary to amputate the leg. And we have to do it quickly.’

Mini’s parents and Ankit waited outside the operation theatre. For the second time in life, Ankit felt that he was walking on the beach. He held sand in his fist. The sand rolled through his fingers, and he was left with nothing in his hand. Life and Love, both were slipping. And the terrible thing this time was – it was not about him. It was about her.