As the afternoon came and went, Karam and Rano made a customary visit and left without exchanging a word. Rajjo refused to interact with anyone; she enjoyed the quietude, it kept her sane. Devi hovered around organizing things for Rajjo – another meal, another bath, another new doctor flown in to study Harsh’s condition, another night and Rajjo would find herself alone staring out of the window again. The terrace was so familiar now, that she could outline every tree, every flower and every bud, giving it a name. Bathed in silvery moonlight it was more seductive in the night, and she imagined walking hand in hand with Harsh, kissing under the canopy of trees, making love behind the rose bush. It was just a matter of time.

The clock struck midnight and Rajjo ran down the corridor to the nurse on duty. ‘Is he awake yet?’ the nurse, Mary, a motherly figure, nearing fifty, shook her head sympathetically. She went to the church every Sunday and lately she had included Rajjo in her prayers. Every morning she lit an incense stick on Jesus and Mother Mary’s photo stuck on her bedroom cabinet. She offered them yellow marigolds. Every week she bought a new bunch and stored it in her fridge. Night after night the beautiful girl came to her, asking the same question and night after night Mary had the same response. She had, in fact wanted to change her rota as her heart broke every time she said no to this woman. It was clear that the Godwoman was losing her head. Sometimes she would talk. ‘He was coming to see me, you know. I called him. He left everything for me.’ Mary dare not breathe out to anyone the revered godmother had gone senile in love with the political dynamo of the country, who lay half dead in the hospital. Jesus and Mother Mary were the only things that kept her mouth shut and kept her going.

But this one time Rajjo asked one more thing, after which Mary decided to leave her duty station and not come back ever.