The Selfish One - 4

Wilson held his breath. He clutched the edge of the seat. Horrid thoughts of him being brutally murdered by the officer started swarming his mind. This seemed ironic to him considering that just a couple of hours ago he was about to jump off a bridge.

‘Why has he brought me here?’ he thought, ‘What could be the reason? There is nothing out here! The street is a dead-end.’

The officer rapped the glass pane sharply. He beckoned him to come out. Wilson bent down pretending to tie his shoelaces to buy time. To his horror, the door swung wide open.

“Come out!” said the officer, his voice bordering on irritation. “We do not have all day.”

With no choice left, Wilson scrambled out of the car and stood rooted next to the door. He did not even dare to move his feet an inch.

“Where are we?” asked Wilson, trying to control his voice from trembling.

“You will see,” said the officer. Saying this, he turned and started walking to a gap near the end. Wilson peered and realized that it was actually a small lane which had created by the people walking through it, on a daily basis.

Cautiously, he started walking. The officer was quite ahead and he intended to maintain the distance between them, just in case he had to bolt from there.

The lane was muddy. This was because of the rainwater mixing with the construction debris that was piled on the street. The debris was the main reason the gap seemed like a lane. They continued walking for a couple of minutes. In the darkness, he could make out a pair of iron gates.

The officer stopped and turned behind to see where he was. When Wilson reached the gate, he swung it open and walked in.

Wilson wondered where he was. The area past the gate was a compound enclosed within cement walls. There were three huge tents erected – one in the front and the other two on each of its sides. He thought they were tents considering the fact that it had tarpaulin sheets for roofs. The floor was similar to the lane except it had a green carpet roughly covering the debris below, giving rise to weird shaped points. He turned and saw the tents on his right.

It was the largest tent he had ever seen. The ceiling was quite high almost the size of a duplex and was rectangular in shape. The other tent opposite to this one was exactly the same. Looking at the shapes, he realized with a dread of foreboding. He had been mistaken.

‘My God! These are shelters!’ he thought wildly.

Surprised, he turned and analysed his surroundings to confirm his judgement. Sure enough, he could make out the open air kitchen in the corner. In the darkness, he could make out the outline of steel plates and other utensils. Outside the tent, there was an empty clothes rack.

‘What is this place?’ he asked himself.

Just then, a sheet ruffled and parted, revealing a hollow gap inside from which a couple of children walked out, holding utensils in their hands that were filled with water.

“Hurry Ram!” said the other, “We have three more to go.”

Puzzled, Wilson walked towards the tent and peered inside. What he saw inside sent shivers down his spine.

There was water dripping from the sheets overhead. Utensils were kept at some places to collect the dripping water. Wilson noticed that on one bed, the utensil was placed in such a way near the end that the girl had to sleep at a very odd angle.  There were more than six to seven beds inside. All of them had an old lady sleeping on it. Some of them had blankets drawn over while some did not even have a mattress to lie on. They slept on the metal cots. The rainwater collected outside in puddles had increased the population of houseflies inside.

Wilson gaped open-mouthed at each of the beds before finally turning to the corner where he saw an extremely old lady lying on the bed with nothing covering her. Her withered body was a housefly hub with those flies even sitting on her ears and eyes. For a second, he thought she was dead. 

With a shock so huge, he realized that the old lady was alive and had turned with all her strength to ward off those pests.

Wilson stumbled and fell outside. He couldn’t take his eyes off the horrors he had just witnessed. How could anyone even live like this? He tried to get up but couldn’t. His hand slipped because of the mud and he fell again. He wasn’t able to erase the terrifying image that he saw. In sheer panic, he forgot that there was the clothes rack next to him. Wanting to get away from the shelter, he started to drag his body away from the entrance. The effort and the strength that he used to push himself away were so strenuous for him that without warning, he burst into tears.

As hot tears trickled across his face and started to blur his vision, he still wasn’t able to erase that repulsive image. He felt that his windpipe was constricted. He was not able to breathe. 

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands seized him and pulled him up. He was grateful for the officer’s help. The officer pulled him and was facing him. Unable to look into his eyes, Wilson broke down and hid his face in his palms.

The officer didn’t console him or patted him sympathetically. He let the boy cry. He had long realized that people were able to express themselves more clearly through sadness. Tears are like the storm after which everything had a new clarity.

“Why?” choked Wilson, “Why?”

The officer understood what Wilson meant by the question.

“Swagat Ashram,” he spoke but his voice was soft and gentle, “has been a home for the poor and the sick children for a couple of years now.”

“Why did you bring me here?” he sobbed, “What was your intent? Are you blackmailing me emotionally? Showing me how an ungrateful person I am by contemplating suicide?”

“No,” replied the officer, again in the same gentle tone. “I brought you here to show you the other side of life. You think that people have taken advantage of you and abused you. But look here, what about these people? These children? They too were abused and left to die by their own family members. And their living conditions here are even worse than what they had previously. Why do you think they are still here?”

Wilson paused, looking into those eyes. He realized that the officer had very beautiful eyes. Hazel. He was staring at Wilson, unblinkingly; the intensity of his eyes exposing him. He was at a loss of words. Now that the officer asked him, the question seemed to be the obvious thing. He couldn’t fathom it. Gingerly, he shook his head.

“They come here because there is someone over here that cares for them. Someone who loves them and looks after them and then in turn, they take care of children. They live here because they want something that no amount of worldly comforts can give them.”

“And what is that?” asked Wilson, staring at the officer’s melancholy face.

“Love,” said the officer, staring at the tent.

The sun had risen, its light descending on the treetops and the wet carpet. The light further exposed the squalor of the place. The officer turned and placed his hands on Wilson’s shoulders.

“I know Wilson,” he said, looking at him, “I know you have suffered a lot. You do not deserve what happened with you. But before you get such thoughts of ending your life, think about these children, about these people. They too like you have not experienced the gift of love. Remember this one thing in life; the dreadful existence is not of the poor, but of the person who has everything but love.”

Wilson looked at the officer’s face. The sunlight illuminated his face. He felt warmth transferring in him from the palms holding him. The officer’s words pierced his heart and made him realize his folly. He was indeed the ‘selfish one’. He never thought that a stranger would ever make him feel in this way.

“Look, they are getting up now,” said the officer, turning back to the tent.

Just then, a dog came bounding to them. The dog jumped and tried to hug the officer. He started licking the officer’s uniform. Laughing, he calmed the dog who was not trying to lick his shoes.

“Looks like he knows you,” said Wilson, commenting on the dog’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Oh! I am always known here,” said the officer, “You stay here for some time. I’ll leave for HE is calling me back. I’ll make sure that the car gets back to you. If you ever have any problem, then don’t hesitate to talk to me. Take my card”

Saying this, the officer turned back and started walking towards the outer lane. Wilson stood standing there, trying to make sense what the officer just said.

‘I’ll leave for HE wants me back’.

Turning back, he saw the officer bent at the mouth of the lane. He was speaking something in the dog’s ear. Remarkably, the dog stood still and looked as if he was listening to every word he was being spoken to.

With a thrill of realisation, Wilson dashed to the lane. He couldn’t let the man go. The officer had helped him get rid of the entity and even showed him the error of his ways. How his decision to commit suicide seemed not only childish but was even a mockery of his upbringing and personal values. He yelled for the officer to stop. He ran avoiding the muddy puddle. He saw the officer straighten up, staring at Wilson with a benevolent look on his face before walking out.

Wilson reached the end of the lane but was too late. The officer was nowhere to be seen. The car in which they came had also disappeared. He saw that there were no tyre marks on the wet road.

He wished the officer had stayed with him and spoken to him a bit longer. In all the events of the night, he had forgotten to even ask the officer’s name. Feeling hollow, he looked at the card that he was holding.

Instantly, the breath went out of him.

When he saw the name, Wilson felt that he would die of happiness. He felt elated and his spirits soared. He couldn’t believe his eyes and stared at the card again. The more he stared, the more joyful he became. He pocketed the card and went walking inside, back to the iron gates.

Wiping the tears of joy that sprang in his eyes, he raised his face towards the clear, beautiful sky and said,

“Thank You!”

The soul cannot live without love.

THE END