From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 19: The Call That Refused to Let Go

The phone rang sharply in the silence of Nithya’s luxurious bedroom.

Nithya woke up first, groggy and annoyed. She glanced at the screen,“Ramesh” and her stomach tightened. She answered quietly, not wanting to wake Sunita immediately.

“Hello?”

On the other end, Ramesh’s voice was broken, shaking with panic and tears.

“Madam… Pihu… bahut serious hai. School se wapas aate hi behosh ho gayi. Hospital mein admit kar diya hai. Doctors kuch samajh nahi paa rahe… fever bahut high hai. Please… kuch kijiye. Sunita didi ko bataiye… wohi toh ab Mummy hai uski…”

Nithya sat up straight, her face turning serious. She looked over at Sunita, who was now stirring beside her.

“Stay calm. We’re coming.”

Sunita woke up to Nithya gently shaking her shoulder.

“Raj… Pihu is in the hospital. Serious condition. Ramesh called. We need to go now.”

For a second, Sunita wanted to refuse. She was finally free. She was wearing Nithya’s comfortable black leggings and oversized t-shirt. No saree. No tight blouse. No bangles. No mangalsutra. She had thrown them away just hours ago.

But the image of Pihu’s innocent face flashed in her mind.

“…Okay. Let’s go.”

She didn’t even change out of the modern clothes. They rushed out in Nithya’s car. The cool AC felt almost guilty against her skin after weeks in the humid slum.

At the government hospital, the scene was chaotic and heartbreaking.

Pihu lay unconscious on a small bed in the pediatric ward, surrounded by beeping machines. Her tiny body looked even smaller under the thin hospital sheet. Her face was flushed with high fever. IV lines were attached to her little hand. The doctors looked worried, running tests, murmuring about “mysterious viral infection” and “possible neurological complications.” They couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause.

Ramesh sat on the floor beside the bed, head in his hands, crying silently. The moment he saw Sunita, he broke down completely.

“Sunita… meri beti… kuch ho jaaye toh…”

Sunita felt her heart shatter. Without thinking, she walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Pihu’s forehead. The child stirred slightly at her touch and whispered weakly, “Mummy…”

That one word broke something inside her.

The next few days blurred into a painful, exhausting routine.

Nithya used all her doctor connections, consulting senior pediatricians, specialists, even calling friends in Chennai and Bangalore for advice. Tests after tests were done. Medicines were changed. But Pihu’s condition remained unstable. The doctors said it could be anything from a rare infection to post-viral complications. Time was running out.

Sunita never left the hospital.

She stayed in her female form the entire time. In the rush and emotional chaos, the plan to call Robby and remove the prosthetics was completely forgotten. She wore Nithya’s simple salwar kameezes and kurtis, comfortable but still unmistakably feminine. Her long hair was tied in a loose bun. The realistic breasts, wider hips, and soft voice remained.

She became fully immersed in taking care of Pihu.

Wiping the child’s sweat, giving her sponge baths, making her drink water spoon by spoon, singing soft lullabies in the middle of the night, begging the doctors for any update, crying silently in the corridor when no one was looking. She fed Pihu, changed her clothes, held her tiny hand during painful blood tests, and slept on the uncomfortable hospital chair or on the floor beside the bed.

Every single moment, she felt like a real mother.

And every single moment, the humiliation and confusion mixed with deep, genuine love for the child.

On the fourth night, as they sat in the hospital corridor downstairs in complete despair, Ramesh with red eyes, Nithya tired from making calls, and Sunita emotionally drained, a mysterious old Swamy appeared.

He was an elderly man in saffron robes, long white beard, and calm but piercing eyes. No one had seen him enter. He stood in front of them as if he already knew everything.

He looked at Sunita for a long moment, then at Ramesh, and finally at the ward where Pihu lay.

In a deep, resonant voice, he spoke indirectly, almost like delivering a divine message:

“The child’s soul is caught between two worlds. The mother’s place is empty… yet filled with a shadow. For the fever to leave, the shadow must become real. The husband and wife must become one in truth. Live as true pati-patni for one month. Let the thread of destiny seal this union. Only then will the child’s life thread strengthen.”

He placed a simple red sacred thread on the bench between them and walked away without another word, disappearing into the night as suddenly as he had appeared.

Ramesh looked at Sunita with desperate hope in his eyes.

Nithya remained silent, watching both of them carefully.

The words echoed in her mind:

Truly live as husband and wife for one month…

The day she thought would end her nightmare had instead opened a much deeper, darker door.