As consciousness crawled its spiteful way back into her, Anvisha Desai looked for sight. She found only painful emptiness. Emptiness that made her aware of the piercing ringing in her ears. It invaded her. She struggled, trying to discern a voice, a sound, something, anything. Waves of panic gripped her as she realised the futility in her search. The blackness, the silence, would stay with her forever.
She wanted to flee, to jump, to move, but found herself too weak. Pain suffused her body. Her vain efforts to struggle served only to emphasize her discomfort. She heard herself screaming with the little effort left in her, a slave to the intense fear that raced through her veins. It made its way, making her aware of every exhausted muscle in her body, calling for her attention, shrieking away its grief.
"Where am I? Ritesh? Antara! Please! Somebody!"
A glimpse, a word, a touch. She wanted her husband and her child. She found comfort in their sweet faces. They rescued her from this misery.
They walked ahead of her, she smiled as she stood watching them from across the street. Ritesh with his ever playful smile. Antara was her usual chatty self, which only served to widen her father's smile. A blinding agony seized her; she screamed aloud.
"Why didn't you save us from them, Mumma?"
"How could you leaves us alone, Anvisha?"
"Where were you? Why did you let them hurt us?"
"No... No!" bellowed Anvisha between agonized sobs. Only the silence responded. All she could remember was a pair of strong hands lifting her off.
"Who are you? What did you do to my Antara? Where is Ritesh! Where have you taken them? What do you want from us?"
She struggled, her head dizzy from the screaming. A strange drowsiness shrouded her. Her blind eyes hurt her. She screamed again, "Please don't hurt my baby! Bring her back to me, what do you want from me?"
A pair of hands held her. She cried out louder, trying to struggle, as they strengthened their grip.
"Leave me alone, you fiends! Bastards! Bring my Antara back to me! What have you done with her? What did you do to Ritesh? Please, let us go. What wrong did we ever do to you?"
There was no response. The hands kept their grip. She felt a sharp pinch of a needle prick her in her arm. The drowsiness overpowered her as she fell into unconsciousness amidst her sobs.
"Thank God she's down!", said the owner of the arms, "I thought she was going to try to kick me or something."
"Poor soul, saw her husband and daughter die in the explosion at Johari Bazaar. She's lucky she was standing across, though she has lost her sight and her ears, and she doesn't seem to remember anything about the blast. She thinks we are holding up her family or something," replied Dr. Ghosh. "Now come on, we have more patients to attend to."Â