Confessions of a hypocrite

“God!” my sister cried out and turned her face abruptly, hiding it behind my brother’s back.

I had only seen the rear portion of the two-wheeler when it had risen above, hitting the 2 feet concrete slab that had been placed as the median of the M.T.H road. But my brother and sister had seen the guy, driving the two-wheeler, flying in the air and hitting the slab before the vehicle had taken flight by the impact.

It took me a few moments to put together what had happened. My sister was still reeling from the shock as my brother slowly removed her hand that had firmly grabbed his shoulder. He then went running towards the fallen guy from the place where we were standing. My sister had come to her senses by then and she went following him to the spot. I should have followed her but for some reason, my feet just wouldn’t move. I stood glued to the spot.

“Go and help them, you idiot!” my mind screamed but I stood right at the spot unable to move.

A few people had gathered around the fallen guy by then and my brother lifted the two-wheeler that lay a few feet apart as a few others lifted the guy. As the guy stood up with their help, I could see a cut on the left side of his face with the blood flowing down. The guy took out his handkerchief and pressed it against the cut. “Somebody needs to take him to the hospital” shouted a guy in the group that had gathered around.

A 24-hour emergency hospital, fortunately, was a few meters behind the spot I was standing. My sister held the guy’s hand as he kept pressing his bleeding forehead with his handkerchief and slowly walked him in my direction. As they crossed me, she told me to hold his hand and accompany him to the hospital. I stared at her from my spot frozen. “Get hold of him”, she shouted, as I slowly grabbed his hand and started walking him towards the hospital. 

As we entered the hospital, a guy at the entrance seeing the blood on the victim’s face led us quickly to the dressing-room. As a nurse entered, I came out of the dressing-room to see that my brother and sister had also arrived after having parked the guy’s two-wheeler at a corner. About 5 minutes later, a syringe was asked to be bought and my brother rushed to the pharmacy nearby to buy it. Half an hour later, the guy’s wound had been dressed and he had regained consciousness. He then thanked my brother who asked if he needed further help. He asked my brother to take leave saying that he would take care from then.

“Are you still thinking about the accident?” my sister asked, noticing that I was unusually silent. We had left the hospital ten minutes earlier and were on the road walking. “I should have also come with you to the spot where he had fallen and helped the guy. But I stood fixed to my spot like a coward” I told her, voicing the thought that had been circling in my head ever since we had left the hospital. “You were the one who accompanied him to the hospital. So, why say this? Just let it go” she said, trying to convince me. “We ourselves didn’t do much. I was trying to set aside the vehicle instead of helping lift the guy” said my brother smiling, trying to make the mood a bit lighter. But I couldn’t accept it.

I thought for some time as to what I would have done if I had been alone when the accident had occurred and taking into account the response I had shown earlier, I was sure that I would have probably hurried away a good ten meters before turning back to see if anyone had come about to help the victim. The only reason I had stayed glued to the spot earlier was because my brother and my sister had ran forward to help the guy and I had not known what to do. Similarly, I had accompanied the guy to the hospital only because my sister had told me to do so. And these realizations, as they dawned, hurt me.

They hurt me not because I had a good conscience. No. They hurt me because I had been a full-fledged hypocrite trying to lecture anyone and everyone on the need for helping fellow beings when I had not even taken a step forward to help a person in pain.

What good is it when my posts are full of social concern when in reality I am just another bystander in an accident? What good is it trying to give away lectures of serving humanity when it takes the compulsion of a sister to do one such service of the tiniest magnitude?

I have been thinking about it for more than a day now and by every hour that passes, the flow of these thoughts only pave way to the further accumulation of shame. I thought about for quite some time as to stop filling my blog henceforth with posts about social issues and projecting forward my social concern.

But I decided against it, the reason being a simple one. I still remember the message I received from a friend after I had posted ‘Currently not available’ – a post about how I had failed to recognize the affection of my mom after having come to college. The friend had admitted to having cried at the post’s end and had told me that she would never ever vent her anger at her mom from then.

I might be a hypocrite but I am sure that most of the people who come across the posts in my blog aren’t as lame as I am. Some random post about some random incident might trigger something in a reader and he/she, at the onset of a similar instance, might resort to a braver response. I know that I am absolutely wrong in calling my posts an eye-opener but if it could evoke even the slightest expression of anger against a social ignorance, then I might have helped in the tiniest way possible to a courageous fellow being.

So henceforth, when you come across a post (or perhaps even if you chance upon an older one) in my blog that projects social concern, do read it and give it a moment’s thought but please do also know that the writer, though having expressed very strong views of his, is still in the process of building himself up to the very same ideals.

The next time an accident occurs, I promise to put in my best efforts to take a step forward to help the victim. But if you – the reader of this post – do the same very well before one such instance of mine, I would be more than happy.

A happier human being than a writer. And I guess the former, on any day, precedes the latter by a huge margin.