El reencuentro
-Una limosna.
Sus ropas sucias y raídas cubren parte de su cuerpo.
-Una limosna, por Dios.
Dos lágrimas surcan su rostro infantil.
-Por favor, mi madre se muere.
Alguien se acerca y deja caer una moneda en su mano
temblorosa y frágil. Le acaricia la cara y le pregunta:
-¿Qué le ocurre a tu madre?
-Se está muriendo, y nada tenemos en nuestra casa para que
se alimente, ni para pagar la visita de un médico.
Apenas se escucha un gemido sordo y el niño rompe a llorar
despacito. El llanto, callado le hace agitar su cuerpecito con ligeras
convulsiones.
Una cálida mano femenina acaricia la suya y una voz suave le
pide que se calme y le infunde ánimo.
-Vamos a tu casa. Yo soy médico. ¿Cómo te llamas?
-Rajiv
El niño conduce a la mujer a su casa. La estancia sin luz impide
ver con claridad a la enferma, pero gradualmente la doctora puede ver el rostro
contraído de dolor de la madre. Después de auscultarla le suministra un
medicamento, y transcurrido un rato la enferma se encuentra mejor. Saca de su
bolso unos billetes y los deja sobre la mesa, encargándole a Rajiv que compre
algo para poder alimentarla. Cuando se despide de Rajiv, le regala la medalla
que siempre la ha acompañado.
Gracias a ella, su madre empezó a mejorar, y sanó
definitivamente.
Han pasado más de treinta años y Rajiv conduce su coche por
la calle de una ciudad, muy lejos de su aldea natal.
Un grupo de gente se arremolina alrededor de alguien que
está en el suelo. Rajiv detiene el coche y se aproxima al lugar. Una mujer
mayor ha sufrido un ataque y está inconsciente. Él, como médico, le proporciona
los primeros auxilios y la consigue reanimar.
Está inclinado sobre ella. Ella lo mira agradecida y observa
una medalla que cuelga de su cuello. Sorprendida le dice:
-Es la medalla que le regalé a un niño cuando estuve en la
India.
No puede ser. ¿Eres Rajiv?
Rajiv, apenas puede contener la emoción. Y ella le dice:
-Gracias Rajiv. La vida es generosa, siempre te devuelve con
creces lo que le das.
Re-encounter
"An alms."
His filthy, ragged clothes cover part of his body.
"An alms, for God's sake."
Two tears stream down along his childish face.
"Please, my mother is dying."
Someone comes up and drops a coin in his trembling, fragile hand. She caresses the child's face and asks,
"What's wrong with your mother?"
"She's dying, and we have nothing in our house to feed her, or pay for a doctor's visit."
There is barely a muffled moan and the child breaks into tears slowly. The quiet crying makes him shake his little body with slight convulsions.
The warm female hand caresses his and the soft voice asks him to calm down and gives him encouragement.
"Let's go to your house. I am a doctor. What is your name?"
"Rajiv."
The boy leads the woman to his house. The room without light prevents the doctor from seeing the patient clearly, but gradually the doctor can see the contracted face of the mother because of pain. After listening to her, she gives a medicine to her, and after a while the patient is better. She takes out from purse a few bills and leaves them on the table, ordering Rajiv to buy something to feed. When the woman says goodbye to Rajiv, she gives him the medal that has always accompanied her.
Thanks to her, Rajiv's mother began to improve, and she healed definitively.
It has been more than thirty years and Rajiv drives his car down the street from a city, far from his home village, in another country.
There are many people swirling around someone lying on the ground. Rajiv stops the car and approaches the place. An older woman has suffered an attack and is unconscious. He, as a doctor, provides first aid and gets her to revive.
He is leaning over her. She looks at him gratefully and sees herself medal hanging from his neck. Surprised she says:
"It's the medal I gave to a child when I was in India."
"Can not be. Are you Rajiv?"
Rajiv, can barely contain the excitement. And she says:
"Thank you, Rajiv. Life is generous, it always gives you back what you give it."
