Once upon a time he must have been a handsome man. Fair, tall, balding now, with a face which when animated, must have caused many a female heart to flutter.
My hospital stay was almost over. The bored sister attending to me, would often disappear, coming back apologetically every now and then. Curious, I asked her where she was going. "Just down the corridor , ma'am. Please dont tell matron, " she pleaded. "Only if you tell me why," was my retort. She told me then about Mr. Roy.
An Indian living in Britain, his family consisted of his wife, and daughter. That fateful day the family decided to visit the famed Lotus Temple, on the outskirts of London. Behind the wheel, he hummed to himself, listening half heartedly to his wife, sitting on the back seat, bickering with his teenage daughter over her choice of attire.
Afterwards, he had no idea what happened. All he remembered, was his wifes' scream, as the car ahead of them skidded, did a 360 degree swivel and smashed into his windscreen. The last thing he remembered was his daughter, bent over him, her mouth open in a soundless scream, her tears falling over his face.
He was the only casuality. God knows for what reason, he didn't die. But he was left in a coma, a vegetable state, where he could niether speak nor move. But hear he did, and feel he did, as his life underwent a drastic change. Incarcerated, in a hospital bed, he slowly resigned himself to life. The visitors started dwindling, his wife and child among them, as they picked up the threads of their life and moved on. Gradually as the expenses piled up, he was flown to Mumbai, India, where his parents resided. This was the hospital where he had been admitted a year ago, by parents who, unable to do much else, prayed that one day he would respond, and get up.
But God looks after his own, it is said. The sister assigned to look after him, was a woman in her thirties. Tall, statusque, she could have had her pick of men. She chose this ailing, abandoned man, who could never respond to her. Her devotion to him was so intense however, that his eyes would light up, whenever she came into his room. He would eat only if she fed him, and sleep only after she sat beside him, soothing him with her gentle touch.
For nurses it is considered a hazard to fall in love with their patients. But even the stern matron understood and gave in to her wishes to always serve only him.
A few days ago, however she had contracted malaria, and had been forced by her colleagues to take leave. When she saw how agitated he became to see her ill, she agreed. In her absence all the sisters had taken it upon themselves, to look to his needs, reading to him, feeding him, all the time, assuring him that she would be back.
"Ma'am," said my nurse. "Why dont you come see him too ? He loves to have visitors."
So, it was that, holding onto my nurse, I went to his room.
On a pale, pallorless face shown the most compelling eyes I have ever seen. Light blue, with eyelashes a girl would kill for, they seemed to look thru your soul. The tears sprang to my own, so overcome was I. Reaching out a hand, I put it upon his lifeless one on the sheet, trying to convey my empathy. When I regained my composure, I saw that he was smiling. His glowing face, stayed on in my memory, long after I had left the room.
Many a time, my thoughts went back to him, I never knew what happened to him after I left the hospital. But this much I knew. Alone he was. But never abandoned. Not by humans nor by God.
My hospital stay was almost over. The bored sister attending to me, would often disappear, coming back apologetically every now and then. Curious, I asked her where she was going. "Just down the corridor , ma'am. Please dont tell matron, " she pleaded. "Only if you tell me why," was my retort. She told me then about Mr. Roy.
An Indian living in Britain, his family consisted of his wife, and daughter. That fateful day the family decided to visit the famed Lotus Temple, on the outskirts of London. Behind the wheel, he hummed to himself, listening half heartedly to his wife, sitting on the back seat, bickering with his teenage daughter over her choice of attire.
Afterwards, he had no idea what happened. All he remembered, was his wifes' scream, as the car ahead of them skidded, did a 360 degree swivel and smashed into his windscreen. The last thing he remembered was his daughter, bent over him, her mouth open in a soundless scream, her tears falling over his face.
He was the only casuality. God knows for what reason, he didn't die. But he was left in a coma, a vegetable state, where he could niether speak nor move. But hear he did, and feel he did, as his life underwent a drastic change. Incarcerated, in a hospital bed, he slowly resigned himself to life. The visitors started dwindling, his wife and child among them, as they picked up the threads of their life and moved on. Gradually as the expenses piled up, he was flown to Mumbai, India, where his parents resided. This was the hospital where he had been admitted a year ago, by parents who, unable to do much else, prayed that one day he would respond, and get up.
But God looks after his own, it is said. The sister assigned to look after him, was a woman in her thirties. Tall, statusque, she could have had her pick of men. She chose this ailing, abandoned man, who could never respond to her. Her devotion to him was so intense however, that his eyes would light up, whenever she came into his room. He would eat only if she fed him, and sleep only after she sat beside him, soothing him with her gentle touch.
For nurses it is considered a hazard to fall in love with their patients. But even the stern matron understood and gave in to her wishes to always serve only him.
A few days ago, however she had contracted malaria, and had been forced by her colleagues to take leave. When she saw how agitated he became to see her ill, she agreed. In her absence all the sisters had taken it upon themselves, to look to his needs, reading to him, feeding him, all the time, assuring him that she would be back.
"Ma'am," said my nurse. "Why dont you come see him too ? He loves to have visitors."
So, it was that, holding onto my nurse, I went to his room.
On a pale, pallorless face shown the most compelling eyes I have ever seen. Light blue, with eyelashes a girl would kill for, they seemed to look thru your soul. The tears sprang to my own, so overcome was I. Reaching out a hand, I put it upon his lifeless one on the sheet, trying to convey my empathy. When I regained my composure, I saw that he was smiling. His glowing face, stayed on in my memory, long after I had left the room.
Many a time, my thoughts went back to him, I never knew what happened to him after I left the hospital. But this much I knew. Alone he was. But never abandoned. Not by humans nor by God.
powerful emotions..stares you at the face!
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