Victor was born with a golden
spoon in his mouth; he loved to take everything for granted. His schooling was
at the top schools of the district and he was able to graduate from a
prestigious college even though he had scored low.
Victor’s father, Michael had been
brought up in poverty. He had made his fortune in the diamond business. From
being an office boy in one of the diamond trading firms, to owning the firm
eventually, he had made his fortune by sheer hard work and a keen sense of
business... He made wise investments and watched his wealth grow over a period
of twenty years. He wanted to provide the best for Victor and as any loving
father would, didn't want Victor to ever have to slog even for a day.
So after graduation Victor joined
St Joseph College of Management. He didn't need the degree but to satisfy his
father, and to justify himself as the inheritor of the large business, he
reluctantly joined college. Girls admired him and he developed fake friendships
easily. The gang used to rag and tease boys and girls who would not conform to
their way of thinking or to their lifestyle. They were the bullies of the
campus and no one could touch them due to Michael’s money that was given as
donation to the college trust.
Due to his obnoxious attitude, he
had an attitude of ownership. If he didn't get a girl, he would buy her what
she wanted. If he didn't get the seats he wanted at his favorite game, he would
throw money at the cashier and ask for the manger to arrange for the same. His
birthday parties were all about cash flowing outward and expensive gifts being
showered to him by his father.
His mother had left his father,
when Victor was ten years old. She didn't love the man that his father was
becoming and since his father had more money, he got to keep Victor. Money had
bought him as well.
Then on his twenty fifth birthday
his dad gave him an Audi. They both went for a spin on the race course. He had
been drinking and he had not informed his dad about the same. Both father and
son raced on the roads without a care in the world. They avoided collision with
three cars and that’s when they slowed down. But alas not fast enough.
The car hit a pothole and Victor
lost control of the car. He slammed into the ongoing traffic coming his way.
Victor regained conscious, but he
was in the hospital. The Audi, on impact had inflated the air bags. The air
bags on Michael’s side somehow didn't open, due to which he went crashing into
the bonnet of the vehicle.
He inquired about his father at
the hospital, screaming at the nurses and shouted abuses at the doctors. “Do you know who I am?” he roared. The doctors
tried to calm him down. His father’s secretary -cum –friend- cum -assistant had
arrived at the hospital and managed to pacify him. Victor arm was bruised but the
doctors had taken care of that. He didn't want any pain killers.
The doctors need to perform
surgery on his father to stop the internal bleeding, but there was a hitch.
His father was a rare blood type.
He was what was known as “Bombay Blood”. A blood type so rare that only a
handful people have it. Only “Bombay Blood” could be given to him and no other.
The hospital had arranged for 2 bottles by contacting various hospitals however
two more were required. Victor was ready to donate but the doctors refused as
he had lost some blood himself and he was given medications. They appealed to
him to locate his uncles or aunts who could donate. But there were none. His
father was the last surviving member of the family.
After threatening legal action the
doctors agreed to take his blood, however they still needed one more bottle.
He appealed to his friends, his
so called well-wishers. They used social media to reach out to anyone who could
donate.
He said he would pay anyone with
that blood type, any amount, if only they would donate the same day. .
A lot of fake people came to the
hospital claiming they had the required blood; a lot of precious time was
wasted.
As he sat there besides his
father in the ICU, he recalled every detail of his childhood. The memory of his
mom which he had buried resurfaced. They were happy as a family, the three of
them. How did it come to this? Was he going to be alone now?
As he sat there, his head resting
on his father’s hand, he felt he was in some dream and wished he could escape
to his life of partying and boozing. He recalled the time during the annual
blood donation drive in college he had always ridiculed people, bullying them,
boasting to his friends that a dying man needed only money to survive.
The nurse came rushing in. They
had found a donor. He ran to the blood bank to thank the person.
The donor was already in the
process of donating blood so he waited for them to come out. The person who
stood in front of him was the nerd Malcolm. Victor had bullied him in college
and had taken his notes and had never thanked him in return. But here was Malcolm
standing with a tape on his arm trying to avoid eye contact. Victor hugged him
and cried. Malcom didn't know how to react. He was a boy who wasn't used to
attention and the Mr. Popular was hugging him. Malcom just blurted, “I need the
money. I need 100,000. I want to study abroad. Please just transfer it.” With
that, he gave him a note with his bank details and left. Victor stood there
with the note in his hand, the bank numbers in red. He had bought a life; he
was buying his father’s life.
Which was when another nurse came
rushing in. Victor snapped out of his dream. He had fallen asleep. His father
had taken a turn for the worst, she said.
As he sat there, in his very real world now, everything seemed to move
around with extra speed. The machines beeped, the ventilators made the hissing
sound and all he could do was just watch as his father’s heart was giving way.
He couldn't buy life this time around. He couldn't force anyone to give the
blood required. The money he had was just paper. He had ridiculed people like
Malcom who used to line up for blood donation during his college days,
discouraged it, and told them that money is all is required even for a dying
man.
15 years of living in a bubble
came crashing down on him. The doctors tried to stop the heart arresting but
all Victor could see now was a flat line. 50,000,000 in his bank account
couldn't save his father.
You make the choice, dear reader.
What would be an appropriate ending for Victor’s story? His dream or the
reality that kicked in on him?
Donate
K & Inputs from Farrokh
Jijina.
1/28/2014.
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