THE SILENT SAVIOUR

In the face of tragedy, a stranger's compassion rekindles humanity.

- By K.V. Sumalatha

Mrs. Manasa, I'm Arun's friend, Mokshini! Arun had met with a gory accident in the factory site. He sustained grave injuries and lost, naturally, a lot of blood. We all took him to the private hospital without further loss of time. As it is a medico-legal case, they directed us to admit him into the government hospital. We could not help ourselves to break the harsh news and shock you. The company is right now sending the car to your house to pick you up. Please hurry up to the hospital.” The phone call stunned me beyond description.

While my in-laws lived in Khammam, my parents stayed in Warangal. Due to Arun's employment, we both are located in Kothagudem. We have a boy who is nine months old, and the unexpected news of the weird accident subjected me to untold cowardice. Weeping aloud, I held the boy in my arms, got into the car meant for me, and reached the hospital.

When I finally reached the portico of the hospital, Arun's friends, who were waiting, walked towards me. Arun by then was in the operation theatre. His friends put courage into me with their kind and assured words and also stayed with me, which boosted my morale though temporarily. I phoned up my parents and in-laws and shared the bad news with them as a first step. Tapping the back of my child with staccato touch, I was weakly seated in the front row of the chairs facing the operation theatre where Arun waited for the impending surgery.

My eyes were badly swollen, as the stream of tears from my eyes scarcely arrested me. The flow of tears on my cheek turned into a pool. I waited anxiously for the arrival of the doctor from the operation theatre. I could hardly guess what he would say about the condition of Arun. However much I tried to control my tears to fall on the face of my tender child, my efforts did not bear fruit. As there was no comfortable bed for the child, he was disturbed in his sleep and wriggling his hands and legs restlessly often.