The words “ have to go to the hospital” always trigger a deep worry. And if that news arrives suddenly at night, there’s no escaping the anxiety. Around 3:30 in the early morning, I too had to head out. On an empty, silent road, just Dheeraj dada and me. Under a relentless downpour, our destination was first JP Colony where the best friend of Dheeraj dada suffering by heavy pain. Suravi Colony to JP Colony is barely a five-minute ride. But for an irregular rider like me, the heavy rain turned it into a real challenge. The roar of the downpour completely drowned out the bike’s engine. Even though my newly bought raincoat came in handy, I was soon drenched. Shivering in the cold, we finally stopped in front of Srishti’s house.
Srishti works with Dheeraj dada. Like many of us here, she too had come from far away to work in Dantewada. Over the past month of sharing the same building, Dheeraj dada had become a familiar presence to me. But Srishti was still just a name, one I heard for the first time that night. Dheeraj dada had called and woken me from a deep sleep. “Subir, will you come with me?” he said. “My colleague is crying a lot. She’s very sick. She’s had a fever since the afternoon, and now she’s in terrible stomach pain. She needs to go to the hospital. There’s no one at her house.”
I had barely slept for two hours. At first, I didn’t even want to get out of bed. The thought of stepping out into a stormy night froze me for a few seconds. But once I shook off the sleep and gathered myself, I knew there was no option except to say yes. I stood in front of the two-storied rented house with the little veranda. For five minutes I waited. Under the lamppost, the raindrops looked like crystal beads falling from the sky. Dheeraj dada was busy on the phone. In the darkness, the wet grass looked black instead of green. A chorus of frogs croaked from that direction.
The sudden clank of the iron gate startled me.“Is the stomach still hurting a lot?” Dheeraj dada asked Srishti. “Wear your raincoat, otherwise you’ll get drenched. Take the documents. We are waiting.”A few more minutes passed. By the time Srishti came down, the rain had eased a little. The three of us started towards the hospital. I’m still not fully familiar with all the roads of Dantewada. Even the ones I know looked strange in the stormy night. Waterlogged lanes, dim streetlights, barricades on the main road, endless speed breakers on the smaller routes.
Within seven minutes we reached the emergency ward. The doctor examined Srishti. After injections, medicines, and advice, we headed back. A faint relief glimmered in her eyes. Dheeraj dada looked reassured too. He said, “Thank you, Subir.”
But I know I am not the only one who accepts that gratitude. That thank you belongs to my neighbours back in my village. It belongs to members of Agragami Tarun Sangha, whose support lets me keep my parents safe, whose trust allows me to work so far from home without worry. Those who would reach my house even before I could, in times of trouble, they are also recipients of that thank you.
iVolunteer Blog - everything about volunteering 