As the surgeon shakes his head,i remain still.Waiting.Hoping that he will not confirm what had just crossed my mind.So young....... .He looks into my eyes and i plead silently.One more electric pulse .maybe that will cause a disturbance in the straight line on the monitor . He sighs and I ,unable to contain myself burst out of the operation theatre......not wanting to accept the tragedy.
I knew ,knew that they will make me deliver the news. They will say they are busy and thus I , as an assistant to the patient's surgeon must console the grieved . The news I carry is not simple piece of information ;its a python , the news that can engulf them in one go. Its ....Its like a rough wave that can destroy the mansion of hope created by none another than the patients parents .Only two hours ago the stretcher had been rushed in to the emergency ward . The injured drowning in his own blood .The white shirt dark,with bullet marks clearly visible . The boy with the injured was held back as the surgeon rushed to examine his patient . Before I was called in the police arrived and the troubled boy was explaining the accident . The patient was twenty one and speaking against the MQM members in public became the reason he was shot with three bullets .Three in the chest .
I draw a deep shuddering breath and await my cue to deliver the news .My senior emerges from the theatre and nods .Taking the hint ,I drag my feet round the corner ;My heart crying ...
"Emotion doe snot suit a doctors or his assistant Miss Anila .........control yourself .." He says just before i round the corner .Four benches away from away from me I see woman, tears trickling from the corner of her eyes every now and then. Her shaking hand gripping the pearly white beads of the 'tasbeeh', while the other firmly clasped by a man--probably the patients father . He is whispering something to her .As I near , he looks up suddenly his eyes brightening up . In a swift motion he is up and says
' See ? I told you he would okay !"
I stops .My heart wails . It does not want to carry the guilt of being the first to smother the small gleam of hope shinning in the eyes of the aging couple .
"Are you MR. Naveed ....? parent of patient 257 admitted in the emergency ward?" I choke out .
"Yes "
"I --I'm sorry ..We...."
"My wife and I do not care if he is disabled .... He is alive .....We are thankful ..!" He interrupts me .His wife shaking her head vigorously to show her agreement .
"No ! No you do not understand ....your son..." I am unable to go on .
"What ?...." .His voice now contains a ring of uncertainty .
"He --I 'm sorry to have to tell you this ....but your son didnt' make it ......we couldn't save him ..."
"Didn't make it ? Have you gone mad ? He - couldn't' have left us . He promised just this morning ...He would never leave me ,... you --you'r lying !.... " she yells .
"I 'm sorry ....." My voice weak .I have nothing else to say ..
The man staggers away ,his wrinkled hands glued to his graying hair . His wife is pleading . She wants me to take back my words . I wish I could .I really do but i can't .
This was how the world ended.
Not with a bang ....But with a whimper.....
