Three Dinners
When the past is dark,
And the future is bleak,
Redemption, Oh Lord
Is all I seek.
THE MOMENT WAS critical. “Do or die”, an oft repeated cliché, was the way forward for Shyam, arguably one of the best surgeons in the city hospital. But the case demanded the best of him. The shrapnel had penetrated and perforated the stomach and the colon, and could give rise to a massive septicemia any time. Amidst utmost concentration, Shyam carefully extracted the shrapnel. “What a nasty piece!” he commented as he took it out. As he walked out of the OT, the relatives of the patient surrounded him. They soon got the magic words from the doctor, “He is all right.” Nothing could be a greater relief to the patient or his relative than to know that the operation was successful. As Shyam headed all alone towards the hospital cafeteria for an insipid coffee and a stale sandwich, he remembered the dinner he had at Manekchowk with his friends after their 2nd year exams, and the events that followed it, which somehow, culminated into the Shyam that the world knew.
“HEY DUDE! LET'S go to Manekchowk!” Shyam’s friend Mihir called out and asked him to go at a popular place for street food in Ahmedabad. It was a momentous event for them as their exams had ended that day. It was a month long torture-chamber and they were extremely excited to get freedom.
“Sure. Let’s call the rest of group.” Shyam’s group was a motley collection of individuals, ranging from toppers who studied like crazy to Shyam, who was languishing at the bottom of the totem pole. But, nothing came in between their friendship. They called their group ‘Bhai group’, an apt name since they were as close as blood brothers. A group of seven people, they filled two cars later that night. Loud music blared from the stereos, and the pulse of the excited group was palpable. They reached to the designated place within half hour after negotiating narrow by lanes, made narrower courtesy the cattle, and the traffic consisting of all thinkable and unthinkable vehicles ranging from cycles to scooters with a side car, that could seat 4 people at ease.
“Waiter, get the order!” shouted Shyam. It was the only way to get the attention of the pricey waiters who didn’t care to take order unless a group of five or more comes. After ordering seven pau bhajis, six butter pulaos and three ‘special’ pineapple sandwiches, the group of friends sat down to discuss their favorite topic- exams.
“Shit man, this time I am going to be screwed in pharmacology!”
“Don’t think you will be alone friend. Bhai group sticks together! I haven’t written enough to pass!”
“You saw the face of that Prof when she caught Mihir red-handed? It seemed like she had caught Osama bin Laden!”
Their banter had to be brought to an abrupt halt as a loud screeching sound of an ambulance was heard. It was immediately followed by an announcement “A blue WagonR has been parked on the road and is obstructing the traffic. The owner is requested to park it at the correct location.”
Sattu looked doubtfully at Shyam “Is it our car?”
“I don’t know. I parked it somewhere on the road, but I don’t remember where. What the hell man! Enjoy the meal! Who cares about traffic?”
“Hey Shyam, you are a real cool dude man!”
Shyam merely replied with a smile. They didn’t mind the noises for the next hour as they all gorged in their meals with pleasure, topping it with a kulfi, chocolate for Shyam and malai kulfi for the rest. As they leisurely walked out, they were greeted with a sight for which they were totally unprepared, least of all Shyam, who had almost forgotten about his wrongly parked car.
A MAN WALKED up to the car and merely asked “Who is the owner of this car?” Shyam moved forward, hesitatingly. The man deposited a tight slap across his cheeks and went away sobbing. For a moment, everyone, including those caught in the traffic due to the wrongly parked car was shocked. Being late is one thing, but slapping the accused and crying afterwards? It was out of place. Shyam mouthed a few expletives to the person who slapped him, apologized the other people and removed his car. During the return journey, nobody spoke. They were all dazed by the incident. But if that incident was shocking, the one that was to follow would put them out in shock for a long time to come, for they would discover that they have been unwitting accomplices of a murder.
THE HEADLINES OF next day in the morning tabloid would scream:
“How bloody immature I was in those days!” Shyam murmured to himself, as he scrubbed for another operation. It was a busy day, one of ‘those’ days which every surgeon feared- terrorist attacks. A series of blasts had just ripped across the city, and for each treated person, two injured were ready to take the place. Something similar had happened before too. Shyam was the key man in that incident too, albeit, in a different way. As he remembered the incident, a voice blared across the speaker “Dr Shyam is requested to report to OT-4 please.” An hour later, he came out in the same way, with his typical running cum walking style. It was the last operation of the day; at least the last scheduled one. It was the time of medical emergency, and unpredictability was a way of life. But he had to take his dinner, again in the same horrible canteen. The menu for the day included masala dosa, idly and sambhar. So much for the variety! But it was food, laced with its carbohydrates and proteins which would sustain and nourish Shyam. However, food, before becoming nutritious, should be palatable. And the canteen masala dosa was anything but that! It made Shyam remember the best south Indian food he had, at a street ‘dosawalah’. It was better than anything he had eaten at a posh restaurant. But what followed the moment… Damn! Damn the moment and its horrible memories! It made the dosa on his plate worse than it actually was!
“And now, we call upon Dr. Shyam.”, the announcer’s voice was heard. For Shyam, the whole world was watching his graduation ceremony. Today, his dream of 23 years would be fulfilled, and he would be labeled a doctor! An underachiever that he had remained throughout his life, nobody expected him to accomplish what he had done, and that made the moment all the more special. But, with a tinge of sadness, he remembered that it was the last time the great Bhai group would be together.
They filled two cars, and drove to a street ‘dosawalah’ or a lorry serving south Indian food. After ordering seven masala dosas and one filter coffee, they sat down to discuss their lives after college.
“I am taking a drop this year. Didn’t qualify for a PG seat this time.”
“Same here. Tough to get post grad seats in first attempt, especially in clinical field.”
“Well guys, I have a good news.” announced Shyam, “I have got admission in surgery at AIIMS.”
“What the hell! AIIMS! It’s the best in India! Congrats man!!”
“Hey thanks! Party’s on me tonight.” said Shyam modestly.
“I hope it includes ice cream too!”
In their banter, nobody noticed a shadow creeping near them and leaving something there. It was dark anyways, and the seven boys were on top of the world that day. Why the hell would they care for a dropped tiffin box of a stranger? In retrospect, Shyam wished he would have. It would have saved the lives of his friends, the dosawalah and twenty other people in the vicinity from the bomb that exploded in the tiffin. The Bhai group finally broke up, at the pinnacle of their friendship. Shyam, his leg bleeding profusely, could only look as his whole group was wiped off in an instant. There was blood everywhere, and despite spending an year and half in the hospital and seeing so many patients bleed and puke, Shyam felt nauseated at the sight of blood for the first time. Perhaps it was the association he had with the blood. He had once said that friendship ran in the blood of Bhai group. He was seeing his friendship ebb away slowly with the blood of his friends.
“DR. SHYAM@ EMERGENCY in OT-6!” a shrill voice over the loudspeaker announced. “Damn! Another operation! Its my twentieth operation of the day! I need some relief now,” he muttered to himself. His muttering was cut by another announcement by the same shrill voice, “Dr Shyam! You are requested to report to OT-6 as soon as possible!” Shyam hurried to the operation theatre. The patient was in a delirious state, and was shouting violently, “Leave me! Leave me! I do not deserve to live! Leave me!” The nurses had held him tightly while the anesthetist quickly administered a sedative. With the patient finally calmed down, Shyam held his scalpel and began his procedure. The injury was the worst he had seen in the day. Not only that there were multiple puncture wounds on the abdomen, with two of them puncturing the liver, there was also signs of infection in the wounds over the leg, which was totally drenched with blood. Shyam wondered whether the patient would even survive. After an exhaustive operation, which stretched for four hours, Shyam hardly had the energy to walk to his room in the hostel. Once he reached his room, his didn’t even care to shower and went to sleep straight away.
NEXT MORNING PROMISED more of the grisly sights which formed the graffiti of Shyam’s previous day. But there was something else in store for Shyam, as he got an envelope which contained a letter.
“What is it doctor?” the pretty nurse, who just adored Shyam, asked.
“I’ve no idea, Sheena. Its from a person called Shahid, saying that I’ve saved his life.”
“What is new in it doc? You save so many lives daily! And yesterday, you were just awesome, like an operating machine!” Sheena couldn’t stop herself from lavishing praises on Shyam.
“Sheena, that’s a part of our job. Remember, I’ve joined the profession to save lives. And so have you, right?”
“Yes, but you know what, before you came, I thought good doctors have become extinct. At least the good looking ones!”
Shyam smiled slightly and walked away. The contents of the letter were equally strange. An address was written on it, and a simple sentence, inviting him to a dinner was written. Shyam was perplexed. In his three years of surgery in the hospital, he had never been invited to a dinner by a patient. “At least something to look forward to today,” he muttered as he scrubbed for another marathon of operations on blast-afflicted victims. Shyam was assisting Dr Kartik, who was Shyam’s senior in college and his very good friend. “Kartik, why do these people explode bombs? I mean how have we harmed them?” Shyam asked to divert his mind for a while from the blood and gore around them.
“Shyam, it is difficult to give a particular reason. Some of them are religious zealots, asking for revenge against some real, some imagined injustice to their people. There are people who are angry over their rulers and have no faith in democracy, so they take the matter in their own hands. Too much anger is prevalent today, friend. I am afraid that what we are seeing is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I can’t believe it. I mean, how low has mankind fallen to? You know, I had once read somewhere that man is the only species that has the power to wipe out its own existence from the earth. Today, I am forced to agree with the statement.”
“We have nothing in our hands. After all, the perpetrators of this heinous crime must realize that they are only digging a deeper grave for themselves, and they’ll probably pull the entire mankind with them,” Kartik added in a mournful voice.
After the operations for the day ended, Shyam headed quickly to his room, showered and changed his clothes for the dinner. The place was not difficult to locate, and Shyam reached there in twenty minutes. His host lived in a two bedroom flat in one of the most expensive areas of Ahmedabad. It indicated that he must be well off financially. Shyam knocked the door hesitatingly. A man dressed in a blue shirt and khakee pants opened the door. He had full beard, and looked serious.
“Yes?” he inquired.
“Er, I am Shyam. Dr Shyam,” Shyam replied hesitatingly.
“Of course! I am sorry for not having recognized you doctor!” the man’s expressions changed immediately on hearing Shyam’s name and designation.
“So, may I know who invited me today? I had performed so many operations yesterday that I don’t remember anyone.”
“Doc, you surely remember your last patient of yesterday!” a croaking voice came from within one of the rooms.
“Yes, I do,” Shyam replied, and then looking at the man who opened the door, he asked, “Can I meet my patient?”
“Of course you can! Follow me.” Shyam followed the man to the inner room from where the voice had come. Shyam looked at the patient and asked kindly, “How are you feeling now?”
“Better. But worse!” the man on the bed replied.
“What does it mean?” Shyam was confused at the oxymoron.
“It means that my health is better, but inside myself, I feel rotten!”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you later. First, let’s have dinner. You are our honored guest, and it would be improper to keep you waiting for long.”
The two men took Shyam to the dining table. A lavish spread was on display. The dishes included mutton biryani, chicken curry, fresh tandoor breads and kheer. The aroma of the food was alluring to Shyam, who had his last proper dinner a month ago, with Sheena. The meal was consumed without much talking, and Shyam happily tucked into the delicacies on the table.
“SO, SHAHID,” SHYAN called out to his host, the man whom he had operated the pervious day, “why do you feel rotten inside?”
“Brother, I will tell you who I am. I am the most wanted terrorist of the city, who triggered yesterday’s blasts and killed hundreds. Unfortunately, I was not able to run away on time and one of my own bombs exploded near me,” Shahid said in a remorseful voice.
“You bastard! How dare you even invite me here? I feel like taking an emetic and vomiting out your food on your face! You bloody gutless swine!” Shyam exploded in anger.”
“A gutless swine indeed!” Shahid snarled, “Another gutless swine, years ago, is responsible for making me who I am. You want to know what made an innocent ten year old into a dreaded terrorist?” Shahid threw a gauntlet of question.
“Sure! Tell me who made you an animal that you are,” Shyam said.
“My father was a police informant. Years ago, he died while on duty. No, not by a gangster! That would be a far more honorable way to die! Instead he was killed because his ambulance could not reach the hospital on time. And you know why?” Shyam held his hand up to stop Shahid in the middle of his inflamed speech, and closed his eyes. A tear streaked down his cheek. He rubbed the tear and asked Shahid to continue.
“So, as I was saying before your emotional drama interrupted me, my father’s ambulance could not reach the hospital because the road was blocked by a callous driver. We tried to call the owner of the car, but he didn’t show up! And my father, my abbu died without any fault of his! And the government did not even pay us a penny! Disgusted with the people and disgruntled with the government, I turned a terrorist. I wanted to make such a loud noise that would shake the whole country.”
For an instant, Shyam said nothing. His throat went dry, and he it seemed like all the moisture of his throat had permeated into his eyes. He cried incessantly. Like a child who had been told that he was responsible for the murder of his parents.
“Brother, why are you telling me all this? Why am I so special to you?” Shyam managed to ask amidst sobs.
“Because you saved my life yesterday. It brought my belief in humanity back. You have extinguished the fire that had been smoldering inside me for years, consuming my insides in its inferno. You have given me a new birth.”
“What I did was my duty. Now, let me reveal something. I too am a gutless swine! That day it was my car that led to the death of your father. God made me pay for my sins by making me lose my friends, who were like my brothers. I feel your pain, friend, I feel your pain,” Shyam put his hand around Shahid’s shoulder, who in turn, was crying like Shyam was doing a few moments ago.
“Shyam, I have decided to reform myself fully. No more violence for me. Now, I will devote the rest of life towards upliftment of our community,” Shahid vowed.
Shyam gently patted Shahid’s back and walked out of the house slowly. Somehow, his mind felt lighter than ever. The circle was complete. The crime he committed by causing the death of a father was punished by the death of his friends, and now, the redemption was complete as the series of events ultimately led to the reforming of a terrorist. As he was walking towards his hostel, Shyam looked around to see countless men and women milling around, chatting unabashedly, lovers deep into each other’s eyes. Only one thought had occupied his mind- How can the actions of one man change the life of hundreds around him? Maybe, that’s called karma, the endless cycle of sin, punishment and redemption.
Shivam Pandya, aged 20 years, is a final year medical student of Smt. NHL Medical College in Ahmedabad. He writes poetry and short stories as a hobby. Currently, he is working on his first novel, tentatively titled 'Different Shades of Shyam'. He can be contacted through his blog www.differentshadesofshyam.blogspot.com or at shivamda@gmail.com
When the past is dark,
And the future is bleak,
Redemption, Oh Lord
Is all I seek.
THE MOMENT WAS critical. “Do or die”, an oft repeated cliché, was the way forward for Shyam, arguably one of the best surgeons in the city hospital. But the case demanded the best of him. The shrapnel had penetrated and perforated the stomach and the colon, and could give rise to a massive septicemia any time. Amidst utmost concentration, Shyam carefully extracted the shrapnel. “What a nasty piece!” he commented as he took it out. As he walked out of the OT, the relatives of the patient surrounded him. They soon got the magic words from the doctor, “He is all right.” Nothing could be a greater relief to the patient or his relative than to know that the operation was successful. As Shyam headed all alone towards the hospital cafeteria for an insipid coffee and a stale sandwich, he remembered the dinner he had at Manekchowk with his friends after their 2nd year exams, and the events that followed it, which somehow, culminated into the Shyam that the world knew.
“HEY DUDE! LET'S go to Manekchowk!” Shyam’s friend Mihir called out and asked him to go at a popular place for street food in Ahmedabad. It was a momentous event for them as their exams had ended that day. It was a month long torture-chamber and they were extremely excited to get freedom.
“Sure. Let’s call the rest of group.” Shyam’s group was a motley collection of individuals, ranging from toppers who studied like crazy to Shyam, who was languishing at the bottom of the totem pole. But, nothing came in between their friendship. They called their group ‘Bhai group’, an apt name since they were as close as blood brothers. A group of seven people, they filled two cars later that night. Loud music blared from the stereos, and the pulse of the excited group was palpable. They reached to the designated place within half hour after negotiating narrow by lanes, made narrower courtesy the cattle, and the traffic consisting of all thinkable and unthinkable vehicles ranging from cycles to scooters with a side car, that could seat 4 people at ease.
“Waiter, get the order!” shouted Shyam. It was the only way to get the attention of the pricey waiters who didn’t care to take order unless a group of five or more comes. After ordering seven pau bhajis, six butter pulaos and three ‘special’ pineapple sandwiches, the group of friends sat down to discuss their favorite topic- exams.
“Shit man, this time I am going to be screwed in pharmacology!”
“Don’t think you will be alone friend. Bhai group sticks together! I haven’t written enough to pass!”
“You saw the face of that Prof when she caught Mihir red-handed? It seemed like she had caught Osama bin Laden!”
Their banter had to be brought to an abrupt halt as a loud screeching sound of an ambulance was heard. It was immediately followed by an announcement “A blue WagonR has been parked on the road and is obstructing the traffic. The owner is requested to park it at the correct location.”
Sattu looked doubtfully at Shyam “Is it our car?”
“I don’t know. I parked it somewhere on the road, but I don’t remember where. What the hell man! Enjoy the meal! Who cares about traffic?”
“Hey Shyam, you are a real cool dude man!”
Shyam merely replied with a smile. They didn’t mind the noises for the next hour as they all gorged in their meals with pleasure, topping it with a kulfi, chocolate for Shyam and malai kulfi for the rest. As they leisurely walked out, they were greeted with a sight for which they were totally unprepared, least of all Shyam, who had almost forgotten about his wrongly parked car.
A MAN WALKED up to the car and merely asked “Who is the owner of this car?” Shyam moved forward, hesitatingly. The man deposited a tight slap across his cheeks and went away sobbing. For a moment, everyone, including those caught in the traffic due to the wrongly parked car was shocked. Being late is one thing, but slapping the accused and crying afterwards? It was out of place. Shyam mouthed a few expletives to the person who slapped him, apologized the other people and removed his car. During the return journey, nobody spoke. They were all dazed by the incident. But if that incident was shocking, the one that was to follow would put them out in shock for a long time to come, for they would discover that they have been unwitting accomplices of a murder.
THE HEADLINES OF next day in the morning tabloid would scream:
Bad Parking sense leads to death
In what was a shocking incident, a man died in an ambulance because he was not able to reach the hospital timely. While this might not ring a bell of surprise in many of the readers, what is indeed appalling is that it was because of a car parked in a wrong place! It caused such traffic that the ambulance was unable to move. We have printed the photo of the car. If any of the readers catch its owner, make him know that his crime amounts to murder, at least in the moral sense. We condemn such people and hope that the authorities levy stronger parking fines.
“How bloody immature I was in those days!” Shyam murmured to himself, as he scrubbed for another operation. It was a busy day, one of ‘those’ days which every surgeon feared- terrorist attacks. A series of blasts had just ripped across the city, and for each treated person, two injured were ready to take the place. Something similar had happened before too. Shyam was the key man in that incident too, albeit, in a different way. As he remembered the incident, a voice blared across the speaker “Dr Shyam is requested to report to OT-4 please.” An hour later, he came out in the same way, with his typical running cum walking style. It was the last operation of the day; at least the last scheduled one. It was the time of medical emergency, and unpredictability was a way of life. But he had to take his dinner, again in the same horrible canteen. The menu for the day included masala dosa, idly and sambhar. So much for the variety! But it was food, laced with its carbohydrates and proteins which would sustain and nourish Shyam. However, food, before becoming nutritious, should be palatable. And the canteen masala dosa was anything but that! It made Shyam remember the best south Indian food he had, at a street ‘dosawalah’. It was better than anything he had eaten at a posh restaurant. But what followed the moment… Damn! Damn the moment and its horrible memories! It made the dosa on his plate worse than it actually was!
“And now, we call upon Dr. Shyam.”, the announcer’s voice was heard. For Shyam, the whole world was watching his graduation ceremony. Today, his dream of 23 years would be fulfilled, and he would be labeled a doctor! An underachiever that he had remained throughout his life, nobody expected him to accomplish what he had done, and that made the moment all the more special. But, with a tinge of sadness, he remembered that it was the last time the great Bhai group would be together.
They filled two cars, and drove to a street ‘dosawalah’ or a lorry serving south Indian food. After ordering seven masala dosas and one filter coffee, they sat down to discuss their lives after college.
“I am taking a drop this year. Didn’t qualify for a PG seat this time.”
“Same here. Tough to get post grad seats in first attempt, especially in clinical field.”
“Well guys, I have a good news.” announced Shyam, “I have got admission in surgery at AIIMS.”
“What the hell! AIIMS! It’s the best in India! Congrats man!!”
“Hey thanks! Party’s on me tonight.” said Shyam modestly.
“I hope it includes ice cream too!”
In their banter, nobody noticed a shadow creeping near them and leaving something there. It was dark anyways, and the seven boys were on top of the world that day. Why the hell would they care for a dropped tiffin box of a stranger? In retrospect, Shyam wished he would have. It would have saved the lives of his friends, the dosawalah and twenty other people in the vicinity from the bomb that exploded in the tiffin. The Bhai group finally broke up, at the pinnacle of their friendship. Shyam, his leg bleeding profusely, could only look as his whole group was wiped off in an instant. There was blood everywhere, and despite spending an year and half in the hospital and seeing so many patients bleed and puke, Shyam felt nauseated at the sight of blood for the first time. Perhaps it was the association he had with the blood. He had once said that friendship ran in the blood of Bhai group. He was seeing his friendship ebb away slowly with the blood of his friends.
“DR. SHYAM@ EMERGENCY in OT-6!” a shrill voice over the loudspeaker announced. “Damn! Another operation! Its my twentieth operation of the day! I need some relief now,” he muttered to himself. His muttering was cut by another announcement by the same shrill voice, “Dr Shyam! You are requested to report to OT-6 as soon as possible!” Shyam hurried to the operation theatre. The patient was in a delirious state, and was shouting violently, “Leave me! Leave me! I do not deserve to live! Leave me!” The nurses had held him tightly while the anesthetist quickly administered a sedative. With the patient finally calmed down, Shyam held his scalpel and began his procedure. The injury was the worst he had seen in the day. Not only that there were multiple puncture wounds on the abdomen, with two of them puncturing the liver, there was also signs of infection in the wounds over the leg, which was totally drenched with blood. Shyam wondered whether the patient would even survive. After an exhaustive operation, which stretched for four hours, Shyam hardly had the energy to walk to his room in the hostel. Once he reached his room, his didn’t even care to shower and went to sleep straight away.
NEXT MORNING PROMISED more of the grisly sights which formed the graffiti of Shyam’s previous day. But there was something else in store for Shyam, as he got an envelope which contained a letter.
“What is it doctor?” the pretty nurse, who just adored Shyam, asked.
“I’ve no idea, Sheena. Its from a person called Shahid, saying that I’ve saved his life.”
“What is new in it doc? You save so many lives daily! And yesterday, you were just awesome, like an operating machine!” Sheena couldn’t stop herself from lavishing praises on Shyam.
“Sheena, that’s a part of our job. Remember, I’ve joined the profession to save lives. And so have you, right?”
“Yes, but you know what, before you came, I thought good doctors have become extinct. At least the good looking ones!”
Shyam smiled slightly and walked away. The contents of the letter were equally strange. An address was written on it, and a simple sentence, inviting him to a dinner was written. Shyam was perplexed. In his three years of surgery in the hospital, he had never been invited to a dinner by a patient. “At least something to look forward to today,” he muttered as he scrubbed for another marathon of operations on blast-afflicted victims. Shyam was assisting Dr Kartik, who was Shyam’s senior in college and his very good friend. “Kartik, why do these people explode bombs? I mean how have we harmed them?” Shyam asked to divert his mind for a while from the blood and gore around them.
“Shyam, it is difficult to give a particular reason. Some of them are religious zealots, asking for revenge against some real, some imagined injustice to their people. There are people who are angry over their rulers and have no faith in democracy, so they take the matter in their own hands. Too much anger is prevalent today, friend. I am afraid that what we are seeing is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I can’t believe it. I mean, how low has mankind fallen to? You know, I had once read somewhere that man is the only species that has the power to wipe out its own existence from the earth. Today, I am forced to agree with the statement.”
“We have nothing in our hands. After all, the perpetrators of this heinous crime must realize that they are only digging a deeper grave for themselves, and they’ll probably pull the entire mankind with them,” Kartik added in a mournful voice.
After the operations for the day ended, Shyam headed quickly to his room, showered and changed his clothes for the dinner. The place was not difficult to locate, and Shyam reached there in twenty minutes. His host lived in a two bedroom flat in one of the most expensive areas of Ahmedabad. It indicated that he must be well off financially. Shyam knocked the door hesitatingly. A man dressed in a blue shirt and khakee pants opened the door. He had full beard, and looked serious.
“Yes?” he inquired.
“Er, I am Shyam. Dr Shyam,” Shyam replied hesitatingly.
“Of course! I am sorry for not having recognized you doctor!” the man’s expressions changed immediately on hearing Shyam’s name and designation.
“So, may I know who invited me today? I had performed so many operations yesterday that I don’t remember anyone.”
“Doc, you surely remember your last patient of yesterday!” a croaking voice came from within one of the rooms.
“Yes, I do,” Shyam replied, and then looking at the man who opened the door, he asked, “Can I meet my patient?”
“Of course you can! Follow me.” Shyam followed the man to the inner room from where the voice had come. Shyam looked at the patient and asked kindly, “How are you feeling now?”
“Better. But worse!” the man on the bed replied.
“What does it mean?” Shyam was confused at the oxymoron.
“It means that my health is better, but inside myself, I feel rotten!”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you later. First, let’s have dinner. You are our honored guest, and it would be improper to keep you waiting for long.”
The two men took Shyam to the dining table. A lavish spread was on display. The dishes included mutton biryani, chicken curry, fresh tandoor breads and kheer. The aroma of the food was alluring to Shyam, who had his last proper dinner a month ago, with Sheena. The meal was consumed without much talking, and Shyam happily tucked into the delicacies on the table.
“SO, SHAHID,” SHYAN called out to his host, the man whom he had operated the pervious day, “why do you feel rotten inside?”
“Brother, I will tell you who I am. I am the most wanted terrorist of the city, who triggered yesterday’s blasts and killed hundreds. Unfortunately, I was not able to run away on time and one of my own bombs exploded near me,” Shahid said in a remorseful voice.
“You bastard! How dare you even invite me here? I feel like taking an emetic and vomiting out your food on your face! You bloody gutless swine!” Shyam exploded in anger.”
“A gutless swine indeed!” Shahid snarled, “Another gutless swine, years ago, is responsible for making me who I am. You want to know what made an innocent ten year old into a dreaded terrorist?” Shahid threw a gauntlet of question.
“Sure! Tell me who made you an animal that you are,” Shyam said.
“My father was a police informant. Years ago, he died while on duty. No, not by a gangster! That would be a far more honorable way to die! Instead he was killed because his ambulance could not reach the hospital on time. And you know why?” Shyam held his hand up to stop Shahid in the middle of his inflamed speech, and closed his eyes. A tear streaked down his cheek. He rubbed the tear and asked Shahid to continue.
“So, as I was saying before your emotional drama interrupted me, my father’s ambulance could not reach the hospital because the road was blocked by a callous driver. We tried to call the owner of the car, but he didn’t show up! And my father, my abbu died without any fault of his! And the government did not even pay us a penny! Disgusted with the people and disgruntled with the government, I turned a terrorist. I wanted to make such a loud noise that would shake the whole country.”
For an instant, Shyam said nothing. His throat went dry, and he it seemed like all the moisture of his throat had permeated into his eyes. He cried incessantly. Like a child who had been told that he was responsible for the murder of his parents.
“Brother, why are you telling me all this? Why am I so special to you?” Shyam managed to ask amidst sobs.
“Because you saved my life yesterday. It brought my belief in humanity back. You have extinguished the fire that had been smoldering inside me for years, consuming my insides in its inferno. You have given me a new birth.”
“What I did was my duty. Now, let me reveal something. I too am a gutless swine! That day it was my car that led to the death of your father. God made me pay for my sins by making me lose my friends, who were like my brothers. I feel your pain, friend, I feel your pain,” Shyam put his hand around Shahid’s shoulder, who in turn, was crying like Shyam was doing a few moments ago.
“Shyam, I have decided to reform myself fully. No more violence for me. Now, I will devote the rest of life towards upliftment of our community,” Shahid vowed.
Shyam gently patted Shahid’s back and walked out of the house slowly. Somehow, his mind felt lighter than ever. The circle was complete. The crime he committed by causing the death of a father was punished by the death of his friends, and now, the redemption was complete as the series of events ultimately led to the reforming of a terrorist. As he was walking towards his hostel, Shyam looked around to see countless men and women milling around, chatting unabashedly, lovers deep into each other’s eyes. Only one thought had occupied his mind- How can the actions of one man change the life of hundreds around him? Maybe, that’s called karma, the endless cycle of sin, punishment and redemption.
Shivam Pandya, aged 20 years, is a final year medical student of Smt. NHL Medical College in Ahmedabad. He writes poetry and short stories as a hobby. Currently, he is working on his first novel, tentatively titled 'Different Shades of Shyam'. He can be contacted through his blog www.differentshadesofshyam.blogspot.com or at shivamda@gmail.com
