MEMOIRS OF KINDNESS

Wednesday, 21st November 2015, 11.39 PM. It happened so fast. I had drifted into a
lamppost. As the car engine overheats, sweat trickled down my back. I felt the
soreness of the bruises on my forehead as blood oozed from the cuts on my limbs
made from the glass shards of the smashed windshield that brushed my skin. Am I
dead? I whispered slowly. My body began to feel numb. The next thing I know, my
eyes were illuminated with a white twilight that then slowly faded into a pitch-black
darkness.

MEMORY 1

The night was especially uncomfortable with a few mosquitos orbiting around me
like I am some kind of a newfound planet. It was a noisy street near a highway. With
three of the food stalls children crying, even Panadol could get a headache. And look
at what my dad is doing now with his shades of cool. Despite being a customer, he
invited himself into the vendors kitchen. If I am ever quirky as a person, blame my
dad. Because he startled the timid lady cook in her 40s so much, my dad managed to
snag the ladle from her right hand. My dad started to cook and small talk with the lady
who was obviously feeling very awkward. Meanwhile, I looked around the food stall.
Coast is clear. No one I know is here. Later, my identity crisis father began to play
waiter and serve us the food he ordered. My mum smiled while my clueless younger
brother was delighted at the smell of the food. I felt my cheeks turning red. But my
ears were not bleeding. I suddenly realized it was much more quiet than it was before.
The children were not crying. They were eating fried rice nearby the lady cook, who
was feeding them. I never understood my father. We were always at odds with nearly
everything. But one thing is for sure. He was a very kind person. // { and show
kindness to parents and to kindred and orphans and the poor... - Quran 2:84}
MEMORY 2

There is something that is quite exciting when it comes to crossing streets. You can
either be a leader, that is the first person in the waiting crowd who makes the move to
cross, or a follower. It is quite a complex task if you assign yourself to be the leader, if
you think about it. You have to anticipate the probability of incoming speeding cars
when the light is green, and you have to make sure the time taken for a vehicle to
reach your coordinate is higher than the time taken for you to cross the street; else we
can all read Yaasin together. With British traffic lights, the pedestrian green light is
always delayed by about 5 seconds before lighting up, despite the already glowing red
light for the cars. We need to take that into account as well. But I was not in the mood
for complex mathematics that night. So, I simply crossed the street purely by impulse.
After crossing, I heard a voice: Excuse me! Excuse me! Excuse me!. A young
Indian guy in his mid 20s strolled quickly towards me, looking upset and angered
almost like a broken hearted Bollywood hero who lost his wife to another guy. The
stranger made his way towards me and looked at me in the eye, yelling: What you
did just then was dangerous. It was dangerous. You should not cross the street like
that. Do not cross the street like that. Dont you ever do that again! After forcing
myself to not reply I am alive and kicking. Whats your point?, I thanked him and
walked my way back home. As I was about to cross another road, near a traffic light
post close to where I was, there was a bouquet of memorial flowers attached with a
card. And it says: Dear John, you are missed. // {To understand everything, is to
forgive everything - Gautama Buddha}

FINAL MEMORY

Involuntary musical imagery, also known as earworms are like portable radios you
carry in your head. The DJ in my mind was playing a Taylor Swift song during one of
my carpeting classes and I was daydreaming about a vacation at a beach when my
right hand slipped and touched the sander. Carpentry was never my forte. My heart
starts to beat faster and faster. My spine trembled, and I feel my head spinning. I was
haemophobic and large droplets of bright red blood trickled down my fingers. I was
paralysed. Dumbfounded. Shocked. Scared. In pain. Upset. Anxious. Paranoid.
Trembling. Nervous. Uncomfortable. Petrified. In pain. And suddenly, warm. My
right hand felt warm. A classmate took my hand. She pulled to the toilet and tended
my wounds. The class monitor informed the teacher what happened and asked for
permission for some of my classmates to help me out with the assessed wood work I
was doing. We got the green light. While I calm my nerves, I watched my peers
assembled timber with nails and hammers. They were so focused. I bet they do not
have earworm problems. I was bullied verbally and physically as a child. Quite often,
really. My friends will never know how much this act means to me. And how much it
challenged my view on people of my age. I have become less prejudiced. And I have
these scars on my right hand to remind me that people are also capable of kindness. //
{A guidance and a mercy for those who do good - Quran 31:4}

Thursday, 22nd November 2015, 5.35 AM. I was in a green robe on a hospital bed
when I finally opened my eyes again. Its great that youre awake. said a lovely
tanned nurse, looking neat in her white uniform as she adjusted the dripping rate of
the intravenous fluid that was channeled into my left hand. She opened her mouth and
continued, The blood test we did on you indicated that you were severely dehydrated
in the overheated car. Thats why you passed out. Fortunately, somebody was around
using the road at that time and called for help just in time to get you out from that
stuffy car and send you here to the hospital for proper medical treatment.... She
paused, took a deep breath and exhaled. Then she said, By the way Your blood test
indicated that your blood type is O-. It would be a great privilege for the hospital to
have supply of this blood type since it is a true universal donor. And its rare too
Only 7% of the population has it. It could save lives. Please, do consider donating
once you have fully regained your health. Outside the ward, two nurses were seen
rushing an injured bed caster ridden patient, to an emergency unit. Very well. I said
with a smile, and on my bed, I took and signed the blood donation form.