A Story: One day...

The day started like any other.

Coming out of the daily twelve hour hibernation has always been difficult for me. The moment eyes open I shut them back. The thought of coming in contact with freezing water make me shiver in my cozy quilt. Meeting deadlines on a daily basis is no incentive to be out of bed. In fact the burden of pending work can keep me glued to the bed for hours. In short I just don’t want to start the day.

Today, being Sunday I know I don’t need to meet deadlines. In fact I can skip work altogether. As for the pending work, it can stay pending another day. Now, that’s an encouraging thought! However, the freezing water is scary enough to keep me lingering in my bed. I am tempted to skip everything that requires me to use water. I decide to succumb to the temptation. Now, I am prepared to get out of bed.

Newspaper is the first thing I feast on. Lunch follows. Romance with the bed planned next. Lunch spoils my mood. The cook without fail prepares dishes that are so difficult on the taste buds. And I don’t have the option to replace her. All the cooks in the locality have had the privilege of cooking for me. This unpleasant thought was disturbed by a call from a very close friend. He wanted me to donate blood for an uncle of his who was to undergo bypass surgery in a couple of days. I promised I would. I was asked to come to the blood bank, located within the premises of the local government hospital, as soon as possible. I had to cancel my appointment with the bed. Painstakingly I get myself dressed and drag my legs to the bus stand.

Vasant receives me at the blood bank with a smile that is loaded with gratitude. My eyes take time to adjust to the place. There are chairs arranged against two facing walls. Barring three of them, at the far end of the passage, all were occupied. We head towards the vacant seats and settle ourselves on them. Silence shows its unexpected presence in a crowded place. There were some who preferred to stand. I assumed they were next in line to donate blood, for they all grouped together in front of the door that was located midway from the entrance to where we sat. After spending some time with me, Vasant, took my leave, to attend to other volunteers he had managed for his uncle. He didn’t need to be socially right with me. We were friends after all. I had nothing much to do after that except wait for my turn.

The wait was getting unbearable. Just then a man entered the waiting space. Almost instantaneously he attracted the attention of all those present. Here was a man who could best be described as a walking skeleton with a dilapidated skin covering. His age quantified by the number of lines on his face. His eyes, which seemed too big on his face, surveyed the waiting room. When he did that, all who were looking at him, made it sure that their eyes didn’t meet his. Nobody wanted anything to do with him. I was the only one who kept staring at him. I am not sure if I did that out of sympathy or in amazement. His eyes met mine. That made me uneasy but I kept staring at him. He stared at me for a couple of seconds: probably deciding on something. Then he started to move towards me. When I saw him do that I cursed myself for attracting his attention. How I wished I had looked the other way, just like everybody else. I didn’t want anything to do anything with him. When everybody realized that it is not them he was seeking, their curious eyes fell back on him. They all saw how difficult it was for him to walk. He seemed to stagger with every step he took. His pajamas and vest, which must have been white when new, didn’t do much in concealing his poor state. Moreover, pajamas and vest didn’t seem appropriate for the weather. Fortunately or unfortunately he hardly had muscles that would shiver in the cold. By the time he reached me he had given everybody enough time to take a closer look at him by being painstakingly slow. From being embarrassed in his presence they all began to feel sorry for him. Once near me he settled himself on the seat next to me and said something. I was too conscious of those eyes that followed him to me to listen to what he said. I was not prepared to speak to him with so many inquisitive eyes settled on us. I suggested I would speak to him if we moved out of the blood bank. He agreed immediately. As I got up, to go with the man, Vasant gestured if I needed his help. I gestured back letting him know that I would be fine.

Once outside I asked him what his problem was. I was totally taken aback. Here was a man out of his sick bed looking for volunteers to donate blood that would be required during his surgery. Didn’t he have anybody who would do that for him? I am certain that if I were to require blood I would have my parents, my siblings, and my friends who would be all around the town looking for volunteers. They would not let me out of bed. I would be treated like a king. Didn’t he have anybody who would do that for him? When I asked him that, his eyes turned misty and with a choked voice he let me know all that he had. All he had was a dead wife, ungrateful sons, mean daughters-in-law, grandchildren who do not know he exists, meagre savings and stones in his kidney. Sharing his pitiable state took all the energy that he had. He fell unconscious. Almost immediately, people in the corridor of the hospital, helped me settle the unconscious man on the bench nearby.

The sorry state of the man left me completely shattered. I am not sure if I was angry with the man or angry with his sons. I am not sure if I was angry with myself for being there or angry at the place. The place seemed maddening. I knew I needed to leave the place. I was out of the hospital as fast as I could. The cocktail of emotions making me lose my senses. I didn’t know if I should pity the man or salute him for his tenacity. The will of the human spirit to survive, to put it mildly, amazed me. Once outside, everybody on the roads seemed to be blessed. They were blessed because they went about their work oblivious of the existence of the man I had met. They were blessed because they were not leading his life. How I wished I could remove him from my memory. In an attempt to forget him I jumped on to the first bus that would take me as far as possible from the hospital. I tried to think of something more pleasant that would lift my spirits. I failed in all attempts to remove him from my present state of mind. Once on the bus he was the only one on my mind. As I saw the Sunday buzzing market place, with more cheerful looking people pass by me, I began to feel guilty of abandoning the man. At present I assumed I was his only hope. All of a sudden I began to see all my co-passengers as potential blood donors. In a desperate attempt to help the ailing man I narrated the story of the man to all my co passengers. Within minutes, I managed five volunteers. We got off the bus at the next stand and took a taxi back to the hospital.

Here were five people who cancelled all their immediate plans so that they could help save a human life. There were some on the bus who thought that I was some kind of a cheat when I narrated them the story of the man. I am not saying that these five didn’t see that as a possibility. Probably they had the courage to take the risk. After all it was about saving a human life. Pragmatism had not eroded them yet. On reaching the hospital I arranged for the donation. I kept the promise I had made to Vasant. After spending sometime with the man I took his leave with the promise that I would come to see him the next day.

The next day started unlike any other. I was up much before my usual time. Prepared breakfast and relished it. Since the cook never came for breakfast I went without on most days. Today was pleasantly different. Unlike other days, I was completely prepared to face the world, desirous of living the day. I am not sure from where I found the courage and the desire to live. Was it because I realized my life could be of some help to others? Or, was it because I was made to realize, at the expense of the old man’s life, that my life is a life in paradise?