Throughout her stay in the hospital, there were moments when she was thankful for the painkillers; the small tablets killed the pain, numbed her senses and dulled the need to think. But they did not stop her emotions from going on a rampage. Angry disbelief at the news of her parents' death; faint hope that it was a lie and she would wake up to see them sitting beside her; wavering gratitude for her uncle's family for being with her and a feverish wish that her father's family would visit.

That was not a wish, she agreed, it was being delusional, yet she could not stop imagining it. Finally, she would get a chance to meet her father's other family. They might regret that they had waited so long to meet her; or anger that she had survived, or derision at who she was or polite concern as to her well being; each imagined scene caused an emotional turmoil and added to her anguish. She was not sure why she wanted to meet them, but maybe a close brush with death had given her unrealistic expectations.

She had not envisioned absolute indifference and being completely ignored. Nor prepared for the fresh wave of hurt it caused.

Her uncle took her to his house on her discharge. Neither spoke much but she learnt that he had performed the last rites for his sister while her father's body had been taken back to Hyderabad where presumably his son had taken care of the rituals. It left her wondering how her mother might have reacted to knowing that even death had not succeeded in keeping them together.

Her aunt had comforted her, her cousins had hugged her in subdued excitement. The conversations were minimal and touched the general topics. However, the thirteenth-day ceremony, held yesterday, had the guests voicing the unspoken question, 'what would she do now?'

Gāyathri had no answer to that question though she knew that she could not go on with life as her grandfather, and uncle and aunt had.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The door opened, startling Gāyathri and she turned to see who had come. She almost stumbled and tightened her grip on the parapet wall with her left hand; standing too long on the terrace had made her legs stiff. And it was cold, she realised with a shiver. As pain lanced through her arm, she remembered that she had not taken her morning pills. Which necessitated the presence of her pesky cousin, who was now fussing about her.

"Gaayu, how long have you been awake? And you also forget your medicine. I wonder what you would do if I were not around?"

"Suma..."

Balancing the small tray on the parapet, Suma continued, "I have got you the pills and coffee too. Amma wants you to come down for breakfast soon, so you should freshen up quickly."

Suma slipped a shawl around Gāyathri's shoulders. It was her mother's and brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Pulling the shawl closer with stiff fingers, she stifled a sob and wished her cousin would stop talking. She enjoyed chatting with her, but today her voice grated on her. Her thoughts were the only company she craved, but Suma seemed to be in no hurry.

"Suma, please..."

"It is fine, Gaayu, I can understand that you would want to have some time to yourself. But you should have woken me up and I could have helped you change into something warmer too.

So come down now. And if you sit by the window in our room, I will run the water for your bath, and also keep out your clothes. I have already made the beds. If you hurry, I can help you get bathed and dressed. I think I shall pick out the light green salwar, I have always liked that"—

"Please, Suma, please just shut up. I want to be alone and your non-stop chatter is hurting my ears. Why can you not..."

Gāyathri stopped at seeing the hurt on her cousin's face, the words had come out harsher than she thought. Fresh remorse filled her, she was being selfish again; she had not wanted to sound rude but everything seemed to upset her. Life was days of medication and pain, nights full of tears and nightmares. And anger at the world, a furious urge to scream at the injustice of fate. Yet none of that would excuse her being inconsiderate.

But before she could say another word, Suma sniffled, "I am sorry, Amma always says that I talk too much and never appropriately either. I know you are hurting, though I cannot imagine how much, it must be agonising. It is difficult for me to just think about it," shaking her head and trying to smile, she continued, "there I go again. Anyway, do take your medicine and call me when you are ready. I will go down now but do not stay out for long, you might catch a cold."

A part of her wanted to go after her cousin, to stop her and apologise. But Gāyathri could not move fast enough with her injuries and a large part of her welcomed the idea of being left alone. Grimacing, she limped to the tray and took the pills. The coffee, as usual, was hot, sweet and comforting. Her aunt made exceptional coffee, her father had always appreciated it and her mother would pretend to sulk. In truth, Amma had loved that coffee too.

The hot coffee burnt her tongue and the cold memories scorched her heart. And the question remained, ''what would she do now?'

A bath left her exhausted and hungry. Gloomy and in pain. She should have taken up Suma's offer to help but at that time wallowing in self-pity had been tempting and seemed right. Now she squirmed as she tried to pull on the leggings, no easy task when one had the use of both hands. With one arm in the cast and the leggings exhibiting devious behaviour, it took her more than twenty minutes before she was able to finally pull them up.

'Damn the twisty things.'

However, that was only half the battle won. She still had to wear her tunic and was at a loss as to how she could manage it. And she refused to even think about wearing the bra, that demanded acrobatic skills beyond her imagination. Holding the towel around her upper body, she sat on the bed. Staring at the walls did not give her any ideas but it did help her catch her breath and realise how helpless she was.

She was also getting a crick in her neck from holding the towel at an awkward angle. The plaster cast on her arm itched. The sling chaffed her skin and pushed the gold chain deeper into the skin; it left red welts. Her aunt had asked her to remove the chain but she had refused. She had gotten it as a birthday present for her mother, the delicate chain with the filigree heart pendant. Today it was just a tangible memory of her mother, one that she clung to.

The buzz of her mobile added irritation to her moroseness. As she glanced at the caller names, she decided to ignore the calls notifications. There was little interest in responding to her friends' message, though they would be polite and concerned. It would take her mind off her dark thoughts, but she could not summon any energy, especially as she was wondering if she should stop being stubborn and call her aunt to help her out.

A few minutes later, when her aunt marched into the room, that dilemma was resolved. After a minute of silent disapproval, her aunt helped her dress and brushed the tangles out of her long hair, braiding it into a tight plait. It was a familiar act, there had been many happy occasions earlier, when her aunt had braided her hair, admiring her tresses and admonishing Sumi for not growing her hair.

Gāyathri choked at that memory and turned to her aunt, "Atta, I am sorry. I have been..."

"Hush child, it is understandable. I am upset that you did not reach out for our help not because you have not gotten dressed yet. Will you come down for breakfast?"

Familiar food was comforting. It also promoted clarity of thought. As Gāyathri had her breakfast, she started to realise; she did have a family. With their help she would be able to decide what to do next, the first thing would be to find out how quickly she could start going back to college. There were practical issues as to how they would be able to fund her education and the cost of travelling to Rajahmundry daily, but she would work those out. Her uncle and his family would not object to her staying with them, she was sure of that.

A knock on the front door startled her and she wondered who would be visiting them in the middle of the day. She would not mind if it were one of her friends though she hoped it would not be one of those curious neighbours.

Little did she know that it was life, throwing a googly at her.