Human compassion can break all boundaries, feels Dr P N Rangan, as he reminisces about an unforgettable encounter in Iran
It was during the independence movement in Iran when this heart-wrenching episode occurred in my life. It was a traumatic moment that taught me an important lesson about mankind. It still disturbs me emotionally, even after 29 long years.
I was working as a physician in Iran at a hospital in Sanandaj, the capital of Kurdistan province in Iran. The Islamic revolution was at its peak as Shah Raza Pahalvi, the then king of Iran, had fled the country and taken political asylum in Morocco.
Even as the revolution gained momentum every day, the province of Kurdistan was thrown into tremendous turmoil and upheaval. After the establishment of the new Islamic government, a crackdown on the separatist elements was initiated by the Islamic militia. The city of Sanandaj was besieged by the army and blown apart by continuous mortar shelling for about two days. Then the army literally terrorized the city.
Due to certain prior commitments, I had to stay back with a surgeon friend after sending our families to India. We stayed at a rented place for those few days. The upper storey of the house was occupied by a kind landlord and his family (who we were fortunate to have found in those trying times) while we stayed below on the ground floor. The kinship we shared with them was almost like that of an extended family. Caste, religion and nationality were forgotten over our bond. We stayed holed up in the basement of that house right through all the shelling.
Next morning after the takeover, we were urgently required to attend the heavy casualties at the hospital. Even as we prepared to leave, I remember Nahideh, the daughter of our landlord, read out the holy Koran praying for the safety of us, her Hindu brothers. Her serene face, as she recited the ayat, has been etched on my memory for an entire lifetime. It was at that point I realized the meaning of human ties in their very essence.
She then went on to request the ambulance driver to take them to her eldest sister’s home situated near the airport, which was damaged due to shelling. In all her innocence, she believed that nobody would have the heart to fire at the ambulance. We left, headed towards the hospital, ignorant of the fact that, possibly, this was the last time I was seeing Nahideh.
Forty minutes later, on the same day, I suddenly heard the screams of my landlord and his family, right outside the Emergency door. I rushed out only to find Nahideh fighting for her life. She was brutally hit by a sniper’s bullet, her skull had cracked and she was bleeding profusely. All our desperate attempts to revive her proved futile.
Her death left a gaping hole in my faith. It confused me about the sanctity of prayers as I kept questioning God about his demands. How could someone who prayed for the well-being and safety of others meet such a cruel end in our presence? I am in waiting but haven’t yet got a satisfactory reply from Him. I merely console myself with the knowledge that God loves those who die young. He must have thought it was time for me to change the direction of my life.
We left Iran eventually before the beginning of the Iran-Iraq war. This incident left an indelible emotional impression in my subconscious. I understood then that love and compassion transcend all man-made boundaries of caste, community, colour, race, religion and country. The departed Nahideh was a living example of that.
(Published in Soul Curry: Inspirational Stories To Touch And Heal Your Heart, 2010)
–courtesy “Times of India”
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/relationships/soul-curry/A-Muslim-girls-prayer-for-her-Hindu-brothers/articleshow/47443091.cms