Kalboishakhi

Chapter 1.

Alisha unlocked the key to her one-bedroom flat in Garchha and slopped down on a chair. The night breeze trickled in through the window refreshing her damp skin. Summer in Kolkata wrung the last bit of energy from your body. And then there was the commute.

But she shouldn’t complain, she thought. At least today, she had managed to get early leave from the Sharma house where she worked as night nurse for the old Mrs. Sharma.

She smiled when she recalled her patient’s daughter, the pouty Ms. Sailaja Sharma’s reaction to her request for early leave. She had arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows and sneered, “Again? Last week you came a good half hour late! How do you think my poor invalid mother will manage if you keep bunking duty like this? And after paying through the nose too…”

“Ma’am, it’s really important that I leave by ten. I will report an hour earlier tomorrow to finish all pending work. Actually, my sister is coming from Thrissur and she doesn’t know this city at all. I need to receive her at Howrah station.”

“Fine, do whatever suits you! You call the shots anyway; my poor mother is dependent on your pity! Instruct the ayah and complete your work before leaving. God knows how I will handle it if something happened to mom at night?”

Alisha had opened her mouth, but no words came out. Why was she so submissive, why didn’t she have a suitable retort when people raised their voice at her? As a dutiful nurse, she had done her duty, had already informed the hospital to keep a substitute nurse on call if any emergency occurred. Her patient, Mrs. Sharma was suffering from dementia and was slowly losing her grip on reality. And though Alisha really liked her, she could be very demanding at times. And her daughter was even more demanding – insensitive and scathing in her remarks.

She looked at her watch – 10.30! Gosh, she mustn’t be late. Cheryl would be reaching Howrah station in another hour, and this was her first visit to Kolkata.

The moment she caught sight of her baby sister, Alisha’s face lit up with a huge smile. How beautiful she looked, despite the tiring journey of almost forty hours. Hugging each other, both girls chattered non-stop. On the way home, Cheryl eagerly absorbed the sights and sounds of Kolkata, exclaiming in delight or awe while passing the landmarks she had so far seen only on screen. For someone who had lived most of her life in a sleepy neighbourhood in Thrissur, Kerala, the bustling, noisy streets of Kolkata that late at night, were a delightful surprise.

They had a late dinner and chatted through the night. A homesick Alisha hungrily took in all details about their mother, their life back home, the old comforts she badly missed in Kolkata. A pang of longing hit her. Cheryl was chattering about this and that. How many coconuts fell when their trees swayed like crazy during a storm last week. The river had swelled so much that monsoon, Cheryl exclaimed, with all that excess rainfall.

She hungrily devoured the patchhadi Amma had sent, eyes welling with nostalgia.

The next day, when they were doing the dishes together, Cheryl put on her pleading face, “Chechi, have you spoken to Mr. Dutta about me joining in JC? I really could do with the junior nurse job, you know. Amma doesn’t tell you everything, but our house needs repairs so badly. You don’t know how much the house got flooded during rain, the roof leaked so much! And did Amma tell you of the cataract in her left eye? The doctor says surgery needs to be done fast. There are so many things pending because of lack of money….Give me a chance to contribute also, no?”

Alisha understood the situation back home, but was reluctant about Cheryl joining the same place where she worked. For one, her workplace was very snobbish and second, the hospital administrator was a real creep.

When she thought of her initial days, her mind felt a tinge of bitterness. How much she had to slog to secure her position as senior nurse in the grand multi-specialty JC Medical Care Hospital! Those days, she was new to the Kolkata, arriving fresh from a small hospital in Coimbatore. What a culture shock she got! Kolkata wasn’t that welcoming towards her in the beginning.

This city of joy, this great city she had admired so much – where art and culture thrived in every street, where the great authors, actors and her favourite singer Hemant Kumar had been born, showed her its insensitive side every now and then. In the beginning, she felt suffocated in the hot humid weather that persisted almost throughout the year. There was so much traffic on the roads, the smoke made her eyes water. She missed Thrissur’s quiet environment, that laid-back life. Here, everyone was running, shouting, stepping on each other’s shoes. And the continuous noise – it rattled her, made her yearn for the serene hometown she had left behind.

And the way she was ragged at the hospital! The number of sniggers – for her accent, the nodding of head (typical to their culture), and her looks. The hospital had other Keralite nursing staff, but they could speak fluent English, besides being city-bred. How much she struggled to communicate in her broken English! If she opened her mouth, the other staff tittered. To gain a foothold here, she had to work doubly hard to break the clique of local nurses and other staff.

Then there was casual racism that reared its ugly head every now and then. She was a good two to three shades darker than others, prompting them to address her with all kinds of monikers. Her unruly curly mop of hair was another target for ridicule. Her quiet and reserved nature made everyone think she was cold, and the other nurses ganged up against her deliberately making things difficult.

Her lone supporter was Freya, who came from Meghalaya, and always stood up for her. A doughty one, she gave it back to the tormentors, “Hey, you racists log, stop now! Quit teasing Alisha…Or main report kar dungi – to administration. Want to lose your job, huh?”

Thanks, Alisha used to whisper in her head. She really needed a friend. After slogging for four years, she had managed to create her place in JC. Now, doctors praised her diligence, discipline and quiet consistency, held her as an example to others.

With time, the city of Kolkata had worked its charm on her too, slowly but surely. The mashimas and the kakus among the hospital patients, who were indifferent to her at first, gradually warmed up observing her dedication and genuineness. They called her Alisha didi.

In the south Kolkata locality where she stayed, the fish vendor – after knowing her preference, brought her sole fish and mackerel from the market. Once she had asked for Malayali Manorama from the newspaper boy. He sourced it just for her. Her landlady – who turned up regularly for rent, sometimes brought a little of the pungent shorshe maachh (fish in mustard gravy) that they cooked at home. Quite different from her favourite – meen moilee, but tasty nevertheless. She was now a pukka Kolkata girl.

Her favourite place for leisure was the Outram Ghat. Its sunset drenched skies and gently swaying waters comforted her heart. As it was quite near the hospital, she often slipped away after work. It was so soothing to sip some bhanr’r cha and gaze at the river. The Hooghly reminded her of the backwaters of Alleppey, the rhythm of the river and the busy hub of the ghat oddly comforting. She would gaze at the river and admire its rhythm, its calm and eternity. The river gave her courage to carry on, to flow with the rhythm of life.

How could something so still, so eternal could co-exist in this busy metropolis – with its glittering malls and multistoried buildings? But Kolkata was nothing without its paradoxes. The narrow winding lanes of North Kolkata seemed like they existed since centuries. But as she crossed Ultadanga, the E M Bypass brought in change and gusts of fresh air. Here, dark stretches alternated with brilliant splashes of light pouring from the malls and hotels on the side. These modern temples of retail and business shone brightly, promising air-conditioned comfort and sanctified environs, so different from the old-world charm of north Kolkata.

Alisha preferred the mud and grime, the sweaty breeze of the river bank. There was an organic beauty about that, something similar to the untarnished glow of her hometown.

Something else she liked about this city was the mind-boggling variety of food options. Besides the usual Chinese, Continental, Punjabi, Mughlai, and idli dosa, Kolkata eateries specialized in Barnali Roy 4 Lebanese, Mexican, Tibetan, Arabic and Oriental cuisines, even authentic Malayali food! She had managed to trace a small eatery serving amazing appams and chicken roast. Once she had gone to New Market for shopping and had sampled absolutely delicious beef kathi roll from a famous joint nearby. It reminded her so much of home.

She still missed home, but with much lesser intensity. The city was her second home now. But with Cheryl she had to be extra careful. The girl was naïve, almost foolish. She didn’t want her to repeat her own struggle, getting bruised and bitter in the process. And most importantly, the scoundrel Dutta was one creepy pervert and she didn’t want Cheryl to become his latest prey.

“Cheri, I talked to them, but he said there were no vacancies in the nursing department. It may take months for a vacancy to open up. Tell you what – you apply at Meena Hospital instead. It’s quite close too and has a homely atmosphere.” She suggested.

“Noooo, Meena isn’t a super-specialty hospital! You said it’s just a ten/fifteen-room nursing home. I want to work in a large slick hospital, with gleaming floors, plush interiors and five-star ambience. You speak to that Dutta no….persuade him to at least interview me.

” It wasn’t any use making this girl see reason. Alisha sighed. She was crazy about working in a snazzy environment. “Okay I’ll try once again. But Cheri, this man Dutta is not the right sort. He takes advantage of his position and makes passes at young girls. It’s better you don’t work here, I tell you..”

“Oooh Chechi, did he make a pass at you?” Cheryl winked. Then, “You leave all that to me. I can take care of such types. You just get me in” she insisted.

Alisha couldn’t say no to her. Six years of age difference between them had made her Cheryl’s default guardian and chief pamperer. A few days in the city, Cheryl caught a stomach infection and was laid down for a few days. She had eaten phuchka from a roadside stall and it had worked its magic. Poor thing had a tough time getting back her appetite and health.

Chapter 2

Alisha’s patient Mrs. Sharma, besides ailing from several age-related problems, had developed Alzheimer’s in the past one year. It had made her cantankerous and unpredictable. Most of the other nurses at the hospital avoided her as she was rude with them, and said nasty things.

But she had warmed up to the reserved Alisha who impressed her the way she quietly kept track of everything, never missing a shot or dose, never getting irritated with her or answering back. When she went home, Mrs. Sharma insisted on keeping Alisha as her resident nurse. She wouldn’t hear of anyone else. And her daughter knew better than to argue with her mother.

Alisha had learnt a thing or two about dealing with dementia patients, how they had their good or bad days. On her bad days, Mrs. Sharma became a stubborn rock. She would refuse food, hurl things around, kick the ayah when she tried to change her soiled diaper. Normally a soft-spoken person, on her bad days the old lady would hurl out the choicest of abuses and insults. It took a whole new level of patience to deal with her.

And then there was her daughter Sailaja, her high and mighty employer, who wasn’t to be disturbed for “small matters”. She worked in a corporate firm and had warned everyone that her high-pressure job was very demanding. She needed uninterrupted sleep at night.

Now with the old lady becoming noisier by the minute, Alisha was worried. Keeping her voice low, she urged the old lady, “Amma, come I’ll show you your recipe books. This is the recipe of dal maharani. Don’t you love it? See, Rani has made the same for you. Now just open your mouth a bit, right there, yes…?”

“Bloody whore! Black devil! You think I’ll be fooled, eh? Feeding me poison in that tasteless mash and calling it names. Get lost, you bitch!”

“Amma, stop calling me names! I’ll call Didi if you don’t listen to me.” Alisha raised her voice a bit. She had to administer the injection at 10 and it was already 9.15. The old lady took almost an hour of coaxing and distraction to ingest some food, if she was willing.

It was pathetic, the way this disease had stripped her of all sense of propriety and order. When she was in good mood, Mrs. Sharma asked for second and third helpings. Then there were days when she couldn’t be persuaded to eat even one morsel through the whole day. Intra-veinous glucose was the only solution then. A few months back, Mrs. Sharma would be cheerful some days. She would read out Hindi poetry from memory, and sometimes talked about her childhood in Gorakhpur, about her in-laws and long-gone husband. One pet subject was a childhood friend, Geetu, who would pull her pigtails, and make faces at her. Then they would make up by sharing some tart amrood (translated helpfully by the ayah as guava to Alisha). The old lady’s wrinkled face would suddenly cackle up with laughter, while recounting old days. At such times, administering medicine to Mrs. Sharma would be a breeze.

Today was going to be difficult. Her diaper was dripping and bed clothes had been soiled. The ayah had tried thrice to change her, but the Mrs. Sharma snarled at her, gnashing her teeth. All of a suddenly, she hurled the bedside medicine box at them, screaming at them to get out. Now a tranquilizer had to be administered before the old lady worked up a frenzy.

Alisha called the watchman upstairs. The demonic strength that Mrs. Sharma was mustering would require at least two healthy people to hold her and one to inject the sleeping dose.

It was such a pity, this debilitating disease. To see a human being reduced to such debased behaviour, becoming sad shadows of their earlier selves, filled her with sadness and despair. Mrs. Sharma used to be a Hindi teacher in a reputed university. Her numerous degrees and awards were framed and displayed in the cabinet. A citation proclaimed her as the best teacher of the year. The lady had had a full, successful life, a happy family, she had raised two healthy children who were now well-settled. And now, what had she been reduced to? Simply a medical case?

That night was a long one. When things finally were in control, Alisha glanced at her watch. It was

12.30. She hadn’t had time to eat in all this melee and was starving now. One look at the congealed curd rice and her appetite was lost. Thankfully, she had remembered to keep a packet of biscuits for such emergencies. That, and some water would have to do.

A little while back, Sailaja madam had returned home. Cursorily, she had glanced into her mother’s room and saw her fast asleep. She hadn’t spoken any further, and Alisha was feeling too exhausted to fill her with the details. First thing tomorrow morning, she would appraise her of her mother’s condition.

Dozing off to a fitful sleep, she wondered what Cheryl was doing all by herself. Was she feeling lonely in the new city?

An unearthly sound broke her sleep in the wee hours of the morning. A sort of grunting emanated from the old lady. Her frail body was being wracked with convulsions, each stronger than the earlier one. The ayah stood looking disoriented, trying her best to calm Mrs. Sharma down. Her own nursing instinct told her this was an emergency. She needed immediate medical intervention.

Dr. Suresh Tripathi, Mrs. Sharma’s geriatrician, was on her speed dial. He advised Alisha to inject the patient with a tranquilizer immediately. She needed to be hospitalized at the earliest. A convulsion attack at this age could prove fatal.

“Arre what is all this noise? Can’t one get a good night’s sleep in peace?” Mrs. Sharma’s daughter who had slept through the commotion, now stormed into the room. She stood shocked looking

at her mother. “What the hell! What’s wrong with Mom? Why is she acting like that? My God, just look at her, poor thing! And what were you two doing? Dozing off, I suppose…”

“Madam, please calm down, I’ve called Dr. Tripathi who has advised us to hospitalize the patient immediately. I’ve called for an ambulance, ma’am, and I think it has arrived…” Alisha was finding it difficult to keep her voice and temper steady.

“How come you take all decisions on your own, without asking me? Am I dead?” What was the need for doing drama now, wasn’t she sleeping soundly through all this?

Suddenly Sailaja declared, “I’m calling Modern Super-Specialty Hospital and arranging for expert treatment there. Your hospital is doing nothing to treat my mother. I won’t admit her there.”

Alisha had had enough. Her voice rising, she said firmly, “Madam, please let us do our job. Patient needs immediate medical attention, do you not understand? There is no time for searching for new hospitals!”

The helpers transferred Mrs. Sharma to a stretcher, and rushed downstairs. The tranquilizer had started working and the old lady was now in an incoherent semi-conscious state.

In hospital, it took almost an hour for Mrs. Sharma to get settled into the ICU. Thoroughly exhausted, Alisha started for her home as dawn was breaking.

Chapter 3

Dawn was unspooling like a vivid ribbon across the firmament. Colour drenched the sky, touching every corner of the firmament with an ethereal glow. Kolkata blushed in the soft light of dawn.

What was it about this time when everything seemed perfect – serene and balanced? Maybe that’s how atmosphere plays tricks with our mind? How peaceful everything looked – the quiet streets, the light slowly spreading to each corner, the city waking up to life.

She was so tired, Alisha could hardly appreciate the beautiful dawn. A cup of tea was what she needed immediately, after last night’s rigmarole.

“Cheri, woken up yet?” Alisha called to her sister sleeping in the bedroom. The sound of gentle snoring indicated her sister was still fast asleep.

If only someone made her a cup of hot tea. She changed and washed, and put the saucepan on. A headache was coming on in full blast.

Outside, the city was slowly getting on its feet. Vegetable and fish vendors were hawking their fare, flower sellers were folding up their stalls having sold all stock, children were chattering excitedly while walking to the bus stop. Sights and sounds of a buzzing city soon enveloped her.

A sigh escaped her lips again. When had life passed her by? So busy was she -earning a living, supporting her family back home, she had had no time for marriage and children. She smiled to herself. As if, with her ordinary looks, offers for marriage were pouring in! The few marriage proposals that she had got when she was younger, came with their own set of conditions. Most insisted she return to Thrissur and work in a local hospital. A wife needed to take care of home duties too, they reminded her. One middle-aged guy was settled in the Emirates, and wanted her to relocate there. He had thought she would jump at the idea. Better money, better prospects, he lured her.

She remembered snubbing him right away. No way was she going to dance to anyone’s tunes. She loved her country, and had no plans to leave her family and shift abroad.

Maybe companionship and romance were not meant for her? Unwanted attention came aplenty though. At the hospital, Dutta had often tried to become nauseatingly familiar with her. Often, he had “accidentally” brushed her breast while passing, once or twice his hand went around her waist to reach for a file. He had hinted better prospects if she gave him more attention.

Disgusting, filthy men! Were all men like that?

A gurgling noise reminded her that the water was boiling away on the gas stove. Thank God for the tea! It was refreshing and did her mind and body a whole lot of good. Today would be a day

of leisure, Alisha thought. They would order some lunch, maybe catch a movie? Since Mrs. Sharma was admitted in the hospital, she would have to report there for night-duty. The whole day was hers.

She snuggled into bed with Cheryl and was soon fast asleep.

“Chechi, chechi, wake up! Someone is at the door, and they are saying something in Bengali. I asked them to what in English, but they said they don’t know English.” She sensed Cheryl was shaking her.

One of the boys at the door yelled, “Didi, we have come to take chaanda for Puja! This time we want a good amount. You and this new didi can come to our para pandal to have bhog all days. At least rupees 1000 for Ma Durga!” The para boys had come to collect donation for the neighbourhood Durga Puja celebration.

Her first instinct was to tell them to come later, but Alisha knew it wasn’t any use arguing or haggling with these boys.

Of late, just like the rest of the country, majority religious sentiment was on the rise in Kolkata too. Any reluctance to donate, and she would be branded anti-Hindu. Living alone in this city had taught her not to take up unnecessary attention. Taking out two five-hundred-rupee notes, she handed them over. The boys handed her a receipt, grinning and thanking her, reminding her to come to the pandal on all days, “oboshhoi!”

“What was that, chechi? Why did you give so much money to those boys? What have they done for you?” Cheryl wasn’t versed with the ways of the city yet. She didn’t know paying up for community puja celebrations was not an option, it was a must if they wanted to stay peacefully in the locality.

Hadn’t Alisha learnt that the hard way a couple of years back? Neighbours were sneering at her aloofness, her non-cooperation in community festivals. To become one of them, she had to do as the locals did. Now of course, the para or neighbourhood boys helped her a lot, especially when she was unwell and couldn’t venture out. They brought her groceries, medicines, sometimes even food from the local eatery. They kept a watch out for unwanted elements too. As a single woman she didn’t want to create grudges unnecessarily.

Later, as she was describing the grand scale of the Durga Puja celebrations in Kolkata, Cheryl was awestruck. She had seen a bit in Bollywood films, but had absolutely no inkling that a festival could bring a city to the halt for almost a week. Her eyes shining with excitement. she absorbed the scale of the festivities, the sheer madness that engulfed the city during Durga Puja. Now Cheryl was really impatient to see the spectacle for herself.

Suddenly, Alisha realized she hadn’t told Cheryl about Mrs. Sharma’s condition.

The moment the girl heard, she said she would accompany her to the hospital to check on the old lady. Alisha knew it was an excuse to gape at the hospital interiors; and more so, make her own presence felt. How could she make her sister see sense?

How could she tell her she didn’t want the lecherous Dutta to lay his filthy eyes on her? Cheryl was so pretty, so painfully young and naïve. That man would definitely make advances towards her if she joined the hospital.

She started in an appeasing tone, “Look Cheri, you come a few days later, no? Now she is in ICU, you won’t be able to meet her. And the other sisters will make stray comments – I really don’t want that.”

Cheryl didn’t say anything but her expression had changed. She had her sulking face on.

Alisha coaxed, “Come let’s order some mutton ishtew and appams from Curry Leaf restaurant today! They make them so tasty, just like home. Then we’ll go shopping, okay?”

Cheryl’s mood always lifted when she was taken out shopping. Today also, it distracted her for the time being. A few days more, and she would be better equipped to deal with the dangers lurking in the city.

Chapter 4

That night, Alisha was relieved to observe that Mrs. Sharma was a bit more stable. She would be shifted to a normal room the next week.

But why were the nurses whispering and nudging at her?

Then she saw Sailaja Sharma glowering in the corridor. “There she is, doctor, that nurse, she was the one in charge of my mother! She didn’t even consult me before calling the ambulance, though I was in the adjacent room. Patient’s family has to be consulted before taking any decision, doesn’t she know that?” She was complaining to the resident doctor.

This woman hated her, but to make such an accusation publicly would stain her professional reputation. Alisha fumed. She had done the best in the situation.

“As instructed by Dr. Tripathi, I first administered a tranquilizer, then brought her here to be admitted. Her condition was so risky we had to arrange immediately for an ambulance. It was an emergency and I followed due protocol, Sir. Since ma’am was asleep, I thought I would tell her after calling the ambulance.” She said quietly.

The Sharmas were wealthy patrons of the hospital, and no one would risk challenging them openly. The doctor kept murmuring in a pacifying tone, and promised Sailaja he would “see to it”.

After glaring at her again, threatening the doctor that she would transfer her mother to a better medical facility, Sailaja left in a huff.

By now, Dutta had got wind of the happenings and came to see the tamasha. “What is this I hear, Alisha? You irked Sailaja madam again? Why can’t you be a little more polite with the patient’s family? Management won’t be happy at all!” His smug voice grated on Alisha’s nerves.

“I followed Dr. Tiwari’s instructions, Mr. Dutta. I am sure I won’t be penalized for following correct protocol, right?” She gave it right back.

She was getting tired of this personal scoring game this man had started ever since she ignored his lecherous advances. He was always on the lookout for opportunities to put her down. Fuck him and his kind. Her mood had turned black, and she came out for a breath of fresh air.

She needed coffee badly. The canteen was empty at this hour, with barely a couple of customers.

“Don’t get too worked up by that idiot’s blabbering.” A voice from behind startled her. It was the new resident doctor of nephrology department. A no-nonsense chap, he was known to be a tough task-master. The nurses under him were already grumbling about him being a stickler for discipline and method.

“Ohh yes, Doctor. I didn’t know you had heard.” Now she was a bit embarrassed. That Dutta had to accost her in the foyer where other people were also there. Obviously, this Dr. Maity had overheard.

“You know, our profession is supposed to be noble, unbiased, and strictly professional. But see how most people misuse their positions. This scoundrel Pinaki Dutta has scores of other activities going on in this hospital. Everyone knows, but no one will say a word. He’s a favourite of the management, keeps them oiled too!” Dr. Maity was becoming very loquacious.

“Ummm, Doctor, maybe you are right. Please excuse me, I have to report back to duty.” Alisha was suddenly conscious of the seriousness of the accusations Dr. Maity was making. She didn’t want to get involved in any scandal or politics. Better to do your job and go home.

Rumours of underhand activities in the hospital had come to her ears too. There were whispers that several batches of spurious medicine had made their way to the pharmacy shelves. That day, the nurses were huddled over, discussing how a patient had nearly died due to this. The patient’s family created a ruckus and left threatening to complain with the medical council.

If such nefarious activities were indeed going on, thought Alisha, she needed to be on alert. It couldn’t be possible that management was oblivious of these things. Dutta’s lust for money was well known. But could he do all this on his own? Or were there some doctors involved too? What else was going on here?

Now she recalled something odd she had espied a couple of months back. Some people who looked like destitutes, most-likely beggars and vagrants, were huddled together in the mostly-unused east wing of the hospital. A few rough looking men were shepherding them around.

What were they doing here? This hospital wasn’t a charitable facility, and these people obviously couldn’t afford medical treatment here. So why were they here? That look on their faces – dazed, uncomprehending, resigned. Alisha shuddered. And last week, what was the protest outside the hospital gates? An unruly crowd had gathered, screaming and shouting, throwing themselves against the locked gate. She had heard noises even from inside the nursing station. Police had to be called to disperse them, she later found out. What were they agitating against?

God forbid, had these poor people been duped into something unethical? At such a prestigious hospital as theirs? Her mind clouded with doubt she made her way back to the nursing station. So much wickedness and evil in the world. Everyone she knew was concerned only with making money for themselves.

To Alisha, the medical profession was the most noble, the most sacrosanct. She herself had joined nursing to serve people in pain. Anyone who was in this profession was obliged to treat the patient in the best possible manner, so that they went home recovered. To make money from people’s misery was something that revolted her.

A spell of persistent rain had left their neighbourhood battered. With drains overflowing and garbage strewn about, she baulked at the strong stench that hit her nose when she opened the window for some air. It was muggy and hot, and the weather was suffocating. The lane outside was still waterlogged.

Chapter 5

Some workers were clearing the road of the fallen tree branches and debris. A political leader was supposed to be visiting later in the day, hence the scurry of activity. When the municipality would install pumps to drain the excess water from the roads, was anybody’s guess. Unless a VIP came, they would take their own sweet time.

Cheryl had been craving mackerel fish for the past few days. Some spicy fish fry during the rains seemed a good idea and Alisha was preparing to go to the fish market. The idea of wading through the dirty water put her off.

How poorly citizens were treated in our country, she thought. Residents had to brave the filthy water and the stench to go about their daily lives. And the delivery boys of course, had to turn up

– come rain or shine, as people expected food and grocery supplies in time, no matter what.

There were very few people in the market and Alisha noticed the shop selling beef was shut. “What’s wrong, dada? Amin bhai hasn’t opened his shop?” She asked the fish vendor.

“Arre, don’t you know didi? Some people had gathered around the meat shop and created a lot of ruckus. Amin bhai has to keep it shut for a couple of days.”

“But why?” Alisha couldn’t fathom what problem people could have with a meat shop.

“It’s Janmashthami tomorrow, and people were saying no beef to be sold during puja time. Who kills cows during holy days…it’s not allowed in our religion, na?”

So that was the problem. She could never fathom what food had to do with religion. They never had problem eating anything back in Kerala, with Hindus, Muslims and Christians happily enjoying beef stew. But the present climate in the country demanded that people redesign their food habits to suit political diktats.

As far as she knew, Kolkata had never had a history of food politics in its Communist days, but now dogmatism had reached its corners too. She couldn’t help thinking how different it was in Kerala, where religious celebrations meant huge feasts – vegetarian Sadya during Onam, and beef and mutton delicacies during Easter and Christmas.

Kolkata had a rich diverse and cosmopolitan culture. Armenians, Chinese, Anglo-Indians, Parsis, Mohammedans, Jews all had made this city their home. When did food policing creep into the narrative?

She had thought of making beef stew this weekend but gave up the idea. Must get used to this, she thought wryly.

Cheryl was happy that she had finally succeeded in getting her way. She had got Alisha to fix an interview with Dutta. Today evening, she would accompany her sister to the hospital, and impress everyone and get her dream job! She was on cloud nine!

Lunch was an elaborate affair that day. While Cheryl made the fried fish, Alisha made egg roast, and rice. She couldn’t resist reminding Cheryl, “Listen Cheri, you be careful of that man, okay? Don’t speak too much, or show over eagerness, okay? He’s not a very good man, has a glad eye towards women.”

“Chechi, this is the twentieth time you are telling me this. I know, I will stick to professional talk only. Trust me, no?” Cheryl burst out in frustration. Alisha bit her tongue, hoping things would work out okay.

It clouded over again in the afternoon. At four, it looked like evening. Alisha had ordered an app cab to take them both to the hospital. Normally she took an auto and the metro, but today no auto was in sight. They usually did the disappearing act the moment it started raining.

The Maidan was a brilliant green in the rain, and zooming through the smooth road, the spray of rain on their face, uplifted their mood. Alisha smiled when she saw Cheryl awestruck by the grandeur of the Victoria Memorial, pristine in its off-white majestic beauty. As the second Hooghly bridge emerged in the distance, Cheryl excitedly pointed out a tram plying on the track beside them. Alisha remarked that trams would soon become extinct, even in Kolkata, as they no longer fit into our superfast lifestyles.

Dressed in a smart kurta and jeans for the interview, Cheryl was agog with excitement. She had taken all her certificates along too, despite Alisha advising her against it. Clutching a folder, she was beaming as she entered JC Hospital. Since Dutta was in a meeting, she decided to meet Mrs. Sharma first and chat a bit with her.

Chapter 6

From Cheryl’s diary February 8, ‘17

Ever since I was old enough to comprehend, all I heard at home was gushing about Alisha and her greatness. Amma and Appa praised her to the high skies for every little thing she did. Alisha is so brilliant, her clothes and stuff are organized so beautifully, she thinks of everyone so much, she cooks so well, Alisha this, Alisha that….

I knew I had to do better than Chechi from the time Amma had casually remarked, “See how brilliant your sister is in studies. Alisha has scored highly in all subjects, not just one. She’ll make us proud one day!”

And me, I had thought. What about me? It’s okay I’m not that good in studies. But am I good enough only for helping around in the house, and acting second fiddle to the great Alisha?

How Amma scolded me now for wearing my favourite sleeveless dress! So what, if I wore it? So what, if my arms show? I like to look pretty. And I am pretty too! If people notice me, it’s not my fault! Do I have to always dress all demure and covered up like Chechi?

My friends call me Sridevi because of my looks. Bala gave me a rose that day. Srikanth keeps sending chits asking me to meet him outside class. I know all the boys are crazy about me, the way they hush up when I walk past them. I’m not a child anymore, I can sense things changing in my body. My breasts are now fuller, and I have a cute dip around the waist. Wish I was a bit curvier around the hips, though.

Chechi has nice curves, though looks-wise she is nowhere near me. God didn’t think of giving her any feminine charms while endowing her with plenty of brains, I think. Anyway, good for me. I am way ahead of her in looks department!

Anyway, I have to study now for my 10^th board exams. If I do badly, they will start again. Appa wants me to take science, so I need to do well in PCM. Uggh, boring studies!

June 10, ‘19

After Appa’s going away, Chechi has become some VIP or what? She doesn’t even speak to me on phone? Only Amma is worthy of speaking to? And Amma started her usual tirade about boys following me and I encouraging them. Does she think I am afraid of Chechi’s censure? No way!

Last year, Chechi applied for a nursing job in far-off Kolkata, and I was so relieved. Now, at least Amma would stop comparing me with her. But how wrong I was! Amma was so impressed with

Chechi’s success as a nurse, that she kept pushing me to follow her. Ever since my board results came out last month, she’s been nagging me to study nursing.

I was so crazy about studying fashion technology, but would Amma agree? According to her, fashion design is too costly. Imagine? Of course, it is costly! I would be earning in thousands once I graduated. But no, she said, there was no guarantee of employment. How much I pleaded and pleaded, but would she listen? Never!

So, I am stuck in this stupid nursing course. I was so disappointed, I cried for two days. But can anyone argue with the formidable Amma? Her word is final.

Anyway, since I have to choose my battles, so I gave in to Amma’s wishes. And yes, there are some advantages and pluses. Like the Miss Fresher contest that I won so easily. And so many cute guys are showering attention! Time-pass options are plenty. Can’t say I am not enjoying the extra-curriculars! ●

May 6, ‘20

Ohh God, I feel so bored! Stuck up in this house for over a month now! Why did this stupid COVID have to happen? College got closed, and we can’t even go to the market or to see movies. All day, rotting in this stuffy home. And Amma going on and on about helping her in chores. Uggh, life sucks! Chechi managed to get away in time, when will my time come!

September 20, ‘22

Does Amma have to play spoilsport? Instead of gloating at so many marriage proposals that have come for me from such well-off families, she is insisting that Chechi get married first. “She has done so much for us, we must arrange her marriage now” she told me firmly. As if there is a line of boys waiting to marry Chechi!

Last year, Chechi came twice for marriage negotiations, did anything work out? No! She has such a stubborn nature, just refused any suggestion of relocating to the Gulf. I would have jumped at the offer! She wouldn’t leave Kolkata, she declared.

What was so special about Kolkata, I asked her. Had she found someone special there? She laughed it off and began to describe the city to me. And then, dear diary, Kolkata began to come alive to me through Chechi’s words. Such a vibrant place, so many communities living there, so much to see – heritage structures, malls, multiplexes, high-rises! And so many festivals! They even celebrated Chinese New Year!

In Kerala, we are celebrating only Onam, Easter and Christmas.

Chechi said Kolkata is a bustling metropolis, with so many restaurants, malls, multiplexes, night clubs, and discos! Though my staid Chechi is not one to go club hopping! Then she showed us pictures of her workplace.

Wow! I was floored! What a hi-fi, glamorous place! It resembled a 5-star hotel more than some medical facility! I wouldn’t mind falling sick deliberately to go there and enjoy the plush comfort.

Ever since I saw those pics, I have wanted to join JC Hospital. I can see myself in the smart uniform, sashaying around the place confidently. At least something good will come from my studying nursing.

But the ultra- boring Alisha just waived it off. “No Cheri, Kolkata isn’t that safe a place for young girls. Too much crime taking place every day. And food and everything are so costly! Its better you search for a job locally. You will stay with Amma, enjoy her cooking and get to rest in your spare time. I hardly find any time for relaxing in that busy lifestyle!”

But I don’t want to rest in this backward place. I want the high life, the fast life.

July 25, ‘23

Hurray! Yay! Managed to convince Chechi to call me to Kolkata. She kept stalling, kept delaying. But I am not one to give up. I kept checking out Kolkata on the net, countering Chechi’s allegations about the place (crime rates were lowest, compared to other metros, I saw).

Finally, she reserved a ticket for me. Wish me luck, I am off to Kolkata!

Aug 1, ‘23

From the time I stepped on Howrah station, I was flabbergasted! So many people, so much noise! People were scrambling, running, shouting. And the suffocating heat, I almost choked. It was crazy, the crowd, the announcements, the hawkers, everything! Then I spotted Chechi, thank God! I was feeling so nervous all alone in a new place, and so many strangers around me. And me not even understanding the language. Dear Chechi – I was so glad to see her, I ran and hugged her tightly. We boarded the cab she booked on her phone.

It’s really amazing, this city! I lost count of how many tall high-rises, statues and malls I passed on my journey to Chechi’s house. Bright hoardings on junctures, mikes blaring, lights flashing everywhere, the city seemed so alive! Back home, by eight- thirty evening, our locality would be

in sleep mode. And here at midnight, everything was bustling with activity! I am so glad I came here.

We had a yummy dinner Chechi had made – rice, cabbage thoran, dal and mutton kebabs she had ordered from a hotel. She has installed a food delivery app on my mobile and says I can order anything I wanted to have. Just looking at the options on the app made my mouth water! Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Pizza, Burger, Rolls, Ice-cream, cake, gelato, so many options, good heavens! It’s so exciting, this big city life!

Now begins a new chapter of my life. My happening life in the happening city of Kolkata! I will sleep peacefully tonight.

August 19, 23

What a bad bout of loosies I am having! Why did I have those things at the corner street stall? They tasted so good, I couldn’t stop myself. Must have had 15 or so of those phuchkas. And now non stop runs to the loo!

Chechi is so busy with that old Mrs. Sharma’s case. She has conveniently forgotten to fix an interview for me with Dutta. Let me get well, then I’ll catch hold of her.

September 6, ‘23

Tomorrow is my big day! I am going to JC Hospital to appear for junior nurse’s post! Wish me luck, diary! I’m so excited, can’t sleep tonight!

Chapter 7

“Alisha, I am a busy man. Please hurry up…where’s your sister?” Dutta stopped abruptly catching sight of Cheryl. Alisha winced. It was obvious he was floored by her sister’s looks already. That was why she was so hesitant about bringing her here.

“Come, come inside, err…what’s your name dear?” He asked Cheryl directly. The girl was gawking at the office décor, and came to her senses when she heard, “Umm, Cheryl, Sir”.

“Ahh Cheryl, what a lovely name! Suits you to the T. Alisha your sister looks very nice, very nice indeed! She could be easily sitting in the front office, he he….”

If that creep thought he was being funny, he was mistaken. Alisha frowned and put on her most serious face. Then she saw Cheryl blushing. That foolish girl, when will she learn the ways of the world?

“Alisha, don’t you have to report to work? I’ll proceed with the interview, you please go ahead.” Dutta dismissed her arbitrarily.

Reluctantly leaving Cheryl with Dutta, Alisha came out, praying the girl would be sensible enough not to agree to everything the man said. Hope she can hold her wits. If she managed to get the job, it would be really help. The extra income would be useful for sending back home.

When she recalled Mrs. Sharma’s reaction on meeting Cheryl, a smile came to her face. Though upset on having to stay a week more in the hospital for some tests and a MRI scan, Mrs. Sharma’s face literally lighted up when she saw Cheryl.

“Kitni sundar hai teri behen, Alisha!” She had gushed. “Isko dekh ke tabiyat thik ho jati hai…”

That girl can’t follow a word of Hindi, but she understood quite well that she was being appreciated. Thankfully, she had remembered to bring some fruits for Mrs. Sharma. Next few minutes she just kept nodding to everything the old lady said.

Alisha glanced at her watch. Why was the interview going on so long? Hope that bastard wasn’t making any indecent remarks to her sister?

Outside, the sky clouded over. A bolt of lightning struck with a sudden force, followed by rolls of thunder. After a dry August, Kolkata was having above-average rainfall this September. The retreating monsoon was making up for the deficit, it seemed. Sheets of rain started falling, lashing against the glass panes of the building.

Leaning against a window in the corridor, watching the rain fall steadily, Alisha felt a pang. Rain reminded her of home. How Kerala would turn into a lush paradise in monsoon! Everywhere the

eyes went, there were stretches of green. The sky would look like a painting. And the river – gushing, galloping, swirling in the rain.

A grinning Cheryl came running towards her. The smile said it all, even before she announced proudly, “Chechi, welcome Jr. Nurse Cheryl Mathew to your JC Hospital! Yes, I am now an employee here! I’m so happy, so happy, let’s party tonight!”

“Shh, Cheri, keep your voice down, this is a hospital, have you forgotten? And I can’t party or anything, I have night duty tonight, remember? Anyway, tell me everything. What questions did Dutta ask, how did you impress him, what pay band have you been recruited in?”

“Everything in due time, Chechi. First, let’s at least splurge on some ice-cream from the stalls outside?”

They sauntered out with a new confidence to relish some premium ice-cream from a vendor at the hospital gate. Amidst hoots of laughter and excited chatter, Cheryl disclosed how she had floored Dutta. He had barely asked a few questions, then told her she would be required to join from next month. And Cheryl was very pleased how impressed he had seemed with her marks sheet. “You know, he’s not so bad. Maybe you didn’t get off well with him, but the chap is okay, I think.”

Alisha hoped that was so. After they had dinner together, Cheryl left, all happy and satisfied.

While returning to the hospital Alisha noticed a couple of air-conditioned vans parked at the backside. What were transport vans doing, this late at night?

That night, Mrs. Sharma had an episode once again. After midnight, she had started throwing things around, demanding to be sent home immediately. She tugged at her clothes, threw off the sheets, and started screaming abuses. Alisha gave her a tranquilizer as she was becoming increasingly violent. The doctor had eased the sedatives for a couple of days, as she had been relatively calmer.

“I think we have to tie her hands with the bed stand, or she’ll hurt herself. The way she is clawing and scratching….” Jyoti, a junior nurse said. “Should I consult the Doctor?”

“No, not now. Let’s see how she does. I think once the tranquilizer works, she will go to sleep. I will keep a watch on her.” Alisha shuddered at the idea of tying the old lady’s hands. It was inhuman and a SOS move that she hoped they wouldn’t have to resort to.

“But sister, if she flings things after waking up?” Jyoti was insistent. “You please leave it to me. I will be in her room, overseeing the situation. Dr. Tiwari trusts me, please let me handle this.”

True enough, Mrs. Sharma was fast asleep now. She looked so peaceful and harmless while sleeping. Alisha shut the door and started reading a book.

Sometime around 2 am, she woke up with a jolt. There were noises outside, with men shouting and some vehicles starting. Something struck her as odd. Ambulances and delivery vans never made so much noise. Parting the curtains, she looked out downstairs.

The vans that were parked at the back gate had their gates open. Some men had opened large crates in the vans. And then, to Alisha’s surprise, what seemed like ice boxes were fitted into the crates, and loaded on the vans. This was most unusual!

What was being ferried at this unearthly hour, that too in ice boxes?

Intrigued, she craned her neck to see more. Who were these people, and what was in those ice boxes? She overheard Dutta’s voice shouting to the transporters. Suddenly the lights went out and the hospital back entrance area was shrouded in darkness. This was odd. Were the lights deliberately switched off to avoid being caught on camera? Since Dutta was tbe hospital administrator, it would be easy for him to control the lights and also remove CCTV footage.

Now her suspicions were aroused, and Alisha vowed she would find out more.

But nothing came out from her probing. None of the ward boys, Group 4 staff, or even the watchman could give any information. They hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual. She tried broaching the subject casually with other nurses, but they looked askance at her. Now she had reached a dead end, but her suspicion was stronger than ever. Something illegal was going on. Was it organ trafficking? There was big money in that, and Dutta could stoop to any level to grease his pockets. This rot was running deep obviously, and all spokes of the machinery had been well oiled by the culprits. No one was spilling the beans.

Alisha couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. She feared more for Cheryl who would be joining the following week. Hope she would not ger herself unknowingly involved in something messy!

Her misgivings were unnecessary though. Cheryl blended into the chic atmosphere of JC Hospital like a pro. She was quick and efficient and followed orders well. The other nurses warmed up to her far more easily than they had with Alisha, who felt a pang in her heart seeing the differential attitude. Looks did matter after all, she understood, even in the medical profession.

But she was happy for her little sister. When it was salary time, both girls celebrated with a grand lunch at a posh hotel. This month they could send substantial money to Amma and that gladdened the hearts of both the girls.

The jolt came when Cheryl was placed on night shift all of a sudden. Now Alisha was really worried for her sister’s safety. She would have to tell her to be really careful, to be on alert always.

Chapter 8

Kolkata had started preparing for its annual carnival – the Durga Puja. By end September, the weather had more or less cleared up, and there was a brilliant sky overhead. Blue skies filled with fluffy white clouds that were picture perfect to look at. Each and every corner of the city sparkled in the bright sunshine.

It was already eight in the morning, but Cheryl hadn’t returned from duty. Her phone was switched off, or more likely she hadn’t charged it. Exasperated, Alisha sighed. When would her sister be a little more responsible? She prepared breakfast, kept it aside for Cheryl and started for the hospital.

Pandals had cropped up on several lanes, and it took some detours to get to the hospital. This was something she disliked – inconveniencing people for celebrations. Why did the authorities give permission for such structures that blocked traffic on important roads? If an ambulance had to pass, it would have to navigate the jutting bamboo poles, the bricks strewn here and there, and the narrow place beside the pandal. Maybe the patient would get delayed in getting medical attention? Was this justified? She thought not.

In the hospital, the reception area was being decorated with festoons and festive knick-knacks. Many patients were waiting for the authorities to complete discharge formalities as they wanted to reach home before the festivities. For those in critical condition, the hospital would be running on skeletal staff during the peak puja days. Dr. Tripathi, Dr. Sen, Dr. Gupta and several other specialists would be on leave from next week, so there was a slew of surgeries lined up that day and the next. The OT was continuously booked, and nurses had to be on duty all hours. She herself had to assist in a couple of operation procedures today.

Cheryl had called after reaching home at ten. She had some work to finish so she had gotten late, she messaged. Alisha couldn’t help getting the feeling that her sister was acting a bit cagey for the past few days. She had been spending lavishly on new clothes and bags from her first salary. Whiffs of expensive perfume preceded her whenever she left the house. Once or twice, she had tried to discourage such splurging. But would her sister listen?

Anyway, she would tackle that later. Now she had to report to Dr. Tripathi in the operation theatre. On her way to the OT, she checked the list the doctor had given her and tallied it with those she had procured from the hospital pharmacy. A discrepancy in the name and packaging of an anesthetic drug caught her eye. Another medicine was nearing its expiry date.

Why were these not checked by Quality Control? She headed back to the pharmacy to get the medicines exchanged. Dr. Maity was rushing out of the pharmacy muttering in a rage. She overheard him mentioning spurious drugs, she thought.

“Mr. Sanyal, this vial is almost expired. And please give a genuine anesthetic please.” She requested the store manager.

The man nonchalantly dismissed her with, “Sister, we have been told to use these anesthetics by admin department. They have come from a local firm so the packaging is slightly different. Please speak to Mr. Dutta about it.”

So, this was what Dr. Maity was agitated about. She promised herself she would speak to him after duty hours. Something fishy was certainly on, and patients couldn’t suffer because of that.

What if there were negative effects from these drugs? She studied the seals and packaging once again. The composition seemed all right, but something was amiss. Again, that uneasy feeling caught hold of her. Things were not right in the hospital.

Dr. Mishra was already in the OT. She rushed there intending to speak to him about the medicines, but he dismissed her misgivings, saying they must have been okayed by the hospital quality check. And anyway, what could be done now? The operation was scheduled and they were already running behind schedule.

Later, Alisha spotted her bestie Freya in the foyer and asked her to join her for tea at the canteen.

“Do you have any idea about some dubious medicine in our pharmacy?” She directly broached the topic.

Freya glanced around her and hushed her, “Shhh, not so loud. It’s not something we are allowed to question. Everyone is in this, top to bottom. Don’t say a word, Alisha, or you will land in trouble. We all need the job, so mum’s the word.” She gave the sign of sealing of lips.

“But how can we be okay with this? This is a malpractice, no? Patients’ life can be threatened by the spurious medicine! What if someone got worse after being administered a dose?” This was a serious matter.

“Arre, don’t you know? These come from SD Drugs that is owned by that Sisodia, friend of Dutta. That scoundrel has convinced management to give SD the annual contract for supply. Dutta must have got a massive cut from the party. He knows their quality is suspect, but he is only concerned with his own profit.” Freya whispered.

“And management? Why did they agree? Won’t the reputation of the hospital be harmed? What if someone complained to the medical council?”

“Don’t tell anyone, rumour is, someone has already complained. An anonymous note has reached the council hinting all this.” Freya confided. “We were discussing the other day, that it must be Dr. Maity, as he was protesting in the hospital too. Dutta is furious, says he will get him suspended very soon.”

“But why? Management should take it seriously, no?” Alisha couldn’t fathom this.

“Arre, my innocent friend! Do you think all this is without top management support? Everyone has a finger in the pie. Anyway, we mustn’t discuss all this in the canteen. Who knows they might overhear us and suspend us too?” With this, Freya ran off.

Misgiving and dread clouded over Alisha’s mind. These malpractices couldn’t be accepted at all. And if she didn’t protest, she was becoming a co-conspirator unwillingly. She was extremely agitated.

She spotted Dr. Maity the next day, and confided how troubled she felt with all this. “I had a feeling you were an upright person, Alsiha, and you wouldn’t be okay with all this. That is why I was broaching the topic with you that day. Not only spurious medicine, something even worse is going on. A full-fledged cadaver racket! Can you imagine? In this reputed hospital, people are being duped to donate their organs that are then illegally transported and sold off! The bastards are no less than criminals!” He burst out, agitated.

Then he informed her that he had already sent a complaint to the medical council. Now he was planning to involve the media in this. A friend worked for a media channel, and he would approach him.

He shared a link to a social media post he had made from a different account.

She clicked on the link that showed a video that had been taken in their hospital pharmacy store. Rows and rows of suspicious medicine were shown taking up space on the racks. Then the camera cut to the labels that didn’t have proper information or had dates that had expired. The next scene made Alisha sit up. It was shot from a window filming the entry of a large air-conditioned van arriving at night and ice boxes being transferred to it. What she had herself seen a few days back! The reel ended with a caption – “Something’s Off in JC Hospital!”

Her next thought was for the doctor’s safety. These people won’t let him go off easily. They were seasoned criminals, and would immediately understand who was calling them out.

“Be very careful, doctor. They are dangerous. If you need anything, let me know.” She said in a low voice.

Chapter 9

From Cheryl’s Diary September 26, 23

What deep shit have I got myself into! I just don’t know what to do. Messed up big time. Ohhh, what will Chechi say when she comes to know?

I was so happy in JC. Everyone liked me and I got so many compliments. And that Dr. Rao looked quite smitten. I was so happy to have impressed so many people in so little time.

Last week, Dutta called me and I thought he was assigning me some important duties. How would I know he was asking me to help in his illegal work? He just said, sign the challan and clear the consignment that will come at midnight. I thought maybe no one was present in stores that late, so he was telling me.

It all looked normal and above board. How would I know what was in the carton? I’m not a quality inspector! And when Dutta thanked me next day and gave me an expensive foreign perfume, I was so happy! I felt on top of the world!

But yesterday at 2.30 am, when I saw the big ice boxes being shifted in AC vans, I began to suspect something wrong was going on. I tiptoed to Dutta’s room and eavesdropped. My God! What a shock!

That man was giving instructions to someone to be careful while crossing the outpost. That thing he said about cadaver storage made my ears stand up. Organ transplants were taking place at night? That too somewhere outside the hospital? I couldn’t really fathom what, but could sense something illegal was on.

I was sliding off quietly from Dutta’s door, but that bench had to come in between. I tripped and squealed, and that scoundrel managed to catch me! Why couldn’t I have been more careful, God?

Then the nightmare started.

He started with, “Cheryl dear, have you been snooping around? Naughty, naughty! Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be doing all this nonsense!”

I said sorry and was trying to move away saying I was just passing by, but his manner suddenly changed. That voice when he warned me not to open my mouth – it could freeze anyone’s blood! That son-of-a-bitch threatened to frame me in the spurious medicine consignment that I had signed! I said I didn’t know anything about it and had just followed his instructions.

Then that lowly scum became even more vulgar! He had the nerve to threaten me with rape if I didn’t keep my mouth shut! Slut he called me, always flirting with the doctors! His henchmen

would deal with me, he warned. “We know how to deal with girls like you!” That filthy voice of his, I got sick in my stomach. “If you said anything about this to anyone, even to your sister, you will regret it badly, my girl! Do you know how many rapes occur every day? You will become one more statistic!”

I am still trembling, my God, I am so scared.

Thank God, at that moment my mobile wasn’t on me, or he would have destroyed that too. When I tripped, it had fallen into a groove behind the bench. Dutta couldn’t find it in a hurry, and his men were calling him for instructions.

What will I do now? I have a recording of his phone conversation, but I am not sure if I want to get involved in all this. Chechi will tell me to report the matter if she came to know. She’s an epitome of virtue, always telling me to do the right thing. But can I? This is my dream job, I want to continue working here! And what if that bastard ruins me? What if someone threw acid or assaulted me on the way? Ohh God, I am so scared!”

Seeing the curtains drawn and the house dark surprised Alisha while returning home from hospital. It was not even eight yet. Had Cheryl already left for her night shift?

Unlocking the door, the moment she stepped inside, she sensed something was amiss. A muffled sobbing came to her ears. Why was her sister crying? What had happened?

Stumbling towards the bedroom, she stopped abruptly at the sight. Cheryl was still in her nightie, hair ruffled and eyes red with crying. The bed was unmade, and some leftover food strewn on the kitchen counter.

“What’s wrong, Cheri? Why are you crying? Did someone say something in hospital? Or wait, did Montu trouble you while coming?” She was worried now. Montu was the roadside Romeo who had taken a fancy for Cheryl.

Instead of answering, Cheryl straightened up and wiped her tears, then steadying her voice said, “Nothing, it’s nothing Chechi, just period pain and all that. You don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

Then she slammed the door of the bathroom and started getting ready for her night shift. Why was she reluctant to talk?

Her mood was sombre and she didn’t probe any further. They ate dinner quietly. As she filled her sister with tidbits of the day’s events, she had a feeling Cheryl wasn’t really listening. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

After dinner, Cheryl said bye and left for duty, without her usual enthusiasm, literally dragging her feet.

Alisha cleared up the dishes, frowning to herself. Why was Cheryl hiding her problems from her? Was it boyfriend trouble? Did she get propositioned or something by someone? At least she could confide in her.

She jumped when her mobile started ringing loudly. It was Amma.

“Kutti, how are you? Why didn’t you call last two days? I am so worried! You both are so far away in a strange city, your old mother is anxious, don’t you know that? How irresponsible you both are!” Amma started full steam in an indignant voice.

“Amma, calm down, your pressure will shoot up. We are fine here. Too busy with work, so forgot to call. I thought you had spoken to Cheri and she had updated you with our news. Everything is okay here. Tell me, has repair work started on the roof? Next week you have municipal elections, no? All ready to vote?” She had to keep her voice steady so that her mother wouldn’t suspect anything amiss.

“Aiyyyo, that’s the reason I called, kutti. Can’t find my voter’s card. Searched everywhere, but it has vanished. I think it has gone with Cheri’s papers. Our voter’s cards used to be kept together in a file. Just check in her papers, no? And yes, the masons have started laying tiles. Call regularly, I keep waiting to hear about you two…” With that her mother signed off.

Alisha pulled out Cheryl’s folder to search for her mother’s EPIC card. Her diary fell down with a thud. Reaching out to pick it up and keep it away, something made Alisha look inside. Normally, she never pried into anyone’s personal things, but she had to know what was eating her sister.

The shock made her sit down heavily. Her own sister being blackmailed? Threatened with rape! By that lowlife Dutta? How dare he? And why did Cheryl not tell her? She would have shown Dutta his nemesis!

Silly girl – getting scared of threats! It was good she had the sense to record Dutta’s conversation. It would come handy in building their case.

Alisha sighed. Her sister was so easily scared! She started dialing Cherly’s number to assure her. Then she stopped. How could she explain that she had snooped in her diary?

No, that couldn’t be given away. There had to be some other way. She texted Dr. Maity to call her when he was free.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Maity called. “Yes, Ms. Alisha? What more filth have you uncovered? Tell me!” He started dramatically.

“Yes Doctor. Nocturnal transports have been taking place under Dutta’s watch. I myself saw several ice boxes being transferred to vans in the dead of the night. Last week, my sister happened to stumble upon his dirty scheme and overheard him mentioning organ storage. When he found out, the bastard threatened my sister with rape to keep her mouth shut. The guts of that bloody scum!” Alisha was having a hard time controlling her rage.

“Reserve your anger for later, madam. We’ll be needing it amply to fight these criminals. I found out about the organ racket two months back. Several dwellers in the nearby slum areas have been duped into parting with their kidney or part of their liver. It’s a sinister operation that top management is well aware of. Crores of rupees are changing hands at the cost of the lives of the hapless destitutes. A very tough fight lies ahead of us. Get used to the threats.” Dr. Maity warned her.

She mentioned how a couple of months back, she had noticed several needy people lining up at the hospital back wing, and how they were being shepherded to the rarely used OT. Dr. Maity nodded, and said he had made investigations and found out about the scam. Despite having written twice to the director and the trustees, he had got no response. He was sure they were in cahoots in this matter. Threats and anonymous messages had started coming to his inbox already, but he cared two hoots, he laughed.

After enlisting the help of a local NGO, he and some activists had managed to speak to the afflicted people. They were mostly migrant labourers and vagrants. JC Hospital doctors had run a camp in their slums, promising free appendix and gall stone surgeries for a limited time window. Lured by the promise of free surgery, that too in the prestigious JC Hospital, several people had enrolled. From July 17 to 26, about seventy people had been operated on. Following the surgery, each patient had been kept under observation for a couple of days and then discharged. No post-operative medical attention had been given, and there were complications naturally.

Even after almost three months, Dr. Maity disclosed, most of the patients were suffering from post-operative pain and acute discomfort. Some had become bed-ridden too. He had got them tested at a friend’s clinic, and sure enough, they were functioning on one kidney or compromised liver. Dr. Maity and his doctor friend, along with the activists, had approached the local MLA who feigned complete ignorance, and washed his hands off. It was obvious a racket was going on in JC Hospital, with the sanction of the political authorities. Big names were in this game, he warned Alisha, and things were going to get murkier and more dangerous.

“I know that Doctor, and I am willing to take the risk for bringing the truth out. They must know they can’t play with people’s lives like this.” Alisha calmly said, determined to bring Dutta and his cronies to justice. She couldn’t help admiring Dr. Maiti’s spine and honesty. He had single-handedly taken the initiative to dig things out. He was against the might of a multi-specialty mega

hospital without a care for repercussions. In a way, he personified all that the medical profession was supposed to stand for.

The next day, she spoke to Cheryl about the case. The girl was shocked on hearing her sister had read her diary, and fretted and fumed for almost an hour. Alisha had a tough time calming her down, and she told her everything about their plan. She advised Cheryl to take leave for a couple of days, and stay out of Dutta’s radar.

Chapter 10

The next day, on the way to the hospital, Alisha visited the advocate whom Dr. Maiti had suggested. He was an expert in medico-legal and ethical matters, and would be able to advise the best way ahead. They would require a strong legal backing to fight against such powerful people.

Puja days were comparatively less hectic in the hospital. The outpatient clinic was closed. The few chronic and serious patients who were still admitted required supervision and medicine at regular intervals. No surgeries were taking place either.

Alisha felt a bit relaxed. This time was handy for doing a bit of snooping into registers of the cryogenic unit. Sure enough, plenty of activity had taken place recently. She took a picture on her mobile.

Today, Mrs. Sharma was being discharged. In her present condition, she required round-the-clock medical supervision and her daughter had thrown up her hands. She requested Dr. Tripathi to recommend some specialized residential medical facility where her mother could be sent to. She was fed up of care-giving, Sailaja Sharma said, and couldn’t take it anymore. Dr. Tripathi referred her to a residential medical care retreat in the suburbs. It was decided that Mrs. Sharma would be shifted directly to the Alzheimer’s Care Clinic, Baruipur from JC Hospital.

Alisha went to meet her before she left the hospital. The thought that she would probably never see her again saddened her beyond words. She had developed a fondness for the cranky old patient of hers. Mrs. Sharma was lying on her side, eyes glazed, drool dripping from her mouth. Was she aware that she wasn’t going home? Did she suspect her family was abandoning her? Alisha cleaned her drool, and held her hand for the longest time, praying to God to keep her well. Good people didn’t deserve to suffer like this.

It was unfair that in this world, liars, abusers and criminals got away with everything, and honest, sensitive people like Mrs. Sharma suffered. How many people like her were in pain right now, Alisha wondered. And the medical facilities, instead of helping them get well, were pushing them further into hopelessness. Just for the sake of money.

That afternoon, she and Dr. Maity set out for the police station.

An ordeal was awaiting them there. The inspector-in-charge simply refused to lodge an FIR. Where was the evidence, he challenged. These were high and mighty people and he wouldn’t risk inviting their wrath.

It was then that Dr. Maity exploded in frustration and anger. “If the police are afraid, where will common citizens go? We will continue to be exploited like this by the powerful? The rot in the system will get worse? People will lose their health and lives because of someone’s greed? You will jolly well take down this complaint and lodge an FIR against JC Hospital administrator Pinaki

Dutta, Inspector. For your information, I have already appraised the Assistant Commissioner of Police, South Kolkata, whose number I have on speed dial. Should I call him right now?”

The inspector reluctantly took down the details. As they were coming out, a flurry of activity greeted them. A news channel reporter had got the whiff of the matter somehow, and had come to the police station with his crew of cameramen. Against the protests of Dr. Maity and Alisha, they started recording the goings-on, complete with sensational add-ons. Though this wasn’t exactly what they wanted, Alisha sensed this could work in their favour. Public sentiment was a powerful catalyst in such matters.

By the time their work in the police station was over, it was late evening. It struck Alisha that she had promised to take Cheryl out for visiting the Puja pandals nearby. The girl would be furious!

She was grateful to Dr. Maity for dropping her home in his car. Public transport was scarce this late, with most autos booked for pandal hopping by revelers.

“Chechi, you said you will come early! Why are you so late? I have been waiting so long! All the events are over by now, I’m sure…” Cheryl was almost in tears.

“Silly girl, Durga Puja happens throughout the night, that too for four days. In fact, it’s better at night, with the lights sparkling and the whole city lit up. You won’t believe how vibrant the Goddess looks her large eyes and blazing demeanour. After all, evil lurks at night, and She must remain alert to protect her people, no?” Alisha laughed. “And we will do all-night pandal hopping, as they say here! Have junk food, ride the giant wheel, paint the town red!” Her heart felt light after a long, long time.

She felt the peace that comes from having done the right thing. The road ahead would be tough, even dangerous. But someone had to stick their neck out. If it resulted in some changes in the system, it would be more than worth it.

The girls wore their best churidar kurtas and set out to admire the Goddess Durga in her full glory.