My Happy Ending

I had a dream yesterday. There was this man on a bed. I had never seen him before, nor did I know his name. But, I knew exactly who he was. He was ailing. He wanted something badly. And I had provided him that: blood.

I remember that fateful day 8 months ago. I was at my friend’s place, preparing for the TOEFL that was imminent. We were mocking the American accent when suddenly I got a call. It was a close friend, and he didn’t sound himself. His uncle (I think) was suffering from some rare disorder. He was at the hospital (Lilavati), and in dire need of blood. “Platelets”, I was told, and they were not available in stored blood. The blood had to be fresh, and healthy. I knew precisely where the conversation was heading, but I waited none the less, just to make sure. And then, the expected happened. “Dude, we need blood. Could you..?”. I couldn’t refuse even if I wanted to. I dashed from the house.

I met the distressed friend at the railway station. He directed me to his car, and I got in. “Hi Nikhil”, I heard a voice from the back. I wheeled round, still in a daze, and saw his sister. She looked not all that well, and that’s an understatement. “Hi”, my voice was barely a whisper. The journey to the hospital was spent in total silence. I still wonder what was going through their minds…

We reached the hospital, and wasted no time in getting to the donation centre. I was introduced to the patient’s son, who was pacing up and down the corridor. I could hear the sounds of a woman crying behind a curtain. I had this morbid feeling that she was whisked there when I was seen coming. I gulped. Who was I to interfere in a family’s moment of sadness? I felt like a rank outsider. I wished this would get over soon.

All the preliminary tests began, and I was finally deemed “healthy” to donate blood. As the fluid was siphoned out of me, I wondered if my blood would really save that man. And what if it didn’t, would all this be worth it? I mean, here I was, giving my blood; to a man I didn’t know, let alone having seen. Occasionally I would glance at my friend, his cousin and his sister. “Don’t look there; all you need to do is give the blood and go. It’s none of your business to bother with anything else” I kept telling myself.

Finally it was over. I was free to leave. I could see the plastic vials where my blood had gone, and prayed that it would come in handy. I went out into the corridor, and my friend greeted me again. “Let me introduce you to my aunt”, he said. I was led to a woman who looked as if she had put all her efforts into not crying. She looked at me, and smiled. She almost ran to me and held my hands. I could sense she wanted to say a lot more than just the “thank you” she said. I had to summon all my will to stare at her eyes; I felt they would burst in tears any second. I couldn’t determine whose hands were trembling more: mine or hers. In no time, I was surrounded. My friend, his sister, his cousin and his aunt (still holding my hands), they were treating me like a God! I wanted to run away, but I wasn’t allowed to. The lady said how much the blood meant to her and her family. That was when it hit me like a bolt. The lady’s voice: SHE was the one crying behind the curtains!! I froze; I didn’t know what to do. All I could hear was “thank you”, from everyone. And I knew no one might have ever meant those two words more that they did.

I was dropped back to my TOEFL friend’s place. But I was in no mood for TOEFL. I just took my stuff, and left, in a daze. I wanted to go home and cry. Why, I do not know, but I wanted to. My brain had been warped. I silently prayed that night for the health of the ailing man.

To this day I don’t know what became of that man. Is he dead, is he alive? I decide to ask my friend again and again, but refrain. What if he didn’t make it? That would only make my friend uncomfortable. So, I decide to forget the incident, all in vain. One day, I hope my friend himself introduces me to a man and says, “This is my uncle. Remember? You donated blood to him”.