Page 109 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“We’re starting at seven in the morning.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks for your time, sir.”
It was a chilly morning on October 22, 2008. As the plane’s engines rumbled to life, my hair stood on end.
“God, don’t let this bird fall, please?” I mumbled, closing my eyes.
“What’re you doing?” said Choki. “Stop fidgeting.”
“Praying for our journey. Om mani padme hum!”
She frowned. “Don’t be a hillbilly.”
“Just that I am scared. Come on, let’s pray.”
She turned around and said, “People are watching us. Stop fidgeting.”
Soon the loudspeaker said, “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for take-off. Fasten your seat belt, please.”
A graceful female flight attendant stood before us with a striking smile. Her lips adorned with red lipstick
glistened as she held a seat belt above her head. She buckled and twisted and knotted it as the instruction came from
the speaker above us. I turned around to see how other passengers reacted. Nobody took heed of her
demonstration. They read newspapers and novels or chatted.
“Seat belt demonstration?” I muttered. “Easy-peasy.”
Choki nudged me. “Don’t mind her. Keep praying.”
“Turn off all the cellphones and other portable electronic devices,” reminded the loudspeaker.
I switched off my black-and-white NOKIA 1100 cellphone. Soon the plane taxied towards the runway. As it
took off, Choki grasped my hand and sighed. A shiver of apprehension ran down my spine. I gripped her hands.
“Lama la chap su chhe, Sangay la chap su chhe, chhoe la chap su chhe, gedeon la chap su chhe. Chap ney dam pa
ken-cho-sum la chap su chhe.”
Down the valley, houses appeared like tiny ants. I cringed away from the window and muttered to myself, “Hell
no! What if the engines stopped in midair?”
We landed at Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport at Kolkata. Phew! The short flight robbed me of
my breath. A man of average height stood at the exit of the terminal. He wore a tie that matched his brown and
yellow-checked shirt.
“Mr. Ngawang?” I said.
He nodded. “Are you the one who called me yesterday?”
I nodded.
“Where is the patient?”
“Here he is.”
He tickled Rinchen’s cheek. “Plump and adorable.” He turned to Choki and said, “Kuzu Zangpo, Aunty.”
Choki grinned. “Kuzu Zangpo la.”
“Follow me.” He led us to the ambulance at the parking lot. “Get in, please.”
“Which hospital?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I will take you to the best hospital.”
The ambulance stopped at the red-lights. And when it moved, it made an irksome sound. The alien place fuddled
me as everything around looked alike. I couldn’t say which direction we headed.
After one hour, the ambulance stopped in front of a towering building. I read the 3-D Letter signboard hung
above the entrance: AMRI HOSPITAL.
“Bring the papers to the reception,” said Mr. Ngawang. At the triage, he conversed with a young female. “Is
Doctor Mitra coming?”
“I’ll call him,” she said. “Sit there, please.”
We sat on the couch beside the triage. Minutes later, a bulbous octogenarian wobbled up and greeted us. The
dark circles beneath his eyes gave him the ghoulish appearance, but he grinned.
“I am Dr. Soumen Kumar Mitra, the pediatric surgeon,” he said in a husky voice. He tickled Rinchen on his
cheeks and said, “You can admit him now.”
We nodded.
He conversed with the Liaison Officer and turned to the receptionist. “Do anything possible for the baby. I’ll
come tomorrow.”
The triage nurse said, “The bed isn’t ready. You should wait for a while, please.”
A tall middle-aged man stood behind me. “From Bhutan?”
I got up. “Yes, sir.”
He gave me a handshake. “I am Gembo. Your name, please?”
“Dorji Wangdi,” I said.
“Glad to meet you.”

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