September 17th, 2015
Source : Deepak Chandan's Profile | Image Courtesy : twimg
The on-duty nurse took the anxious young Major to the bedside.
“Your son is here,” she said softly, to the old man lying there.
She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.
Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Major standing outside the oxygen tent.
He reached out his hand.
The Major wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.
The nurse, observing the touching moments, brought a chair so that the Major could sit beside the bed.
“Thank you Ma’am!” a polite acknowledgement followed.
All through the night the young Major sat there in the poorly lit ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the officer move away and rest awhile.
He graciously refused.
Whenever the nurse came into the ward, he was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.
Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.
Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Major released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse.
While she did what she had to do, he waited,
Finally, she returned,- & started to offer words of sympathy, but the Major interrupted her.
“Who was that man?” he asked.
The nurse was startled,
“He was your father,” she answered.
“No, he wasn’t,” the Major replied.
“I never saw him before in my life.”
“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”
“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here!”
The nurse listened on, confused.
“When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.”
“So then what was the purpose of your visit here, at the hospital, good sir?”, the nurse queried of him.
“I came here tonight to find a Mr. Vikram Salaria.
His son was Killed in J&K last night, and I was sent to inform him.”
‘But the man whose hand you kept holding whole night was Mr Vikram Salaria!’
They stood in complete silence. There couldn’t be anything more assuring for a dying man than his son’s hand!
The next time someone needs you, just be there!
We Are Not Human Beings Going Through A Temporary Spiritual Experience; We Are Spiritual Beings Going Through A Temporary Human Experience!