Calls and Connections
By: Rabin Jack
Tags: Hope, Challenges In Life, Friends

“Ring ring” “ring ring,” the phone blared.

‘Who could that be,’ I thought to myself. ‘Another well wisher?’ I didn’t want any of that. T’was supposed to be a day to make merry and be glad, for it was my birthday. But the day had started rather bleak and had only gotten worse since the break of dawn.

“Ring ring” “ring ring,” continued the phone. I reached out to grab the phone to see who was calling. ‘Oh good, an unsaved number, isn’t this just lovely.’

“Hello!” chirped from the other end of the line. ‘Not just an unknown number but also a voice I didn’t recognize.’ I thought, forgetting to say Hello back.

“Hello!” again, the voice getting firmer. ‘Hi,’ I replied weakly.

Prior to that phone call, my day had turned from one of hopefulness to one where all I could do was cling unto slipping hope. Allow me to explain further. It was the second of November, my birthday, so I had a lot planned out. I wouldn’t say that I put in any effort celebrating my birthday, but this year was different. It was a significant birthday for me, my silver jubilee (It sounds bonkers, I know), so I had wanted to do something. Also, we all know how “good and just amazing” the year 2020 had been. There were hangouts planned, friends and family calling. Heck! I had even planned to go shopping. Not something I do regularly or even like to do, but this was a special day.

I had gotten up early in the morn, answered a few calls, and replied to some messages. The influx of calls and messages were not at all what I had expected. Not much came after the first few, but then I had received most of the messages much earlier in the day, around midnight. I was picking out clothes to wear when I noticed it. He was awake, but his eyes were drooping. I called out to him, and he could barely hear me, and when he did, his response was way off from what we were discussing. “Dad, we are going to the hospital,” I said, masking my fears and concerns.

We got to the hospital, and everything was routine. The doctors saw him, said their usual mumbo jumbo incantations when describing a patient’s case, knowing fully that we, normal human beings, can’t understand higher beings’ language. Bottom-line, he was to be admitted and kept under observation. Their fears were mine; he was experiencing a stroke.

“Thank God you guys came in when you did. his case is still in the early stages, and we can take care of it,” the doctor said. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

I stepped out of his office, walked towards the car, and said a prayer: ‘I will not lose my father on the day I turn 25. Lord save him.’ Soon after, the words ceased, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them off, adjusted, adjusted my posture, and proceeded back to the ward they had put him in.

‘Hi,’ my reply was weak. It couldn’t have been past seven in the evening, but in my eyes, the day had had a dark cloud over it, and the darkness was gradually extending past my horizon.

“My name is ***** from the gathering you attended yesterday. I was going through the form and saw that it was your birthday, so I decided to call and wish you a happy birthday.”

‘Thank you for calling. I am fine, how about you (in my usual monotone voice).

“Are you alright? It’s your birthday; you should be happy and all that.”

‘I am fine; it has been a long day.’ I replied.

“Ok, can I sing for you? It is your birthday, maybe it would cheer you up. Although I must say, I can’t sing to save my life.”

(Why then would she suggest it, lol.) The thought made me chuckle. This seemingly uninteresting call from a complete stranger had, for a second, had me smile, reminding me that it was my birthday.

‘Can I call you back?’ I asked.

“Sure, you can. Looking forward to hearing from you when you’re in a better mood. And please, whatever you’re going through, smile, ok? It will be alright,” was her reply.

Amidst all I had gone through, this stranger had for a second reminded me what that day was all about, and almost like it was God sent, the doctors came in with some even better news.

“He is out of the woods, and you can rest easy.”

By 10pm that day, we battled to keep his BP and pulse under cause it had risen to the roof.

That phone call that parted the clouds a bit was now a thing of the past. All I could think of was my father surviving each minute until his vitals returned to normal. I didn’t sleep that up until 5am the next morning. The prayers and doctors trooping in and out of the ward occupied my present, and even my dreams. So it was a real wonder how I even remembered that call.

‘I will call that stranger tomorrow,’ I thought while I drifted into the shortest sleep I have ever had, knowing full well that another battle awaited me when my eyes opened.