Prithvi... [Vol 3]

Chapter 67

Sankatmochan vacillated in front of the large, beautiful idol of Lord Ganesha. He knew what he had to do, but it was difficult. He had to toughen himself considerably.

He clenched his teeth and muttered, “If his time is up according to your wishes, don’t stop yourself from kicking him into hell. But otherwise, you can ignore my curses for Indrajit. I’m only talking about the ones I gave today,” he clarified dourly. “So it is okay if his head doesn’t blow apart, or if his body is not torn into little pieces by rabid dogs, or if he doesn’t die of worm-infestation, starvation or syphilis.”

That was it. He had exhausted the reserves of goodwill he possessed for the psychopath. After all, he hadn’t actually seen or heard Indrajit tell his men anything. Yet, the instant Indrajit’s car had taken off, Jiva had come running towards them to help. He wouldn’t have done that without Indrajit’s consent.

With the distasteful task done, Sankatmochan expressed one more earnest prayer of gratitude to the idol.

He didn’t know how they had made it through the ordeal. He hadn’t known such fear and pain for years. Not since that horrendous day when a teenaged Indrajit had nearly killed the little boy who had approached him timidly, hoping for nothing more than a chance to see and talk to his older brother….

Sankatmochan wiped the tears from his face. All through the operation, he had sat in front of the Ganesha idol in the foyer of the hospital, praying feverishly. When Sumer Singh had come to give him the reassuring news, he had hugged the old man for the first time in his life and wept inconsolably with relief.

By sparing Prithvi’s life, the gods had spared his own.

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Sumer Singh kept the phone aside after making the last necessary call and ran a hand tiredly over his eyes.

From the time he’d gotten into the car, he’d been calling up people. Hospital trustees, known doctors and Adityaraj’s influential friends. He had barely been able to converse coherently but it had been crucial to ensure that everything be readied at the hospital and that the staff wouldn’t involve the police. Thankfully, everything had been arranged by the time they’d arrived. The only trouble was that a couple of Adityaraj’s friends had stated their wish to visit Prithvi in the hospital. Sumer had lacked the courage to dissuade them after all the help they’d provided.

The operation had lasted for more than an hour, but it had been successful. Although Prithvi had lost a lot of blood, the bullet had not pierced any major organs or arteries. He would have to remain in the ICU for some hours and in the hospital for around 10 days.

But he would be fine. He would recover. That was all that mattered.

Sumer Singh shivered as he recalled the doctor’s observation that any further delay in medical attention could have been fatal.

It was sheer luck that the best hospital in town had been one of the first respectable medical institutions on their way. But they wouldn’t have reached it at all had it not been for Nandini. If not for her, Indrajit would have departed without any conscience. And he, Sumer, would have just sat next to the boy he loved like his own child, weeping like an old woman as Prithvi bled to death.