The life-saving power of compassion

WE hadn’t met since we passed out of the Indian Military Academy 32 years ago. “Let’s catch up this evening,” I said. “About time,” he replied. He listened patiently as I gave a rundown of my life, the laurels I had earned in service and the setbacks that had come along the way. “So, what has your life been like?” I asked, suddenly realising that I had been doing all the talking.

“Well, I’ve been into social service for quite some time now,” he said. Yet another soul ambushed by the mid-life crisis, bitten by the ‘self-actualisation’ bug, I chuckled to myself. “I try and save lives of people who are involved in accidents,” he said unpretentiously. He began recounting his experiences, sipping tea between measured pauses: “In most cases, victims lose their lives for want of timely medical help. I simply step in during what we call the Golden Hour.”

“How many people have you rescued? Don’t you get hassled by cops and legal complications? Doesn’t the sight of blood nauseate you?” I fired a barrage of questions at him. He scrolled through his phone and showed me images of newspaper clippings; he had, it seemed, saved over 150 people from the jaws of death. “I’ve been on this mission for over two decades now; that’s how the numbers add up,” he said, as though he could sense my scepticism. I was reminded of my helicopter flying days when we, too, saved lives during casualty evacuation missions; but his voluntary service made our tally look modest.

He admitted that he occasionally felt frustrated seeing the indifference of people in authority, who became entangled in procedural constraints instead of helping him. “But the satisfaction that follows far outweighs the vexations one must endure,” my friend said. He had learnt to turn the weight of legal anxieties into purposeful service. He also acknowledged the support received from ordinary citizens. “Many a time, my wife and kids have stood by me in offering succour to the injured, some of whom were initially presumed dead,” he added. Indeed, compassion ran in the family.

He told me that he had often emptied his own pockets to arrange ambulances, blood and medicines. “When I am repaid in tears of gratitude, it gives me a deep sense of worth,” he said. In a world where people stay cocooned within their own concerns, one determined person can make a profound difference.

I returned to my room in awe of a man who seemed to live on another level of existence. I switched on the TV to hear of the tragic death of a young software engineer in Noida. His car had veered off the road and plunged into a waterlogged excavation pit. Trapped for nearly two hours, he begged for help, but bystanders — including some emergency responders – did not come forward. How I wished there had been even one good Samaritan like my friend at the scene. Perhaps that promising life might have been saved.

The writer is an Army aviator