her innocence, but it also took her family away from her. Her father and she never looked each other in the eye after that day.
As she sat in Arman’s office that evening, completing all the paperwork for the day, she wondered what Dushyant’s story was. She had visited him again that afternoon and had scheduled him for a full-body scan. During the entire procedure, they had not talked. There were other doctors overseeing the procedure and Zarah didn’t want to be seen socializing with a patient.
Late at night, she headed towards room no. 509.
11
Pihu Malhotra
The day had been exhausting. MRIs, nerve biopsies and a million other tests were carried out to track the progress of her disease. Arman oversaw every blood draw, every biopsy and every current wave that was made to pass through her body. It was comforting for her. The battery of tests, the pain and the constant tension were scary. In the middle of her third test, she asked her parents to leave. She knew she was the weakest with them around.
‘Are you still thinking about the stem cell thing?’ Pihu asked Arman again.
‘Yes, I am,’ Arman responded. If they went ahead with it, it would be a long treatment that would require her to pop fifty pills a day till the time of her surgery.
‘These tests are off or on the record?’
‘You don’t have to worry about it. The medical expenses will be paid by the hospital. I got you into the pre-trials but I have told them we won’t be testing the stem cell treatment on you till we get the permission to do so … which we won’t.’
‘Fine,’ she said with a sad smile.
‘Let’s hope things go as per plan,’ he said and tried hard to concentrate on the screen. They were checking if the disease had won the battle against the antibodies.
She sensed that he was either uncomfortable or he didn’t like to talk when he was working. The creases on his forehead were incredibly sexy. The taut veins in his outstretched hands were signs of a man who had played some sport in his younger days. She started to imagine him on a football field, on a rainy day, his T-shirt stuck to his toned torso, his hair wet and his legs dirty. In her fantasy, she was with him on the field. Alone. Soon, they were rolling in the mud.
I am losing it! Stop it!
She snapped out of her wet 1990s Jeetendra-movie fantasy. It was only one of the dozens of various situations where she found herself being intimate with Dr Arman.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ she asked with a twinkle in her doe-like eyes.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Why don’t you? You’re smart and successful. You should have one,’ she said and smiled at him. The nurse drew blood and she winced. Arman winced, too.
‘I don’t have the time.’
‘Oh yes, I forget! The great Dr Arman Kashyap. How can you have time when you’re too busy being a genius?’
She chortled and Arman looked at her in fake anger. He said, ‘Are you making fun of me? I don’t think anyone has told you but you should know better than to fight with your doctor or your waiter. They can kill you or pee in your food.’
Pihu felt good to see him joke and loosen up. Usually, he was too busy cranking his brain muscles to full capacity and bringing people back from the dead.
‘That’s gross!’
‘The pee thing? Yes, I know. That’s why you shouldn’t mess with us.’
‘Or what will you do? Kill me even faster?’ she said.
Silence. Arman’s face contorted. She was happy to see that her absence would matter to him. Then, she immediately chided herself for thinking too much. Arman was at least a decade older, even though her mind reasoned that it only made him more desirable. Successful, sane men, with experienced hands and tongues make for better fantasies than young, immature boys. Going by the scores of Mills & Boon books she had read, older men always knew where to touch, where to place their tongues, where to hold and caress …
Snap out of it!
‘I thought you would be used to people
As she sat in Arman’s office that evening, completing all the paperwork for the day, she wondered what Dushyant’s story was. She had visited him again that afternoon and had scheduled him for a full-body scan. During the entire procedure, they had not talked. There were other doctors overseeing the procedure and Zarah didn’t want to be seen socializing with a patient.
Late at night, she headed towards room no. 509.
11
Pihu Malhotra
The day had been exhausting. MRIs, nerve biopsies and a million other tests were carried out to track the progress of her disease. Arman oversaw every blood draw, every biopsy and every current wave that was made to pass through her body. It was comforting for her. The battery of tests, the pain and the constant tension were scary. In the middle of her third test, she asked her parents to leave. She knew she was the weakest with them around.
‘Are you still thinking about the stem cell thing?’ Pihu asked Arman again.
‘Yes, I am,’ Arman responded. If they went ahead with it, it would be a long treatment that would require her to pop fifty pills a day till the time of her surgery.
‘These tests are off or on the record?’
‘You don’t have to worry about it. The medical expenses will be paid by the hospital. I got you into the pre-trials but I have told them we won’t be testing the stem cell treatment on you till we get the permission to do so … which we won’t.’
‘Fine,’ she said with a sad smile.
‘Let’s hope things go as per plan,’ he said and tried hard to concentrate on the screen. They were checking if the disease had won the battle against the antibodies.
She sensed that he was either uncomfortable or he didn’t like to talk when he was working. The creases on his forehead were incredibly sexy. The taut veins in his outstretched hands were signs of a man who had played some sport in his younger days. She started to imagine him on a football field, on a rainy day, his T-shirt stuck to his toned torso, his hair wet and his legs dirty. In her fantasy, she was with him on the field. Alone. Soon, they were rolling in the mud.
I am losing it! Stop it!
She snapped out of her wet 1990s Jeetendra-movie fantasy. It was only one of the dozens of various situations where she found herself being intimate with Dr Arman.
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ she asked with a twinkle in her doe-like eyes.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Why don’t you? You’re smart and successful. You should have one,’ she said and smiled at him. The nurse drew blood and she winced. Arman winced, too.
‘I don’t have the time.’
‘Oh yes, I forget! The great Dr Arman Kashyap. How can you have time when you’re too busy being a genius?’
She chortled and Arman looked at her in fake anger. He said, ‘Are you making fun of me? I don’t think anyone has told you but you should know better than to fight with your doctor or your waiter. They can kill you or pee in your food.’
Pihu felt good to see him joke and loosen up. Usually, he was too busy cranking his brain muscles to full capacity and bringing people back from the dead.
‘That’s gross!’
‘The pee thing? Yes, I know. That’s why you shouldn’t mess with us.’
‘Or what will you do? Kill me even faster?’ she said.
Silence. Arman’s face contorted. She was happy to see that her absence would matter to him. Then, she immediately chided herself for thinking too much. Arman was at least a decade older, even though her mind reasoned that it only made him more desirable. Successful, sane men, with experienced hands and tongues make for better fantasies than young, immature boys. Going by the scores of Mills & Boon books she had read, older men always knew where to touch, where to place their tongues, where to hold and caress …
Snap out of it!
‘I thought you would be used to people
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