You Are Still the One

By Himanshu Rai

A heart-warming story about love, faith, smiles, and friendship. You Are Still the One traces the lives of Trisha, Aditya, Varun, Meetu, and Dakshit. Trisha, a lively and talented young seventeen-year-old, has been diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma. Her father brings her to Delhi for treatment where she meets her doctor' s son, Aditya, a smart, cheerful army officer. Their friendship and love blossom during Trisha' s treatment. Even as Trisha is doubtful about her recovery, Aditya, along with Trisha' s cousin Varun and his girlfriend Meetu, keeps her spirits up, encouraging her. Then the day arrives when Aditya has to return to duty. After news of an accident in Siachen, they don't hear from him again. What happens next? Does Trisha recover? Does she meet someone new? Does she ever see Aditya again? Some love stories can make you cry, and yet make you believe that miracles do happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fingerprint Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9789354407666

Book preview

CHAPTER

1

We are all characters in a novel called life and each day is one page from a chapter. The author has written everything for us; we are just enacting the scenes defined for our play. It looks like we are the earth revolving around the sun with every count of our breath. We never know when we will stop and be lost in space, losing the gravitational pull of our loved ones. But the time will come when everyone gets lost in space; it is just a matter of how long we can hold our breath.

***

Kalatop is one of the most beautiful destinations in Dalhousie, Himachal Pradesh and is known for its lush green surroundings and snow-capped Himalayan peaks. For seventeen-year-old Trisha, standing at the top of Kalatop, it was a tonic of life, which she had been enjoying since her childhood. Trisha lived in Dalhousie with her father, Major V.C. Shergill. When she was ten, her mother died in a car accident and her father decided to take early retirement to take care of her. He settled in Dalhousie and started his own adventure trip company.

Trisha always loved the fragrance of the forest and the silence of its shadows. She breathed in the scent of the pine trees and opened her eyes to gaze at the mesmerising view for one last time before she left for Delhi.

Being a Kashmiri girl, she was fair-complexioned with pink cheeks. She had been strong enough to handle life, until she was diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma, a type of blood cancer. She was a school topper, excellent in mathematics, a horse-rider, and champion swimmer. Her aim was to join the Indian Army after she finished school. But now she was depressed to see her dreams shattering right in front of her eyes. She wondered what she had done to deserve this misfortune; but then, maybe her mother loved her so much that she could not live without her.

Trisha stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans to keep them warm. A tear rolled down her cheek as she said goodbye to her favourite place. Ever since she had lost her mother, she had come to Kalatop and spent time talking to the tall trees, considering them Mother Nature. Leaving Dalhousie was like saying goodbye to her mother once again, whom she missed with every breath. She took a few steps forward towards the tall pine tree. As she looked up to see its top, she wiped her tears and hugged its trunk tightly. A cold breeze blew the long strands of her hair against her wet cheeks. She stood there, hugging the tree, feeling its closeness, which she would miss when she left.

Trisha, let’s go. We will miss our train, her father called out to her. At the sound of his voice, she let go of the tree, wiped her tears away, turned towards him, and smiled, saying, Sure, Daddy. She took a step back, still looking at the tree and then said softly blowing a kiss at it and said, Bye-bye, mother.

Trisha walked to her father and took his hand, ready to start the journey to Delhi for her treatment. She had been diagnosed with blood cancer two weeks earlier after she had fainted in the swimming pool. She had undergone multiple tests at Pathankot to reveal she had stage three blood cancer. There was a small lump in her armpit, but she had ignored it. It was the initial sign of Hodgkin Lymphoma. Later she had experienced night sweats, weight loss, and tiredness, but Major Shergill had not been aware of this, and Trisha had not cared. Perhaps if her mother had been around, she might have noticed the symptoms earlier.

Hodgkin Lymphoma is an aggressive type of cancer but also one of the easiest to treat and most likely to get cured. The specific treatment depends on the patient’s health and on how far the cancer has spread, but it typically involves chemotherapy—sometimes combined with radiotherapy. But the most important thing in this type of cancer is one’s will power; depression is something that triggers the spread of cancer much faster, and Major Shergill was worried about that. Ever since Trisha became aware of this, she put on a fake smile, and it gave her father sleepless nights.

On the recommendation of family and doctors, Major Shergill had decided to take Trisha to Delhi for her treatment to Apollo Hospitals. He had already booked an appointment with Dr. Smitha Sinha, the senior oncologist there. He was hopeful that Trisha would fight this battle and come out a winner as always.

Daddy, what if I die? Trisha questioned as they walked.

Major Shergill pondered on her question and replied, Life is an undiscovered galaxy with millions of stars waiting to meet you; there are friends out there you’ve never met, new cultures, new beginnings, a new life, but the same is true for death. We must not think about death, because the galaxy of life is so vast that you have very little time to explore it, and I am sure you are my astronaut who will travel to every part of this galaxy. And he smiled.

Hope my rocket has that much fuel, Daddy, Trisha replied, eyes downcast. At her words, her dad gripped her palm firmly, assuring her that he would always be there for her. Some gestures have more impact than words.

Major Shergill’s sister lived in Delhi with her husband and son Varun. Trisha and her father planned to stay with them during her treatment. They boarded the cab for their two-hour ride to Pathankot, from where they would board the train to Delhi. As the cab started moving along the winding roads of Dalhousie, Trisha looked at the view outside. She wanted to capture every moment of it just in case she never returned home. She opened the window and let in the fresh air. She hardly blinked as her blueish eyes took in every sight.

After travelling for an hour, Trisha fell asleep, resting her head on her dad’s shoulder, as she recalled the day she lost her mother.

It was seven years ago. Major Shergill had been posted in Srinagar with his family. It was February. Trisha had been in school. Her mother picked her up from school every day.

Heavy snowfall from the previous night covered Srinagar’s every surface. It was mesmerising living amid snow-covered mountains. For Trisha, playing in the snow was an all-time favourite activity and she never missed a chance to grab the opportunity. On that fateful day, her mother was in a car driven by an army soldier, and just as they were about to cross Lal Chowk, the car had swerved, out of control. An on-coming truck had tried to avoid it, but failed. Both vehicles collided. There was an explosion leading to a ball of flame and thick grey smoke.

Trisha opened her eyes in shock and the Major knew she had relived the nightmare.

We have reached Pathankot station, he said. Trisha smiled, stretching to yawn. They boarded the train that would reach Delhi the next morning. The Major had already informed his sister, and she had confirmed that Varun would be at the station to receive them.

Varun was a year older than Trisha and a student at Delhi University. Trisha felt depressed and did not want to face her relatives. She knew meeting Varun would make her feel worse. They were always competing and now she felt defeated in the race of life. After being diagnosed with cancer, she had stopped interacting with people and preferred her own company. Most of the time she had her earplugs on or could be found reading a book. She was tired of checking the WhatsApp messages her family and friends kept sending her—about how to cure cancer naturally, how cancer could be cured with beetroot juice, or how cow urine was useful in curing cancer. She wanted to be left alone with the little time she had left. The day before they moved to Delhi, the Major had taken her to Mcleodganj at four in the morning to a Tibetan doctor experienced in Ayurvedic medicine. She was tired of these experiments.

Everyone was hopeful that she would be fit and fine again, but somehow, that did not inspire any positive change in her. She already considered herself doomed. She read everything on Google, from symptoms to treatment, and she knew she had a lot in store for the coming days. But she was not aware that Google simply based the results on her search history rather than what she wanted to see. Her negative thoughts only made her explore more. She remained awake till late at night, thinking about her future and reading a book to lose herself in its story.

By five in the morning, the train reached Delhi station, and they found Varun waiting for them. He was tall enough to be noticeable from a distance. He waved and headed towards them with long strides.

"Namaste, Mamaji, Varun touched Major Shergill’s feet and then hugged Trisha saying, Hey sister! How are you doing?"

Trisha smiled and replied, sounding low, All well.

Varun picked up her bag and continued, Now that you are here, we will rock the show. Trisha just smiled at him and started walking along. Soon they were in the car with the Major seated in front next to Varun and Trisha in the back seat. Varun was replying to the Major’s questions about his parents. After some time, the topic shifted to Trisha’s heath. Varun said, Mama, I have heard that naturotherapy works well in cancer. Trisha sighed and putting on her earplugs again, closed her eyes. The discussion continued between Varun and her father till they finally reached home.

CHAPTER

2

That afternoon, Major Shergill, along with Varun and Trisha, went to Apollo Hospitals, New Delhi. They asked for Dr. Smitha at the reception and were directed to the Cancer Unit on the second floor. There was a fragrance in the air. The seats were plush and well-maintained. Every surface looked spotless. The nurses were calm, mostly South Indian, and they moved with a quiet purposefulness from one room to another on their rounds. There were vases of artificial flowers and beautiful framed photos of health notices on the walls. In the corridor was another reception, and patients seated outside most rooms could be heard talking. Trisha tried to hide the fear on her face by focusing on the music she was listening to.

As she walked, her eyes took in each patient seated there, some with jaundice and some with needles and tubes. Major Shergill understood how she felt and slowed his steps so that Trisha could catch up with him. He gently gripped her shoulder. The warmth of his hands generated a feeling of support and calmed her, reducing her anxiety. Her father knew she needed him at this tough time in her life.

They reached Dr. Smitha’s cabin and Varun approached the nurse seated outside and handed over Trisha’s medical file, while Trisha and her father took seats in the last row in the array of chairs placed in front of the cabin. Almost all seats were occupied by patients and their relatives. Some patients looked frail, as if in their last days; some looked freshly diagnosed; some looked worried . . . but one thing was common among all—the look of despair.

Varun returned and sat next to Trisha and confirmed that her number would be called in the next thirty minutes. Trisha looked around at the other faces. Her eyes stopped at a boy seated in the front row. He was tall, well-built, with short hair and a fair complexion. He was smiling and continually shaking his right leg. His blue Nike shoes were probably silently shouting at him to stop shaking them. He looked like he was alone. Trisha then opened her book to ignore cancer. Her father was in conversation with Varun, and everyone else seemed busy with their own work. There was a young couple in the row in front of her. The woman was bald, and her husband looked tense, flipping through her file, and restlessly browsing the internet.

After a few minutes, a young man from the front row turned towards everyone and clapped his hands, and after clearing his throat to gain their attention, he said, Hello everyone. Please listen. Hello, aunty on that side! Please listen to me. The smile on his face was so broad that even those who didn’t want to listen to him, looked at him curiously. Trisha removed her earplugs, looking at him. But the nurse who was standing behind him tapped his shoulder and asked him to be silent, placing a finger on her lips. He turned, smiled, and hugged her without giving her time to react.

Thanks, sister, just five minutes, he said. His smile was irresistible, and the nurse agreed.

He started speaking, gesturing with his hands to explain, I have been sitting here for the last one hour, looking at dull and depressed faces. Come on, we are not dead—we are here to fight death. Let’s cherish the life we have and make this moment sitting in hospital fun.

Everyone now started paying attention, while he continued, Why is a hospital a sad place, when it’s a place that gives life? I am not going to die depressed. He paused, looked at everyone expectantly to see if they agreed and then continued, Let’s play a game called Chinese Whispers. An interesting game which will be fun and will also not break the hospital rules. He looked around again for confirmation. Some faces had already started smiling and showed agreement, while a few were still confused. He went on to explain the rules, The rules are simple. I will whisper a phrase in the first person’s ear. He must whisper this to his neighbour and this will continue until we reach the last person. He looked at Trisha and said, You, beautiful girl, will conclude and tell everyone what you heard.

Trisha looked around, smiled, and then nodded. The young man then turned to the nurse, saying, Sister, hope we can play? The nurse looked at him, smiled, and returned to her seat.

Thanks! Let’s start, he said and moved towards the man sitting to his right and whispered a phrase. The man next to him was sick and had a stain attached to his bile but he smiled and passed the message to his wife sitting next to him. She smiled back and whispered the phrase to the Muslim lady wearing a burka sitting next to her. The lady, moving her burka, whispered to her husband sitting next to her. He whispered in the ear of the young lady sitting with her tensed husband. But her husband stopped him and said angrily to the young man who started the game, Mr. whatever your name is. What do you think by doing this? Playing a game will not heal our pain. We are not interested in playing any silly game. My wife is suffering from gall bladder cancer. We got married last year after a ten-year relationship. For you, it may be fun. My wife has cancer, but it’s me who is dying with her. His tears threatened to flow. Before the young man could reply, his wife placed her hand on his shoulder. Feeling her touch, he immediately stopped and looked at her. She slowly moved close to his ear and whispered. He looked at her, unable to control his tears. His wife smiled and