"Hai Na" at the hospital...

This relates to my visit to a prominent Gurgaon hospital, a little over a week back.
Inspired Fiction -- Attempt 2.0.

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I'm Palan.
Born a Tam, to parents settling in Delhi, in a clinic run by a doctor from modern day Pakistan, under a Sun that knows no difference between any of the above, I am all of 57 today. Working with a laid back MNC (yes, such hybrids do exist!), I'm generally chilling (if thats still the 'in' word today!)

But today's day is just a wee bit different.
I feel a strange way today, as if the roof has been torn from over my head today. It feels as if a wind that had been blowing for some time, till now invisible and very benign, had suddenly gained in strength, and managed to blow away the little polka dotted umbrella from my hand; as if my favourite TV show from Sunday mornings had just been pulled off air, and been replaced by a 'J'-serial; as if, the hand that had been holding my bicycle behind me just let go, and I, who had been floating on for the last countless years, just came crashing down, on an ever narrowing grey road that led to a dark void.
Today, my father died.

While I realize such an event should bring back memories from all the days past, from nappy changes, to first step videos, to "first day at school" blues, to "my daddy strongest" days, to "angry-young-man" days and related rebellions, to leaving home for college, to returning and still taking everyone for granted, to going off to work, and then never looking back, unless forced to by circumstance.

Yes, I see that wily old friend 'Circumstance' smile at me from the distance, just getting out of the Reaper's bed. Guess they were all in it from the beginning. And perhaps I was there in it with them, all along.

Anyhow...
As I had said, all of the above should have been brought flooding back to my consciousness, at this dark hour. However, overriding all of this, is the following, surprisingly clear memory...

It must've been some 35 years back, with my first ever internship just about to begin.
While I sat there, waiting for my turn with the eye specialist, I looked around the waiting room. Nicely done up it was, with seating space for 10 odd people, and nice arty stuff on the walls, to soothen one's senses, or to add more pseude value to the establishment, or both... one will never know.
Anyways, as I sat there, suddenly there came in a man some 5 years senior to me, wearing highly soled sneakers, and a casual tee and jeans. He rushed and sat next to a lady, probably in her late 50's, sitting in the row opposite mine. He grasped her hand, and slowly started to speak.

[Guy: G, Lady: L]

G: Ma.. They're done with the tests on Papa..
L: Haan...?
G: The doctor says that the signs are fine, just that..
L: Just that?
G: One more test result remains. If that is negative, then Papa should be safe...
L: Ohhh.. But Papa doesnt't even have sugar.. He should be fine.. Hai na..?
G: Hmmm.. Wahi.. Now lets see.. Hopefully there won't be a problem..
L: But you see na.. He doesn't even have BP.. Then how can anything be wrong? Hai na??
G: Hmmm..
L: Ab we'll jst wait for that one result.. And then Papa should be fine.. Hai na..
G: Hmm..
L: Hmm.. The test has to be negative. He just cannot be that sick..

The lady then went on to have similar conversations with 2 more people who came in then.. They seemed to be her daughter and son-in-law.

Now even though I only observed her for 8 minutes, her controlled words, fidgeting hands, and nervous glances everywhere were screaming out at all who cared to listen.

Never before had I witnessed this scene; one of potentially impending departure. There is one grief at having lost someone, but the sentiment is hugely different in colour, when you don't know what is to follow; when you don't know whether tomorrow you'll still have someone to fall back on; indeed, whether or not the dilapidated roof on your head will survive the stormy night.

For in her eyes, one could see that plainting longing for any word of reassurance; that look of despair that finds its way out in spite of one's best efforts to suppress it.
In her son I could see that growing helplessness, clasping the hand of his mother slowly nearing breakdown; that mind tearing dissonance, of having to deal with the cold news from the doctor, and also interface with his direly desperate mother.

That entire universe, in which there existed little more than those people at that moment, seemed climactically pregnant, with an imminent sense of dark, potent despair; the variant that can plunge a waning soul into the depths of blinding melancholia.

However, just as my mind was starting to look at the obituaries, there arose one, faint ray of light. And it wasn't from any burning embers.
It was indeed from that simple, unassuming, unrelenting, and eternally unyielding "Hai Na"; it was the sole anchor that could keep one from drifting away, while in this bottomless ocean of maya and the likes; it was that ethereal, untouchable, and pristine muse, called 'Hope'.

For without hope, one is already dead to all that lies, and more importantly, could lie in the future.

And thus, their universe, and all its darkness, seemed to me to open its eyes, slowly, to a gentle, caressing light. At least it seemed to be where they were headed, or perhaps where I wished for them to be.

While I don't know how things turned out for them, I know in my universe was born a tiny star.

Yesterday, that same star had helped me look at myself in the mirror, after all the dirt I had picked up over the years; after all the calls I hadn't answered back, and all the home visits I had postponed.

And today, in spite of all the wretchedness circling me like a colony of vultures, I know there is still some way left, by which I may atone myself. And while all may be dark right now, a path will come about, if not today, then tomorrow, else in another life.
That is what the star whispered in my ear, as I kept the receiver down, from that fateful call all of 34 minutes back.

Hope.
Believe in it I must, or perish a million times,
For the path is long and winding,
And above me hang a thousand deathly chimes,
But there is out there somewhere, a path, awaiting its finding.

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