Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.
It was a ward in a magnificient 'K K Damle hospital' located off the highway. The owner of the hospital Dr. Shrikant Damle had set up the hospital in his father's name. He was one of the most reputed doctors of the city with many acclaims to his name.
The door read ' Ward no. 2106'. The digit two was for the fact that the ward was on the second floor. 'One' meant it was for assorted patients and 'six', was the room number.
There were six beds in the ward. And a large window that made the room spacious and airy. The window had a platform - one could easily sit there. A frail figure sat at the window.
Her silver hair shone in the sunlight. Her green eyes were transfixed at some point outside the window. Her wrinkled face and hands were snow-white despite the age. Draped in a white sari, she sat at the window with a photo album in her hand.
She was in the room but she was not. She had been transported to a different period in time. She remembered her husband - a brave young man who had set up his business in the British era in a small village of Maharashtra. She remembered his ever-glowing face which had turned pale when the business went to the dogs. She remembered the sleepless nights her husband had. She remembered her children sleeping on her lap while she sang them lullabies - trying to forget the financial crisis they were going through.
She remembered her son's graduation day. Her husband's eyes were filled with pride that day. She remembered her husband's last ailment. She remembered him holding her hand for the last time. She remembered the helplessness in his eyes as he succumbed to a life-threatening disease.
A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek and fell on the granite platform she was sitting on. The tear glittered on the brown surface.
She went back to the album she had in her hand. It was these pictures that had taken her back in time. She turned the pages and relived every moment that was captured in them. As her wrinkled fingers turned the pages of the album, tears continued to fall on them once in a while.
"Aaji...", somebody called out to her. She got up and looked back. It was Dr. Umesh with his infectious smile. He had a face that was almost carved out. He was wearing a doctor's gown and had a stethoscope around his neck.
And Dr. Umesh successfully transferred the smile to Parvati Aaji's face too. The wrinkles on her face got denser as the angelic face broke into a pristine smile...
The door read ' Ward no. 2106'. The digit two was for the fact that the ward was on the second floor. 'One' meant it was for assorted patients and 'six', was the room number.
There were six beds in the ward. And a large window that made the room spacious and airy. The window had a platform - one could easily sit there. A frail figure sat at the window.
Her silver hair shone in the sunlight. Her green eyes were transfixed at some point outside the window. Her wrinkled face and hands were snow-white despite the age. Draped in a white sari, she sat at the window with a photo album in her hand.
She was in the room but she was not. She had been transported to a different period in time. She remembered her husband - a brave young man who had set up his business in the British era in a small village of Maharashtra. She remembered his ever-glowing face which had turned pale when the business went to the dogs. She remembered the sleepless nights her husband had. She remembered her children sleeping on her lap while she sang them lullabies - trying to forget the financial crisis they were going through.
She remembered her son's graduation day. Her husband's eyes were filled with pride that day. She remembered her husband's last ailment. She remembered him holding her hand for the last time. She remembered the helplessness in his eyes as he succumbed to a life-threatening disease.
A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek and fell on the granite platform she was sitting on. The tear glittered on the brown surface.
She went back to the album she had in her hand. It was these pictures that had taken her back in time. She turned the pages and relived every moment that was captured in them. As her wrinkled fingers turned the pages of the album, tears continued to fall on them once in a while.
"Aaji...", somebody called out to her. She got up and looked back. It was Dr. Umesh with his infectious smile. He had a face that was almost carved out. He was wearing a doctor's gown and had a stethoscope around his neck.
And Dr. Umesh successfully transferred the smile to Parvati Aaji's face too. The wrinkles on her face got denser as the angelic face broke into a pristine smile...
good job man..,
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