Chapter 3:“Aftermath.....” with Aaron Kapoor

In the murky milieu of the hospital, I lay in the waiting area with that meticulous tang I had encountered before. The similar ambiance, the everlasting stillness with nothing but the beeping of the heart beat rater and the movement of scalpels. The nurses and peons sauntered in and out of the lobby almost inaudibly in perplexity, as my conception told of. It was as though people were alive but weren’t actually alive. I felt as though maybe it was 3:50 am, or maybe because my senses were dead. That can’t be. My thoughts were cut short as my wife Pamela, approached me and sat with me resting her head on my shoulder and I patted her consolatory on the head. “Aaron, what will happen, my son....” she wept profusely. I ,too cried at heart  but before her I couldn’t express myself. What would I say, that I felt sadder?  It would make matters worse. My life, my son, Déjà vu! I bear eyewitness!

One day, back in 1967, I was a teenager and was heading for my friend’s party and as instructed drank soda instead while driving. The beano was amazing. As I headed home, I tried to take a shorter route as it was already 1:35 am and rock music blasted off my Mercedes stereo. Suddenly, a flashing station wagon appeared out of nowhere driven by a doped chauffeur and crashed into me. His car didn’t get much damage and he escaped and I lay... When I woke up, I saw faintly; as blood covered my eyes, the smashed windscreen pieces of glass had pierced my eyes. Then after giving me anesthesia, my world went dark. After a few hours of my operation, I tried to open my eyes regaining consciousness the pitch darkness surrounded me, my sense of sight failed and there I lay on the bed, almost paralyzed!

I couldn’t express what I felt. It was as though my body, my eyes had betrayed me. I was lost. My parents came and turned against me. They said I deserved it because I drank. My mother, to whom I considered a friend, who I believed in so much, deserted me at the middle of the sea on which had no ship was sailing. Everyone blamed me for the consequences. I tired to explain but, but, words failed me. It was as though I was foreign to them and wasn’t related to them anymore.  

I cried and cried and they who didn’t deserve to be called parents anymore disposed me off to the adoption agency, I was hurt at heart, but then what happened would be least expected, for someone in my shoes. I felt a cold hand resting on my shoulder. My sight gave up so it was difficult to realize who is. I called out “Dad, is it you?” In reply was a voice, which seemed as though it had breathed confidence in my perforated life. “Tremendous...., objection milord!” chuckled the voice. “Huh....” I unknowingly said. “and the judge’s verdict is.... how about a drive and then we talk” spoke a John Grisham in my life whom I could rely on, suddenly. After taking legal permission from the agency,  Dhruv Kapoor ( the guy) took me on a long drive.

In the journey of life, I discovered everything about Dhruv (a man in his 40s) and soon Dhruv adopted me. Dhruv lived in Connecticut with his only wife, Salina and unfortunately no children, but now Dhruv accepted me and said, “Boy, wow, my family is now complete.” On asking he said, “ my dream son has been granted to me, what more do I want?” Salina Mummy, as I called her, gave me everything she would have done for her child. As soon as I came home, Dhruv Dad told me that there was a welcome decoration in my reception, my own room and whatever I wanted. Mummy cooperated a lot with my crabbiness and misconduct  and hoped I would accept her sooner or later, On asking why she didn’t return me to the agency, she said sobbing:

“I am a pillar of this family I care about, if I move an inch, my family would collapse and I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for that.....”

in return, I said:

“ You’re the mother I deserved, I hope I could be the loving son you really deserve.” and she threw her arms around me and kissed my forehead, she didn’t give up on me.........

As I recalled my past, the doctor came out of the operation room, saying, “I’m sorry, sir.............”  

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