I went to buy medicine for sour throat at a nearby Medical shop today. When I was about to pay for my order, a guy in his early thirties walked in, announced his presence with a loud hello to the shop guy (gathered that they know each other) and then offloaded his piece of mind on his Chithappa who just passed away after a prolonged illness and also on the state of affairs at the hospital.
It went something like this...
'You know, my Chithappa finally died today, I had a big problem with the hospital as the Ambulance did not arrive and they kept charging me for each hour we stayed there beyond his last breath. Our relatives...well, they all want to be with him at the hospital but would they share the hospital bill with me? Never! So I decided to call up a taxi and made my Chithappa sit at the back seat and reached home saving some 10000 bucks or so. I smell of hospital...all I want to do it take a shower and crash...'
I couldn't stand the conversation anymore (the Medic. shop guy was filling the pauses with smiles and affirmative sounds to my horror) and made a quick exit after paying my bill.
A life is lost, gone, forever and these guys were dissecting the event as if it was a frog on an experiment table - absolutely no sympathy...I could detect a trace of pride in that guy's tone when he narrated his decision to hire a call taxi to bring the dead home to cheat the cheating hospital...
The conversation was loud and clear, it even drew some guffaws from another guy who joined in the middle. Maybe in a country of 1.1 Billion, the departure of one soul evokes just ire (intensity of ire is directly proportional to the length of time the patient clings to his dear life).
I came home with a sad feeling which vanished the moment I noticed the new Granadilla shoots (Sweet Passion Fruit) in my green space which reminded me of the continuum called life.
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