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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=513935" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>DYSPNOEA (short story)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">"He's choking" I cried<br>looking at that sixty plus old man in a dhothi and a tattered wet shirt.<br>"Dyspnoea! " commented my friend Rajan<br>staring at him.<br>"What's dyspnoea? " I yelled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rain-lashed black-top road<br>was looking like a crawling snake..<br>That desolate bus-shelter beside<br>that village road was damp and leaking.<br>The old man settled on the cement bench<br>was panting, coughing and staring into the skies as if he's waiting to see the angels from heaven or agents of the Hades.<br>His wife was pressing his back and telling..."Wait...the rain will abate soon...it won't take much time."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cried at her, "Give him his inhaler! "<br>"What's inhaler? " she asked. <br>"I mean inhaler; O' God! " I cried.<br>"How do they know about inhaler? " Rajan said coolly.<br>Ignoring my friend, I cried again, <br>"Don't you have any medicine ready...<br>Something like deriphyllin or salbutamol? "<br>I didn't wait for her reply...rushed into the rain and reached the street corner and asked a passer-by, "Where's the medical shop here? ", "No medical shop here...in fact up to a distance of 20 kms" he replied. "No medical shop? ! ! " stunned I shouted aloud.<br>He added, "That old couple live in a small hut. Even a small rain is enough to make them run. They come to this bus-shelter and remain till the rain abates...it's usual for them...don't worry...once the rain abates they go back to their hut"<br>Returned to the bus-shelter and cried at her<br>"Take him to the town by next bus...his condition is serious. We're riding on a motor bike. It's too risky to drive him town"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We returned to town, but remained my heart guilty.<br>"I could have done better than leaving that old man like that"<br>I thought.<br>Next morn, Rajan called over phone, "Read today's news...that old man died"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(In India there are hundreds of villages where no medical shop is available. This poem is based on a true incident. Rajan is a real name of my friend who is a newspaper correspondent.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sathya+Narayana">Sathya Narayana</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=513935" data-title="DYSPNOEA (short story) de Sathya Narayana" data-description=""He's choking" I cried looking at that sixty plus old man in a dhothi and a tattered wet shirt. "Dyspnoea! " commented my friend Rajan staring at him. "What's dyspnoea? " I yelled. The rain-lashed black-top road was ..."></div> </div> </div>
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