"Keep the next weekend free," my friend said. "We will all go to the Bollywood concert."
"Sounds good," I said. "Are you getting tickets on line?"
"Oh don't worry about the tickets, I have connections," he said.
"You sure?" I asked.
"No problems. It's done," he said.
A couple of days later, an acquaintance called me.
"Hey Doc, I need your help," he said.
"Sure... what's going on?" I asked.
"Can you get me 8 tickets for the Bollywood concert next week?" he asked.
"Oh... I don't think I know the guys who are organizing the Bollywood concert," I said.
"You do, Doc. One of the organizers is your patient."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Positive," he replied. "So can you please call him? I'll give you his cell phone number."
I thought for a second. I dislike taking unnecessary obligations, but this guy would be persistent.
"Okay, I'll call," I said.
"Thanks Doc," he said. "Get me good seats."
Anyway, I called the contact and he did turn out to be my patient. He was very helpful. He dropped off the tickets in the office. I took a look at the seat numbers-- B 11 to B 18. My acquaintance came to pick up the tickets and was pleased with the seats.
The weekend finally rolled in after a busy week.
"Ready for the Bollywood concert?" my friend called on that day.
"Sure," I replied. "You got the tickets?"
"Oh yeah," he said. "We got very good seats. We leave at 7 PM."
"Oh sure," I said. "We will be ready."
We got to the concert a little bit late, and the event staff ushered us to our seats. And our seat numbers? B 11 to B 18 !!
That is how intricately our social fabric is intertwined. Family, friends, foes and 'connections' are all entangled in the same melting pot. What goes around, eventually does come around. Only our thoughts are are own, as long as we don't word them out. In our boxed social structure, if you don't want people to know what you did, just don't do it. Because eventually, people will know.
"We live in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made of real lemons!" Alfred E. Newman