The Final Breath
by Tulip Chowdhury
Like a wildfire, cancer was spreading from the liver to the other parts of Naima's body, burning down her whole being. A woman in her forties, Naima was in the Rose Valley Hospital, close to her house in Amherst, Massachusetts. A year ago, she was diagnosed with the fatal disease, one she called A Letter of Death. Already, her body was light as a feather, her skin seemed to cling to the bones, and her eyes held a haunting look beneath the hairless head. That dreaded disease, the news that kills all hopes, came to Naima at the last stage when it had spread widely in her body and was aggressive like a wildfire.
However, Naima's mind was still sound, and she was very much aware of the hundreds of tubes and the multiple medicines she was receiving as the doctors fought for her heart to go on beating, to hold her on to this world for a little longer. When excruciating pain ripped through her body, she wished that God would bless her with numbness in her mind; she didn't want to feel those pangs of pain. Naima's husband, Manna, sat beside her, holding her hand. His handsome face showed the strains of sleepless nights. She could feel the warmth of his skin, and it seemed as though her life was hanging onto those fingers clasping her hand. She felt as if the last injections were not what was keeping her heart still beating; it was the love of life, love of her husband and two lively daughters, Javy and Ivy. Those two beloved children roamed around the hospital cabin, unable to stop crying for their mother. At times, the girls were silent, bewildered by the storm that was sweeping over their family. The mother, the solid rock in their plundering sea, lay so helpless, caught with that dreaded cancer. They were too young to understand why Baba couldn't get their mother well; didn't he solve all the problems? If he had never found a solution to their family troubles, why hadn't their father taken Ma to Singapore for better treatment? Why was he sitting helplessly holding Ma's hand? Whenever they asked their father to do something for Ma, he just said,
"Pray to God to help your Ma."
And so Javy, the older sibling, had a rosary in her hand, silently praying to the Almighty. Their mother, Naima, was tired of staring at the walls of her cabin. She had been in and out of the hospital so many times in the last two years that she now dreaded the four walls of all hospital cabins! The pungent smell of antibacterial cleansing materials made her nauseous. To her, trips to hospitals were like the clocks ticking to the end. She lay on her bed like a scorched land, waiting for the rain; Naima yearned for some miracles to end her pains.
Strong pain meds have been injected into Naima's body to ease the pain that made her howl like an animal. But as they gave temporary relief and as sleep came to her eyes, Manna could see her body relax, and the cries of pain became softer when she sank into an exhausted sleep. Sitting beside his wife, Manna took out his mobile phone from his pocket to ensure Naima was sleeping. He had put it on silent mode, so as he checked the messages and missed calls, no sounds came from the gadget. He took a quick look at his wife in her bed. The phone showed one missed call from someone special to him, one that needed to be called back. He wanted to leave the hospital cabin and go to the corridor. But Javy and Ivy were not near, nor was the nurse. And Naima was sleeping: Thinking it was safe, he decided to call back.
Manna pressed the call button and listened to the ringtone at the other end. But his eyes continued to rest on Naima's– alert to her waking up or listening to him. It seemed as though the person at the other end was waiting in line and answered immediately. "Pushpa," Manna said very softly. "Naima is in her last stage; we may lose her at any moment."
A muffled voice came from the other end; although the exact words were indistinct, a note of sadness was audible. Manna and the other person on the other end of the mobile line seemed to have a perfect understanding of the situation at hand.
"Don't worry about me." Manna was saying. “You have your dinner and go to bed."
"Yes?" he was saying again. "Yes, I will come, I will stay the night with you. The girls are going to their Granny’s. The nurses will take over at night for Naima." He paused for a while and then ever so softly whispered, "I love you, Pushpa, don't forget that, no matter how long I am away from you! Soon it will be all over, and we will be together."
Manna pressed the red button of his mobile, ensuring it was in silent mode, and then put it back in his pocket. His hands reached out to hold his wife's cold hands. He watched the heaving chest beneath the white hospital bed sheets. Yes, she was still sleeping. But angels have strange ways of letting the truth be known.
Naima's frail body woke from her momentary slumber the moment Manna started talking on the mobile with someone called "Pushpa". But Naima had not opened her eyes, lying with her eyes closed; some uncanny intuition led her to pretend to be sleeping. That was an enormous task for her, to keep her eyes closed when she wanted to ask who her husband was talking so passionately about. With eyes closed, she had been thinking how hard it was to wait for the coming end when all she wanted was to see the blue sky, the birds, and the flowers for the last time; she knew death was standing on the door waiting to claim her. The cancer had eaten away at her body, but her heart had hoped for some possible miracles. Suppose God took pity all of a sudden and made her well again! Perhaps the homeopathy she received from her mother helped, and her cancer went away. She had been clinging to hopes of living, her love of life refusing to give in to the tug-of-war between life and death. Naima's ears were wide open to Manna's conversation on the mobile. She listened without moving an inch.
As Manna went on talking, Naima wondered who “Pushpa” was!? The name told her that the person was a woman. Being the wife, she somehow knew that Pushpa was going to take her place in Manna's life when the monster cancer claimed her. She had heard stories of a man needing a woman; she had known of desires and lust. But then, what about the fifteen years of marriage with Manna, the children, and the beautiful home? Has Manna already erased her from his heart? Did they not have a two-year love affair before getting married? The questions riddled her mind as if they, too, were in a hurry to let the last breath come. So many unanswered questions made her feel as if even the previous breaths were her enemies.
Suddenly, a pain, worse than she had ever known, swept through Naima's body. She could not recall if her cancer gave her pain so intolerable. It was the pain of a broken heart, the ache of losing the love of her life. Manna was no more hers; he was “Pushpa's”. With her gasping breath, she wondered what a blatant lie the saying, "Love is eternal," was. There was death extending its cold hand towards her; at last, death was offering her peace of the heart. She wanted to die as she realized that she was similar to a living skeleton. She felt the flicker of the last awakening in her, "Was Pushpa beautiful?"
A feeling of bitterness, betrayal, and helplessness gripped Naima's soul. Her man, life, and love: all had turned against her. She felt the futility of denying what was to come. Her eyes, as if taking their last look at the world, focused unbelievingly on Manna. Was love such a big lie? "Ma, Ma…." Two tender voices seem to be calling her; her daughters, will they surely still love her after she is gone?
Naima opened her eyes wider and took a last searching look around her as if trying to find reassurance of someone's love. She could see two pairs of eyes, those of Javy and Ivy, her true loves in life. The other flame of life had died where her husband was concerned. He was her means to finding her children; she understood that about life.
Grateful for the daughters she had to love her, Naima sighed, and then her eyes closed forever.