Every drop makes an ocean

It takes many drops to make an ocean. The very vivid recall of an incident that occurred many decades ago, only speaks of its lasting impact. During my childhood my parents never permitted me to visit any ailing person at the hospital. Their message was very loud and clear  ’Visiting hours should be respected’. The reasons were explained and so it was only when in high school, I visited the hospital for the first time.

It was my friend’s mother who had undergone a surgery .Hence a daily visit. The visiting hours would be flooded with visitors. Every bed would be surrounded by near and dear ones of the patients. Some patients had smiles with the gradual recovery, others had anxiety writ large on the face and yet for some, the expression was blank; without the knowledge of what the next hour held. As most of the visitors clung to their patients, I witnessed a tall gentleman going from one bed to another. How can he have so many dear ones admitted at the same time? The next day I was told that this gentleman would visit only those patients who were either abandoned or had no visitors due to some cause. Knowing the fact, my amazed eyes started observing the man every day. He was middle-aged, wore dresses that spoke of his simplicity and always carried a bag along with him. He slowly walked closer to the patients and gave a patient ear to their woes and sufferings. Soon it would be time for him to attend the next bed. Before leaving he would caress the hair of the ailing and leave a packet of biscuits and a fruit on the bedside table. The modesty in his words and the warmth in his smile left a ray of hope among those who otherwise would be in a sea of depression. That was an era devoid of the present technological advancement and NGOs too were rare; thus a man with such humane traits left his mark on my mind. 

Almost 20 years later, in an unfortunate phase of life, I happened to visit a friend every weekend at the hospital maintained by the Tatas in Mumbai. Had I not visited the place I couldn’t have realised what human suffering is all about. The grim circumstances and the harsh reality stood in front of my eyes. Monsoon is a terrible time in this metro. The incessant rain multiplies human sufferings .As we parked the car near the hospital, I noticed small tents with broken ropes trying to survive the storm and the rain .Most of them had water accumulated and seeping through the tattered plastic sheets, making their meagre belongings all wet .My eyes turned moist the moment I realised that these were the cancer stricken patients and their relatives who couldn’t afford a bed along with the treatment, and therefore had no place to go, but fight it out from the near-by pavements of the hospital.

It was during such trying times once again I witnessed humanity at its best. Groups of women and men, families and even individuals were going from one tent to another distributing hygienically packed food, blankets, clothes and plastic sheets to see them through life’s challenges. The only thought that brought a little cheer to my otherwise disturbed mind was that the little amount that we contribute to many such NGOs, matures into such acts of nobility.