It was a usual Sunday evening in Delhi. I boarded the train from the Chandni Chowk metro platform. The digital clock hung from the station ceiling displayed 09:30 PM. I made my way to a relatively less crowded place in a coach. A lady stood beside me. She was possibly a little overweight and had a smooth brown skin. She was dressed in a salwar suit of off-white shade. Her wavy black hair was neatly tied with a black hair band. She seemed to be in her forties. With his eyes closed and headphones in his ears, a man was seated on a seat meant for women. I asked the lady, ‘Madam, why do not you take this seat? It belongs to you.” After a brief pause, She said, “We do not always take what belongs to us, do we? Let him enjoy the music and the nap.” and smiled.
It took me some time to realise that the man was pretending not to see the woman. His pervert half-open gaze and casual body language towards the girls standing close annoyed me more than his pretence.After witnessing the nuisance for a few minutes, I uttered with disgust, “You should take what belongs to you as the likes of these ungrateful jerks will never learn manners” without looking at the lady.
“Thanks for your concern.” – smiled the lady again.
The train had passed through three stations by now.
Suddenly, the lady fell and fainted while I was searching for the name of the station across the window. A commotion ensued and passengers gathered around her as the train stopped in the approaching station. Few tried to carry her out of the train. It was little difficult because of her weight.
As I observed the throng, I initially asked myself, “What help can I offer here?” in the manner of a purportedly responsible citizen with compassion.
I answered to myself, “There are so many people to help, and her family members will arrive soon.” The gathering around her was quickly dispersing as I readied myself to board the next train. Only two young men were left, attempting to raise her and get her to regain her consciousness.
“Come on. There will be someone to look after her. Don’t give it so much thought! Proceed. Arrive home on time, Cook yourself a delicious meal and enjoy it with the delicious bottle of red wine that is waiting for you in your closet.” I said to myself.
However the next moment, I decided to drop by after noticing the surprisingly low number of people around the lady in need. A tall slender girl was on her way to board the train. She joined in as well, having noticed what was going on. Her willingness to curb the situation proved to be of great assistance in the next half an hour. The railway employee dressed in a blue uniform arrived with a wheel chair. I did not notice any apparent sense of urgency in him. It was difficult to determine if his languid body language was due to his hesitation or his experience with similar recurrent incidents.. The two guys and the employee lifted the lady on to the wheel chair. In an attempt to initiate a conversation, the girl tried to bring her back to consciousness.
When the woman was being taken upstairs by the two men and the employee, even though I had joined them, I didn’t know what to do. “Have her family members been informed yet?” , Perplexed, I questioned the girl and the men.
“No, I don’t think so” the girl replied. She unchained the lady’s bag, and found a phone. “Perhaps you could try contacting some of her family members,” she said and handed me the phone. There was no lock on the phone. I realised I didn’t know the woman’s name while I was looking through her phone for contacts. “Is there anyone who knows her name by chance?” I enquired.
One of the men, breathing heavily, remarked, “Ajita, Maybe” as his resolute hands pushed the wheelchair into the lift. I gave him a look. He glanced at me quickly and pointed out to me a silver bracelet with the name Ajita engraved on it that was on the woman’s right wrist.
‘Ammi’ from the list was the first suitable contact I could find and assumed that to be the woman’s mother’s number. An aged female voice responded my call.
“What? Ajita pass out in the metro? Why are you calling me, and who are you? Call someone else!” she exclaimed, hanging up. I reasoned with myself, “She must not be a real mother” and looked up another contact.
The next contact I dialled was ‘Didi’. A relatively young female voice responded, “Alright, what became of Ajita? Oh she fainted in the metro? She may come back to her senses. Ummm really, there’s nothing much I can do right now.”
“Wait! Are you her sister?” – I asked but she already had hung up on me. By that time, Ajita had regained her consciousness.
Reviving the lady to consciousness was made possible in large part by the tall slender girl. She was following the instructions while speaking with her mother on the phone. She told us later that her mother was a physician. The girl convinced Ajita to nibble on a chocolate bar by pushing it into her mouth. As I approached Ajita, I enquired, “Can you please suggest any of the contacts you have on your phone whom I can call?”
She looked at me and seemed to recognise me after a few seconds.
“May be Ammi or Didi” – her voice was weak.
I sighed.
“Is there anyone else you know that I should call?”
“Bablu…maybe!”
An ambulance was standing by outside the metro station. Two or three other metro officials were waiting there. Ajita was moved onto a stretcher. They unlocked the ambulance’s door.
I found ‘Bablu’ on the contact list. Even after ringing five times, when I called, he did not answer.
Ajita had already been placed inside the ambulance. Desperately looking for more contacts, I gave ‘House’, a call. Nobody answered the phone.
From my cell, I dialled the same number. A mid aged male voice answered.
“Don’t turn off the phone until I’m done. I’m calling from the Central Secretariat metro station, and this is an urgent matter. Do you know Ajita? She seems to be in critical condition after collapsing in the train. How are you connected to her?”
“Well – I am her Husband,” a disinterested voice on the other end replied.
“So please, please hurry and get to the hospital right now!”
“Do I have to attend? To what extent is she critical? Has she not regained her consciousness?”
“What!? Of course you have to come!! How can you not?! Are you really her husband!?!” – I yelled in anger and dismay!!
“Ok I will come.”
I gave him the name of the hospital where she would be admitted.
The woman was by then inside the ambulance with her eyes closed. I went to her and said, “Madam, I could not reach others, so I called your husband. He’s headed to the hospital right now. Everything is going to be alright. Don’t worry.”
She let out a big sigh, opened her eyes slightly, and glanced at me.
“Will he come?” she uttered in a feeble voice, her eyes filled with hopelessness.
Just before they closed the ambulance door and took her to the closest hospital, the metro officials asked me to move aside.
While the girl and the other two men were praising and thanking each other for aiding Ajita successfully, I went back to the subway! They gave me a bright smile as they waved their hands at me, and I contrived an artificial smile in return.
Baffled and troubled with many questions, I returned home alone!
4 Comments
Omg! It’s so touching..
Thanks, Ramya!
Kamal, the way you interpret things augments the photograph. And the writing is just the icing on the cake.Keep posting your good work !
Thanks Buddy! 🙂