It was morning. The foliage around dhanvantari hospital made it inconspicuous to the outside world. As the first rays of gold filtered through the netted windows, an old body on the rickety cot stirred. He called for water in a weak voice, but the nurse at this small town government hospital was too overworked to attend to patients that weren't in any real danger at a moment's notice. He swallowed a generous lump of saliva and looked up at the ceiling. He could not move. He had not been restrained; it was just that his lower spine was severely crushed. He did not know that, though, he was drugged, and the pain did not register.

He looked at the flies dancing overhead, and he wept. His daughter was driving him back from a concert, it had been great. His daughter, the light of his life, she was following in his footsteps, on her way to be recognised, just like her father. She was his life. Now he did not know if he would play again. That was not his worry, though. His daughter, his Anu, she was his only worry. She had her life ahead of her, and she was well on her way to make it.

A small woman tip-toed silently through the door "Anu, where is she?", he asked. She did not pay attention to him, busily writing on a pad. "Where is my daughter?!" he raised his voice, flailing his arms. "You must be still, sir, you are not fully recovered yet." she proceeded to undress him, sponging his torso. "How did I get here? What happened?" he asked, politely, smiling at the woman with his grey eyes, with all his geriatric congeniality. She smiled back. She was a middle aged woman, married, he could tell, from the mangalsutra, with sharp features and a dark complexion. She would have been quite fetching in her days, he imagined, and smiled to himself, but his thoughts were disturbed by her narrative.

"....and she admitted you yesterday night. She said she was your daughter. There are many car accidents these days. People are always in a hurry to get somewhere, and all these zippy imported cars. There was another accident yesterday night, not far from here, poor girl; she did not get help on time. The doctor said that the cause of death was loss of blood. What a beautiful girl, wearing a nice white salwar. What a nice car she was driving, a lovely red Opel with...."

He did not wait for her to finish. He was choking on his tongue, his throat was so dry. It was his girl, it was his red Opel, he screamed, but the nurse calmed him, "sir, sir" she said, "you must relax, it must have been another crash, your daughter brought you here. How can she be dead?" she tried to rub his forehead to calm him, but he kept shuddering, "my daughter...white..white salwar...red car.." she rang for the doctor. He was babbling incoherently, his eyes covered with tears, by the time the doctor arrived with two ward boys. He was sedated, and the nurse went to the next ward. It was too much of a co-incidence, she thought.

Hours passed.

A small figure with wiry hair and a black dress entered the hospital silently. She smiled at the nurse. The nurse smiled back, but she had her apprehensions now. Coming to think of it, the poor dead girl looked more like the old man's daughter than this Christian looking girl. She followed her to the old mans room and strained her ears hard.

"Hello daddy."
There was long silence.
"You are not my daughter."
"That is what you have always thought, haven't you?" she could sense some anger in the girl's voice.
"What are you talking about?" the old man's voice was incredulous.
"I am talking about the little girl whose father you could never be, neither did you want to. I am Sue's daughter."
"Oh heavens...where's Anu?"
"She's dead." the nurse gulped. The old man was right. She felt miserable for him.
"You let her die, didn't you? You..." she could distinctively hear him sobbing now, but she was too afraid to enter, the silence was frightening.
"I wondered about why my daddy left me alone when I was a child. I always waited for him to come, but he never did. I must go now. You should rest. I brought your guitar, it survived the crash, miraculously. Mother always said that you loved it like your own child."

As she heard sharp footsteps walking towards the door, the nurse pretended to be reading a chart as the girl walked out of the room. Her bosom was heaving, her eyes were moist, but she was smiling, a smile that made the nurse feel a deathly chill at the end of her spine. Not having the heart to face the old man, she took the rest of the day off, delegating her duties to the student intern from the city, who were working there as part of their course.

When she returned to the hospital, a pall of gloom had cast over the entire building. The coroner's van was standing outside. A man had committed suicide. The cause of death was loss of blood. She did not have to ask.