You Can’t Always Get What You Want

It was an evening drenched in misery. Soulful music lingered in the background and amplified the emptiness. Will there be a better moment than this to pen down the weight of today? I doubt it. I know these lines seem heavy, but I'm helpless to make them lighter. Let us start with the music. "Years May Go By" by Rickie Lee Jones began to play, and instantly, I was transported to the lacrosse field, where Dr. Gregory House was standing, wishing he could play and hoping he could walk without a cane.

Last night, a vicious storm tore through the sky. The entire neighbourhood plunged into darkness as the power vanished. In my apartment, water seeped through the ceiling like a slow, relentless drip of despair. I had to unplug everything—refrigerator, TV, whatever else might be saved from the damp. The air was humid, with no breeze and no relief. I could hear people gathering outside, their voices faint but constant. I barely slept. And I needed to, desperately. I had to be at the hospital before seven in the morning. In exhaustion, I pulled myself together, skipped breakfast, and booked a cab at six. My phone warned me I had just ten minutes of battery left. The cab was four minutes away, so I waited, hoping to charge my phone once inside. Five minutes passed—no cab. At the stroke of the sixth minute, I called the driver in a mix of dread and frustration, knowing the day was already slipping.

"I just got a punctured tire and won’t be picking you up. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," the cab driver said before abruptly hanging up. I stared at my phone, shocked momentarily, then hurried to book another ride. The battery indicator flashed red—just about four minutes left. I found another cab, which was five minutes away. I could only hope my phone would hold on. The cab arrived just as my phone died. I went in and asked the driver, "Do you have a charger?"

"Sorry, I don’t have one," he replied, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. His radio played something that further irritated my mood. I asked him to turn it off, and he followed the orders. Since the hospital was thirty minutes away, we should’ve been fine on time, but as we approached the side road leading to the hospital, I noticed a truck parked obliquely across the road, blocking our path.

"What’s going on?" I asked, leaning forward. The driver sighed, pulling over. "Looks like an accident. I'll check it out." He stepped out into the moderate rain with a handkerchief on his head and returned a few minutes later. "It’s a young man. He lost control in the storm and hit the barriers. He’s fine—just some bruises on his head and limbs—but his truck is stuck. They’ve called for help, but it won’t be moved until around 8."

My stomach dropped. "I have to be at the hospital in fifteen minutes," I said, looking at my watch again in disbelief. Time was slipping away faster than I could manage. After a brief pause, the driver suggested I could walk from here, "It’s not too far." I hesitated inside, nodded outside, and mumbled, "I don’t have a choice." 

As I opened the door to step out, the driver asked, "What’s the emergency?"

"The doctors... they’re trying one last effort to save someone close to me. They asked me to be there at seven." The driver didn’t say anything; he just nodded with understanding. I thanked him and began walking. The straight road stretched in stark contrast to my convoluted thoughts.

"We did everything we could, but the disease was spread throughout the body. As we explained, the chances were slim from the start. It was unlikely that someone in that condition could have walked out of the hospital fully recovered."

I started searching for the song playing in the cab - it turned out to be "You Can’t Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones. It felt fitting. Sometimes, we convince ourselves that all the tough times and hardships will eventually lead to something good, like a reward for enduring. But in reality, as the song reminds us, you can't always get what you want.

Maybe if we lived without expectations, without the weight of our emotions, life would be less painful than it is with their presence.

In my wallet, there was a photo. I tried to stop my tears and thoughts from drifting toward it, but they lingered there anyway.

Siba Smarak Panigrahi

(Remastered on 20 Oct 2024, originally published on 26 Sep 2021)