The Hospital - a short story

9:59 AM Life 1 Comments

                  I couldn't hear the ambulance coming. I could only make out its shape through my bloodshot, puffy crying eyes. I was screaming, screaming till I felt my throat would  rip open and my chest explode. I stared as I saw my five year old child's eyes faded out to darkness. It was an accident.

                 I was pulled into the ambulance by two powerful hands as my boy was channelled onto a stretcher. The ambulance was a re-purposed van, covered with green curtains to its sides. It stenched Sulphur and peroxide a bit, but it was clean enough. The ambulance light is blinding, too abrasive for my eyes. Through my teary eyes, I could see his blood soaked innocent face and his little tiny fingers protruding out of the blood stained cloth.

                I wanted to scream, scream too loudly to but I know, it wouldn't help. The ride to the hospital was more terrifying than the accident itself, on every bump my heart beat increased. Seeing him soaked in the blood was very painful; I never dreamed it in my worst nightmares. And it was gut wrenching, that it was the beginning.

               As we reached the hospital, the stretcher was hurried into the hospital and I ran behind it with my soaked eyes. Swiftly, he was carried to the operation theater. It was a medium sized room with a slight hint of peroxide smell. The walls of it began to show cracks, perhaps because those walls witnessed many cracks of hopes and many cracks of laughter. I cried more when the doors were shut.

              After a while, I saw paramedics running from one room to other, talking to other doctors and nurses. I just felt to grab one of them and wanted to ask what the hell was going on. I couldn't see my sweet boy in agony.

              His euphonious words began to reverberate in my ears "Papa, we will play hide n seek. I'll hide and you find me". I never understood why he liked that game so much. Now, he's hiding between life and death. I'll not let you hide, I'll fight for you sweet heart, I promise.

               The sight was so terrible, so terrible that it demands every soul to pray to the Almighty, irrespective of the religion. I never believed in God. I thought He never existed. Perhaps, I was wrong. Perhaps, He exists. I couldn't find Him in the innumerable holy places I visited, I couldn't find Him in the magnificent temples with golden idols, but I see Him in the desperate eyes of the people sitting outside the operation theatres. I see Him in the prayers of those people, whom I never knew.

                My tongue automatically began to chant the holy scriptures I've forgotten ages ago. He is merciful, at least those scriptures say so. Perhaps, He will forgive me for always forgetting Him before and praying to Him only in the time of need. "I will wear my 'Yajnopavita', the sacred thread, I will perform the 'sandhya vandan' every day, I'll help the poor whenever I can. O God, please save my child from this misfortune".

                In the next hours, I spent most of the time praying. It's been five hours since my boy was carried into the operation theater, but it isn't over. My eyes were getting heavy now, I wanted to sleep. Perhaps, everything I see now is a dream, everything will end up soon. Perhaps, the Sun will rise again from this everlasting starless night.

               As my eyes were dried up, the doctor came out of the room. I ran to him in a second. His expressionless face made me more tensed. Please save my child, doctor. Please save him. I cried like a child who came out of the mother's womb.

Mr. Karan, "He's alive. Tough lad, he is".

And my smile lit the hospital.
(Now, on the verge of life and death, I Found Him)