Little Rahul lay on his stretcher in front of the operation theatre, engrossed in playing with two toy cars. He was too young to grasp the seriousness of the situation. His mother, Ragini, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with worry. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to contain her emotions.

Rahul’s father, Atul, gently urged her not to cry, fearing that their son might sense her distress. But when Rahul noticed his mother’s tears, he spoke in his innocent, cheerful voice, “Mama, did you see? My stretcher has wheels! I’m lying on it so comfortably, and they’re even driving me around. It’s so much fun!”

Seeing his mother still silent, he tried to comfort her. “Mummy, mummy, don’t worry at all. I’m a brave boy! I’m not scared of injections. And just like you told me, I’ll follow every instruction Dr. Aunty gives me, and then I’ll be all better. And remember your promise? You have to buy me three more toy cars!”

His words carried a childlike innocence, yet they held a strength that melted his mother’s heart.

Rahul’s innocent words made Ragini’s eyes well up with tears. She bit down on the edge of her saree’s pallu, trying her best not to cry in front of her little boy. She knew this was a serious operation. Though the surgeon was highly renowned, she couldn’t shake off the anxiety—everything had to go well.


Just then, Dr. Rajeshwari arrived—the surgeon who would be operating on Rahul. Ragini observed her carefully. She was a slim, composed woman with a short boy-cut hairstyle. A few strands of hair near her earlobe had turned white, blending with the natural black in a salt-and-pepper mix. Her demeanor was calm and poised, exuding quiet confidence. A pair of gold-framed glasses rested elegantly on her nose, adding to her composed presence.


Ragini lowered her head respectfully and greeted the doctor with a “Namaste.” She said, “Doctor, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule for this operation. I truly appreciate it.”

Dr. Rajeshwari smiled warmly and placed a reassuring hand on Ragini’s shoulder. Her touch carried a silent promise—everything would be fine. Ragini felt a strange familiarity in the doctor’s face, as if she had seen her somewhere before. But the weight of her son’s surgery clouded her mind, and she pushed the thought aside.

The red light outside the operation theatre turned on—Rahul had been taken inside. Ragini’s heart pounded as a storm of emotions swirled within her. Fear, hope, and anxiety gripped her all at once. She sat still, whispering silent prayers, counting every second as if it were an eternity.

And then, suddenly, a thought struck her like lightning—Dr. Rajeshwari was none other than her childhood friend, Lakshmi!
Ragini’s face tensed, her emotions shifting from shock to anger and resentment. Lakshmi! The very name brought back a flood of memories.

Back in school, Lakshmi was nothing like this composed and confident doctor. She was plump, mischievous, and always up to some prank. Unlike other girls who wore short skirts, she insisted on wearing an extra-long one. Her thick, oily hair was always neatly tied into two long braids. She was famous—not for her studies, but for her endless mischief.

But now? Now she was unrecognisable. Slim, sophisticated, and exuding an air of authority, Lakshmi had transformed into Dr. Rajeshwari. No wonder Ragini hadn’t recognised her at first glance.


Ragini’s mind drifted back to her school days. A wave of painful memories surged through her—because of this selfish Lakshmi, she had once been hospitalised for days, battling between life and death. A deep, unknown fear gripped her heart. Had she made a terrible mistake by entrusting her son’s life to this doctor?

Wiping the tears streaming down her face with the pallu of her pink saree, Ragini tried to hold herself together. But no matter how hard she tried, fresh tears kept welling up in her eyes. She turned towards the window and gazed at the vast sky. At this moment, her faith rested only in God Almighty. She murmured softly, her lips moving in prayer—she was chanting the Maha Mrityunjaya Mantra.

“Om Tryambakam Yajamahe Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam…”



XXXXXX


As she prayed, her mind wandered back to the day when everything changed. That afternoon, little Rahul was playing in the garden, chasing colourful butterflies. His soft, curly hair bounced over his forehead as he ran, and his big, brown eyes sparkled with mischief. But suddenly, he stopped. His tiny body swayed, and before Ragini and Atul could react, Rahul collapsed onto the green grass.

Panic shot through them. “Rahul!” they both screamed and ran towards him. His small face had turned pale, his nails a frightening shade of blue. Something was terribly wrong. Without wasting a moment, they lifted him into their arms and rushed him to the hospital.

The doctors ran several tests, and the truth hit them like a thunderbolt—Rahul had a hole in his heart. It was a congenital condition, something he has had since birth, but they had never known until now. He needed immediate surgery.


Ragini and Atul desperately began searching for the best heart surgeon in town. But Rahul’s condition was complex, and finding an expert for such a delicate procedure seemed nearly impossible. Time was slipping away.


One day, Ragini’s neighbour, Sarita, shared a piece of crucial information. “There is a highly skilled heart surgeon at my hospital who has joined recently,” she said. “Previously she worked in the U.S. at a prestigious hospital at an incredibly high salary and a top-ranking position. Her success rate is unmatched—every surgery she has performed has been successful. But she is always occupied, and getting an appointment with her is extremely difficult.”

Sarita then revealed why such a renowned doctor had returned to India.
“She came back because of her daughter’s illness. She agreed to work at this hospital on one condition—that they would assist in her daughter’s treatment.”

This news gave Ragini a glimmer of hope. But she had no idea at the time that this exceptional surgeon was none other than Lakshmi—her childhood friend, the very person she had once despised.


XXXXXX


Ragini felt a spark of hope when Sarita shared this information. Without wasting a moment, she said, “Sarita, if you don’t mind, I can give you Rahul’s medical file. Please show it to Dr. Rajeshwari and discuss his case with her. Maybe she’ll agree to schedule the surgery sooner. Whatever date she gives, I am ready for it.”

Two days later, Sarita called, her voice brimming with excitement.
“Ragini, there’s good news! Dr. Rajeshwari has agreed to perform Rahul’s surgery, and she has scheduled it for next week!”
Hearing this, Ragini let out a sigh of relief.



XXXXXX


Ragini, with closed eyes, murmuring prayers as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her soft curls fell over her forehead and face, but she was lost in devotion, detached from the world, surrendering completely to God.


After what felt like an eternity, the red light outside the operation theatre finally turned off. The doors opened, and Dr. Rajeshwari stepped out—a victorious smile on her face.

She walked straight to Ragini, who was still sitting with her eyes closed. Gently holding her hand, she said, “Ragini, the operation was successful.”

Ragini, startled by the familiar voice speaking her name, opened her eyes. She looked at the doctor carefully. The smile, the warmth—there was something about her… And then, the doctor spoke again.

“I am Lakshmi. Didn’t you recognized me? Don’t you remember I’m your childhood friend?”

Dr. Rajeshwari paused for a moment and then continued, “Ragini, the moment I saw Rahul’s medical file and read the mother’s name ‘Ragini Sahay,’ I had a strong feeling it was you. When I saw Rahul’s picture, I was sure—he had to be your son. He is a wonderful child, so full of life. He looks so much like you—the same big brown eyes, the same curly hair. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to schedule his surgery immediately.

“I’ve been searching for you ever since I returned to India. I wanted to meet you again.”

Ragini looked at Lakshmi in disbelief. A storm of emotions passed through her eyes—shock, confusion, anger, and something unspoken. Lakshmi noticed the hesitation and gently took Ragini’s hand, leading her to her office.



After years, the two friends finally sat across from each other. But between them lay a heavy silence. Time had moved forward, but the wounds of the past still lingered. Neither of them spoke, as if waiting for the other to break the silence first.

After a while, Lakshmi cleared her throat, lowered her eyes, and spoke softly, “Ragini, are you still upset with me? I apologised to you that day. Even after all these years, will you still not forgive me?”

Ragini remained silent, lost in thought. A flood of memories rushed through her mind. She had been deeply hurt by Lakshmi, yet today, she was indebted to her—the same person she once resented had saved her son’s life.


Lakshmi forced a smile and said, “Ragini, let the past go. We’ve met after so many years. Tell me about yourself and tell me about your daughter. I heard she’s not keeping well.”

Lakshmi sighed, her face heavy with worry. “I have only one daughter, and she suffers from sickle cell anemia. Because of this, she requires frequent blood transfusions. But there’s a bigger problem—her blood group is ‘golden blood.’ It’s one of the rarest in the world. That’s why I requested this hospital’s management to help arrange it for her. They assured me they would try, and that’s the reason I decided to return to India.”

She paused for a moment, then got up from her chair and walked over to Ragini. Taking both of Ragini’s hands in hers, she held them tightly. Ragini felt something warm on her wrist— they were Lakshmi’s tears.

In a soft, trembling voice, Lakshmi said, “I’m sorry, Ragini. Please forgive me for what happened. I never meant to hurt you.”

Ragini slowly lifted her gaze and looked directly into Lakshmi’s eyes. Then, in a calm but firm voice, she asked, “Will you tell me the truth?”

Lakshmi, her eyes still filled with tears, nodded silently.

Ragini’s throat tightened, her own eyes brimming with emotions. “I never understood why did you do that on the football field? Why did you push me aside and take credit for the championship-winning goal? That goal was mine, Lakshmi. I should have been the one to win the match for our team. But you stole it from me.”

Her voice choked with pain as she continued, “That day, I was hurt so badly. But you never came to see me—not at my home, not even at the hospital. Was our friendship so feeble? Did it mean so little to you?”






XXXXXX

Ragini’s mind drifted back to her school days—the football field, the deafening cheers, the excitement of the match. She and Lakshmi had been best friends, their bond known throughout the school. Both were in Class 10, and both were star players of their team.

That day, the football ground was buzzing with energy. Students surrounded the field, shouting and cheering for their respective teams. It was an intense match, and in the final moments, the pressure was at its peak.

Ragini had the ball. She was manoeuvring it with precision, dodging defenders, inching closer to the goal. This was it—the moment that would decide the championship.

Just as she was about to strike the winning goal, Lakshmi suddenly appeared in front of her.

She pushed Ragini aside and kicked the ball into the net.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Ragini lay on the ground—not just in shock, but in pain. Two players from the opposing team had collided with her and fallen on top of her. A sharp pain shot through her leg. The world blurred around her.

And in that moment, as Lakshmi basked in the victory, Ragini was left behind—wounded, betrayed, forgotten.

Ragini had suffered a deep wound on her head. Blood was flowing profusely. Lakshmi ran back towards her, panic-stricken, repeatedly saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

But amidst the deafening cheers of the crowd, Ragini could barely hear her. Or perhaps, she was already slipping into semi-consciousness due to the injury.

By then, the medical team arrived with a stretcher and carefully lifted Ragini. As they carried her off the field, she looked at Lakshmi through her half-closed, tear-filled eyes.

That day, their school won the championship. But Ragini and Lakshmi lost their friendship.

Lakshmi wiped her tears and said softly, “Ragini, I never meant to take the ball from you. I saw two players from the opposing team trying to push you down. I panicked… I thought if I took the lead, I could prevent you from getting hurt. I didn’t realise my action would cause you to fall. Do you remember even those two players fell on you? I assumed it was just a minor injury, and that you’d recover and come back to school soon. I was feeling guilty for hurting you. I kept waiting for you to recover and return to school so that I could apologise to you in person.” But you never did…”

Ragini let out a deep sigh. Then, looking directly at Lakshmi, she said, “Because for my condition even a small wound is life-threatening for me. I have haemophilia, Lakshmi. My blood doesn’t clot like a normal person’s. That day, I lost a lot of blood and had to undergo an emergency transfusion. But my blood group is ‘golden blood’—as you know one of the rarest in the world. It was difficult to find a donor. That’s why my father decided to take a transfer in his job and brought me to Delhi for my treatment.”

A moment of silence filled the room.

Then, suddenly, Ragini smiled. “Look at this, Lakshmi. My blood group is golden—just like your daughter’s. Now, you don’t have to search for a donor anymore. You saved my son’s life, and now, I can help save your daughter’s. Maybe… God brought us back together so we could clear our misunderstandings and heal our old wounds.”

Lakshmi’s eyes welled up again, but this time, her tears carried a different emotion—relief, gratitude, and happiness.

Holding Ragini’s hands tightly, she whispered, “Friend, not just your blood, but your heart is golden too.”

In that moment, the years of distance and hurt melted away. Both friends embraced each other, tears streaming down their faces.
Those were tears of happiness that washed away years of misunderstanding.