Detour

July 2, 2005. Half past seven in the morning. That's when our life took a wild detour.

I got up hearing a soft but definitive voice asking me to check if Jeena, my wife who had given birth to our second baby a week ago, was alright. Normally I dash into the toilet as soon as I get up and won't be out for the next half an hour. It's been my habit for years. My mother and sister had lost patience on me. So has Jeena.

I walked down the stairs and into the bedroom where Jeena was with baby Sean and our new maid. I was not troubled by what I saw as I entered the room. Jeena was lying across the bed, and mummy was rubbing her forehead. The maid was carrying Sean, who was fast asleep.

Jeena was snoring. Mummy was applying Tiger balm on her forehead, and said: "She has severe headache." Jeena had been complaining of splitting headache since the previous evening. As she was supposed to go to her gynecologist to remove the cesarean stitches the next day, we had decided to wait.

I called Jeena. There was no response. I called again. No response. I called her again, shaking her up. There was only a mild hmm. I thought she was sound asleep, and wondered how could she sleep like that leaving the baby with a new maid who was getting familiar with our ways. I called again. Only a muffled response. I grew anxious. I called out, asking her to get ready to go to hospital. There was no response. She was sleeping.

Fear gripped me. I froze, and then began to weep. Mummy hugged me and asked me to be strong. Strong? For what? I called Nabeed, my cousin and our constant companion. He came down. I said: "Deedi is not waking up. See if you can wake her up." D-e-e-d-i...he called out. Yet no response.

"Let's take her to the hospital." But how? Nabeed brought in a chair. Once again, I asked Jeena to get up. She snored loudly. Nabeed and I somehow dragged her into the chair and we pushed the chair out, past the next room where our one-and-half-year-old daughter Keziah was sleeping.

Nabeed switched on the headlights and the car was out on the road with a screach. It took 45 minutes to reach Century Hospital in Chengannor. All along the way, I kept on calling out her name, and she responded occasionally.

Doctors at the Emergency panicked and they called the neurosurgeon, Dr Ramnarayanan. He came and took her away immediately for an MRI scan. Somewhere I heard the word "stroke". I had heard it before but it was the first time I understood its meaning. But it was only the beginning.