“Sir, Mr. Talwar needs help, and he won’t let us,” informed Maria in a low voice, the more senior of the two care nurses, nodding her head quietly towards the sheets on the bed.
The issue became clearer when Vihaan noticed a telling green-yellow stain spreading out from under the old man. His heart clenched in pity. Mr. Talwar had always had a distinguished air about him. To have had such an accident and be unable to help himself, to have his faculties fail him while his brain was still keen enough to pick up on the incident, would be unbearably embarrassing.
“Hey, Nanu,” Vihaan smiled brightly, injecting his voice with levity. He bent down on one knee next to the bed, keeping his tone light. “What do you say I help you clean up, hmm?”
“Y-you?” Nanaji stuttered, sliding a worried glance at the two women standing a couple feet away.
“Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me. Man-to-man, okay?” As soon as he said it, the frown lines on Nanaji’s forehead relaxed. With an arm supporting his frail shoulders, Vihaan lifted him up, shocked by how light he was. With an adeptness he’d never expected to have, he kept Nanu’s mind occupied as he helped dispose of his soiled clothes, assisting him in getting showered safely. A little while later, a fresh smelling Ambernath sat atop his clean sheets, obediently opening his mouth while Vihaan spooned some dal-chawal into his mouth.
“I al-al-always knew you liked my Vera,” Nanaji said, his words a little slurred, as if he was trying hard to remember how to move his mouth.
Vihaan nodded, smiling softly as he fed him another bite. “I wish I’d been as wise as you. But I have learned from my mistakes.”
“I’m g-gl-gl-lad you’re back, little m-master. My Vera was lonely. N-no friends. Now sh-sh-she has you.”
“She’ll always have me. I will never leave her again.”
“I t-trust you.”
With those simple words, Vihaan felt the weight of Ambernath’s expectations land upon him—of being able to care for his granddaughter in a way she deserved. It was wonderful, and humbling. Filling Nanaji’s shoes when it came to loving Vera was impossible, but it was clear that Ambernath had handed that responsibility to him.
“She’s b-been doing things alone f-f-for too long,” Vera’s grandfather mumbled, mostly to himself. “Sh-she needs help. She th-thinks I don’t remember. I don’t s-s-see her tiredness. She h-hides her worries, even from her m-me.”
Vihaan set the empty plate to the side. Using the damp towel that had been left for him, he gently wiped around the old man’s mouth, making him a promise, “I’ll take all her burdens. I will shield Vera to the best of my ability.”
“Hmm. Where is V-Vera? Is sh-she still at school?”
Vihaan’s hand stilled, his skin chilling at the question.
“I sh-should make her something to eat. P-p-poor girl st-studies so hard, sh-she forgets to e-eat.”
“She’ll be back soon,” Vihaan said, gently dissuading Ambernath from getting up. “You rest. I can get someone to make her food.”
“M-mooli paratha.”
“Huh?”
“Sh-she likes those. Sh-she always says she d-doesn’t w-want it s-s-so that I d-don’t spend time making it.”
Vihaanswallowed hard, nodding silently. He couldn’t speak.
“H-her mother asked for ev-ev-everything. But my Vera? S-She d-doesn’t say anything, a-afraid of b-being a burden. As if I don’t un-un-understand her.” Nanaji’s smile spoke of the immense love he held for his granddaughter. That even when he was slowly losing himself, concern for Vera was at the forefront of his mind. He looked around the room, brows knit as he frowned lightly. “W-where am I?”
The evidence of how quickly a man could get lost within himself shook Vihaan. But the doctors had been clear. Any obvious reaction from the caregivers could affect the patient as well. So far, they had been lucky in that Nanaji had not shown aggression towards the help, but he’d been quick to get annoyed, a marked contrast to the immensely patient and docile man he had always been.
“W-what is th-this place?” he asked, watching him suspiciously as Vihaan grappled with his emotions.
“This is your home, Nanaji.”
“And you?”
Vihaan felt his heart break, his eyes burning when he choked out a reply. “I’m a friend. Just visiting.”
“Oh,” Nanaji nodded, still confused but calmer with that answer. “Y-you sh-sh-should ask M-M-Mamta to make ch-chai before you go.”
Mamta. Nanaji’s wife, deceased now for well over two decades.
Vihaan nodded silently, unable to form words. He rose up, tucking the comforter around the fragile body that housed an even more fragile mind, helping him settle onto the plush pillow.