Karnan was a blood donor. There are a hundred other ways in which I could have described him. He was an athlete, a star performer at work, a good singer, a great husband and dad ; but to me he was a blood donor.
There was never a 6 month gap that went by where he didn't donate blood. It was either at the official blood donation drive or somewhere else that he sought out and went; the point being' he ensured that he had donated once every 6 months. I can safely say that if the allowed frequency of blood donation was once in 6 days he would have done it every week without batting an eyelid. I know that an average human being is a helpful one - he would help the fellow human given the circumstances are right; he got a sense of pride or a sense of doing good for society out of it. It boosted his ego, but Karnan was different. One could easily see that for him this activity was beyond the usual motives.
I one day casually joked to him about it. I said "Karna - you donate blood like donating water, it almost seems like you want to get rid of your blood. I have seen people maintain calendars for a lot of weird things, but your's tops the list"
He smiled the charming smile that made everyone like him and went about his tasks as usual.
And then one day we had the official Diwali family dinner organized by the company. I, the bachelor got to meet Karnan's family - his wife and his extremely cute daughter. We got acquainted and Karnan went to the buffet table with his daughter to get her to eat something.
Not knowing what else to talk about to his wife, I commented to her jokingly about his tendency to donate blood. I said " Karnan is a bloody fanatic - literally; he donates blood like he has nothing else to live for! I have made fun about it and even asked him seriously about it, but have not understood his motive. Do you know why he is so?"
Her reaction turned grim. I was apprehensive about the answer to come. Maybe I was prying. Maybe I had crossed an unwritten border that separated friendship from personal freedom.
But she quickly composed herself and started - "Karnan was not always like this. 7 years back Karnan was a different man. He was what one can call wasted. Literally and figuratively. He was a chronic alchoholic. He was beyond redemption - that is what the doctors had said. He would start his alchoholic binging at 5 in the morning and close it at 8 in the night when his body could take no more. He was hardly sober and speaking to him was impossible. He would get violent and he even started having delusions in his alchoholic stupors. His family had a hard time reigning him in. Society, in all its benevolent splendour, aggravated the problem by spurning him and pushing him deeper into his well of despair.
Karnan's father was a retired teacher with meagre means and his mother was a house wife. In all of this turmoil, it fell to Karnan's younger brother to shoulder the family responsibility. The boy took to it like it was his destiny and worked night and day to provide not only for the family, but also for fuelling Karnan's addiction.
In spite of Karnan's habits he was extrenely fond of his brother. Call it blood relationship or dependancy love - the fact was that Karnan loved his brother more than anybody else. The boy was sympathetic to Karnan's plight and always had faith that his big brother would one day be ok. He put up with all of Karnan's antics and even benevolently gave up things at home for his brother. If ever there was a guardian angel for Karnan, it was his younger brother.
His brother was a salesman and used to travel often - traversing his markets on a two wheeler, always returning home late at night after slogging away for the family. Fate, the pisser on every ones party, had big plans for the family. On one of his return trips home from his sales call at night, a truck rammed into his bike and he was injured seriously.
He was admitted to a hospital in the nearby town and the doctors said he needed blood; lots of it. His parents donated, his friends donated, neighbours donated. Everybody that knew Karnan's brother did their bit to save the boy. Karnan, for once in a long time, chose to be at the hospital instead of drinking. He went to donate blood, only to be rejected for the alchohol in it.
Karnan's brother died the next morning. Karnan was sober when it happened and has been ever since. In his brothers memory, he does a simple thing once every 6 months. He donates blood. He knows that nothing he does can redeem him for the mistakes in his life, but he tries to make it better by this act.
He believes that some younger brother out there in the world can survive with the blood that he donates and he believes his younger brother is watching - finally happy at Karnan's turn for the good."
With tears in my eyes and my throat aching from holding back sobs, I uselessly apologized to his wife. I thanked her for telling me so much and watched Karnan feed his daughter with all the love and care only parenthood can bring about.
I didn't know if to feel sad for Karnan or feel happy, but I knew that I would never make fun of his donating blood ever again.
There was never a 6 month gap that went by where he didn't donate blood. It was either at the official blood donation drive or somewhere else that he sought out and went; the point being' he ensured that he had donated once every 6 months. I can safely say that if the allowed frequency of blood donation was once in 6 days he would have done it every week without batting an eyelid. I know that an average human being is a helpful one - he would help the fellow human given the circumstances are right; he got a sense of pride or a sense of doing good for society out of it. It boosted his ego, but Karnan was different. One could easily see that for him this activity was beyond the usual motives.
I one day casually joked to him about it. I said "Karna - you donate blood like donating water, it almost seems like you want to get rid of your blood. I have seen people maintain calendars for a lot of weird things, but your's tops the list"
He smiled the charming smile that made everyone like him and went about his tasks as usual.
And then one day we had the official Diwali family dinner organized by the company. I, the bachelor got to meet Karnan's family - his wife and his extremely cute daughter. We got acquainted and Karnan went to the buffet table with his daughter to get her to eat something.
Not knowing what else to talk about to his wife, I commented to her jokingly about his tendency to donate blood. I said " Karnan is a bloody fanatic - literally; he donates blood like he has nothing else to live for! I have made fun about it and even asked him seriously about it, but have not understood his motive. Do you know why he is so?"
Her reaction turned grim. I was apprehensive about the answer to come. Maybe I was prying. Maybe I had crossed an unwritten border that separated friendship from personal freedom.
But she quickly composed herself and started - "Karnan was not always like this. 7 years back Karnan was a different man. He was what one can call wasted. Literally and figuratively. He was a chronic alchoholic. He was beyond redemption - that is what the doctors had said. He would start his alchoholic binging at 5 in the morning and close it at 8 in the night when his body could take no more. He was hardly sober and speaking to him was impossible. He would get violent and he even started having delusions in his alchoholic stupors. His family had a hard time reigning him in. Society, in all its benevolent splendour, aggravated the problem by spurning him and pushing him deeper into his well of despair.
Karnan's father was a retired teacher with meagre means and his mother was a house wife. In all of this turmoil, it fell to Karnan's younger brother to shoulder the family responsibility. The boy took to it like it was his destiny and worked night and day to provide not only for the family, but also for fuelling Karnan's addiction.
In spite of Karnan's habits he was extrenely fond of his brother. Call it blood relationship or dependancy love - the fact was that Karnan loved his brother more than anybody else. The boy was sympathetic to Karnan's plight and always had faith that his big brother would one day be ok. He put up with all of Karnan's antics and even benevolently gave up things at home for his brother. If ever there was a guardian angel for Karnan, it was his younger brother.
His brother was a salesman and used to travel often - traversing his markets on a two wheeler, always returning home late at night after slogging away for the family. Fate, the pisser on every ones party, had big plans for the family. On one of his return trips home from his sales call at night, a truck rammed into his bike and he was injured seriously.
He was admitted to a hospital in the nearby town and the doctors said he needed blood; lots of it. His parents donated, his friends donated, neighbours donated. Everybody that knew Karnan's brother did their bit to save the boy. Karnan, for once in a long time, chose to be at the hospital instead of drinking. He went to donate blood, only to be rejected for the alchohol in it.
Karnan's brother died the next morning. Karnan was sober when it happened and has been ever since. In his brothers memory, he does a simple thing once every 6 months. He donates blood. He knows that nothing he does can redeem him for the mistakes in his life, but he tries to make it better by this act.
He believes that some younger brother out there in the world can survive with the blood that he donates and he believes his younger brother is watching - finally happy at Karnan's turn for the good."
With tears in my eyes and my throat aching from holding back sobs, I uselessly apologized to his wife. I thanked her for telling me so much and watched Karnan feed his daughter with all the love and care only parenthood can bring about.
I didn't know if to feel sad for Karnan or feel happy, but I knew that I would never make fun of his donating blood ever again.
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