In the Crevices of Memory

Chapter 4

When Haider had first dreamt of opening a charity hospital, he thought it would be about being around the poor and needy, helping them with bare hands and showing the soul in it's raw form. But ever since he had actually jumped in the business, he realized it was mostly sipping tea and five-to-seven star hotels and persuade others in investing to the cause. Or better yet, organizing and participating in speaking engagements. Obviously, who didn't liked talking in public?

Well, Haider didn't. He hated having to do that.

Social workers have to be the best of the best salesman. Charming marketing agent. He soon learned that rarely anyone was much interested in the heart of the cause. What they wanted was a good media aficionado that tell others about the kind and big hearts they possessed and how they could use it to help others.

In the two years since the completion of his hospital's construction, he had barely been able to spend three months at the actual site.

There were so many expenses, that needed him to be in so many important places, asking so many important peoples for help. He knew he was growing tired and bitter by this job every single day. In return of doing a good job, he had dreamt of getting love. But all he seemed to be getting was money. Sometimes, he felt like a corporate hoax. A lie he had so despised his whole life.

Finally, things had now started to fall in place. This was his last charity event he had to be in before going back to his hospital. His home.

Enough money had been raised to fill his hospital with all the cutting-edge equipments. A payroll had been set up in place to stay on top of salaries without having him to flounder around all over the country and beg for money. And so, instead, he could pour his focus on his actual cause, his hospital.

After greeting and welcoming all of the important guests, he dashed to the backstage. The small room behind the small podium where a young boy was waiting. Haider had found Musheer at one of his events. The boy looking for work that would bring food to his home. Had worked on some saloon and was experienced at both keeping the event and the organize and the organizer presentable. Haider had wanted someone exactly like that for help, and the boy had just stayed ever since.

Haider was combed and powdered instantaneously. His disheveled golden hairs were finally brought to some order out of the chaos.

"Now, don't run your hands in them until you are done with your speech." The groomer said. Brushing his last stroke more forcefully.

"Gee, as you command sir." Haider winced.

He then glanced at the mirror. And raised an eye to Musheer who always complained Haider didn't paid any heed to how he looked.

Musheer, in turn, asked with a grin. "Any improvisations you would want?" must be feeling victorious. Since Haider had no inkling on how good is good enough and what changes should be made in one's self-image.

"Nah, you are just too good for me to tell you how to do your job." Haider retorted and walked to the door. The one that opened to the stage. Leaving a grinning Musheer behind,

They were on one of the smaller halls of the hotel. Rows of chairs were arranged in front of him. Faces from journalism, to elite-class, all the way to the politicians could be seen. He could already tell this raiser would be just as successful as his previous ones, maybe even more than that.

He settled at the back of the stage. Among other organizers. Some other NGOs and social-service agencies were collaborating to arrange it. And their spokespersons were sitting in the chairs. He was one of them.

Then the announcer started announcing them one-by-one. Introductions were made, about them and their causes. One woman was running an organization to help women gain jobs suitable to do while staying-at-home. So they could sustain themselves without leaving their comfort and security. Another guy was fighting against child-trafficking. Between them, Haider felt his ideal some menial child's dream.