It was never a rare or a difficult-to-gather
experience. However, in my particular case, fate had been eluding me this chance
since last seven years. In fact, as a friend correctly summarized, being a
female is somewhat disadvantageous in these matters; mainly because, so many
factors need to fall in place, before a ‘Madam’ can be declared ‘fit’ for being
a ‘blood donor’.
So, when this Sunday morning, Aks
casually mentioned a blood donation camp being organized in the neighbourhood, my
mind immediately worked out all the statistics to evaluate my fitness. With an
affirmative reply from the fitness section, I called upon all the ‘sweet-girly’ powers of conviction in
order to obtain the requisite NOC from my dear hubby. Eventually, a deal was
struck, but at the cost of a ‘Fast ‘. I was happy nevertheless. After all, this
experience had been on my wishlist for a long time.
For me, experiencing the phenomenon
of donating blood, was somehow never associated with the social welfare part of
the issue. Neither was I concerned about the reported corruption prevalent in
this sector. For me, it was all about testing my limits. It was all about
getting a confirmation about my strength. It was only about answering whether I could.
With all these thoughts in mind and
with Aks doubting the righteousness of his NOC, we reached the venue. We were
amazed by the number of cars parked outside the small wedding pandal which was
serving as the camp site. There were at least ten folding beds lying on one
side of the pandal, making it resemble a make-shift accident relief camp. On
the other side of the pandal, two counters had been set up for registering the
volunteers and for the elementary medical checkup. As I went through the
formalities, many ‘well wishers’ came forward to assure me that ‘ghabraane ki
koi baat nahi hai’ and ‘dariye mat’. In response, I smiled politely and tried my
best to hide the curious-excited expression. It was pointless trying to explain
the selfish intent behind the noble act.
Finally, as I lay on one of those
beds and the sister struggled to find a suitable vein for pinching the needle,
the long awaited moment had arrived. With a 350ml pouch attached to my left
hand, the procedure commenced. In less than two minutes, even before I could
intake the complete experience, a fellow donor exclaimed ‘bhar gaya’, which was
slightly disappointing. However, just then I felt dizzy and it took all my
willpower (and a lot of effort) to keep the eyes open. It was then that I truly
understood the meaning of the phrase ‘to suck life’s blood’. This struggle
between the mind and the heart continued for another fifteen minutes, after which
the eyes were able to remain open on their own and I was back on my feet.
As I rose from the test bed, the
reassuring well wishers were back at work. However, as I made my way towards the exit,
there was a beaming smile inside my heart.
Now I knew, for sure, that
I CAN.
