City Hospital – Outside the ICU
The white walls and faint beeping machines pressed on Gauri's chest like a suffocating weight. She rushed through the corridor, spotting Gayatri, her mother, standing with folded hands, eyes red and lips moving in silent prayers.
"Maa!" Gauri's voice cracked as she reached her. "How is she? Where's Charvi?"
Gayatri clutched Gauri's arm as if she were her last anchor. "Beta… she fainted so suddenly. I thought my child would slip away before I could bring her here. She's inside… the doctors are working."
Before Gauri could reply, Dr. Mehta, the man who had walked with them through every test and treatment since Charvi's diagnosis at fifteen, approached. His face was lined with the heaviness of years, but tonight his eyes carried even deeper sorrow.
"Gauri," he said gravely, "your sister's condition has deteriorated sharply. The hole in her heart has widened. The time we feared has come—surgery cannot wait any longer."
Gauri's throat closed, her hands trembling. "Doctor, you told me we already found a donor—then please, start the surgery! Why are you waiting?"
He hesitated, and the pause was more terrifying than words. "The cost must be cleared before we can proceed. You know the rules, Gauri. The operation, post-operative care, and ICU expenses will come to twenty lakh rupees."
The number hit her like a blow. She stumbled back, her hand pressing against the cold wall for balance. Her voice broke. "T-Twenty… lakh?"
Dr. Mehta's tone softened, weighted with pity. "You've fought harder than most. I know every rupee you've saved was for Charvi. But your FD—what you've set aside—it is only half of what's needed. Ten lakh is still short."
Tears spilled from Gauri's eyes, her vision swimming. Memories of endless cab rides, sleepless nights, meals skipped, festivals ignored—all for this. "So many years… every fare I earned, every coin I counted, I put it away for this day. And still… it isn't enough?"
Gayatri sobbed into her dupatta. "Bhagwan, why test us again and again?"
Gauri wiped her tears harshly, a sudden fire blazing behind her brokenness. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenched. She stepped forward, her voice unsteady but fierce.
"No. I won't let her slip away, Maa. Not while I live. If fate demands more, then I will give more." Her eyes burned with determination. "I'll sell my cab. It gave me freedom, it fed us, it kept our lives moving… but none of that matters if Charvi's heart stops beating. For her, I'll sacrifice everything."
Dr. Mehta's lips parted but no words came. He had seen many families give up under the weight of such odds, but this young woman—she stood like a soldier at the battlefield, refusing to surrender.
As Gauri collapsed into Gayatri's arms, whispering through her sobs, "I won't lose her, Maa. I swear, I won't," the sterile corridor seemed to tremble with the unshakable strength of her vow.
The sound of temple bells echoed faintly in the air, the chawl already buzzing with preparations for Janmashtami. Children ran about with peacock feathers in their hair, women strung garlands of marigold, and devotional songs poured from loudspeakers.
But in one corner, Gauri stood by her cab, her hands fidgeting nervously as she waited for the car dealer. Her eyes darted again and again to her phone, her thoughts only on the ICU where Charvi lay.
At last, a man in a formal shirt and loosened tie arrived, adjusting his spectacles as he circled the vehicle. He checked the bonnet, the tyres, the mileage. "Hmm… condition decent enough," he murmured.
Gauri clasped her palms together. "Please, I need the sale to go through today itself. It's urgent, bhaiya… my sister—"
The man cut her off with a regretful shrug. "I'm sorry, madam. Today is Janmashtami. Banks and offices are closed. No sales, no transfers, no payments can be processed. The earliest I can make this deal is the day after tomorrow."
Her heart sank. "Day after…? No, that's too late. She doesn't have that long!" Her voice cracked, desperation spilling from every word. "Please, can't you make an exception? I'll take whatever amount you can give in advance. Anything!"
The dealer shook his head firmly, avoiding her pleading eyes. "Rules are rules. My hands are tied." With that, he walked away, leaving Gauri standing by her cab, her world collapsing inch by inch.
She swallowed hard, her eyes brimming as she pulled out her phone again. Dialing another number, she begged, explained, pleaded—but every dealer gave her the same reply.
"Day after tomorrow, madam."
With each rejection, the weight on her chest grew heavier. Finally, she sank against the cab's bonnet, clutching her phone tightly, her tears soaking into her palms. Around her, the chawl rang with festive laughter, but to Gauri, it all sounded cruelly hollow.
"Charvi…" she whispered brokenly, staring up at the night sky. "Hold on, little one. Didi won't let you go. I'll find a way… I promise."