GOD’S GIFT
The pale white half moon, almost inconspicuous in the vast pitch black sky, cast its feeble rays into the omnipresent darkness in a helpless attempt to overcome the gloom. Sitting silently on one of the numerous benches scattered all around the Central Park, I felt a soft wind blowing past me, rustling the bushes and small trees in a light, caressing manner. The place was deserted, which was quite predictable as not many people found the idea of sitting all by themselves in a park at this hour of the night entertaining. For me, however, it was just another one of those long, endless nights that seemed to drag on and on forever. I loved it this way, though – sitting all alone in a corner of the huge park, with the darkness concealing me form any and every living soul. Slowly I took out a photo from my wallet, and started gazing at the blurry outline of a girl in the weak moonlight. She was beautiful – the most beautiful person I have ever known, and it was a pity that her sweet face and lovely smile were hidden in the predominant darkness. Honestly I did not need a photo to remind me of her, for she was engraved, seared so deeply into my memories that at times she seemed too vivid to be merely a projection of my mind. The photograph, however, was symbolic of her importance in my life – that though we had parted a long time ago, it was only she who was able to pick herself up and move forward, leaving me devastated.
I let out a painful sigh in order to clear my choked throat, and my eyes shone with fresh tears originating as a consequence of the unendurable pain welling inside my chest. I wondered how my heart was able to bear so much and still be able to pump blood. For the hundredth time tonight my thoughts wandered to that fateful day when my life was destroyed and before I knew it, I was playing every single event that occurred on that day, sinking deeper and deeper into a whirlwind of anger, frustration, sadness, regretfulness, longing and finally…despair. I knew there was no way in which I could get her back, for I had tried everything, even destroying my self respect in the process, but all my efforts could yield were the scathing pain of incessant rejection and an even deeper sense of despair. I didn’t know why I time and again put myself through this agony for a person who did not even care if I existed, but I guess that’s the way it is. I usually keep these feelings bottled up inside me, masking it with a jovial personality, but every once in a while I need to vent them out, to rediscover the real me, and the Central Park at this time of the night provides the perfect location.
The soft beep of my wrist watch startled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced at it stupidly as I got up slowly. It’s getting late, I better hurry home, I thought to myself as I started walking hastily in the ever increasing darkness. On my way back I noticed a few posters which had been pasted on the walls of commercial buildings as an effort to raise awareness on world AIDS day. Each of them had relevant information written all around a huge central sketch of a number of forlorn looking people.
“I wish I was one of them”, I declared with a small sigh.
“Really?” said a voice from behind. Startled, I turned around swiftly to face an attractive young girl.
“You-you scared the hell out of me!” I stammered, wondering what in the world she was doing here at such a late hour.
“I’m sorry”, she said sheepishly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, “But I guess I just heard you say – “
“I was just mumbling to myself, no big deal”, I said quickly. She saw the pain in my eyes and came a step closer.
“You must be going through a terrible time to say such a thing”, she said with a smile.
“I’m sorry but that’s none of your business.”
“I see”, she said in the most casual way, the broad smile still on her face. Her tone showed indifference and her wretched, teasing smile frustrated me. She had no idea what I was going through, and she had no right to mock a person’s feelings in such a way.
“Well let me tell you what it is actually like to be one of them”, she continued in a soft, mocking voice, “What if you knew precisely the time after which you will die. Imagine looking at a clock in such a situation, the minutes and hours slowly ticking by like the timer of a bomb, and all you can do is wait helplessly for the inevitable to happen. All your desire to live will be quenched by this single overwhelming fear-“
“What if you don’t have a desire to live?” I asked before I could stop myself. I had no idea why on earth I was getting into a discussion with this eccentric lady.
She smiled again, and said, “You will not always feel like this. Since you don’t know exactly when the curtains of your life will close, you assume that you are going to live to see the next day. This is a blind faith instilled in all humans, and this is what gives us the luxury to HOPE, to think that one day everything will be alright, to overcome our troubles, no matter how impossible it may seem at certain times, in order to have a better future. However much you may be hurt, there is always a tiny thread of hope that the future will be kinder. It’s not the case with these people.”
I stood there silently, trying to comprehend the gravity of what she had just said.
“However”, she continued, “Most of them show tremendous courage by trying not to think about their condition, and making an effort to enjoy to the fullest whatever little time they have left in this world.”
She stopped for a moment to see whether I was interested in her ramblings, and found me gazing at her, rapt.
“Unfortunately”, she went on somewhat amused, “Our society ensures that these people die well before their time. You see when you are an HIV positive, everyone runs away from you; even those whom you thought would be there with you through thick and thin. Colleagues, relatives, best friends, you name it – they all start maintaining distance. And this is the situation years after medical science successfully proved that AIDS does not spread through touch or sharing. People hesitate in drinking water from the same tap that you used, they think twice before even shaking hands, and stand as far away from you as possible while having face to face conversations. Alas, some people try their best to avoid even that. In short, the kind of life you are wishing for is several months of complete isolation as you are slowly taken to your deathbed, and there is absolutely no one beside you to make your final journey less agonising.”
I don’t know whether it was the extreme plight of these unfortunate people or the calm yet firm voice in which she described it, I suddenly realised how small and insignificant my problems were. I always had my loved ones near me, consoling me, cajoling me, doing everything they can to bring me out of my so called ordeal. I had been indifferent, selfish, taking out my frustration on almost every person who was close to me. At least I had the luxury to do so, at least I was not alone in my tough times…at least I have hope. But these people, they don’t have anything. No hope, no life, no one who loves them.
“So you still want to be one of them?” she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked at her for sometime, gratitude reflecting in my eyes, and replied rather sheepishly, “No, but I can’t thank you enough. You just showed me how tiny my sufferings are in front of these people. I – I think I have been rather stupid to think my life could not go on without her.”
She smiled menacingly, and said, “Ok so you had a break up. Poor you!!”
Her mocking tone was easily decipherable, but I was not angry or irritated. On the contrary, I felt contented, almost grateful for this wonderful life that had been bestowed upon me. It was as if someone had pricked that huge balloon of agony in my chest and replaced the void with positive thoughts and optimism. Amazingly, I started laughing.
“Thank you so much – err -”
“Diksha”, she replied, extending her hand.
“I’m Rohit”, I said shaking it warmly.
“Well, Rohit, I’m glad I could help. Anyway it’s quite late so I better get going.”
“See you around”, I said nodding as she left, “And thanks again.”
Before leaving, I took out that photo and gave one long, final look at it. Taking a deep breath, I tore it into pieces and started a slow walk back home, smiling to myself all the way…
I was watching the man walk away from a dark corner of the street when I sneezed again. This cold was getting worse, and soon it would take the shape of a deadly pneumonia, closing my eyes forever. A silent tear trickled down my cheek and I shuddered lightly at the prospect of enduring the endless agonies before I reached my penultimate destination. The only respite was the broad smile on the man’s solemn face and the glimmer of hope in his eyes which I knew I had given to him……
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