Another day dawned. Many such dawns have formed the forty years that have passed since I was born on this Earth. The previous night, Paru and Rohini had planned a surprise. After my usual evening run, I walked into the house to find a beautiful chain of lights strung across the living room wall with photos capturing moments from the past four decades, glowing softly in the light. My mind wandered through many moments of my life on those photographs — the baby laughing on my grandmother’s lap, with parents, with brother and relatives, friends whom time gifted, the wedding day which marked the beginning of a companionship that grows every day, and moments with the one who has led my life since March of 2014. A birthday gift that warmed my heart and planted a smile on my lips.
As the years go by, birthdays have become quieter affairs. That morning was business as usual. Paru went to school, Rohini had to go to the office and I was working from home. Rohini had ordered the usual cake—expected to arrive post-lunch. This was an occasion for everyone, especially Paru, to enjoy a cake. Birthdays are still a big deal for the 11 year old!. The cake arrived by the time I finished lunch. Paru returned from school, peeked into the fridge, ensured the cake was satisfactory, sipped milk while watching TV, and nibbled on something for a while. Cake-cutting was scheduled for 6:30 PM. Time crawled. Paru was impatient. “Achaa, I’ll go for a quick cycle ride. And Amma will come by the time I am back” she said, hopping on her cycle. I resumed work.
Around 5:40 PM, I got a call from an unknown number. Expecting it to be a telemarketing call, I picked up the phone. A voice in English on the other end: “Mithun sir, please come down near the tennis court. Your daughter has fallen from her cycle.” Paru’s loud wail in Malayalam in the background “Achaa, my hand is broken”. I sped out. Reaching downstairs, I saw a man, whom I’d seen around but never spoken to, holding Paru’s fractured hand so that it doesn't move. “Achaa, my hand is broken. Sorry, Achaa. It’s your birthday. I’m sorry,” she sobbed. The man asked me to bring the car to take Paru to the hospital. “Please get me a towel or cloth. I’ll tie it,” he said. Another stranger offered to come with me. I ran upstairs, grabbed a towel, handed it over to the person who accompanied me, changed quickly, and drove to where Paru had fallen. By the time I reached, Paru’s hand had been wrapped in the towel and slinged. “Take her to a hospital soon. I think it’s broken badly. Poor girl, she’s worried about your birthday,” the man said. That’s when it hit me—Paru had been apologizing to me for the cake cutting not happening. I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to go alone with Paru to the hospital. The man who came with me to get the towel asked, “Should I come with you?”. I thanked him and requested him to join. He got in without any reluctance.
Just as I drove forward, I remembered that Nikhil might be home from work and called him. Thankfully, he was home. He reached downstairs in two minutes. I turned to the man and said, “Thanks for your help. My cousin will come with me.” He stepped out, asking to take care and drive carefully. Nikhil got in the backseat, alongside Paru. She seemed a little calmer now as she had someone sitting next to her in the car. The pain was dulled by the bandage. Still, she kept saying, “Sorry, Achaa.” I tried to reassure her—birthdays aren’t that important. En-route, Nikhil called Rohini and asked her to come to the hospital. She had just left the office. At the hospital, the bandage had to be removed for an X-ray. They gave Paru a painkiller, but it didn’t help much and she writhed in pain while the hand was kept on the X-ray plate. Somehow, the X-ray was done and Rohini arrived soon. On my way to complete the hospital formalities, I met the duty doctor. “Two bones are broken. Surgery will likely be needed,” she said. While I went away to fill out insurance forms and pay bills, Rohini and Nikhil stayed with Paru. By the time I returned, the surgeon had decided to proceed with surgery immediately. The fractured bones were now straightened out and bandaged. Rohini informed that Paru cried aloud in pain when they straightened the bones. Poor thing. Now, she was sitting quiet and a little relieved, her hand being put in cast and pain resided. I hugged her and kissed her forehead. Nikhil smiled at me as I turned back. “You are cautioning her way too much on spending discretion” he joked. I looked at him puzzled. It was Rohini who explained, “Even while wailing in pain, Paru kept asking—‘Will Achan have to spend a lot of money for the surgery? Will he have the money?’”. I laughed and kissed her again and said, “We have enough to spend on needs, dear. Don’t worry.” The surgery was done that very evening. It was only when I got home late that night that I had time to think. My fortieth birthday had turned out to be quite eventful!
Later, I reflected on the whole episode. Though Paru’s injury brought sadness, the birthday gifts I received that day were worth savouring for years to come. Help extended by complete strangers in a moment of crisis—that was a gift. I still don’t know their names. Even when I met them later, expressed gratitude for the help and had small talk, I never asked their names. I felt I didn’t need to. I know one name that defined them. They are “humans”. Their deed, “humaneness.” Paru may not realize it, but the gift she gave me that day is the one closest to my heart. Even in pain, she wasn’t thinking only about herself. She worried about me, about the money I might have to spend and whether I have that amount to part with. There’s no greater gift than the care one receives from another and Paru cared a lot more than I expected! I hope time never takes that quality away from her. That care Paru extended—that was the most cherished birthday gift I received. I feel immensely grateful for the moments of time that bestowed this unexpected birthday gift.
