Twenty Days

20/01/2019

It’s evening time. A formally dressed man enters his house. While his attire is formal, the clothes are right now disoriented. His hair is a mess, he is sweating excessively and his shirt is wrinkled in places. He goes and sits on his couch breathing a sigh of relief. Suddenly he feels a sharp pain at the back of his neck so he instinctively presses that point with his fingers.

This guy, in his 30s, is an architect named Parth Kaapur. He is living a bachelor’s life but not enjoying it which is apparent from the fact that other than the basic furniture his house is mostly empty.

Parth keeps his eyes shut momentarily and then opens to see a brown envelope kept on a table in front of him. There’s visible fear on his face upon reading the sender’s address. Just when he is about to pick up the envelope Parth’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from his mother with a profile link to a matrimony website Soul Connect.

Parth throws the phone to the side and then he quickly opens the envelope to look at the paper inside. Parth doesn’t remove the entire paper. He just reads the top part and suddenly gets dejected.

He throws the paper on the table and then sits back closing his eyes. The sharp pain is still there so he continues to massage his neck. Even while his eyes are shut he seems to be remembering what he just read. He starts breathing heavily out of fear of what he just read. He starts to panic. Then in a rush, he removes his shoes and sits on the couch with his legs crossed.

In that position, he starts to meditate. A minute later his breathing normalizes. Suddenly he gets a phone call. The name on the display reads ‘Bad News Man’. That’s because since Parth teamed up with his friends to establish a construction firm, this is one guy who always began his conversation with, “I have a bad news, man.”

“So what’s the bad news today?” asks Parth.

“Why does it always have to be bad news?” says the guy on the other side.

“That’s because… Chetan, you never call me with good news. That’s why I actively avoid your call whenever I am happy.”

“So… you are not happy right now.”

Parth says nothing in response.

“That’s okay. Let me give you a reason to be happy. Project City20.”

“What about that?”

“We got it.”

“We got it?!”

“Yes, we did.”

Suddenly Parth has a wide smile on his face. In that instant, he forgets all about his neck pain, the letter, or the fact that he is exhausted after a long workday. City20 is that kind of a project. Actually, it’s his dream project, to design the tallest skyscraper of the 21st-century Vanchi city.

Their conversation continues as they share all the technical details. Suddenly Parth’s smile vanishes and with a concerned face asks, “Chet… is it right for us to take a 20 years-long project right away. I mean we won’t know if this project is beneficial for our firm until two decades of our lives are passed. Two decades!”

“So what? This building will cement our legacy. If the time concerns you, just imagine it to be 20 days. I’ll remind you every time a new day starts.”

Parth agrees to that. Just before hanging up the phone, Chetan says,

“Day 1.”

Parth is happy now. Cheerfully he goes around the house doing his chores. He gets a call from his mother. Parth knows what’s the call about. Knowing the reason he usually won’t pick up but right now he does. His mother tells him about a new proposal. She has sent him the photo and link to her profile.

Parth is so excited right now that he does not sit to have a conversation. He dances around the house while talking to his mother. He tells her about the good news. Every time his mother raises the issue of marriage, he distracts her with another interesting detail about Project City20. She realizes that.

“That’s it. Stop talking and listen to me. I sent you a profile of this new girl. Did you like her?”

Parth has switched the phone to speaker mode and is changing his clothes. His mother is going on and on about how amazing this new girl is,

“She is pretty, from a good family, has a good job, and a foodie like you. The only problem is that she does not cook. That I’ll teach her, you don’t worry.”

Parth says nothing.

“Parth. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes…!” he jumps on the bed to respond. “I am listening.”

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Because you told me not to speak.”

He then resumes getting dressed.

“So…” she asks with a pause.

“So what?”

Parth realizes why his mother is saying this. An hour back when he got the message, Parth opened it and then shut the messaging app. So his mother got the notification that he viewed the message. Parth does that. He opens the message and without reading it he closes. Then pretends to have read it.

While the mother continues the praises about this girl, Parth stands in front of a mirror dressed in party wear. Looking back at his smiling face in the mirror he has this sudden urge to cheer, “Yes!” Closing his fist he raises his hand for another joyous cheer,

“Should I say ‘Yes’ to the girl’s family?” his mother asks.

“Yes!!” Parth cheers.

“Yes? You like this girl?! I knew it.”

Parth totally forgot about the call. He does not want to spoil his mood right now so he does not clear the misunderstanding while thinking, “I’ll deal with this situation later. Tell her ‘No’ tomorrow. Now is the time to celebrate.”

Excited, the mother hangs up the phone and Parth gets ready to leave.

“Day 2”

It’s another evening and Parth is wearing the same party dress. But it does not work for this occasion so he removes it. He is having trouble picking the perfect outfit. Never before was Parth so excited for what he is about to do. Parth is having a telephonic conversation with his friend Chetan.

“Since when did you get so interested in marriage?” asks the friend.

“How can I not go? We have to select the wedding ring. So they need my size. I have to go.”

“That’s not what I am asking…” says the friend knowing Parth’s mind, “Weren’t you going to say ‘no’ when visiting the girl’s house. Why did your plan change? I know… She must be really pretty to get your approval for marriage.”

“She is VERY pretty among other things. You know.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Let’s just say, I would have married this girl sooner had you not interfered.”

Parth hangs up the phone seeing another call waiting that reads ‘Kriti’. Parth wants to keep this suspense among his close friends a little longer. After a conversation with this other person, he goes on a trip down memory lane. Back when he was in college, Parth and his friend Chetan were in the same class. One time Chetan sat next to Parth saying,

“Now that I am in a relationship, I’ll help you find a girlfriend as well. Maybe her,” said Chetan pointing at the door to show Parth the new girl. She had recently joined the college, as her father got transferred to this city. Parth was enchanted by this new girl. Whenever she was around Parth couldn’t help but look at her. Chetan noticed that.

Parth didn’t have the courage to approach her. Instead, he used to write paragraphs of what he will say when he will approach her. Unfortunately, that moment never came. Chetan decided to help his friend. He tore one of those pages and walked to the new girl and handed it to her.

On that paper, Parth introduced himself, complimented this girl, and at the end asked for her phone number. Parth was so embarrassed learning what his friend did that he started keeping his distance from this girl. Parth was always uncomfortable when she was around since then. This discomfort didn’t last long as she had to move back to her hometown in just one month. The only unfortunate part was that Parth never got an answer to his request.

That is until many years later, Kriti told him that she did leave him her number on that paper but he never called. Well, Parth has her number now and he has been calling her a lot since.

“Hi, Kriti. I am leaving now. I’ll reach the jewelry store in an hour.”

With those words, he leaves his house.

“Day 3”

It’s dinner time. Parth is seated on the poolside of his house. He is sitting on the edge with his legs dipped in the water. There’s a laptop next to him with a lot of drawings on the display. But Parth is not focused on work, instead, he is playing with pool water.

“How much longer?” asks Parth.

Just next to the opposite edge to the pool is the kitchen window. So when he is talking, he is talking to the person in the kitchen.

“Wait… I’ll come help,” says Parth getting his feet out of the pool.

“No!” says a female voice, “Patience husband. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

“I hope so,” says Parth, dipping his feet back inside the pool. “I have waited for a long time to eat food cooked by you.”

“I’ve been cooking for just two hours. Can’t you wait for a little more?”

“More like two years. It’s been two years since the time we met for the marriage proposal. I’ve been waiting since then.”

“Is that so?” she speaks in a mischievous tone. “Eat this till then,” she says throwing an apple at him. In the attempt of catching the apple, he loses balance and falls in the pool. Seeing him fall in water Kriti bursts into laughter.

“That’s enough.” says Parth swimming to the other edge of the pool and climbing up, “Get ready for a really wet hug.”

“Day 4”

“Kriti! Kriti wait! I didn’t mean it.” says Parth while rushing through the house. He pushes the bedroom door to step in but he gets a push back as the door slams shut on his face. “I’m sorry for saying it that way. Please let me come in.” The door does not open.

Exactly at midnight, i.e. on Parth’s birthday, Kriti broke the news to him that she is pregnant. Hearing this Parth freaked out. He does not want a baby right now. She corrected him saying that the discussion is no longer about whether they want a child or not. They are having a baby and that’s an undeniable fact. To that Parth insensitively suggested,

“… there’s always an option of getting rid of it.”

This made Kirti angry and now she is not opening the door. Parth is trying to talk to her but she isn’t responding. Parth was honest when he said he does not want a child right now but even he knows that it was wrong of him talking about abortion. After giving up on getting the door opened, he simply leans on it and sits down,

“I’m sorry Kriti. I’m sorry for saying what I said. It’s just that right now I am needed elsewhere. I want my complete attention to be on this dream project of mine. Just think about it, once the project is complete… the success we will have… so much money, fame… we will be able to give our child the best possible future. We just have to wait for another…”

Parth doesn’t say this but according to his calculation, they will have to wait for another sixteen years to have a baby. Even he does not want to wait for that long to be a father but that does not mean he can be a father now. Parth thinks for a while and then choosing his words carefully he speaks,

“Project City20 is my baby and so it deserves all my love and attention…” he pauses to ensure that Kriti is listening, “…but I promise to give equal, if not more, attention to our baby that is right now growing inside you.”

Suddenly the door unlocks. Parth opens the door, smiles while looking at his wife, and then steps inside the bedroom.

“Day 5”

“No Chetan! No! We can’t compromise on the quality. So what if it cuts into our profit. The final structure has to be perfect!” Parth yells.

Suddenly the baby starts crying. Parth lowers the volume of the baby monitor and continues with the phone call. It’s past midnight and Parth is having and heated discussion with his business partner Chetan Kshamya. I don’t call them friends because there is nothing friendly about the way they are conversing. In the background, in reduced volume, the crying of his baby is still audible.

Right now Parth is in the garage converted into a home office. The place is full of drawings, models, and computer displays. Everything is there except what the garage usually is used for. The ventilation of this place is not proper hence Parth is sweating heavily which adds to his frustration.

“It’s okay to seek perfection but what you are asking is a waste of money. The cement we use here need not be of top quality. We discussed that and you agreed” says Chetan.

“I agreed before but now I think… I know I am right about this… I have an ins-.”

“Please don’t say fatherly instinct. Being a father does not make you better at construction.”

“It does… you will know soon but till then please…”

Parth pauses and then looks at the schematic and numbers trying to think of a logical way to way to justify his choices. But he is unable to because half his attention is towards the crying baby. He is about to rush out of the door when he hears his wife’s voice through the baby monitor.

Relieved that she is there Parth continues with work. “Chet… please trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay fine. Have it your way. But then you will have to go buy that material yourself. YOURSELF.”

“I will,” says Parth half-heartedly.

“Do you promise that? because the last time you said, “I will” we had to reschedule a very important meeting because you had to take your baby to the doctor for a routine check-up.”

“That’s not fair. It’s my child.”

“For a routine check-up!”

“I had to go. It was important.”

“Seems like your biological baby is more important than our dream project. Didn’t you once call project City20 your baby? What does your fatherly instinct tell you about that?”

“City20 is my baby,” says Parth taking a seat while staring at the baby monitor. Actually, he is looking at the family photographs next to it. Kriti forcefully placed those photos to remind him that he has a family to take care of as well. “But…”

“But it seems that your priorities have changed.”

“Yes they have.” says Parth while smiling with teary eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

Parth hangs up the phone. He picks a photograph that was taken at the hospital. Photo of the couple holding their newborn. Parth is surprised to see his own transformation from someone who didn’t want a child to a caring father. If it was up to him Parth would have abandoned his dream project and focused on spending maximum time with his wife and kid.

Parth turns up the volume of the baby monitor. The baby is quiet now but he can hear his wife singing.

“Is she asleep?”

“Almost,” Kriti whispers.

Parth is relieved. He thinks for a moment and then pushes a button to speak again through the monitor. “Is it too late for me to quit my job? You earn enough for both of us. Maybe we fire the nanny and I take care of our child myself.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.” says Kriti.

“Seriously?”

Parth gets excited momentarily.

“No,” she replies. “You know that’s not an option.”

Parth smiles. He knows this is not practical but he wanted to voice this thought.

“I know. I know.”

Parth has to get back to work but hearing his wife singing does not let him focus. Instead, he starts humming the tune while studying a schematic. A minute later he gives up. He switches off the computer and lights. Then picking up the baby monitor he steps outside. While carefully listening to the song he starts saying the lyrics as if practicing to sing.

Parth is a bad singer, hopefully, he will get better.

“Day 6”

It’s 4 a.m. and Parth is still wide awake. Taking care of the baby has disturbed the couple’s sleep cycle. Even when their daughter is with Parth’s parents, the couple is unable to sleep. After several failed attempts to sleep the couple gives up and decides to watch a movie instead.

Parth has no work calls to make so he puts his phone on silent and goes to the hall where the TV is on and is set to play a movie. Meanwhile, Kriti is preparing popcorn in the kitchen.

“What are we watching today?” says he while sitting on the couch. “99th Floor, again!…why?!”

Parth has no interest in watching that movie but apparently, Kriti loves this movie. That is for a specific reason.

“I know you are proud of me and want to show it but that does not mean that you have to watch every movie where the hero is an architect.” Parth gives a disgusted look at the poster, “… that too a very inaccurate portrayal of one. (grunting tone) A handsome shirtless, muscular hunk who stops a skyscraper from collapsing by taking the weight of the entire building on his shoulders. That’s stupid.”

“Real architects don’t look like that or act like that. They are more like me!” says Parth grabbing his belly. “It’s not-“

Parth is cut off by a loud phone ring. It’s Kriti’s mobile. Parth finds it strange that his friend and partner Chetan has called on Kriti’s phone, this late in the night. He then checks his own phone to find 23 missed calls and 198 messages.

“What the hell are you doing?!” yells Chetan the instant Parth says, “Hello.”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.”

“Why? What happened?”

“What happened?! Really? Are you clueless or just dumb?! Don’t you know how bad the situation is?”

“What situation?”

Chetan is not making sense and Parth does not like his tone. Even after asking what happened, Chetan continues with his chaotic train of confusing insults. At one point Parth gets annoyed and hangs up the phone. That instant he gets a call from another business partner who tells him to turn on the news.

Parth switches the TV to one random news channel. On it, there is a panel of reporters and experts discussing an issue. Parth recognizes the old man among them. He speaks,

“Government should never have given this very important job to a young firm. These youngsters think they know everything about construction because they did some diploma courses. Constructing a skyscraper requires decades of experience. I know I charge a lot more but-“

Suddenly he is cut-off for a breaking news update.

“Just now we have received the news that the third security guard has been removed from the rubble by the rescue team. The other two are admitted to the city hospital and are in critical condition and…” suddenly the energetic tone of the reporter softens, “Out of immense sadness we have to report that the third security guard has been declared dead on the spot.”

The reporter continues to talk but Parth mutes it because he is shocked to see the footage being played behind her. It’s a video of a collapsing under-construction building. It doesn’t take time for Parth to recognize the structure but he does not know how to react. He stays frozen blankly staring at the muted screen.

Suddenly Parth sees his face on the screen. He unmutes it. The news anchor returns to the panel. The same old guy continues his rant. “This Parth guy is the culprit. He is the killer of that security guard. If it is up to me, I would arrest Parth right now and fine his firm heavily and take-away their lic-.”

Hearing all this scares Parth. Without pressing the remote the sound dies down. His vision becomes blurry as he collapses back on the couch. He shuts his eyes tight and whispers, “It’s just a dream.”

“It’s just a bad dream, just a bad dream, a bad dream.” he repeats this while keeping his eyes shut. A couple of times he opens his eyes to see the same tragic visuals on the screen and so he shuts his eyes tighter and chants louder.

“It’s just a very bad dream.”

It was a bad dream. Parth opens his eyes to find himself sitting on the same couch but instead of the night suit, he is dressed in formals. Not only that, he feels younger and the house appears emptier. As a matter of fact, Parth wakes up to the night when he got the Project City20.

“Just… a… bad… dream.” Parth whispers.

Parth takes a sigh of relief until he feels the brown envelop in his hand. The page inside is half out. He pulls it out further. This is a letter from his doctor confirming his fears. Parth reads it out loud,

“Final stage of Neuro…” the disease name is too complicated so he skips and reads further, “… incurable and approximately only 20 days more to live.”

Suddenly Parth feels a sharp pain at the back of his neck. He presses it with his hand and shuts his eyes again. He has this urge to repeat those words,

“Just a bad dream.”

It is a dream. Parth opens his eyes again. This time, it’s morning and Parth is wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts. He is sitting in an empty room meditating. Parth looks down to find the same letter. The difference now is that the number ’20’ is crossed and under it, he has counted down numbers; 19, 18, 17, etc. More like days. The not striked-out number right now is 14. He keeps staring at that number.

“Fourteen more days to live.” he whispers.

Strangely, at that moment Parth feels no fear. Even though he knows he will die in a couple of weeks, he smiles remembering the moments he spent with his wife, his daughter, and while working on his dream project. Even though to the world these events never happened, Parth is finding satisfaction in these fictional memories.

Parth has somehow learned to stretch time in his imagination and experience moments in life as if they happened for real. In the last six days, he has lived six years-worth life. Even though at one point things went bad, in his world Parth is in control. So he can forget and resume his fantasy life from where things were still jolly and blissful.

All this was possible because Parth accepted the tragedy of his reality and then escaped to a beautiful reality of his own creation. All this was possible because Parth strongly believed in those wise words printed at the bottom of the same paper that gave him the bad news. Paper that came from his doctor, therapist, guru, and life coach Dr. Vaasu Vaidya that reads,

समय का नहीं कोई निश्चित प्रमाण, एक पलभर की बूंद भी सागर समान।

(Time is never definite, even one moment can be made to feel like eternity)

Just because the doctor says that you have twenty days to live does not mean that you can’t have an experience of a lifetime in that short period. Who knows, if he gets better at it, Parth might be able to live 70 years-worth life, in the next seven days.

END

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