Late one evening, while walking to my room passing by the patients wards here at IPM. I saw her sitting by the window waving at me with a bright big smile. Rishna was a bright chirpy 12-year-old girl, with a sparkle in her eyes. She had been suffering from a tumor.

The first time I met Rishna, her mother told me that Rishna loves to draw. I told the young artist that I would get her some art supplies and we would make some amazing art together. I had the art supplies in my room and planned to give it to her on the way back, but I could not that day. Something had come up and it got too late. I kept the supplies in my bag and decided to visit her first thing in the morning.

Next morning I went by her room but she was sleeping. Little did I know that her condition was bad and was on heavy medication. I went by her room later that afternoon, she was still sleeping; my heart sank a little, but I hoped that next morning she would be better and I would be able to keep my word. Things just got from bad to worse and soon she was terminal, A few days later she deteriorated progressively never recovering to her former state, and finally took her last breath. I knew that with her condition there was no coming back , but I never thought, the day I walked past her room would be the last time I would see her smile – Her death posed a lot of questions to me -why I didn’t give her the art supplies on that day at  the moment itself ? Why did I put it off? How granted did I take that moment,  thinking I would get a chance the next day – That incident taught me the value of a moment – the moment I had lost . It was a learning lesson for me to cherish every moment then on .In our daily life there are those little moments we take for granted but only realize the value of that moment once it is gone. Later that week I got a call from my good friend Wafa – asking if I had some art materials in my room.

“There is an 11 year old admitted in the same room as Rishna had been and she is interested in coloring”  she said .

I headed out with my art supplies

“Hello Pathu (Fathima) …I heard you like to color??!……” ( and the story continues ) 

The walls, the rooms, and the beds stay the same, as many come and go, but each soul have their stories to share and from each soul we learn something to cherish – IPM