Missed part 1?
I remember our car ride before the accident. I was upset about something. She made me laugh. She told me she would always be with me no matter what. And I replied saying, ‘I wish I could spend my life like this. Without having to need others. Just with you.’
She smiled. I still remember that smile. It was doleful. As if she knew what was coming our way.
Day before yesterday, my nurse asked me about Shilpa. Right then I discovered that I remember every single moment spent with her. Starting from our childhood days. But I don’t remember our surroundings. Sometimes I see only whiteness around. And sometimes everything’s inky black.
Yesterday I finally decided to confront my supposed family. I asked them what they had been holding back from me. My husband sent my mother and daughter out of the room. He then held my hand and asked me to calm down. He told me Shilpa had been in a coma as well. She is yet to gain consciousness. It hurt me no end. But I swallowed my emotions. I asked him for my mobile. I told him the nurse wanted to see Shilpa’s photo.
His expression was blank. For a fleeting moment, he looked scared. But it went back to being blank again. He nodded and said he would get it.
Now I’m waiting for them. The visiting hour is about to start.
My husband enters the room. My mother and daughter follow him. The Doctor and the nurse both walk in together. It surprises me. Usually the Doctor wouldn’t visit me at this time. Nevertheless, I take the mobile from my husband. But I flounder with it. I can’t manage to remember how to use it. My husband helps me locate the gallery. I open it and there it is. The very first picture is hers. I flash the mobile at the nurse and smile.
‘This is Shilpa.’
She takes a step towards me and then stops abruptly. Her face turns white as a sheet. She swallows hard and looks at me. Her eyes exude sheer fright.
‘What happened?’ I ask and look at others.
Their eyes are fixed on the mobile. And their expression is no different than hers. Even the Doctor looks baffled.
My daughter walks to me and takes the mobile. Then she breaks into giggles. ‘Ma, this is you. And your name is not Shilpa.’
I turn the mobile and have a look at the picture. This is me?
Oh, I don’t remember how I look. But I strongly remember how my sister does.
To be continued…
Written by Chirasree Bose