His body is getting pale and cold. He is very silent today.
“Won’t you speak with your mom? Rohan? It’s me, bacha, your mom. My sweetie pie, mom is
here. Look your dad is coming. He will get you blood. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Rohan’s mother cursed the bus that hit him. She was shocked - shocked to see so much blood.
Shocked to see so much red… “Why isn’t the blood stopping” she asked out loud. “Doctor
please save my child. I cannot live without him.”
I can hear her cries. Each cry pierces and digs deep inside me. Her son got hit by a bus while
coming from home from school. He lost so much of blood. I can see his father rushing around to
blood banks in search of blood. His blood is not that rare to be found but they are still not getting
it. This little kid who doesn’t know what death is,is struggling with life.
His father was too late. His body now lies numb. His mother now curses herself. The
silence…that killing silence is haunting. She is still by her son but those cries are now lost
somewhere. She found herself amidst all that red. From there she was taken back to a memory. A
memory that would now become a crimson image that would burn before her eyes whenever she
shut them.
Many months ago she was approached by someone…a student, a social worker, a stranger…she
could not remember. It did not matter to her at that point. All that mattered was Rohan. She was
too busy buying him a gift. She was approached to be informed about a blood donation drive.
She listened kindly and then rushed home. She ignored the opportunity. Now she curses herself.
She curses the ignorance that she believed cost her the life of her son.
I wonder how many people have done the same. Now she is dying very slowly. She is praying
for her son. She is praying for someone to stop time so she could get blood for her son. That one
ignorance charged her with her son’s life.
-Ravneet Kaur
MBA HHM (2017-19)
