Chapter 12: Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, Part 1

Kavita looked at the reports again on her way to Dr Madhur. No, they don't look good. Her cholesterol and triglycerides were through the roof. The last time she saw Dr Madhur, there had been promises of diet and exercise. And she had done nothing. She knew she had to her genetics (her mother died of a heart ailment) and sedentary life style made her high risk for cardiac disease. Perhaps a death wish lurked somewhere in her subconscious preventing her from taking the right measures.

She rolled the window down and a blast of hot air hit her, prickling her forehead. Delhi summer, at its peak, harsh and unforgiving. The incoming traffic shimmered in the heat. The cruel orange ball in the blue sky. Glistening, perspiring, sweaty bodies everywhere crushed by its heat. Yet it was the time when Amaltas and Gulmohar flowers bloomed; a miracle beyond comprehension.

The traffic slowed down on the flyover. From there, the roofs of the houses looked like a maze, the kind she used to play with as a child with small silver balls that had to make their way to the center together. She arrived early for her appointment. The receptionist, a slight woman with calm eyes and a long single braid, smiled at her and looked at the wall clock in the waiting room.

Kavita answered her unasked question. "With the traffic, you never know. Didn't want to be late."

"No problem. There's only one patient before you." She nodded in the direction of an attractive young woman wearing a Dolce and Gabbana top who sat at the far end of the sofa with a little boy, five or six years old. Genuine, not imitation, Kavita concluded on the DG top. She felt shabby in comparison, with her Lajpat Nagar cotton kurta over trousers and her hair loosely held in a ponytail. Kavita smiled at the woman, conveying her empathy, as the cranky boy asked to be taken home, uninterested in the colorful blocks in the toy box. She had raised children too. She was still raising them.

Tania suffered febrile convulsions a few times as a child. Each time that happened, Sameer and Kavita were terrified, even though they knew it wasn't serious. That's what kids do to you. They scare the hell out of you. You feel personally responsible for any harm that comes their way. They pull the strings of your heart, control your entire being and run your life. At one point, they grow up and stop treating you as the center of their world, and you don't even realize it because they never stop being the center of your world.

The woman got up and walked towards Dr Madhur's room dragging the boy with her. A little girl came out, chattering away with her mother, excited about the candies the doctor had given her.

Kavita thought of Pari and smiled. Here was a child who refused to grow up. With Tania growing up before her years it was nice to have a permanent baby in the house, who brought a smile to everyone. She felt grateful for Pari's presence in her life, her silly stories, amusing histrionics, and generous laughter.

The pretty young woman and the boy came out of Dr Madhur's room, the boy bawling at the top of his voice. He hadn't had a pleasant experience with the doctor. She could hear Dr Madhur's voice from the open door, making feeble attempts to mollify him. Well, soon it would be Kavita's turn to bawl.

"Long time, no see!" Dr Madhur smiled.

The examination room hadn't changed much over the years. Dr Madhur sat upright in her leather chair, across the wooden table, white coat over a saree. On the right of the room, was the examining bed with the stepping stool, hidden by a linen screen on rubber wheels.

Dr Madhur looked super fit slim, her face radiating with good health, luminous skin. She was at least ten years older than Kavita, but looked younger. I should have chosen a less fit doctor for myself.

"Not like before when I was here all the time either with Tania or Pari," Kavita replied, sitting down across the table from her.

"How are they?" Dr Madhur asked, straightening her blue grey saree.

"Growing up. Tania is in Grade ten."

"Wow! Time flies!" She seemed genuinely surprised, "I'd love to see her."

She opened Kavita's file her assistant had left on her table. "So, what brings you in today?"

"Repeated the blood tests after six months as you had suggested." Kavita handed her the envelope.

Kavita flinched as Dr Madhur pulled out the reports.

"Hmmm the lipid profile doesn't look too good." She flipped through the crisp printed pages.

I know, I know.

"Have you been exercising?" Dr Madhur scanned the file, reading the last prescription.

Here we go.

"Yes," Kavita lied, feeling like an errant school girl in principal's office, "Though not regularly. One thing or another every day"

Oh God, why am I blabbering like an idiot?

Before joining the gym (though joining here was defined as only paying the membership fee), she was a part of this group of women who walked together for exercise in the park in front of their home. However, they ended up gossiping more than walking. It hadn't done her much good except she was better informed about the neighborhood.

Dr Madhur took off her reading glasses and looked at Kavita. The air freshener squirted a fresh dose of its citrus scent. "Kavita, I don't think you are taking this seriously enough," she said, "Did you get the Tread Mill Test done?"

"Umm not yet."

Go ahead and fire!

"This won't do. You realize there is family history of heart ailment here."

"I thought I wouldn't need it. Was planning to exercise." Kavita put on her most winsome smile.

"Well, that hasn't quite worked out. Please, please get the test done. It'll tell us if there's anything we need to take care of. That's all. Are there any other problems shortness of breath, dizziness, fatigue?"

"No." She wanted to tell her about tiring easily but held her tongue. She couldn't take any more rebuking.

"I'm increasing the dosage of your lipid lowering medication, but you need to exercise and control your diet, in addition." She wrote on her prescription pad. "And please, get the TMT done."

Oh, let me be.

She sighed in relief walking out of the clinic into the waiting car. The ordeal was over.