Wednesday, November 17, 2010
to live for you and die in your arms...
The ECG machine denoted that the heart was still functioning, the clinical evidence that I was still alive. No one would, I know, believe that one can fall in love at the death bed; but yes, I did. I fell in love with you, when there were no hopes of me surviving the fatal disease I carried within myself; right at the place inside me, right where life dwells.
You came everyday, thrice. You checked my pulse and made sure I was still inhaling and exhaling, to confirm that my heart was still functioning. Only I knew, I was breathing again. Only I felt, that my heart had started beating again. But even amidst all the care you took to see that my heart was behaving alright, even after all the medication, my heart malfunctioned thrice a day; every time you held my hand to check my pulse, you never knew, but my heart skipped a beat, and it still does.
After the fifth day in the ICU, you felt it was a miracle that I survived the third attack. You said I was brave enough to fight it. Everyone said it was God’s grace; but I knew it was the power of love. I remember the time when I was sinking, and that is when I saw you; and I knew my heart had some last emotions to feel before it stops throbbing. I rose, from that deep delved pitch dark hole into which I had almost disappeared.
I was placed in a cabin, small but neat, with a window just beside my bed. They wanted to take me home, because all of them, including me knew that my lease wasn’t for too long. I was here among this world only for a very few days now. But I insisted on staying back; I said I feel safe here. They let me stay, considering it my last wish. I stayed back, because I didn’t want to survive, I wanted to live the last few days of my life; live for those moments, when my heart could skip a beat.
Every moment from then on, I have lived to wait for you, thrice a day. Only for those few glances of yours, I would spend the rest of my days in this small hospital cabin. I know, my heart is weak, and I do not have time and strength enough to offer it to you. I know, and I never dream of spending my life with you. But I am holding on to life, with the only hope that I could die in your arms.
P.S.: This is just a piece of fiction. I am a healthy person with a healthy heart.