Kindness, there’s a lot to go around

Maneshwar Singh Chahal

THE tragic news about the death of a lady after a berth fell on her in the train recently was horrifying. It also brought memories of a train journey a couple of years ago. 

We had planned a trip to Madhya Pradesh. We took the Shatabdi to New Delhi and got our two-tier sleeper. Our first stop, Gwalior, was four hours away via Mathura. We had the bottom berths. The train was not too full. I noticed a young man in the next coupe chatting irritatingly on his mobile. These young kids and their phone obsession, I thought, as I hooked the heavy berth, with some effort, above the seat. 

As I sat down and turned to talk to my companions, the berth fell back, smashing onto my thigh, knee and hand. The pain was acute and the knee started to swell. I was feeling for any broken bones when I noticed blood on the floor. There was a deep gash along the palm, from the wrist to the knuckles, by the metal strip around the berth. The drops soon turned into a bright-red trickle. Apparently an artery had got cut. I went to wash the wound and the tiny washbasin was soon red. Some kindly soul had, meanwhile, asked for a railway official who arrived promptly, but had no first-aid kit. He offered to call for a doctor to see me at the next station since the train was about to depart. Fellow passengers offered sympathy and copious amounts of tissue paper. The waste container was soon full of blood-soaked tissue. The tissues and keeping the arm elevated helped to considerably cut down the bleeding. 

Unnoticed, the man on the mobile had disappeared. With the train now moving, I saw him jumping back in. In his hand was a packet containing antiseptics and bandages! He had, without a word, detrained, raced from platform no. 4 to the chemist on platform no. 1 to get medicine for me. He helped dress my wound, tying the bandage expertly. 

The promised doctor arrived at Mathura, but had just the most rudimentary necessities with him. He left giving me an antibiotic and a painkiller. Before the young man got off at Mathura, I could only ascertain that he was an engineer with the Power Grid Corporation of India and was returning from a sports competition. As an athlete, he had dealt with minor  injuries. I did not even get to thank him properly and barely managed to have him accept the cost of the medicines he had bought, unsolicited and at some risk of missing his train.

I got nine stitches and was told that washing the wound and the antiseptic application had prevented possible complications. My arm was in a sling for two weeks, but regardless, we visited Bhopal and also saw the stupas at Sanchi. 

As I read the tragic news of the death, those old events came flashing back. I realised that I needed to thank all those kindly fellow passengers, especially the young man. Thank you, young engineer, your athletic prowess and knowledge of first aid were really useful that day.