I flinched as the tea was hotter than expected. Since it was a particularly cold night I had ordered for tea and told the talkative boy to make it hot.

"Sir, enu beku?"
"Ondu tea"

"Bere enu bedva? Roti, dal, paneer butter masala?"
It was natural for someone to order those since it was dinner time. But I wasn't in the mood to eat.
"Ondu tea togondu baa. Saaku."

"Sari sir. Nimma ista. Hasivu aagtirabahudu antha kelde aste!", he shrugged.
"Lo, jaasti matadbeda. Tea togondu ba. Bisi aagi irli!", I motioned a dismissal with my hands to this young talkative boy. I ain't generally rude to the waiters, but then he was talking too much. Who was he to bother about my hunger?

I forgot completely about the order and was immersed in my own world. I hadn't even noticed the boy spilling tea on the table while he almost stabbed the table with the glass. I am generally very meticulous about keeping the table clean and all that. Even at Dhabhas I am no different. But today was a different story altogether. I had taken a sip from the tea glass without even knowing what I had done.

I shook my head vigourously. The burnt lip (or was it my tongue that was burnt?) had got me back to the present. My eyes were filled with tears. They weren't from the sadness that was within me, but from the tea that I had just had. Oooh... it was just too hot! I didn't know if I had done the right thing by just fleeing the scene. But it had become just too much.

The latest incident was my father having two heart-attacks within a space of a day. The second attack was accompanied by a cardiac arrest and they had to revive him through "shock" techniques. "Hoge bittidneno?". My dad's words reverberated through my mind and my body shuddered at the thought of losing him in these circumstances. I closed my eyes tight as if to close myself from reality and took another sip of tea from the glass. It was tasteless or I don't remember because I didn't bother about it. And I was here, leaving him all alone to handle the situation at home.

My elder brother suffered a kidney-breakdown at a very early stage in his life. My father donated one kidney of his to him because the doctors felt that it would have better chances of acceptance with the body. For a couple of years after the transplant, my brother was normal. Then the problem began. Frequent attacks of fever and cold and cough. Increasing impurity levels in the blood, my brother's body had begun to oppose the new kidney. Going to the hospital daily was a routine. The indication of hopelessness the doctor's eyes gave away were cleverly shrouded by the words that he spoke.

"Worry madkobedi Sir. Enu agalla. Idella usual post-transplant conditions. Neevu enu worry madkobedi"
"Doctor, namma kynalli adashtu madteevi naavu. Neevu heli enu madbeku antha"

"Neevu enu madteera sir. Ella aa devara kynalli ide. Naavu namma kynalli agiddu madtane iddivi"
"Nimmanne nambidivi Doctor"

This conversation used to repeat itself in my dreams also. At times, I would get up from my bed only to see my brother writhing in pain. I used to wonder, "What is God doing? Does he exist at all?". Sometimes, I would get angry with the doctors. Why can't they do something? What's their problem? But then I know, being an engineer, that solving a problem requires not only knowledge but some amount of divine intervention too. My brother didn't have it on his side. God had supposedly forgotten about the existence of this creature that he had created but also forgot to support him when it was necessary.

This hospital-doctor-dream-wakeup-see brother in pain had become a daily event in our lives. My mother, suffering from acute arthritis, would do her best to serve us and keep us in good spirits. But poor thing, she couldn't walk around much too with the joints pain. So, gradually I took over the cooking and cleaning department too. I didn't want my mother to strain her limbs to the extent that she would have to just lie down for an hour waiting for the pain to subside. Getting up early, cooking, cleaning and hospital and again cleaning, cooking and sleeping were what made my day.

I was a successul engineer. Studied at one of the top 3 colleges of Karnataka and did well too. Was offered a campus placement after my 6th semester at one of the leading IT companies at that time. And as if God was out to prove that He didn't exist, the offer was revoked by the time I finished my engineering. It came as a blow but that also meant that I could help at home. Take over from mom and help dad in curing brother.

For two years after my graduation, I worked as an intern under one of the professors at India's leading Science Research Institute. That gave me ample freedom to manage everything I had to do in a day and also work at the night and learn. I was preparing for my PG entrance exam. Being an engineer to do a PG was my dream. Finally, when the results came out and the call letters were sent - I was through to one of the the world's best Engineering Institute (say WBEI)! Man! That was my dream.. and i was there!

As luck would have it, the WBEI refused to give me a degree because my project hadn't come out to their expectation. And they ran the risk of losing the funding for the project. So, they had to blacklist me and not confer any degree on me. The project was a work by a team of three of us, and one of them committed suicide as soon as he was told this news. I don't remember developing suicidal tendencies but for the first time ever, I didn't brand my late friend a "coward"!

I went back home after this happened. I didn't believe in dreams anymore. And God? Ha ha! Tell me about it! Then, this series of heart-attacks happened. Now the daily routine meant visiting a hospital but a different one - a cardio speciality. My brother had taken the secondary role. He didn't demand attention, not that he ever used to. But we now had to deal with my father who was getting increasingly worried about the finances for my brother's treatment.

Whenever I thought I could chip in to help my father, I would realise that I was a mere B.E.(Bachelor of Engineering) and nothing else to the corporate world. I was worse than a fresher because they would consider me as a person incapable of acquiring a degree. All the years after my B.E. degree would be ignored by the corporate world as they have done. The on-campus offer from the world's best consulting company wouldn't hold any water anywhere without the Master's degree from WBEI. So, I realised that I was not being much of a help anyway.

Not being of much help and having to daily go through this routine again made me go sick. Then, my father came back home from the hospital with a doctor's recommendation that he should undergo a bypass surgery because the blockage was quite high in the blood vessels leading to his heart. I had just had enough of everything.

After lunch, I just took my bike and started out on a drive and arrived at this dhabha a good 200 kms away from my home. I haven't told them anything. I didn't know what they are thinking about my sudden disappearance from the scene. I had left my mobile also at home so that my friends cannot contact me. I just wanted to be alone. I didn't know how to handle this situation. Will I ever come out of this? What to do? Should I flee completely or get back to help my dad handle the situation? What should I do?

To be continued...