JOIN USMy friend Banoo and I went to meet another friend, Zarine. We hadn’t intended to stay long. “Just a short visit,” Banoo declared as soon as the door opened. But we stayed longer than we meant to.
When old friends meet and get talking, one thing leads to another. Before we realised it, the sun had set and darkness had fallen suddenly, as it does in winter. We bid a hasty goodbye and hurried out to find an auto. In keeping with their reputation, the auto drivers were either going in the opposite direction or unwilling to come our way. There we were, flailing our arms like windmills at every passing auto, only to have those superior drivers ignore us. I suggested that we keep walking till an empty auto stopped and the driver invited us to get in.
We had hardly taken a few brisk steps when an auto slowed down and the driver asked, “Where to?” “Indiranagar,” we said in unison. He shook his head regretfully and moved on. After going about 20 metres, he slowed down, took a U-turn, and stopped near us. “Get in,” he said, and we were quick to obey him.
I happened to notice that the driver glanced at Banoo in the mirror when he had to stop because of a traffic pile-up. He seemed puzzled. A couple of times, he shook his head as if trying to recollect something that was eluding his memory. At one traffic signal, he turned to us and enquired, “Are you a doctor?” Banoo admitted that she was.
The next question that he shot was, “Were you working in Victoria Hospital?” Again, she answered in the affirmative. Then, she, in her turn, asked, “Why do you want to know?” Instead of replying to her, he smiled and started the auto as the lights turned green. After that enigmatic exchange, no conversation was possible because he had to concentrate on driving. Also, the honking of vehicles made a deafening din.
Not too long after, Banoo dropped me off at my house and carried on. The next day, she telephoned to explain the mystery of the auto driver’s interest in her occupation.
When Banoo had reached home, she had taken out the fare along with a generous tip, to give the driver. He had refused to accept the money. Banoo couldn’t understand his behaviour.
Then the story spilled out. It seems when he was about 10, his mother had taken him to Victoria Hospital, and Banoo had attended to him. She had taken such good care of him that he had improved sooner than expected.
He had said that it was the least he could do to show his gratitude. He had added that he was now married, and was the proud father of a six-year-old daughter. “I have named her Banoo, after you.” “I was very touched that he should remember me after all these years,” Banoo said.
She had wanted to know if the daughter was going to school. “Yes, she is. I hope she will become a doctor like you.” That had left Banoo even more moved.
This incident takes on more significance as Banoo passed away a few days ago, grieved not only by her family and friends, but also by the patients who had experienced her healing touch.
James Russell Lowell’s poem Youssuf comes to my mind:
As one lamp lights another, nor grows less, So nobleness enkindleth nobleness.