I always wished that my stories started like those
textbook style “once upon a time there was a……” so on and so forth, but by the
time I realized it, that moment came and gone quite unknowingly. However, just by being a listener to many I
always get a ring-side view of the latters’ stories which started in that same
fabled manner! Lucky folks!
I always invited some kind of traction where
someone, be it a known person or a stranger, comes and talks to me about many a
things. As a dear friend pointed out as (or
maybe she was wrong), “my personal psychologist”…..Hell! that’s one
nightmarishly dangerous involvement because even though the latter dumps all
their vagaries and pain, it is for me to process it and walk through that path and
bruise myself as the story moves. Honestly,
I ain’t a psychology expert nor a trained advisor in any which ways and the
best I could do always were to lend an ear.
That’s all I could do….just to listen to them.
A month back a very sad event took place within my
circle where one of my staff lost her son.
A handsome little boy of eight, hale n hearty like any other child but
had to undergo a minor surgery deep in his neck. The surgery was completed and the kid was
under observation however within two hours he developed an unknown complication
where he was observed to be gasping for air and eventually passed away, right
in front of her.
It happened somewhere around 1830 hrs and none among
my office staff came to know about it till around 2200 hrs. The people who came to know rushed to her
home reaching there by midnight. Early
morning the body was taken for autopsy since some questions went
unanswered. The procedures were carried
out and the body was handed over to the kith n kin and was subsequently taken
to their village, around 100 kms from my location. I came to know about it the next day only but
by the time I was informed the cortege was already being moved towards the
crematorium in that village.
Prior to this incident the lady had informed me
about the upcoming surgery of her son and that he was slightly worried about
the same. In fact the kid was so worried
that he denied undergoing the surgery. A
certain growth which was obstructing his windpipe rendered him in a painful
situation where he was unable to lie down and sleep. The little kid had to sit and sleep,
throughout the night for over six months.
While the situation being narrated I casually told her that if that is
the case then I shall visit him and talk to him so that to make him comfortable
about the surgery. As usual, I defaulted
in my promise, and couldn’t make it and before anything could have been done, that
poor kid is gone.
The guilt started to cut me, like razor which
swished through subtly and make realize the pain afterwards. Wondered how cruel time has been leaving me
in a labyrinth of thoughts. The come
weekend I decided to pay a visit, a solo trip.
My colleagues who visited her home had forwarded me the location. And I set off for their village. The hussle-bustle of this big city slowly
dissipated as and when the roads lead me to the outskirts. Yes, Sundays have a separate warmth and
vacant feeling which no other day can provide.
I reached the village, paid my obeisance. He looked so vibrant. Such a sweet little boy, calm and composed he
appeared. He dreamt to become an Officer
in the Navy, he was the life of the kids’ gang in that village, he was their whole
n soul of that village. Gone too soon! I felt the pain, as a father, as a brother
and moreover as an idiot who broke his promise.
Well, men don’t cry, but in some unseen corners
within the mind we all cry….I did too. I
drove back home. Two weeks later the
lady joined back the office. We all did
comfort her but no words can settle a mother’s loss. As days passed by she went more secluded in
her thoughts even though I instructed her immediate chief to keep her engaged
in the work as leaving her freely would render her wander in her painful
thoughts, or so I thought.
Yesterday, as I was in my cubicle and she came to
meet me. I offered her a chair and a
glass of water, which she drank hesitantly and started to speak in a very
feeble voice. She was struggling to
speak as there’s physical weakness and a fog of confusion whether to speak to
me or not. Nevertheless, she started to
say…..
Post surgery, the boy was brought back to the ward
and was under sedation. Since only one
by-stander was allowed she was alongside him.
She remembers clearly that the kid was fast asleep. In between the hospital staff had asked for
fetching a certain medicine from the dispensary in ground floor. She heeded and fetched the medicine quickly
and returned to the room within 4 to 5 minutes only. On return what she saw was the kid was
struggling to breath with vomit and sputum coming out through his mouth and
nose. She raised alarm and the attending
nurses and a doctor came running to the scene.
CPR was administered but failed to revive the pulse. I know I am rushing here but let the exact
word-to-word version be within me as it could be disturbing for many to comprehend.
It was a terrible loss and above all being a
helpless witness to it added an unprecedented agony to her. Now she thinks that she shouldn’t have
allowed for the surgery and moreover shouldn’t have left him even for a minute,
the God of death was waiting to snatch him and her absence allowed him to get the
boy – and in the end she has taken the entire burden upon her.
Apparently, she has a sibling who is mentally
retarded and solely is depended on her.
The lady didn’t want to marry as her sister was in such a state but
somehow things passed by and now her own family and in-laws started to nag
quoting “instead of that little boy, it was that mentally retarded sister of
her’- kinda narratives. Imagine, what
this all boiled up into!
Why she wanted to speak to me is that she hasn’t told
this fetching medicine event to anyone else as she cannot afford another round
of accusation from the relatives side especially her in-laws’. Also, how her faith in supporting her
mentally retarded sister has been brought closer to jeopardize. The lady cried a lot, perhaps watching this
incident through CCTV my boss also came up to my cubicle. We both let her cry…the immeasurable agony
being ring-side viewers. My boss assuming
that she is still mourning, but unaware of what she told me only, allowed her
to take a break for a few days. But
knowing her I am sure she would come back to office as there’s no other place
which can grant her a little solace.
The autopsy report is still awaited as a brief
analysis of the internal organs is yet to be collated. They shall take up the case according to the
autopsy report, as of now, me and my colleagues are giving her all
support. But then again, the strange
manner people open up to me once again amuses me…..why me? Why ??
Maybe my waiting for a
story to start with "once upon a time.." is not yet come or maybe
there aint any standard setting for starting a story and that I should thank
that unknown spirit who chose me to be a listener…..nothing much to say!
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