Hope

I was sitting on the hard wooden bench at the back of the hall. It creaked whenever some people sat on it or got up. The hall had glass windows which were mostly cracked, the black iron grills outside rusted to dull red. The walls have not witnessed any patch-up or whitewashing since they were built ages ago. There were almost a hundred people sitting in the hall. Some had the wiry beaten countenance of the men who had to fight for every inch of space in life. Others were dressed like crème-a-crème of society, but their unshaven faces and sunken eyes had some other stories to tell. The hallway had a series of counters towards one side from where some names and numbers where announced from time to time. After each announcement, a flurry of activities would start. Some people joined a spiraling queue, others dejectedly returned back to their seats after a muted show of exasperation. The only symbol of modernity seemed to be the huge LCD screen hung on one of the pillars. People sitting in the benches looked in morbid fascination as the screen relentlessly showed the stock position of the thing that all of them were waiting for – sachets of human blood available. This was not the set of any horror movie, this was a government run blood bank. A young girl sitting just in front of me was uncontrollably breaking down in sobs. Her companion, a grim faced middle-aged woman would try to comfort her and after some futile attempts would agitatedly go to talk to people sitting behind the counters. Between her sobs, I could gather that her father is in dire need of a blood transfusion – delay of a few minutes can make all the difference in her world. Her elderly companion came back fuming after a brief argument with blood bank employee at the counter “These people! They don’t understand. They have only the rules – life of people has no meaning to them”. Somebody at the corner of the room tried to explain that each blood sample requires at least three hours to do the exact scientific matching, after which they can be given to the recipient. “Can a dead man take blood? I would rather take a chance with untested blood” – She shot back. I thought that a little personal interaction with the blood bank employees at the counter may improve the situation in hand. After all, a little personal contact always helps. There was one matronly lady behind one of the counters with boredom written on every square millimeter on her face. After a polite acquaintance, I got into a discussion of how the traffic jam has affected life rather than the job in hand – getting a sachet of blood for my ailing father. The lady behind the counter warmed up to the subject and seemed quite relieved to get a chance to talk of something different. “I guess, I am making some headway“ – I congratulated myself silently – “Maybe I should request her to consider the case of the girl who had been sitting beside me”. But then she blurted “Wish I could walk out of these stuffy cubicles – there is this cricket match going on but all I have to do is shout at people so that they don’t jump the queue. God has given a life span for every body – blood or no blood – it will remain same. Why do these people think that they can do anything better and jump the queue and make my life miserable.” My hopes evaporated. Not a faint chance of evoking a humane response from a soul turned to stone. In all likelihood, she has been working behind the counter for so many years that the soul rendering drama that unfolds in the hall every moment means nothing to her. Dejectedly I came back to my seat on the rickety bench. Time seemed to move on in a dull motion around me, as I waited for my turn. The girl in front of me had stopped sobbing, some people had left and new people with same morose expression had taken up their places. Some were devoid of expressions after endless hours of anxiety for their loved ones, some too tired to keep their eyes wide open after sleepless nights at hospital waiting rooms. Few people had alert and shifting eyes – they were the actually professional blood donors or agents posing as “friends” of the ailing patients. “Donor of blood or waiting to get a packet of blood?” the person sitting at the extreme end of the bench asked timidly. “Waiting for blood for the last three hours” I said glumly. “Kidney patient or injury patient?” “Kidney patient” “Oh then this is normal to wait for three hours. It may take some more time” “You seem to have a good idea of the proceedings here. Do you come here often?” “Not that often. But I have come here a number of times earlier” “To get blood?” “No! To donate blood”. Somebody called my latest acquaintance and he excused himself saying “Now is my turn.” I watched the man a bit more carefully as he walked by. He sported an unusually colorful tee-shirt in that grim environment. And his movements were electric, totally devoid of drudgery. Then my name was announced at the counter, and after a long wait, I really got the sachet of blood. I met the blood donor on my way back. “Got the blood?” He asked. “Yes, greatly relieved. And what about you?” I asked him politely. “Yes I have donated blood and I feel greatly relieved too.” “Relieved after giving blood?” Feeling a bit curious. “Yes. You know, I have a rare blood group. Normally every birthday, I come and donate the blood. I make it a point to donate the blood only at government institution as they are very just in their distribution methods. I have been doing so for the last five years. This year, I was out of station on my birthday so I could not make it. But now, even though it is late, I have donated blood and I feel relieved.” I was awestruck. Standing in front of me is a man who has taken a leave from his work, waited patiently for three hours in a queue so as to donate the blood. He does not know who will be saved by the blood he has given, just content that his birthday vow will give life to a human soul. Suddenly, the world looked different to me. The corridors of the government blood bank did not seem so dark now, it seemed the place where the essence of humanity is churned to bring out the angels from within. The man in front of me, the sachet of blood in my hand, all seemed to shout at me “Life is there, goodness is there, god is there”. I came out of the blood bank, took a deep breath and thanked almighty for so much goodness in life.