Ambulance
- Meenatchi Sneha
- Oct 18, 2020
- 7 min read
The heat of the day raised. Drops of sweat trickled down my forehead. Unable to wipe it from under the helmet I twitched.
The sound of the ambulance pierced through the noisy traffic as I reflexively glanced at the side mirror hoping I wasn’t in the way. But as it always happens, I was in the way. I grew nervous. Almost immediately
I panicked. I honked. I swore.
Half hoping the person inside was safe.
Half hoping I am not the reason for anything bad that might happen. Just in case.
The path was already starting to clear. The tension was palpable in the air as people tried their best to get out of the way of the ambulance.
I had already cleared myself from the way when I realized an old man with ragged clothes on a cycle was lazily moving just in front of the ambulance unbothered. Rage fuelled in me. I strode as fast as I could to the man and dragged him by the hem of his shirt, pulling his cycle along with him to the side of the road.
As I saw the ambulance swish past us, I let out a deep breath and turned to face the old man, anger still boiling in me.
The day had been tiring and the uphill ride was sucking the energy out of me. I exploited the last of my energy trying to drag the cycle along the hot road, with no slippers. I felt a sudden unease in the crowd yet couldn’t gather enough energy to look up and assimilate what was happening.
There came a hand from nowhere with definite force and vigor, pulling me by my shirt and my cycle towards the pavement. In half confusion and tire, I gave myself in and did not bother to look at the owner of the hand but I turned behind to look from what I was being dragged.
There was an ambulance spurring just past where I had been standing moments ago and the guilt started building up in me.
I felt sorry and helpless at the same time, worried about how long I had delayed the vehicle. The owner of the hands faced me with annoyance in his eyes and I knew there was going to be a series of angry words rushing from his mouth.
I felt the tension that followed but couldn’t hear it
It’s the second case today and nothing has changed. Busy roads, busy people. I wish I got paid a little more for all the risks I take and the sudden brakes that cost me my life.
It’s easy to tell yourself about how happy you should be with what you have when you see so many life-or-death situations every day.
But honestly, that’s not how the world works.
Everyone assumes they deserve better and I am no exception.
I should be piloting an airplane if my childhood dreams had come true.
I should be teaching students if my school teacher’s curse took effect.
I should be managing my father’s firm if he had been alive.
I should be owning a piece of land if I hadn’t been so generous in declining a dowry.
Just as I was wondering how messy my life had become, an old man on the road caught my attention. He for sure must be deaf to not hear the horn honking so loud. Thanks to the man who pulled him off the way, I didn’t have to pause. I sighed in relief because I knew I was already getting late and I can’t afford to slow down.
As I looked at the rear-view mirror, it reflected the guilt in the eyes of the old man. Only then did I realize what I was up to.
I have been doing what not many can do.
Saving lives.
Maybe everything in my life happened for a reason. For me to save lives. For me to feel content at the sight of grateful eyes of those who couldn’t thank me enough with words for saving the lives that mattered to them.
Damn!
Of all the things I wanted to encounter today, an ambulance was the last on the list. I am already driving crazy. I don’t think I can take it anymore.
Oh god! Can’t you be gentle? Please stop showering all the trouble that’s left in the world on me.
I tried to squeeze in through the narrow way that was getting cleared right in front of me, apparently for the ambulance.
A part of me told me it was wrong. It told me the life of whosoever was in the van was more important than my project deadline. My rational mind knew at once it was my mistake to have started late to the office and that I shouldn’t be paying the price of a life.
My heart failed to listen, as images of me getting fired flashed in front of my eyes.
Fear beamed bigger than guilt.
I had a family to take care of, dues to be paid, responsibilities to be handled and that told me to ride before the ambulance rather than give way.
Just as I was riding in front of the ambulance, in the bike mirror I saw a pair of wet eyes in the front seat beside the driver in the ambulance. It was a man in his fifties with tears in his eyes. It didn’t take much time for me to realize that he was deeply worried to notice a selfish being blocking the path of the ambulance.
Those eyes made the decision for me. My heart gave in. I moved aside, clearing myself from the path of the vehicle and I imagined the lips of the man move in a thank you.
Everything felt so light suddenly and for once all my troubles seemed to have dwindled.
I felt human.
Oh, dear. How I miss her already. It seems like just yesterday and it’s hard to believe that it has been more than three decades since we met.
Memories still afresh, colorful and bliss, yet on recollecting them tears pour down.
Thinking about the first date, when she pulled me to dance on the stage. She was wearing a bright red dress and her hair pulled up high into a perfect bun. The entire arena had its eyes fixed on her and I was no exception. She entwined her long yet strong fingers with mine and guided me throughout the dance. She didn’t laugh when I skipped beats. She winked. She set the stage ablaze with her confidence.
Though it was the beginning of my life the memory felt like the end of everything.
I can’t cry. Not in front of my son. Not in front of her. I have to hold myself together, for him, for her.
We know she deserves better but I hope she doesn’t realize that.
I hope she is content. I hope she is happy. I don’t want her to suffer, not for another moment.
I would give the entire world for it.
I would pray for everyone.
The ambulance driver, the old man who just crossed, the speeding bike driver.
Everyone.
Oh god please give her peace.
I don’t want to see her struggle, oh no, not the queen I admired.
The recent days have not been great, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
Not this early.
I somehow strongly felt she deserved better than this, better than stupid, random heart disease. She deserved all that the world could offer because she had offered all she could to it.
Tears welled in my eyes as I looked back at my life. She was there, on every page of it, with the same strong heart.
The last time I felt this, was when she came home from the camp, wounded and bruised, yet strong. She didn’t call it a defeat rather a lesson learned and I realized that day what she was made of.
To see her in the uniform sent goosebumps in me even after it became a routine.
" 'The small smile of pride and confidence that would rise from the corner of her lips and the twinkle in the eyes when she stands before the mirror with the uniform' is what keeps me alive", my dad would say every now and then.
Through the glass pane, I could look at the mirror in the front that reflected my father and our eyes met. His lips were praying and his eyes were consoling me.
Now, she was laying in front of me, chest rising and falling with the oxygen she breathed through the tubes. Eyes closed, she laid in front of me in the ambulance stretcher.
I wish I didn’t have to see her weak.
I wish I didn’t have to see the lioness caged.
I wish I didn’t have to see my world fall apart in front of my eyes.
I wish I didn’t have to see my mom dying.
I am here, eyes closed. Heart pumping blood.
It has been suffocating. It has been numb.
It’s the war again. A different enemy.
I had seen the changes in me in the last few days. It’s hard to breathe through a tube, to move only when moved, to speak only when permitted, to take medicines that you know are less powerful than your will.
It feels like your gun is running out of bullets when the enemy is nearing you.
But I know even if it’s the last of the bullets, that would still fire. That would still lead me to my victory.
I don’t understand why people have to cry, why they have to give up. I am still fighting and not dying. This is just another battle, probably a different one. But the result should be just the same. I will win.
I wish people were stronger than they thought they were. It's saddening to see my loved ones cry in front of me in this moving ambulance, I thought they believed I was strong. It’s painful to look at them lose hope in my will.
I haven’t given up and I don’t want them to either.
I don’t want pity.
I want strength.
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