A man who has devoted his entire life for the cause of the children.

I have been planning to write this letter for quite some time. May be I just waited for you all to grow up to understand what I am trying to convey. The story goes back many years. When God sent you to this world it was perhaps the best thing that had happened to your parents. Every little nudges and kicks in your mother’s womb opened up a new world of happiness and expectations. Then one day, a miracle happened. You were to begin a new journey. From the warm, happy, secure world of your mother’s womb to a world that is cold and full of insecurities. Nevertheless, the joy that your parents felt after this journey knew no bounds. They were on top of the world.
But, unfortunately, this happiness was very short lived. That very day you started turning blue in color. The doctors had found a hole in your heart that shattered the dreams of your parents. They were devastated and could not understand why they were being punished in this way. They had no choice but to accept the inevitable reality and decided to give you the best possible medical care. Before that they had to overcome two major hurdles. They could not afford the cost of your heart operation and they could not wait since you were turning blue every time you cried. I guess this is a penalty you have to pay for being born in a third world country.
Yes, when you were ten days old you had a price tag on your life. If your parents paid the price, they can have you, if not you would have to go back to where you came from. Your mummy and daddy went through phases of self-pity, denial, mutual accusations and anger towards the society, which was indifferent to their problems. Your daddy was most upset since he knew that the price tag on your life was less than what his boss would spend on a Saturday evening party. But that is life and one has to accept it. Time was running out and your daddy was getting desperate until he came to know about me.
The first thing he told me when we met was “I heard you love children”. Yes, I love children and I have four of my own. My profession is giving hope to people suffering from heart diseases and giving them a chance to start life in a fresh new way. I am essentially a technician who can cut and stitch people’s heart; they call me a heart surgeon. When I met you first you were barely 10 days old, cuddled in a warm blanket close to your mother’s heart. Except for a bit of rapid breathing and bluish nails on your finger, you looked like an angel. I am sure you cannot remember but I asked you a question “do you want to be my friend”? This is the question I ask all the children I see. I did want to be your friend and I worked so hard to gain your friendship. I clearly remember your mother’s face when she was handing you over to the operation theatre nurse. She kissed you and looked at my face with an expression that she is handing over her most precious possession to me; also with the total confidence that I will take care of you. It was a different sort of love triangle between your father, mother and myself with you at the centre. We would have done anything in this world to get you back.
It took me six hours of intense concentration to operate upon your heart and so many sleepless nights before you started smiling again. God was kind to you that time and you made a marvelous recovery. It was a big day for your family when you were being discharged from the hospital. Both your mummy and daddy would have thanked me a million times before they left the hospital. But they didn’t have to tell me anything since I knew every world what they wanted to say. Tears of joy rolled down their cheeks. But you were blissfully unaware of what was going on clinging on to your mother’s chest. My eyes began to swell with tears and I turned my face the other way since a cardiac surgeon is not supposed to cry. Through the corner of my wet eyes I saw your face one more time and I knew I found one more friend.

Story submitted by jhuma laha