Roger

Roger is my age – 27.  Every time I ask him how he’s doing he smiles a giant, perfect white smile and says “Very strong!  I am young, I will recover fast!”  He is one of the few patients in NimralHriday (The House of the Dying) who speaks English and can communicate.  He loves having someone to talk to and will gladly share with the volunteers his story if they sit down next to his bed. 

Roger is from a town about 12 hours from Kolkata.  He grew up without a father but was able to support his mother and younger siblings by working as a coolie on the train – someone who moves goods by carrying them on their head, getting paid by the kilogram.  One day he was carrying a load of over a hundred pounds and a taxi ran into him.  His femur snapped and he crumpled on the sidewalk, the taxi disappearing as he lay on the street hemorrhaging.  He lay in that place for three days.  I don’t know what went through his head during those days on the street but I’m sure he came to a place where he thought he had met his end.  Finally a volunteer happened upon him and he was admitted to a hospital where after a lengthy wait surgery was performed and a metal bar inserted to hold his bone together.  

Typically the beds at Nirmal Hriday are reserved for much more severe cases but since Roger had nowhere to go and couldn’t travel by train with a broken leg the Sisters welcomed him in while he recovered.  He spent most of his days slowly trying to bend his injured knee and convincing everyone that he was ready to go home and start working.  After a month and a half he finally left on the same fateful train he had arrived on so much earlier, ready to reunite with his family and start work at a chai shop. 

I was obviously glad that Roger was able to recover and go home but I was sad to see a friend leave.  A lot of people come through the MC homes.  Not many of them have as successful of outcomes as Roger but all of them have touched someone’s heart.  Roger touched mine.