God Never Betrays the Heart that truly Loves Him.

If I could, I’d have put my hand forward through the counter and given my slip to the receptionist, Madam Yeshi. But then there’s a thing called decency, social norm and so on. So, somehow I’s able to control myself. When it’s my turn next, I requested her to send me to the best doctor available (Not fair, but there’re so many things in life which are not fair). With my work done, I left Reception and turned to the Chambers on the corridor. The sight that greeted me was not really hopeful. There’s a queue of people waiting outside Chambers 3 and 4. There were also people sitting patiently on the benches for their calls. I asked someone in the line if he’s the last in line. My query could at the most elicit an indifferent ‘yes’ from him. I took a seat on the bench nearby . At first I thought of making a call to Principal Sir telling him that I might be late for the next class, but he’s busy and I and decided against it. As I waited, a sharp looking lady standing in the queue was passing instructions to a couple of  people sitting on the benches on either side. As the door of the chamber opened. she got in carrying a number of files in her hands along with an elderly man. With her left hand she kept the door open so some four other ladies could join her in the doctor’s chamber. I thought to myself that today wasn’t my lucky day and resigned to my fate. Anyway, on the brighter side, it didn’t take me as long as I’d expected and finally, it’s my turn. I got into the Chamber. I’d already had a peep through the door kept ajar at the doc sitting at a table on the left corner. Initially, I thought he might be around 50. Face to face, he didn’t look that old at all. He’s dressed in the doctor’s white apron with the stethoscope around his shoulders. He had a red nose too due to the ever-unpredictable climate of Tsimalakha.

Now, you know, we’ve this thing about patients. Once we get the chance we don’t mind sharing our family history with the doctor! I tried to talk to him about my problem in three/four sentences. I told him that I’d been to the hospital some 6 days back. (I’m a lazy guy when it comes to taking care of personal health and hygiene and try my best to avoid the hospital unless things come to a pass.) I told him about the itching sensation all over my body. That I couldn’t even sleep for two hours at a stretch peacefully last night. Despite the hospital visit last week, things seemed to have taken a turn for the worse and the red, round, blistery mounds were spreading all over at a break-neck pace.

The course of medication prescribed by the previous doc ran out last Saturday and here I was sitting in front of him pleading with my entire being to make me whole again! The doc then asked me to show him the affected areas of the body. I slipped my hand out of the right hand shirt sleeve, the Bhutanese style. He took a look and asked me if I’d started loosing weight. Now when was the last time I did that? He went on to ask me next if I’d ever taken the HIV test. The acronym sounded familiar but despite my best efforts, I’s unable to take the blank look off my face. “What’s HIV?” Even if he’s surprised at a teacher asking him about the full form of HIV, the look on his face did not betray a trace of shock! “I’m not telling you that you have it, it’s just for precaution…” He quickly wrote down something at the back of the prescription and asked me to go to the lab.

Thus started my journey to worryland. If you don’t know it, dear reader, I’m irrevocably imaginative by nature. It looks like my hungry mind was just waiting for an opportunity like this and once the opportunity was provided my mind simply went berserk. What if the report is positive? I’s not worried about any wrong-doing. But sometimes, Life is not fair. I’ve this belief nailed into me by the lot of my Mejdi (second sister).

She’s the kindest soul I’ve ever known other than my late Ma. She’s the pride of her parents. She was a very serious student and started earning and contributing to my late father’s family at a young age. She’s done such a lot for the whole family, especially for me. I’m such a useless brother that during the last Puja, I couldn’t even visit her at the mental asylum which has become her resort in the last couple of years.

“Mental Asylum?’ Did you ask me that? God is always kind. Mejdi had her share of God’s kindness as well. She got married to a very bright engineer from a very reputed family in Kolkata, mothered an equally, if not brighter son. The son, my nephew, went on to be the Chief CEO of a prestigious company in India. He’s only 42 at that time! Then on the day, when he’s to go to a meeting in Hyderabad to represent  his company, the cab-driver waiting outside his five-star hotel got suspicious and went up the lift to knock on his door. There’s no response from inside. Finally, the cops were called, the door broke opened. He’s found lying unconscious on the floor having suffered multiple injuries. Till this day, my detective-novels fed mind, fails to believe that he suffered a stroke. I firmly believe that he was murdered by someone who’s jealous of his success and incredible achievements! Some 7/8 days later with my Mejdi poorer by 32 lacks of her life-savings, he died on his way to Kolkata. I can’t help feeling ‘Why Mejdi of all people?’ What’s her fault? Why’s God sometimes so merciless?

If so many bad things can happen to an individual in one lifetime, even if I am found to be HIV positive, that would be something like the tip of an iceberg in comparison to the pains my Mejdi’s undergone and is still undergoing!

As I’s on my way back to school from the hospital, my mind was confused, puzzled with so much going on insider. My wife called me then. Initially I’d thought of not frightening her. I shared the news. She sounded concerned and called me back after half an hour. In the meantime, I’d shared the news in the staffroom. One of the colleagues tried reducing my stress by remarking: “Sir, so where did you go last winter …?”I’d to share this with my students in the class. Someone asked me if I’d ever shared an used razor. As he found me shaking my head, he remarked: “Good, Sir. Nothing’ll happen to you.”

On hindsight, I find it surprising that I could teach XI Com B in the next class. The moment we finished discussing the last grammar question, the bell went as well. I left the class amidst the shouting of good wishes and prayers. As I’d some shopping to do, I went to market and was headed to hospital. Tsimalakha Hospital is one of the most picturesque hospitals in the country. The sight of the majestic hospital from the steps leading to it, was breathtaking. I thought of taking some photos in the bright sunlight. I changed my mind thinking about what lay ahead. What plans had God in store for me?

The lab technicians were basking, sitting on the narrow walls around the prayer-wheel. I tried gauging their responses from their eyes. If I am HIV positive, some people must have already got the report. Both of them looked back up at me and went on doing what they were. One of them followed my suit and came in. Then came the beautiful, little angel. Forgetting that I’s there to collect my HIV-Test Report, I asked the man behind the table if I could take her photo. Unruffled, the man responded, “It’s negative, Sir, just a routing check..”

The hospital outside looked beautiful as did the world around. It’s only then that I decided to call my wife. But there’s another significant thing that I’ve deliberately avoided mentioning till now – what I did in between 10.55 to 11 o’clock in the morning. As I’s on my way to school, I remembered my late Ma. Towards the fag end of her life, when the whole world had given up on her, confined to her bed, despite the multitude of obstacles, misunderstandings creeping in the family, she’d send my daughter, Akanksha, down to fetch water in a small bowl for the altars tucked in a corner of her bed. I guess, this is how one implants the love of God in the young ones!

My late ma loved life. I must have inherited the love of life from her. The love for the Divine as well. I looked at my watch. It was five minutes to eleven. I’d just five minutes to pray to God. I ran back up the stairs leading to my quarters, offered a quick puja to the deities who’ve become a part of my life since my family left me. By the time I’s back to school, I still had a few minutes of the recess left! I’d have known then that things, on a bright, beautiful day like today, couldn’t have gone wrong with me. Not today at least. I should have known when the beautiful angel ran into the lab and let me take her photo. God always sends messages in most tell-tale forms.

I’ve always been a god-fearing man. Have always tried to lead a simple and hassle-free life. As I couldn’t find a woman, got married to the woman of the choice of my family. Not the sleeping around type, you see. Even if you don't, God does. That’s why He will go on sending the signals and whether you can read them or not, you’ll still have a bright day to wake up to next.