A stirring scene from MI Mission Hospital in Engandiyur, Thrissur, recently caused quite a flutter. An ambulance screeched to a halt at the emergency bay. From the driver’s seat jumped a young man in denim pants—shirtless—who flung open the rear doors, pulled out a stretcher with an unconscious patient, and, with the help of two others, rushed into the casualty ward.

The man seen in the visuals is 24-year-old Ajmal, an ambulance driver from Thrissur. Social media users have widely praised the video, not just for his swift response, but for his sheer sense of urgency and commitment. He hadn't even stopped to wear a shirt.

Ajmal had just finished cleaning his vehicle after a trip when a frantic call came from his friend Sarath around 9.15 pm. “Bro, please come to the house immediately,” Sarath said, his voice trembling. Ajmal didn’t hesitate. “My room was on the second floor of the office building. I didn’t go back upstairs for a shirt because I could reach the patient in that time. It was just a kilometer away,” he said.

When he reached Sarath’s house, he found Sarath’s 17-year-old brother, Naveen, unconscious after a fall from the terrace. “The hospital is about 9 km away, and Aju (Ajmal) got us there in just five minutes,” says Sarath, who occasionally joins Ajmal on ambulance calls. Naveen has recovered from the accidental fall.

“I had gone to the terrace to feed our cats and pigeons. I don’t remember what happened—just felt dizzy and fell,” says Naveen. “My mother told me later that my brother carried me into the ambulance. I’m fine now, though there’s some pain in my shoulder and back,” Naveen adds.

Ajmal recently received the CCTV clip from the hospital and shared it online—not expecting the overwhelming response. For Sarath, Ajmal’s actions that night meant more than just a rescue—it was a moment of profound trust and brotherhood.

Ajmal works with the ‘Mexican’ ambulance service in Thalikkulam, which operates three ambulances and employs eight drivers. Though his home is in Chettuva, just 10km away, he lives at the ambulance office to respond instantly to emergencies.

A Class 9 school dropout, Ajmal decided on this path in Class 7 after a personal tragedy. A neighbour he considered a father-like figure suffered a stroke. “There was no ambulance; even the auto they called came too late. He didn’t survive. From that day, I wanted to be someone who could save lives-- an ambulance driver,” he recalls.

He got his driving licence at 18 and has been working full-time ever since. “This isn’t a job—it’s a life commitment. Even if someone offers just ₹10 for a trip, I’ll take it. We charge only for fuel from poor patients. A grateful smile is worth more than money,” says Ajmal.

Ajmal has seen the best and worst of humanity. During the COVID-19 pandemic, he once stopped at a house to ask for water after a long hospital run. Seeing him in PPE, the residents refused. “I felt like crying. I had to wait till I got back to the office—14km away—to drink water.” Yet he never contracted the virus, despite his around-the-clock exposure.

Some experiences have left deep scars. One that haunts him happened three years ago in Chettuva. A couple on a two-wheeler was hit by a bus. Bystanders filmed the aftermath instead of helping. “The woman had died on the spot. I carried her body alone—only to later find out she was my friend’s sister-in-law.”

In 2023, after a horrific truck accident in Nattika, Ajmal rushed to the site. Five people, including children, had died. “I was wearing my favourite black dhoti. I took it off to wrap one of the bodies. They weren’t just bodies—they were body parts we picked from the road,” he says.

Ajmal has since learnt basic first aid and always calls ahead to ensure hospitals are prepared. He meticulously cleans his vehicle after every trip, ensures safety and treats every patient and their bystanders with care and dignity.

“For deaths, hospitals often just hand over the body, and it's up to us to do the packing. Sometimes there’s someone to help—maybe one or two people—but often, I do it alone, whether the deceased is a man or a woman. I see each of them as someone from my own family,” Ajmal says.

He also cherishes moments when strangers have stepped in to help during emergencies. “Once, a man named Ameen from a shop on the roadside came forward to plug in an electric oxygen concentrator when a patient urgently needed it. I didn’t even know him. I had asked a few others earlier, but they made excuses. Ameen, without hesitation, stood by us and offered full support.”

Ajmal's family—parents, two brothers, and a sister—were initially concerned about the stress and irregular hours. But they’re now fully supportive. One of his brothers even drove ambulances for a time, and his father was an auto driver. “Steering wheels run in our blood,” he jokes. For Ajmal, the ambulance is sacred. “These vehicles are everything to me. I spend whatever I can to maintain them.”

Despite the trauma he witnesses, Ajmal remains hopeful and deeply empathetic. “I always imagine: what if this patient were from my family? That thought alone keeps me going,” he says.