April 22nd - Happy Birthday Papa
The heart monitor beeped steadily. The morning nurse gently tapped the half full IV bag as she checked in on my Father. She nodded and left the room. The room reeked of disinfectant. I hesitantly looked at Mom, my forehead shrunk into a frown. “So? He looks ok, right? Why did you wake me up?” I complained, annoyed at being shaken awake in the wee hours of the morning. I’d spent the night with Mom at the hospital. My Father, Papa as we called him, lay in the post operative ward at the National Institute of Mental Sciences, Bangalore, recovering from a brain surgery performed the previous day. I hadn’t slept well and my groggy self grumbled more than usual. Mom moved closer to me. “Papa opened his eyes this morning. He asked for you – first thing,” she whispered. “Asked for me? How come?” I said shifting on my feet, my discomfort made obvious. Mom shrugged. “Ok? What do I do now?” I continued, uncertain. Mom’s gaze dropped down at him. He stirred under the white sheets. His e...