उन्नत क्षण

मला इ मेलने आलेलं हे खालील लिखाण मी श्री. गणपा यांना व्य नि ने आधी पाठवलं होतं. मूळ लिखाण असंच असेल याची खात्री नव्हती म्हणूनच सुरूवातीला धाग्यात उद्धृत केलं नाही, कुणी लिहिलं आहे तेही ठाऊक नाही.

मी केला आहे तो भावानुवाद /रुपांतर आहे, भाषांतर नाही हे मूळ ओळी वाचून लक्षात येईलच.

[मी 'वृद्धाश्रम' शब्द वापरला आहे कारण hospice (terminal care facility) याला मराठी प्रतिशब्द काय आहे ते माहीत नाही.]

प्रतिसादाबद्दल सर्वांचे आभार.

---
The
Cab Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I walked to the
door and knocked..

'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.

A small woman in her 90's stood before me.

She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I
told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be
treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice. '

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice.. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.'

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighbourhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow
in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying
nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a
wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.

She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review,

I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

----

कुणाला मूळ लेखकाचं नाव माहित असेल तर जरूर या धाग्यात वाचायला आवडेल.

हे केंट नर्नबर्न यांचंच लिखाण आहे. धन्यवाद!

थोडी आधिक माहिती मिळाली लेखकाविषयी:

Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace या त्यांच्या पुस्तकातला हा उतारा आहे. ते पुर्वी उदरनिर्वाहासाठी टॅक्सी चालवत असत तेंव्हाचा हा त्यांचा अनुभव होता. केंट नर्नबर्न यांनी Religion and Art या विषयात PhD मिळवली आहे, ते उत्तम शिल्पकारही आहेत आणि त्यांची शिल्पे ब्रिटिश कोलंबियातील वेस्टमिंस्टर बेनेडिक्टाईन अ‍ॅबे आणि जपान मधील हिरोशिमा पीस म्युझियम इथे ठेवलेली आहेत.

त्यांनी लिहिलेलं Simple Truths : Clear and Gentle Guidance on the Big Issues in Life आणि इतर बरीच पुस्तकं अ‍ॅमॅझॉन डॉट कॉम वर उपलब्ध दिसली,