The working mother takes resolute steps as she heads home. The unwell infant slips into a tired sleep in the arms of his mother. The trusted arms covers the boy with the warm cloak of safety.
The tired nurse moves with bowed head. Reliving the tired day, thanking God for granting her the onerous opportunity to serve humanity. Her hands were the healing hands of God. Her eyes trace the cracks on the floor, as each thoughtful step heads to the well earned rest back home. Her family waits unaware.
The unexpected occurs. The trust on the floor they walk is broken. They fall and a life is lost. One dies in sleep and other in the agony. There are no last thoughts, no blames and regrets. Only panicked synapses that fire the vain reflexes. The hands fail to grasp a support before the ground cracks the skull. The memories are shattered. The dead bodies file no complaint. They lie there cold with the eyes staring in disbelief and terror. The mouth concocted with unsaid scream. Why?
The arms of mother failed the infant. The healing hands failed the sick. But their screams would echo in the sinful ears of the ones who failed them. The floor which they walked was trusted as were the arms of the mother or the healing hands of the nurse.
They never questioned why they must heal or why they must protect. It was their duty and they did it. It was their Dharma. They question why were they killed and Who forgot their Dharma – their Sense of Duty. It wasn’t just a bridge – it was a collapse of their trust?
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