Just last night..

As with every year, my birthday on December 29th marked the end of another chapter. This year's celebration was grand – cutting three cakes, surrounded by countless friends and family extending their wishes. It was a day spent mostly on the phone, a testament to the love and connections I cherish. Yet, this tale isn't about the day; it's about the night that followed.

Returning home around 5:20 pm, I planned a brief nap before dinner with Dr. Urvashi, her husband, and my guitar teacher, Mr. Shailesh. With the temperature lingering at a chilly 12 degrees, I quickly turned on the halogen heater. Midgey, seizing the opportunity, curled up in front of it, belly exposed, basking in the warmth.

Music played softly from the speakers as I settled for a nap, anticipating Urvashi's arrival at 6 pm. However, the day's exhaustion weighed heavily on me. The overindulgence in chocolates and sweets seemed to have sapped my energy, possibly fulfilling my sugar intake for the entirety of 2024.

Just as sleep was about to claim me, the doorbell rang twice. Hoping it was a mistake – often occurring when neighbors aim for the bell upstairs but hit mine instead – I cocooned myself in a warm blanket, yearning for rest. But the persistent ringing forced me to rise, don a jacket, and step outside.

A young boy, tears streaking his face, stood there. He muttered "Daddu... Dadhu" and other phrases in Hindi that eluded my full understanding. Sensing his distress, I inquired about his well-being. His negative nod propelled me into action, slipping into sandals and approaching him. He struggled to convey his grandfather's dire condition and their inability to call an ambulance.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I followed him. This boy, a stranger to me, was the son of my new neighbors who had moved in just two days prior. In the bustle of my life, I hadn't had the chance to greet them. His concern was for his 68-year-old grandfather.

Entering their home, I found the old man awkwardly slumped on the sofa, motionless, hands outstretched as if frozen in time. His wife sat beside him, tears in her eyes, her sobs filling the room.

His wife sat beside him, tears in her eyes, her sobs filling the room. Her son was also around, trying frantically to make calls and arrange for some medical help. By this time, there was enough conversation that had happened for me to realize that the man on the sofa had heart surgery recently and was discharged only in the morning. They had come in sometime in the afternoon, and were having a conversation when this had happened. 

Considering they had just moved in recently, they did not know where everything was. The hall was full of closed boxes, with a few unpacked ones lying here and there. Hoping to find out if he was okay, I installed a pulse-tracking app on my phone. The app, when launched, started off with a series of ads that I had to skip. At this point, I really hated marketers (not the first time in my life). I then quickly pulled his finger under the camera and tried to grab his pulse. The meter read 64. And I thought he was okay. We tried to sprinkle some water on his face. There seemed to be some sort of temporary movement, albeit very small. 

Since he was heavy, I rushed outside and called my landlord’s son, who was here on Christmas holidays, for help. Friendly as he was, he quickly came over, and we both tried to move him on the sofa. All the while, his son was trying to ensure that his father’s head did not collapse, hurting his breathing. 

By this time, I heard a honking car and figured that Urvashi ma’am had come to take me out. I asked the little boy to go out and ask if she was Dr. Urvashi. I had told him to bring her in if she was Dr. Urvashi. In fact, it was Dr. Urvashi who had come. But, what had ensued was a conversation about how Dr. Urvashi was not a doctor of medicine but a Ph.D. in Information Systems. After I had called out for help, she came in and asked us to take him to the car immediately so that he could be rushed to the hospital. Shushant and I had carried him to the car and put him in position. His son sat next to him, and we quickly started towards the center of the town. Some of IIM Sirmaur’s resources helped us out, and we had zeroed in on taking him to Sai’s Cardiac hospital. 

In a few minutes after we reached the facility, we had to rush him to the critical care location. I had asked the doctors to help and told them about the pulse, the age, and the nature of the medical condition - whatever little I had learned by this point. The stretcher was arranged, and we rushed to the car to bring him out. Urvashi ma’am was clearly in panic mode, and we thought he was going to make it somehow. 

Sadly, even when the stretcher was in the middle of the road where the car was parked, people were trying to overtake the car. I stopped the traffic by standing in the middle of the road and allowing the medical people to do their thing. But then, there were lots of honking and screaming at this point. 

The patient was rushed to the critical care bay, where a doctor tried to do CPR and pump his heart. We were all rushed outside the place by the others who were in the facility. 5 minutes later, the doctor announced that the patient had died. The son broke out in tears and did not know what to do or how to react. Having been in his shoes just a few weeks ago, I felt his pain and tried to be there for him. 

But then, I did not know this man. What united us was the pain of loss. 

What happened after this incident was not really important. We tried to do the right thing for these strangers who had stopped being strangers at this point. 

I hugged his son as I realized the news of his grandfather's passing. I sat with him and told him he had to be strong and be happy that his ‘Daddu’ was one with God now. 

Urvashi ma’am, and I had a long conversation while returning in her car. Something that I would remember for the rest of my life. She said, “This is life. We have control of nothing.”. 

As the curtains draw on 2023, I think it is now really clear that family and friends are the most important thing in the world. There is nothing more important than taking care of the ones we love. With 2024 kicking off soon, let’s resolve to settle old squabbles. Let’s build bridges rather than burn them. Let’s hug rather than shrug. Let’s decide to be there for each other, rather than find excuses to be away. 

Let 2024 be the start of many beautiful things.

Happy New Year.