Dr Sen arrived about twenty minutes later. He went up and began to examine Debashish. Dipa looked on from the threshold.

Following a few preliminary questions, the doctor checked the patient’s pulse, took his temperature and listened to the sounds of his chest with the stethoscope. While he was doing so, his eyes widened and he exclaimed, ‘Good God!’

Debashish said wanly, ‘Yes, Doctor. Everything is the other way round for me.’

Dipa looked at them intently, but Debashish did not elaborate further. The doctor nodded and continued his examination. Finally, he announced, ‘The chest is heavily congested. I’m giving you an injection—that should do the trick. I’ll come by again tomorrow morning. If need be, we can begin a course of treatment then.’ He gave his patient the injection, stroked his head affectionately and said, ‘No need to worry. You’ll be fine in a few days. Now go to sleep, son. I’ll be back at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Also, do keep your family physician informed about the situation.’

Dipa followed the doctor out of the room. When he had reached the head of the stairs, he said, ‘I observed something rather strange today …’

‘What is it?’

The doctor told her what he had discovered.

Within ten days, Debashish was fighting fit. Although he had been ill during that period, those ten days had been very pleasant ones for him. Dipa would come by occasionally, sit by his bed and chat with him. At mealtimes, she would go downstairs to fetch him his food. She was adamant about not leaving the responsibility to Nakul. At night, she’d check on Debasish surreptitiously; floating in the twilight zone between slumber and wakefulness, he never failed to sense it.

One day, when Debashish was almost fully recovered and propped up in bed with pillows as he read a book, Dipa came in with his cup of hot cocoa. He smiled at her as he took the cup from her hands. She sat down at the foot of the bed and said, ‘Dada had called. He’ll drop by this evening.’

Debashish did not answer. He took small sips from his drink and looked at her. Needless to say, during the time he’d been ill, someone or the other from Dipa’s family had dropped in to inquire after his health every day. In the beginning, his mother-in-law had come and stayed over for a couple of nights. But Dipa had not really approved of that.

Debashish sipped his cocoa and continued to gaze at her. Dipa began to grow uneasy. For want of anything better to say, she remarked, ‘I think the garden needs a few more crotons.’

Debashish, however, paid no heed. His voice was wistfully tender as he confessed, ‘Dipa, you may not love me, but I have fallen in love with you.’

The words came like a bolt from the blue. Dipa’s face turned crimson, then lost all colour in the space of a second. She made as if to