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‘Nurse Julian had kept the pink box in the cupboard, so obviously it was not in full view of anyone walking past the counter. Dr Dixit came to me late in the afternoon, after his rounds, and asked if there was anything for him.’
I was already mentally doing a tribal victory-dance. ‘Oh my god! Then? Then? Ravi Singh, what did you say?’ I asked, grabbing his arm in excitement.
Ravi Singh smiled a benign, Mother-Teresa-ish smile.
‘I said yes there is and handed him the box.’
‘OH MY GOD!’ I shrieked. ‘Then? Then? THEN?’
‘Nothing,’ Ravi Singh said, his face falling.
‘Oh!’
‘He looked at the box, shook his head and left.’
‘Looked in the box, you mean?’ I asked hopefully.
Ravi Singh shook his head. ‘At,’ he clarified.
‘Oh.’
‘I know.’
‘A word?’
‘No, Kasturi Didi.’
‘A smile?’
‘No, Kasturi Didi.’
I sighed.
‘Life is very unfair, Kasturi Didi,’ Ravi Singh said philosophically.
‘It sure is, Ravi Singh,’ I said, nodding my head in melancholic agreement.
30 July 2013, 9.00 a.m.
Letter of the day – O.
‘HE OPENED IT!’ Ravi Singh was already shouting at the top of his lungs by the time I reached him. His eyes were shining with wild excitement and, to my surprise, along with him stood the same pretty nurse I had seen his eyes follow the other day.
‘Did he? He opened it?’ I shrieked in delight.
‘Yes, he did,’ Ravi Singh smiled happily. The nurse also nodded her head vigorously.
‘Did he say anything?’
‘No.’
‘Did he smile?’ I asked again.
‘No.’
‘Did he take it with him?’
‘No.’
