The Sacrifice

     This whimsical story reminds us that we can never allow our beliefs to cause harm to ourselves or others.

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The Sacrifice

“Would you eat my hand if I cut if off?” the sunbaked man asked through cracked, bleeding lips.

      “Probably not,” Mani Gupta answered. He watched his delirious questioner through the narrow slits in his swollen eyelids. “Eating your bony hand wouldn’t provide much nourishment, and I’m not sure if my religion permits me to eat live flesh.”

      Jessie Donner held the blade of the knife inches above his wrist. Suddenly, he switched ends and presented the handle to the old Hindu. “Then would you chop off your hand for me to eat?”

      “My friend, it is unfair to ask that I sacrifice my hand for you to eat when you have had plenty of opportunities to kill fish. Ever since the shipwreck 23 days ago, we’ve been on this raft and many fish have jumped inside. Once, even a seagull landed here. As a Hindu, I cannot kill them even to save my life, and you are an animal rights crusader and vegetarian. So, we both shall die because of our beliefs. Now leave me alone or cut off your own hand and eat it.”

      Jessie thought about it. He’d heard of a man trapped on a mountain who’d survived by cutting strips of flesh from his thigh and eating them. But could he handle the pain? “You’re right, old man, my foolish beliefs have prevented me from killing the many fish that jumped aboard, but I thought we would be rescued before we ran out of protein tablets. Now fish no longer jump inside our raft and I have no fishhooks to catch them. Maybe a dolphin will swim alongside, and we can stab him with the knife.”

      “You will have to do that yourself, my friend, my religion forbids me from killing,” Mani Gupta said.

      “Then maybe you should die, old man. Sometimes we have to change our beliefs in order to survive.” Jessie lamented that someone had pilfered everything from the raft’s survival kit except the protein tabs, the knife, and a tarp and bottle to collect rainwater. At least nightfall would bring relief from the scorching sun.

The following morning both men awoke with a jolt. A Great White shark violently bumped the bottom of the raft, nearly tipping it over. The old Hindu began laughing hysterically.

      “What are you laughing about, you crazy old man, we were almost tossed into the jaws of that Great White?” Jessie asked.

      “Don’t you see the irony of Brahma? Here we are, nearing death because we refuse to kill even the creatures that would eat us. They have no religion or morals to restrain them from killing, so which is the more intelligent? It’s laughable, is it not?”

      “You’re out of your mind. I’m gonna kill something; it’s now down to survival of the fittest.”

      “Ah, that is the question, isn’t it, my young friend. Who do you sacrifice so that another may live?” Gupta asked.

      “I’m talking about animals, old man, not people. We have to sacrifice animals to live.”

      “What about humans, Sir, would you kill someone so you could live?”

      “That would be immoral,” Jessie answered.

      “But you said that sometimes we have to change our beliefs in order to survive. You are not being consistent.”

      Jessie understood the old man’s logic and suddenly realized there was no reason for both of them to die. Mani, the old fool, would die anyway, so what would be morally wrong with killing him before they both die? At least one person would survive. True, there wasn’t much meat on his emaciated body, but he could make fish hooks from his bones and use slivers of his liver as bait.

      Jessie waited until night fell and Mani began snoring. Quietly, he reached for the knife and unsheathed it. He would cut Mani ‘s spinal cord in the back of his neck to make his death painless. Moving carefully so as not to jiggle the raft, he slid across to the old man and raised the knife to plunge into the old man's chest.

      Mani’s eyes opened wide.

      “Go ahead, my friend, I give you permission to kill me. It is better that I die than both of us.”

      Jessie lowered the knife. Though he was dehydrated, a tiny tear formed. He was ashamed and bawled like an infant. After pulling himself together, Jessie begged for forgiveness.

      “I’m sorry, old man. I cannot sacrifice another so that I may live; I am not a shark.”

      “I forgive you, my friend. No one knows how they’ll behave when they face certain death. However, before you change your mind and pick up that knife again, look over your left shoulder.”

      Jessie could barely see through his swollen eyelids. “What is it?”

      “That’s a ship and they’ve spotted us!”

Jessie and Mani were hoisted aboard the rescue ship and placed on stretchers for transport to sick bay. That evening, the captain spoke to them: “You fellows are lucky, we were about to give up the search,” he said.

      “We thank you captain,” the Hindu said.

      “I’ll have the cook send dinner; I know you’re both starved.”

      “What’s for dinner,” Jessie asked.

      “Shark.”

      “Sounds delicious,” both men exclaimed.

The End

Copyright © 2018-2019 by Ken Pealock