A Sister's Promise by Renita D'Silva Read Free Book Online Page A

my life, my reason for living.
    What will I do without her?

    Ma, when the doctor’s eyes shied away from my needy gaze, desperate for a flicker of hope, when I noted the slump of his shoulders, I knew that it was not good news.
    ‘Both her kidneys were destroyed in the accident,’ he said. ‘She needs a transplant or she’ll be on dialysis for life.’
    I jumped up. ‘What are you waiting for?’ I said.
    I have been tested. Now it’s just a question of transplanting my kidney into Kushi’s body and, hopefully, she’ll be fine and back with me sooner rather than later.
    My beloved girl.
    He’s here, the doctor. And once again the darting eyes like a thief avoiding capture. The defeated stoop. What could possibly be wrong? How much more can I take?
    Please God. Please.
    He shakes his head. ‘I am so sorry.’
    ‘What . . . what do you mean?’ I ask.
    ‘You have only one kidney.’
    ‘B-but . . . how?’
    He twists his lower lip as if the words he is uttering hurt him. ‘Having only one kidney is more common than people think.’
    ‘So I can’t. . . ’
    We look at my prone daughter, at her washed out face, at her machine reinforced body.
    ‘No.’ A deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’
    Punishment, I think, for failing to protect Kushi. I quickly make calculations in my head. Even after selling the factory and our cottage and taking out a loan, I will not be able to afford to keep Kushi on dialysis for long. Each treatment is frighteningly expensive. I have never coveted money, Ma, have always given it away to the more needy, but at this moment, I wish with all my heart that I was rich, that money was no object.
    ‘We cannot afford dialysis for long,’ I whisper.
    I wish I could give her my one kidney. I don’t mind dying so she can live unhindered.
    But I know no doctor would agree to such a thing.
    What kind of a cruel God are you, Lord? Why should my innocent girl who has not a bad bone in her body, who has fought to make life better for her fellow villagers, who loves so fiercely, lives so truly, pay for my mistakes?
    The doctor sighs again, runs a hand across his drained face, and spreads the sweat beading on his upper lip all over it. ‘Then it’s imperative that we do a transplant, the sooner the better. Kushi’s blood type is rare and trawling through donors to find a match will take a lot of time.’
    Please God, Kushi deserves a lifetime of time. Please. Take me instead.
    The doctor’s voice cuts into my prayers, my fraught pleas. ‘Does she have any other relatives?’
    I stand there dumbstruck.
    Is this your doing, Ma? or Da’s? Is all this part of a big joke God is playing on us?
    I know of course, what I have to do.
    I looked her up long ago, Ma, found her number. I carry it everywhere with me, tucked into my sari blouse, along with my letters to you. I just haven’t had the nerve to call. I have never been the bravest, Ma. You know that. But now, I have to.
    I look at Kushi and find my absconding courage right there. I plant a kiss like an offering, a blessing, an entreaty, a wish, on my daughter’s soft, young, but impassive cheek and then go in search of the international phone booth in this vast hospital that houses the ailing and their petrified relatives in this impersonal town miles away from Dhoompur and Bhoomihalli.
    The little clinic in Dhoompur was not equipped to deal with Kushi’s injuries. They said this hospital was our only hope. And now, she, this woman whose number I have carried around close to my heart, is our only hope.
    I take a deep breath and dial her number. I hate the fact that I cannot give my daughter the gift of life, that I have to ask her .
    Will she make me grovel?
    A beat that lasts a lifetime. Then the phone rings, once, twice.
    ‘Hello?’ Her voice, a British slant to her Indian vowels, bridges nearly two decades of seething silence.

PUJA
RAW WEDGE OF LIME
    Puja’s son looks at her with stunned eyes that reflect her shocked face; startled tears sprout