8.2 Vir
I stared at Anant, unable to comprehend--or to accept--what he was saying. "If the poison in her system didn't come from our world, then..." I trailed off, unable to complete the thought. "Anant, what exactly are you saying?"
He sighed and glanced at Dr Patel. "Vir, the fact is we don't know what we're dealing with here. That's why we were hoping you could help us understand what this substance could be, or why she might have used it on Sarla."
"She? You mean Viveka? But what does she know about poisons? And besides, why--" I shook my head. "No, it's ridiculous. Viveka wouldn't try to kill her mother! There's some huge misunderstanding here."
Both doctors exchanged glances again. Dr Patel said, gruffly, "Mr Vatsal, until we know what the nature of the toxin is, we can't proceed with any course of treatment."
I picked up the styrofoam cup of coffee he had brought me. It was scalding hot, and burned my tongue. I didn't care. "So you know it's poison, but not what kind of poison. And so you can't treat her until you find out what poison it is? And in the meanwhile, what happens to her?"
They looked at each other. I could see that if not for my brother being such a respected and senior surgeon, they wouldn't have even had this conversation with me. Why do so many Indian doctors have this superior attitude to non-medical personnel? What do they think, that medical training makes them more capable of understanding human problems than us?
I passed a hand across my face, pinching my forehead. I was distraught and needed to calm down. There was nothing to be gained by getting upset with the very doctors who were responsible for keeping Sarla alive right now. Besides, Anant wouldn't hold anything back from me--not under these circumstances.
"We'll do everything we can, Mr Vatsal," said Dr Patel. "But until we identify the toxin, I'm afraid there's not very much we can do."
Anant nodded in agreement. "It's imperative we find out the nature of the poison used. And quickly."
They talked a little more about Sarla's other injuries. I resisted the urge to grimace or shudder at Dr Patel's descriptions of her lacerations--"extremely invasive, almost lethal. And the trauma caused could easily have resulted in your wife's--"
Anant saw my face and stopped the other doctor's monologue by touching his wrist gently. Turning to me, Anant said quietly: "Look, Vir. Let's be honest. It's difficult to solve the problem without knowing what really happened. Do you know if Viveka might have had some kind of plant in her room? Belladonna maybe? Or if she was interested in vegetable toxins? As part of some college project or something?"
I shook my head, bewildered. "Anant, this is Viveka we're talking about. She's not an expert in poisons. She doesn't own a knife, doesn't have knowledge of deadly poisons. She's deciding whether to go to MIT or set up her own animation production house here. You know her, for God's sake. She's never done a violent thing in her life!"
I went on, knowing I was saying more than I should but desperately needing to make some sense out of this whole nightmare. "I don't even know for sure if it was Viveka who did this to Sarla. Maybe the maid was mistaken. Maybe Sarla was mistaken. How could Viveka do this? Why would she? I just don't understand any of this, Anant. It doesn't make any sense at all."
Anant was silent. Dr Patel looked at the floor wordlessly. None of them knew what else to say. I knew they both were thinking that I was still in denial, that I wasn't even willing to accept that my daughter had attacked and nearly killed her own mother, and that as long as I refused to accept that basic fact, I would be no use to them or to Sarla.
After a few minutes, the meeting broke up and I came out of the conference room, trying to think what was the best thing to do next.
"Mr Vatsal?"
I looked up at the sound of the soft yet commanding voice. The man standing before me was dressed in a Mumbai Police uniform. An Assistant Commissioner of Police, I saw from his name-badge. There was another uniformed officer behind him, and two hawaldars.
"ACP Bhandarkar," he said offering his hand. I shook it and nodded.
"I'm here," he said, "to know if you wish to register a complaint against the woman who attacked your wife.
He sighed and glanced at Dr Patel. "Vir, the fact is we don't know what we're dealing with here. That's why we were hoping you could help us understand what this substance could be, or why she might have used it on Sarla."
"She? You mean Viveka? But what does she know about poisons? And besides, why--" I shook my head. "No, it's ridiculous. Viveka wouldn't try to kill her mother! There's some huge misunderstanding here."
Both doctors exchanged glances again. Dr Patel said, gruffly, "Mr Vatsal, until we know what the nature of the toxin is, we can't proceed with any course of treatment."
I picked up the styrofoam cup of coffee he had brought me. It was scalding hot, and burned my tongue. I didn't care. "So you know it's poison, but not what kind of poison. And so you can't treat her until you find out what poison it is? And in the meanwhile, what happens to her?"
They looked at each other. I could see that if not for my brother being such a respected and senior surgeon, they wouldn't have even had this conversation with me. Why do so many Indian doctors have this superior attitude to non-medical personnel? What do they think, that medical training makes them more capable of understanding human problems than us?
I passed a hand across my face, pinching my forehead. I was distraught and needed to calm down. There was nothing to be gained by getting upset with the very doctors who were responsible for keeping Sarla alive right now. Besides, Anant wouldn't hold anything back from me--not under these circumstances.
"We'll do everything we can, Mr Vatsal," said Dr Patel. "But until we identify the toxin, I'm afraid there's not very much we can do."
Anant nodded in agreement. "It's imperative we find out the nature of the poison used. And quickly."
They talked a little more about Sarla's other injuries. I resisted the urge to grimace or shudder at Dr Patel's descriptions of her lacerations--"extremely invasive, almost lethal. And the trauma caused could easily have resulted in your wife's--"
Anant saw my face and stopped the other doctor's monologue by touching his wrist gently. Turning to me, Anant said quietly: "Look, Vir. Let's be honest. It's difficult to solve the problem without knowing what really happened. Do you know if Viveka might have had some kind of plant in her room? Belladonna maybe? Or if she was interested in vegetable toxins? As part of some college project or something?"
I shook my head, bewildered. "Anant, this is Viveka we're talking about. She's not an expert in poisons. She doesn't own a knife, doesn't have knowledge of deadly poisons. She's deciding whether to go to MIT or set up her own animation production house here. You know her, for God's sake. She's never done a violent thing in her life!"
I went on, knowing I was saying more than I should but desperately needing to make some sense out of this whole nightmare. "I don't even know for sure if it was Viveka who did this to Sarla. Maybe the maid was mistaken. Maybe Sarla was mistaken. How could Viveka do this? Why would she? I just don't understand any of this, Anant. It doesn't make any sense at all."
Anant was silent. Dr Patel looked at the floor wordlessly. None of them knew what else to say. I knew they both were thinking that I was still in denial, that I wasn't even willing to accept that my daughter had attacked and nearly killed her own mother, and that as long as I refused to accept that basic fact, I would be no use to them or to Sarla.
After a few minutes, the meeting broke up and I came out of the conference room, trying to think what was the best thing to do next.
"Mr Vatsal?"
I looked up at the sound of the soft yet commanding voice. The man standing before me was dressed in a Mumbai Police uniform. An Assistant Commissioner of Police, I saw from his name-badge. There was another uniformed officer behind him, and two hawaldars.
"ACP Bhandarkar," he said offering his hand. I shook it and nodded.
"I'm here," he said, "to know if you wish to register a complaint against the woman who attacked your wife.
posted by Ashok K. Banker at 12.10.05
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