Till The Last Breath

 

                                                                       

Dushyant Roy

The curtains had been wide open for some time now, letting the sharp rays of the sun stream in through

the open window, on to the face of prostrate Dushyant who lay in bed, covered in worn-out hospital bedsheet, very uncomfortable in his moving but still unmoving. His eyes flickered through the night and his fingers trembled. He was asleep and  didn't wake up. It wasn't a good night's  sleep.

               Finally, after tossing restlessly from side to side, he woke up and tried opening his eyes. One of  them  refused  to open, swollen from huge gash  just above his left eyebrow, which had been heavily taped and bandaged. He touched the bandaged, with his hand and checked for blood with his other half-open,

groggy eyes. He sighed  as he found none........only then did he venture to look around the hospital room. He was surrounded by with medical equipment, a lot of connected to him, a small television in one corner of the room and an empty bed on his left side. His thought wandered  to what had brought him there. It wasn't the first time he was in one of these beds, but this time seemed a little  more serious than other times. Landing up unconscious after a series of uncontrollable vomits

and brain tremors was a way of life from him

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