Is GOD a movie-director?

Well there are times in life when you feel just that. Or how else would one explain the occurrence of events in one's life which have more tragedy then a Rajendra Nath movie or more comedy then Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Golmaal,,,

Now that you are constructively confused, I would elaborate an event in my college life which has an element of both tragedy and comedy or rather tragedy for me and comedy for my friends... So here goes....

Venue: The allay towards canteen, SGSITS, Indore
Characters: Vandit and Yours truly

My friend Vandit and I were as usual deliberating on the subtleties of life on our way to Canteen in the lunch hour. All of a sudden this character pops up like an error message. I don’t exactly remember his name but for the sake of the story let’s call him Hari. He doesn’t look like he is a from our college, has a shabby appearance, seemed like hardly-educated, mill worker types… moreover he is looking for something….. BLOOD.

Now, before I proceed further I must portray the state of exasperation that ensued every lecture that we used to attend. Therefore a virtually lukewarm reason to forgo the class was enough to take us to red-hot excitement.

Now Hari comes to us as we were just about to enter the sanctum sanctorum of SGSITS canteen. He speaks to Vandit. (he apparently is the more cordial of the two of us and people tend to go by appearance) "Bhaiya, there is my Chachi in M. Y. Hospital, who is in urgent need of blood." he says. "O +. Around 500 ml".

"OK. We will do something. Don’t worry," says Vandit. After sincere deliberation, application of thought and stretching the imagination beyond normal horizons Vandit realizes that the ‘O +’ blood that Hari requires is flowing right there in his veins, gushing through his arteries.

God has been kind enough to Vandit as he has been in possession of a voluptuous body since quite some time. He wouldn’t exactly mind giving away 400-500ml of blood that too for a noble cause. (You can argue whether the noble cause here is blood donation or bunking the class) So in his typical congenial manner he consoles Hari "Bhaiya, Don’t worry. I am O +. I will donate the blood." He exchanges contact numbers and proceeds. WOW, Hari must have google-searched before entering the college.

I was still wandering whether Vandit is serious about what he is saying. The kind of physique, that I had one would feel that 500 ml of blood for me could be anywhere between a serious to fatal amount." Still vacillating in lurches of thought, we proceeded for the canteen. There wasn’t any discussion on this topic for the rest of the day.

Next Morning, 9.00 AM. My cell phone rings

– Vandit Calling… –

Me: "Hi", I say
Vandit: "Good Morning"
Me: "So, what’s up"
Vandit: "Well, I need you to come with me to M.Y. Hospital. I am going to donate blood and would require you to drive me back home." Read this criminal sentence of his twice, you would discover the fun later…
Me: "Oh, OK. I thought you were semi-serious about it. Frankly, I forgot about it."
Vandit: "No, No… I called Hari, yesterday. He looked really worried. It’s a serious matter and we should proceed immediately. The doctor wants the blood by 11.00 AM" (I doubt till date whether he called Hari or vice-versa. Anyway, I don’t mind giving him the credit for what he was willing to do for Hari.)
Me: "Right then. 15 mins and you can pick me up." (I said that thinking that was my contribution in the social cause.)

Vandit arrived on time. He told me about the previous evening. We started towards the hospital on his bajaj super. I was on the pillion seat.

I thought Vandit must be a little afraid and I don’t blame him. The thought of a Stainless Steel syringe entering your body like a straw, and sucking your blood like watermelon juice can be intimidating. He required to be cheered up.

Me: "I hope you don’t have HIV+," I said jokingly.
Vandit: "You know what happened yesterday," he said simply ignoring my novel attempt to cheer him up.
Me: "What," I said not amused at being ignored.
Vandit: "Papa called yesterday from hyderabad and I was telling him about donating blood and he said that as far as he remembers my blood group is B +. I knew that wasn’t right but I cross- checked and confirmed with Ma. It was O +. "
Me: "You don’t have any blood test report of yours," I said quizzically
Vandit: "Tried to find it, dint get it. But come on man, I ought to know my own blood group"
Me: Chuckled an artificial laugh..

The hospital arrived. By that time, we had received the phone call from Hari, who told us the pathology lab's location and that the doctor was ready and waiting for us. We rushed to the place.

We arrived at the laboratory. There was a glass partition separating the testing area from the waiting section. I waited outside and Vandit went in. I could see him and the glimpse of fear on his face that he was trying to camouflage and so could the doctor. He was trying to keep him cheered up…

God bless M. Y. hospital and the Indian Cricket team, the former for having a TV in a pathology lab and the latter for playing decently in Vandit’s hour of agony, which to an extent mellowed the fear..…. It was about time….

The doctor followed the usual practice of testing the blood for suitability and fitness. He asked the regular questions of – when did u last donate – types while taking the blood sample out of Vandit. He took the sample under the microscope and after a brief study, gave a least expected reaction, "Your blood group is not O +, Its B +."

Vandit was not amused. There were two voices ringing simultaneously in his mind. First of his dad’s who had given him the same information as the doctor and Second, his own, ‘I ought to know my own blood group.’

I walked towards Vandit without any precise questions in mind, simply bewildered. Before I could utter an alphabet, both Vandit and the doctor turned towards me and asked the ugly question, "What is your blood group?"

There are some questions in life, which you wish you dint have an answer to, even if its an exam. But I simply wasn’t fortunate enough… The answer was O +… I wonder till date, how I pronounced that immediately, as if it were an external viva and I would buy myself a neat 25/25 to have said that.

It was too much to bear the shock. I required being brought back to my senses to think of something to avoid this. But I could not. I saw Vandit, externally serious and internally amused. It was he who would drive me back home now. Damn it….

The doctor gave me 10 mins to prepare myself for the altar. We went downstairs. Vandit bought me a juice, (God, I would have bought him two, had he not called me in the morning today)… I prepared myself, tried to be brave boy, thinking of how Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and the likes had given their life for the country. Nevertheless, they hadn’t donated blood…. I thought while going back to the lab.

OUCHHHH, the syringe went inside my veins and slept there for what seemed like eternity. I saw the bottle getting filled up with my precious blood. I thought I would require being at total bed-rest for a week or so. Man, how I wanted my blood back into me.

We drove back home. The pain was no more there in the arms but very much in my psyche. Vandit was kind enough to arrange a dinner for a few of our friends at his place and he says it was in my honour…… Well…

So, what do you say, is GOD a movie-director?