A few years passed by… Shyam received a letter. Memories become faded but are never totally wiped out. Shyam recollected the name of the doctor as soon as he saw it. The letter made his mind go blank, sent his heart racing and his memories reeling backwards. It went something like this:
I have taken a lot of pains to track down your name from our records and trace your whereabouts. I have something to say which I had wanted to for so long. I am writing this letter a bit late, but with lots of remorse and pain in my heart. Let me come out clean. You see your friend Gunasekaran was suffering from a lot more than just coma. He had more severe damage to his other vital organs.
In a way it was good he went in coma for we could never see the way he suffered every day… every second. I have seen a lot of patients like this. He was not the first one. But somehow, something made me decide. You can call this Euthanasia or anything. I do not know. But something made me think that there was no way to restore him back again. It was at this moment that I decided to kill him.
As a doctor it was not possible for me to do this. It is neither the way of our profession nor is it in my blood to do such a crime. But I did something even worse. I decided to do what a normal human being would have never chosen to do.
I knew it was wrong from the moment I thought about it, but something made me do it. I cannot explain it really. There was first this thought which I decided to fight; it was as if the thought was always there with me and then it tool over me like… like a shadow creeping around my mind. Until, it became a thought so hideous. I couldn‘t help it. It was like losing my sanity. I did not have any control of what I did. I am sorry, I let go of your friend when he was so… so alive!
In a way I am nothing more than a criminal writing my final apologies. The act that I committed has always been killing me day after day. I wanted to dismiss this as some people call it ‘Karma’. But I couldn’t hide behind this veil for long. My heart slumps whenever I come to think of it.
Oh I am so sorry. I am not capable of fighting any more. Though I know I am never capable of being forgiven for the crime I did (no not just the crime even for the mere occurrence of the thought); please grant this old man his last apologies.