Terminal

(#Shortstory)

“THE TERMINAL STRIKES AGAIN!” shouted the TV. “Serial killer dubbed THE TERMINAL known for killing people suffering from terminal illnesses kills again, claiming his 97th victim. Discovered by police about 2 years ago, this killer has managed to stay out of police’s grasp all the while remaining active. His actions have also reignited the age-old debate about the morality of euthanasia with a rising number of people considering his actions just and humane.

Despite his rising popularity, he remains a criminal in the eyes of law with the police trying to hunt him down as we speak.”

I listened to this news report passively. I didn’t really care. But my wife was intrigued.

“What do you think of this?” She said. “Do you think he is a criminal or a humanitarian?” she looked at me for a response.

But I had already left the room, mentally; and was taking a walk down the memory lane to my college days.

I was a physics student back then and dreamed of being a scientist one day. My father was a professor in the same college but thankfully he taught Philosophy and hence our paths didn’t cross much, academically. He was a strict guy and very hard to please and gratefully, I didn’t have to live up to his expectations as a student.

As far as I can remember, Rahul was the only one who can be termed as his favourite student in all of my father’s academic life and maybe his best friend. Ironically, Rahul was never really his student. He was a research associate in the Biology department and also the most anti-social and rude person to ever cross my path. But he was also the most gifted and intelligent man that I had the fortune to meet.

He was a machine. During college hours no one had seen him do anything other than his work. He used to keep to himself and hence no one really knew him. And when you don’t know something you are either scared of it or you make up stories about it to comfort yourself. The same happened with him, rumors about him bordered on both the extremes of absurdity. Some claimed he practiced dark magic which included animal sacrifice. And then there were people who claimed he was trying to cure cancer. But whatever their belief, everyone agreed he was weird.

The only thing close to normal in his day used to be his hang-out sessions with my father at the Kitli outside. They would sit there sometimes till nightfall and discuss everything under the sun and sometimes things beyond it. But I hated him at that time. Like others, I would mock him and had labelled him crazy. I guess I was just jealous.

As time passed, I ended up becoming a scientist and working with one of the biggest scientific institutes in the country. I didn’t know what happened to Rahul, but I think he stayed in touch with my father through emails.

He reappeared in my life or rather my father’s life when dad was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I had become a project manager by that time and hence could manage to pay for his treatment. But there wasn’t much to treat. Doctors had given him a few months to one year at most. And the only thing left to do was make him comfortable.

Given my position, I had a crazy amount of workload and since I was aiming at another promotion I spent all my energy in the lab. And hence, even though I was his only son, I visited my father maybe once a week. And whenever I visited I would mostly find him sleeping. I felt guilty about this sometimes but then I would remind myself that I was getting him the best medical care with my money like a good son, what more could I do?

But Rahul, even though unrelated, was his true son. He left his job and shifted back to the city. He would visit my father every day at the hospital and give him company. I never bumped into him for a few months, he made sure of that, more for my sake than his.

And then one day I got a call from him that my father needed me right away. He was waiting for me at the hospital. I rushed to my father’s room and found as I had always found him half asleep.

I looked at Rahul who seemed indifferent as always but his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t say a word to me for a while then barely managed to whisper

“Your father wants his pain managed?”

It took a while for that to sink in. “What do you mean?” I inquired.

“Your father has been in tremendous pain lately. He...he wants to get his pain managed.” He said

“What are you getting at? Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

He didn’t say anything and just looked down. But that was enough for me.

I punched him hard and then kicked him once he was down.

“How dare you? How dare you even suggest that?” I didn’t know if I was angry at his suggestion or just angry at him.

“My mother died of cancer. And I have known your father well. I know what I am suggesting and I am sorry but that is what he wants...” he said and before he could say any further I kicked him again.

By this time, other people had entered the room having heard the commotion. I had him thrown out of the hospital. I think years of jealousy, years of anger towards him and towards my father was finally getting an outlet. I looked at my father who was awake now. The way he looked at me with disappointment was enough to make me realise my mistake.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept on convincing myself that what I did was correct. That I knew my father well and he would never choose euthanasia. And there was a sanctity to life which has to be respected despite all the pain and suffering. But a small part of me knew... it knew that I was wrong. And all I had done was some twisted form of revenge towards my father and towards Rahul.

At 2 a.m., I received a text from Rahul. A simple- I AM SORRY. First I thought it was for suggesting what he suggested at the hospital. But I realised that this apology was not for that when I received a call from the hospital informing me that my father had passed away.

I learned at the hospital that he didn’t die naturally but his death was peaceful. And the hospital is conducting an inquiry into the matter. I understood what had happened but didn’t bother to say anything. On a certain level, I felt relieved and mentally thanked Rahul for this humane gesture.

I never met or talked to Rahul again but I was updated about his activities by the news like the one my wife was watching.

“HELLO! Are you there?” my wife asked.

“Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts” I responded.

“I asked something. Do you think this TERMINAL guy is a criminal or a humanitarian?”

“I don’t know,” I said switching off the TV.

But I knew. I knew.