A Billionaire On The Hospital Bed - An Experience from Bangalore

This was in October 2007, a Halloween weekend and I was lying on a hospital bed. For me, it was the fourth day on a hospital bed at the Apollo Hospital on Bannerghatta Road in Bangalore. I was recuperating after suffering a fall that tore the ligament off my right knee. Movement was a Herculean task. My world was reduced to the ceiling above me and occasional glances at other patients and their visitors.

One such patient, very close to my bed, was Mr. Mehra.

Mr. Mehra was in his fifties or probably in his early sixties. A teenage daughter, a son, and his wife visited him every morning without fail. It had become a routine I silently observed for the past two days. The wife always sat beside his pillow, gently touching him. The son stood at a distance while the daughter wept quietly. They spent some twenty minutes with him each day. Mr. Mehra, however, always wore a smile — a content, peaceful one.

That day, I decided to break the ice and strike a conversation with him. The family had just left, and I thought it was the right time.

“Mukesh Ambani bought a 245 crore worth of private jet — his flying office, they say,” I read aloud the newspaper headline to Mr. Mehra.

“Well sir, that’s true,” I responded, as my admiration towards the billionaire quietly converted into pity.

I was stunned.

There was a brief silence between us. I recalled the faces of his family members I had seen earlier in the morning. And then I looked back at Mr. Mehra’s smiling face. Such a tough man, I thought.

“I am so sorry to know that, sir,” I said quietly.

Mr. Mehra gave me a careful look — as if trying to read my thoughts.

“You have a beautiful family,” I offered, trying to pacify the moment.

“Yes, my wife is a strong lady, and I am proud of her. I have spent the best days of my life with her. In this situation, she is the most affected person in my family. But look at how strong she behaves in front of her kids,” Mr. Mehra said, still calm and composed.

“Your son seems aloof and does not talk to you much,” I observed.

“No, he is the one who loves me the most. Have you noticed he stands away from my bed? It’s because he knows that he cannot look into my eyes without bursting out crying. He doesn’t want to be a wrong example for his sister and mother. You know, he keeps on calling me all throughout the day,” Mr. Mehra clarified.

The next two days, I spoke to Mr. Mehra on various topics. But the fact that he was a dying man — a billionaire, not with money but with the riches of relationships — kept haunting me.

I was unable to read the newspaper that day.