I am a proud soldier, an Indian by blood and birth. I am proud of my ancestors, my history, the sacrifices to recreate India. Proud to serve the Indian army.
I swore to serve the motherland, to die to save, to live to defend all to my best and till my last breath.
To donate blood for a family, while filling up the form and through the whispers, I was asked if I was ready to donate my platelets for a liver transplant. True to my training I nodded as they shared that only my blood group had matched, which I must add is the ‘rare’ one.
So, I am on the bed with one hand tied up and a smiley ball in another, trying to watch TV and mobile in a chorus. The door is opened by a couple. A young woman in burqa with a man in salwar kameez. She thanks me for the donation and reveals she is here for her husband’s liver transplant and has come all the way from Pakistan. With tears rolling down, mother of six daughters had almost lost hope and could not thank Allah enough to send a farishta to save her suhaag. I am surprised, shocked, felt betrayed all at one go. Being an ex- army officer, I am engineered to kill the offenders. My uncle was butchered and found in a gunny bag in 1947. I have killed terrorists years back, and here, today, this woman is showering me with duae (for a long and healthy life) to save her husband’s life. Really?!!
What do I do, now? Refuse the donation, burst her with my anger, abuse the staff, or, while I am still stuck to my thoughts, a small girl pushes the door, enters and grabs her mother, asking… Ammi, Abbu theek ho jayenge na?
The mother points at me and the little girl, not more than 3, hugs me tightly.
Oh my god! Yes, I am the blessed one, yes, I see the grandeur of HIM in everyone. we are too small to see the beyond. I bow down to his command of love and forgiveness. I hold the angel’s hand and assure her “Haan beti, tumhare abbu theek ho jayege”……
