Do no harm…….

Dear countrymen !

Let’s light a diya on April 5^th at 9 pm for 9 minutes…

It was the PM Modi on national television , appealing the nation to show solidarity during the most intrigue situation of our lifetime! This was 12^th day of countrywide lockdown, imposed on 25^th March 2020 as a preventive measure to break the spread of a very recent but virulent virus nCOVID-19.  

Immediately the social media was swarmed with messages of varied emotions.

I’m a citizen of the Republic of India and not a clown to perform to the tune of the ringmaster…..

Lighting diyas on 5^th April at 9 pm for 9 minutes is astrologically backed up as the number 9 represents Mars or Mangal and this double 9 increases its strength…it’s a master stroke by Modiji….

I have always been sitting on the fence when it comes to be with or against Modi (ji). I can decipher his moves more objectively ….as some may lable me , I am his bhakt  but not andh bhakt.

Earlier on 22^nd March, he appealed the nation to express its indebtedness to those who are working relentlessly to keep us safe from this health calamity. The task was simple that we have to clap, chime bells, blow conch, beat utensils for 5 minutes at 5 pm. Both the appeals looked like tasks given in the house of Big Boss.  Big boss chahte hain ki sab gharwale……

Modi (ji) is a hardcore politician who knows his job as back of his hand. When it comes to his charisma he is in the left upper quadrant of Johari window where his quality is not only known to him but to others as well. While the government machinery was deep into combating spread of the infection , he took the task of motivating people to follow the lockdown righteously but without being aware that they are being pushed to do so.

This country can unite only on two emotions….first cricket and second patriotism…in that order. The year when Kargil  was won, maximum people sacrificed picnic with the family and went for flag hoisting on the subsequent Independence day !! He knows how to emotionally exploit people ….this time the charm was used for a better cause.

There have been tremendous response on both the occasions. Its amazing to see a nation of 130 crore population following unanimously …well almost…illustrating solidarity. Everyone had their own reasons to agree (or not to ) to accept both the appeals. Reasons varied from….

 Modiji ne kaha hai to karna hi hai

Modiji ke liye kuchh bhi

Arrey kuchh to karen…bore ho gaye ghar me padey padey

Agar maine nahi kiya to paaswale Sharmaji ko mauka mil jayega mujhe bolane ka

Ham sab kitty wale safed pahan kar karenge …theek hai !

Chiming bells and lighting diyas wont help, there is no PPE for health staff.

We need more testing facilities,everything cannot be turned into an event.

I had a totally different reason to follow the request….and without any scientific reason, even remotely. In medicine we are taught the principle of  do no harm . While managing a patient utmost care must be taken not to aggravate the morbidity. It’s a known fact that morbidity or illness is affected by the social, mental and spiritual status of a person other than the physical.

By following the two appeals of Modi (ji) , I was following the same principle.

It reminded me of 1996 when I was pregnant with my triplets. My parents being doctors, I was in the best hands and we were in a better position to handle the situation as all of us knew all the pros and cons of it. My mother lined up all her contemporaries to be available during any emergency if it arises. I was getting the best possible and timely medical facility by best clinicians in the city, courtesy my mother. But she was my mom first…being an obstetrician made it more difficult to keep her calm as she knew all the possible prognosis in this situation!

In addition,we went to a Vaidya who asked me to boil a herb in black cow’s milk and drink it every morning. We went around searching a black cow and then made arrangements to get the milk delivered every morning. I was also made to wear (obviously by my mother) a silver ring in my right little finger with the embedded cat’s eye stone touching my skin. I wore white dress every Saturday and lit a diya under a peepul tree at the twilight. I don’t know whether it was helping the foetus or me to be healthier….but one thing was sure, it was not doing any harm.  

I did all these things only for one reason….it kept my mother’s pacing heart and thoughts in control and her quietude kept me going. I don’t know finally what resulted in the uncomplicated birth , though quite premature, of my triplets. What helped in their growth as normal kids without any physical or mental (touch wood) shortcoming…Whether it was the clinical care that I received ….or due to my above acts something happened in the cosmos which gave us a wanted outcome…..

In the same frame

It was a hot and humid Saturday afternoon. We have been hearing news about rainfall in different parts of the country. But here in Patna  it was all dry and dusty. The day is going to be boring… I speculated. There was nothing exciting to do this afternoon…with lots of uproar on the newly released films Article 15 and Kabir Singh, it was not wise to go to watch any of these. The world cup match between Sri Lanka and India was just an eyewash. Half of the quota of Indian adrenaline rush was over with the two matches….first India –Pakistan where the latter was defeated and second India-England where latter won and had a tangential effect on our neighbour’s chances to remain in the race . So today’s match with Sri Lanka was not allocated with any adrenaline quota nationally. Now the rest half is reserved for semi final and final matches. With this analysis at hand, best option would be to go out for lunch somewhere… but what is the best option for a lone visitor? I decided to go to a small and decent place called Basant Vihar in Maurya Lok. This is one of the very few eateries which serve authentic south indian cuisine.

The place was filled families, office groups out for luncheon, and lone eaters like me. I was ushered towards the only available 4-seater table. The waiters were casually bringing ordered food to the tables, it was a cosy place with decent gentry and delicious mixed flavor of sambhar and coconut chutney . I was about to have a much awaited gastronomical experience. Suddenly the place went black-and-white. Commandoes clad in black were followed by few seemingly-authoritative men clad in starched white kurta pajama. This aura is only when you have a politician around. They requested people who occupied the two long tables at the wall to shift to another one. Everyone present was wondering who would enter next . And there came the most talked-about congress person Mr Rahul Gandhi ! As he passed by me, the followers tried to show him the direction to the table, he requested to go to the wash room. Few minutes later he settled to the corner table with around 20 other party members seated around. 8 commandoes and 10 odd local party juniors were trying to keep back the crowd…lunch to kar lene dijiye, selfie baad mein le lijiye….I somehow managed to take one by the time his food was awaited. He was in the city to appear for a hearing in the Civil court. He had defamation charge for his statement of  sab Modi chor hain during the election campaign.

I heard him order a dosa with diet coke…diet coke nahi hoga to lime soda de dijiye…he requested his party(wo)men. I offered the vacant seats at my table to the party members standing around. Next to me sat a young, fair and handsome chap looking all starry –eyed towards the recently-stepped-down- party president. He happened to be the joint ( or something similar) secretary of the state youth congress. Out of curiosity I asked the young man how and who decided that a person of Rahul Gandhi’s strature (he has one, we accept it or not) goes to such a regular eatery. “ Its his decision. He is a simple person, the janta should understand this. People are at loss by not recognizing this” I was impressed by the commitment he had in his voice. I asked him…may be what you say is right, but people will believe in what you show them. If he is a simple person, let him be a simple person…why everybody is trying to project him as an extraordinary one !  I shared my views on not being a fan of the party, to which he immediately asked …and why so? I dismissed him by saying that its personal perspective and he should not try to convert me into a supporter. He sheepishly smiled and again fixed his admiring gaze on Rahul.

 The whole evening I was thinking about this remote, impersonal acquaintance. He seemed to be very comfortable sitting in that regular eatery surrounded by general public. He had no aura and used the wash room (hello.....I don’t use it ). He may be stepped up on the pedestal where he doesn’t belong or don’t want to be …but once there , you have to rise to the occasion.  In the selfie we were in the same frame…literally and metaphorically…where I have stepped up  while he has not even started trying.

Inside outside

“You should try ascabiol lotion once you get back home” While going back to Gwalior I was watching Pachauri- my research assistant who was constantly scratching at odd places. He had developed this for 2 days now. I was feeling hungry after the days work but was holding back myself to bring out the munchies from my bag. With no antiseptic solution at hand, I cannot afford him to eat from the same packet. It was 4 hours journey and I had to divert myself from the urge of eating something. Instead I diverted the attention by giving him details of how to apply the lotion, what personal hygiene he should be following and some simple rules of restricting the infection. He was craning his neck to listen to the instructions and repeat them wherever necessary.( I had asked him to sit in the front with the driver).

I was in a relieved mood after completing a 12 day long research assignment. Going from one place to another, talking to people, gathering information, collecting recorded data, bringing out perceptions of people, understanding the undercurrent and dynamics had been a tiring experience for me. I was looking forward to get back home. Just before starting the travel I had called home to inform that I shall be reaching home (inshahallah) soon.

In my current assignment, I was given the task to assess efficiency within the government health system when provided external support. My parents are doctors and have been very sincere civil servants. I was witness to the glory that a doctor possesses in a hospital. I was also impressed by the ethics and dedication that my parents worked with. But what I did not know or could not understand the “red tapism” with which the whole system worked. When I finished MBBS and appeared for PSC, my father came down very strongly against joining the government job. In those days it was synonymous to the stability and security for life. Refusing a government job was equivalent to insanity. So although I was an “insider” to the system due to my parents, I was pronounced “outsider” with my father’s decision. Throughout my assignment, I was trying to make up my mind whether I would have been happy as an “insider” or I am happy as an “outsider”

It was almost dark outside with a little February-chill in the air. The driver was relaxed with the mere thought of hitting home after a long time. Relaxation sometimes makes you careless as well. We had just left the town and were 20 kms away when suddenly the roadside boulder disbalanced the jeep. I could feel myself whirling out of it and landing on a hard ground with a thud. Before I could gather my senses, a huge truck passed by brushing me. Oh my god! I am right in the middle of the highway. No no no…. don’t panic! Get up… right, look around…. Where is the jeep and driver and Pachauri? I started calling their names. After adjusting to the twilight, on my right 8 feet deep in a freshly dug trench, I could make out something like a jeep. But why I can see the wheels? It was upside down with Pachauri trapped in the front seat. I could not locate the driver anywhere. As the occupational standards go, he had fled.

I limped to the middle of the highway and started waving at the vehicles passing by. After sometime (which seemed to be ages) a passenger van stopped and tried to decipher what I was saying in a shocked status pointing at the trench. With some difficulty they could rescue Pachauri who was vomiting and dazed. Once in the van, I requested the driver to take us to the District Hospital.  Pachauri now started complaining of tingling and numbness in feet. Oh my god… he may have a head injury and a spinal concussion. “Be in one position - on your side” I instructed him. Mentally I had started making notes of what actions to be taken once I reach the hospital. He should be admitted and seen by specialists to assess the injury and rule out the dreaded possibility of head-injury and concussion. I need to contact the Chief Medical Officer who can coordinate everything.  A passenger was observing me intensely. He leaned forward and handed me over a handkerchief- take this, you will be needing it. I opened it and saw few hundred rupee notes. He said ‘ don’t thank me, first you have to take care of the  your colleague.’ He also agreed to accompany me to the hospital and then to the accident site to retrieve whatever  could be found.

Once in the hospital I was running around to organize admission, x-ray, emergency call to the Doctor-on-duty and then to the Specialists. Against my personality I had to throw a lot of weight and drop some heavy names to get things organised. However, to my surprise this worked at the higher level but the actual doers in the hospital were still unconcerned. They were facing such emergencies everyday and had grown insensitive towards it. Also they lacked professional attitude. I was given a private room which stinked, but my quilt dipped in diesel masked the smell. During the night I went many times to the general ward to see if my colleague was ok and confirm that his symptoms didn’t worsen. Now I was able to look at my self. I had bruised badly in many parts and clothes were torn. Some how our luggage was retrieved but not the money-purse and camera. My left hand was swollen which looked like a fracture. I had agreed to get a temporary plaster (I had to buy PoP) and decided to get a proper management under my father’s supervision who was a fine Orthopaedician, once I get home.

Although the patient’s condition was stable, I had requested the CMO to refer the case to Gwalior Medical College. It being my alma-mater, I felt more confident to go around and seek medical care. The process of referral started early morning. Finally we could start after 6 hours of  clearing the confusion of who was the driver-on-duty, getting the ambulance tyre repaired, sanctioning the slip for POL, getting a referral slip, case-sheet and discharge ticket  from the casualty,  making the Radiologist write his comments on a bad quality X-ray,  requesting the CMO for an ambulance attendant and of course I replaced the nursing staff .

The 200 km journey to the Medical College was completed in 8 hours which was more painful and uncertain than the 2 labours that I had. When I handed over the patient to the Doctor-on-duty and then to his family members, I looked at myself to assess the damage I have undergone physically. I also reflected on my mental status. Being a doctor myself, I was able to coordinate quickly and get the best possible care I could. But looking at the attitude of the staff , insensitivity and apathy developed over the years of being in the system, I thanked my father for his strong reservation.

I had been sitting over the fence many times to analyse my feelings and to come to a conclusion once and for all. But still I find myself pondering on the issue of ‘whether I am happy as an outsider or would have been pleased to be an insider of the system’.      

Lalit’s Six Losses

The baby is lost.

This was third time that I was given the same news in last 2 years of my acquaintance with Lalit. He was support staff in the office. He would finish off the routine work long before we all came into the office. If he had a specific work with anyone of us, he would stay back and meet that particular person.

“Lalit please clean the toilet properly tomorrow. It’s stinking & the dustbin is almost full.” While entering my room, I tossed this instruction to him .He said ‘ji madam’ meekly & did a gesture which meant – can I speak to you? I was putting this face to name for the first time. He hesitated to speak in the open. Sheepishly he extended a medical report – “you are a doctor na? This is my wife’s report. She is pregnant but the doctor say there is no baby inside!” His expression conveyed the confusion and disbelief on the expert. I took the reports still looking at him and trying to hear the noise in his thoughts. Since my entrance to the medical school this was the second case of pseudo pregnancy I was coming across. (This is a rare condition where the woman experiences all the symptoms of pregnancy, except formation of a foetus in the womb. This is due to the strong desire of the woman to bear a child.) I read through the prescription. The couple had lost 3 babies; this fourth one was also a lost hope. He could not believe what I was explaining to him. How can this happen? Should he get one more ultrasound done from a different place? What would he tell his wife? I realized how incomplete my education was. Explaining a rare textbook condition in real life – no teacher empowered me to handle this!

Days passed and I remembered Lalit only with the site of a dirty washroom or a cobweb hanging on my head. On a hot summer day one of the drivers informed me “Lalit is on three days leave. His wife is not well. She had an abortion”. Again!! This time he had decided to conceal the news and avoided medical checkup. Instead the couple was a regular visitor to a mazaar every Tuesday. “You scold him for doing such a childish thing. Why should he avoid a medical checkup? See what the result is!” The driver had concern in his voice. Next day he came with his wife Sunita. A short and obese woman with a smile on her face. The smile was more for the husband to sustain hope . Both listened to my advice attentively- try to avoid pregnancy for next 3 months, go for a medical check up immediately after the pregnancy is confirmed, they can continue the weekly visits to the mazar along with it.

“I wish that you take care of Sunita this time.” He was waiting for me outside the office. His request made my heart skip a beat. This was the ultimate submission of the couple, whose hopes were rekindled for the sixth time. Craving for the child had made them courageous to stake their hopes. I asked him to bring his wife along. What was in her eyes- fear, apprehension, anxiety, faith? I explained the possibilities and risks associated. My limitations to provide the needed care were very well known to them. I was expected to agree to the bestowed role of a mentor for the coming days.

The couple kept me well informed of all the developments. Everything was going on in a smooth way except mid trimester hypertension. I did a regular BP monitoring and spent a lot of time talking to Sunita. It eased out her anxiety. She was admitted to the Medical College hospital due to constant high blood pressure. While supporting the move, I felt relieved in last six months. I had an unknown companion who will take care of Sunita and her baby. In the Teaching Hospital with skilled and experienced staff, Sunita’s known bad obstetric history and a preventable situation of borderline hypertension, she was in a safe haven. Atleast I thought so.

It was a lazy Saturday morning and I was trying to concentrate on a training manual for the health workers. The training is designed to enhance their skills to provide care during pregnancy and delivery. It has been a Herculean task to convince experts that through these skilled workers, safe delivery can be guaranteed to a rural woman in a remote area. Evidence shows that only few women will experience complications   and need sophisticated facilities. I remembered Sunita, her reflection in Lalit’s face which was getting fresher with excitement as the due date was nearing.

“They are putting Sunita on drugs to deliver the dead baby.” Lalit’s voice was so distant and calm over the phone. It took me a full minute and 3 questions to understand what he meant. Words ebbed and there was a killing pause. He finally said “that’s okay, sab mata ki marzi hai (it is destiny). I was ashamed of myself and my fraternity. The couple had given me full right to maneuver the course of action. Why did I rely on others? I should have taken a more active stand. But how could I suspect the experts in an apex institute! They never deviated from the technically correct procedure. I realized that they were running on the technically and scientifically correct path. But they hardly stopped at culverts where sensitivity, empathy, accountability exist.

I have neither spoken nor met Lalit & Sunita since then. It had been breach in faith on my part and I feel guilty to face them. Whom should I ask about how they are coping with the loss? What happened to the new baby’s clothes which they had bought? Is she continuing taking the tonics? How shall I console them when we meet? I do not have any answer. I can only say- “I am sorry, I failed.”

United we stand……..

In the winters of 2014, one of my friends’ shared that her housemaid was asked for money in the maternity wing of government hospital in the state capital. This was the time when the state government had declared Health Sewa Guarantee ensuring free treatment, drugs, diagnostics and diet to all who are admitted in the public health facilities. At national level, the state was being lauded for this initiative. By declaring pro-poor policies; the 1 year old government was trying to deepen  its roots to ensure victory in the consecutive fourth term in the future.

Having advantage of access to the higher officials in the department, I shared this incidence with them who were very disappointed and raged by it. In recent years, situation in the public health institutions have seen a stark change . Hospitals are much cleaner, with availability all the basic and essential resources. Suddenly hospitals were revived to its original functions.  They were swarming with people …..patients. The wards were full, medicines stocked at the counter, laboratory busy in taking samples and writing investigation reports. With fund flexibility in a national programme, human resource crisis was also addressed to some extent with contractual appointments and outsourcing of support services. Of course doctors were as scarce as ever…..

Stung by the act, the department ordered a probe to pin down the culprits and take an exemplary action for others not to repeat the same in future. Our organisation being outside the system, were asked to be part of the probe team and were expected to provide an unbiased angle to the whole situation. We were quiet satisfied that the administrators have taken cognizance to teach lesson to the involved . Its for later to decide who actually learnt a lesson in the process…….

One of my colleague was deputed to be part of the probe team. As per the government order he went to the hospital on the scheduled date and time. The other members who were from within the system didn’t turn up for the probe. Doubled with the sense of responsibility, my colleague decided to have a very casual discussion with the staff posted in the labour room. When asked , who were on duty during the reported episode, each one of them had a memory black-out…..He continued in a generalist manner without pinpointing anybody and started going through  the chronological sequence of events since the women was admitted till she was discharged after the childbirth. He also tried to tally the casesheet with the services provided to her. To his surprise, the case sheet was very sketchy with no protocols followed, which he discussed with the staff and left the hospital. No probe report was prepared as this session did not meet its purpose in want of absence of other team members.

Higher officials issued order to shift the staff who was on duty during the reported incidence out of the labour room  with immediate effect for an year…… thus the case  came to a logical ending…. Or was it going to start in a more illogical way…….

After a week my colleague got a notice from a police station…..there had been a police complaint against him to harass a schedule caste woman, who happens to be posted in a government hospital as a staff nurse. This clearly was a case of atrocity against the ‘downtrodden’. He was accused of using racial words against her. Thankfully in such cases FIR is not written without having a dialogue with both the parties. Christmas and New Year were spent to put all the efforts jointly to avoid formal FIR. Strong sources were identified to gain access to Politicians, IG Police, couple of senior bureaucrats …even the Chief Secretary. The top officials were sure that the case doesn’t hold water, but it was not getting anywhere near to closing. We all were worried, but my colleague had lost his sleep with the mere thought of being an accused, he had yet to climb up many steps in his career.  

Finally we decided to seek the most indigenous and trusted path…..face-to-face discussion in an unofficial manner through a mediator. The mediator turned out to be the Steward of the hospital (brain behind the police complaint) who belonged to the ‘upper’ caste. Our background work revealed few of his soft spots which we hit in the most machiavellian way. First meeting was the bull’s eye where the ‘victim’ withdrew the complaint by formally informing the police in writing. Later the complainant leaked the fact that she was asked to write a complaint to teach my colleague a lesson not to get involved in such things in future. After all it could be a direct blow to the economy of the hospital staff  !!

After almost a month long ordeal I learnt that united we stand only for a common  interest…..and we can arm-twist the benefit of our diversities as well to gain it.  

On 26^th January  I felt mocked by the song ……Hindi hain hum watan hai Hindosatan hamara……

Kavita the Kutch cupid

Rann of Kutch has suddenly become prominent on the world map. Thanks to Amitabh Bachchan and Gujarat tourism. It’s a perfect example of a well thought advocacy campaign hitting soft spots in the brain. Kutch literally means something which intermittently becomes wet and dry. The same word is also used in the languages of Sanskrit origin for a tortoise. Our taxi driver was a native of Uttar Pradesh but considers Gujarat as his second home. Better infrastructure, basic amenities and quality of life (as compared to his home state) has made him a local brand ambassador.

It was time of Rannotsav …..a three month long festival to attract tourists. At Dhordo tent village, a huge space is created for the local craftsmen to display and sell their handicrafts. In the arid surrounding, this space was in riot of colours.  Mirror work, applique work, bead jewelry, hand embroidered artifacts, bandhani , mirror frames and mobile covers made out of camel skin…..it was a treat to look at.

Natives of this part are majorly Ahir, Jat, Agariya, Baloch tribes. Men are lean and thin with athletic body while women have chiseled features. In the barren land they can be easily spotted by their bright coloured clothes. Layers and layers of apparel save them from the dry heat. The natives are hardworking and simple people and have learnt to survive happily in limited resources.

In the handicraft market, I spotted a cheerful nymph displaying creative and colourful artifacts made with love and passion. Her stall had tit-bits like rug dolls, purses, mobile holders, door hangers, hair clips, ear rings. The conglomeration interested me but was not motivated enough to buy anything…. as the potential users of this stuff have moved out of my home and became busy with their more exciting campus life. I was watching extraordinary marketing skills of the 8 year old girl. In few minutes she had sold souvenirs to four tourists. Adorned in bright blue coloured dress, she was wearing all possible jewelry. Her rustic features and captive smile attracted many towards her small stall. She refused to tell her name or take a picture unless you buy something from her stall.

It’s interesting to see how human life adjusts and thrives upon in any circumstances. It was astonishing to see in the   dry, barren, arid western tip of the country there is life full of colour and vigor!!

After 100 rupees and a rug doll I could click a lively snap of this Kutch cupid- Kavita

Koi   mil    gaya !!

I was doing few photocopies in the office corridor when a mobile shrieked. I wondered who has this college-goer ringtone in a UN organisation! As I approached my desk, to my horror  I realised that it’s my phone. Kids have again set a different tune. Sheepishly I put the mobile on silent mode. The number flashing was an unknown one. There are so many schemes and advertisements via phone, I do not respond to these unidentified callers. If it’s important, I would get a call anyway.

Last few days have been very difficult and stressful. It was my first summer in Delhi and was intolerable. The schools had summer vacation and my kids were back at home in Bhopal. We were trying to find out a clear week where a family vacation can be organised. It seemed a challenge to zero-in on any dates navigating between French classes, guitar classes, relatives visiting us, my official travel, unavoidable family functions and my daughter’s entrance process for a post-graduate course. In addition to that we have recently acquired a 58 days old puppy.

We keep on talking about work-life balance which is easier said than done. Finally it was decided that we all meet in Delhi which will be helpful in many ways. I don’t have to worry about leave and continue my work; my daughter can appear for the entrance exams, all of  us will be together and can go out in the evenings when it’s a little bit cooler. The only challenge was to get our house-help on board to take care of Crystal, Chloe and Sparta (our pets).

Metro has made life in Delhi quite comfortable. Every day while my ride to and from office, I can’t resist myself admiring the network that has been set up. Hats –off to Japanese meticulousness and Mr Sridharan. Its safe, clean, cheap and criss-crossing the whole city. Our family has become not only metro-literate but champions of metro travel! Information on our visiting spots always revolve round the question- which metro station is nearest? At the entrance and exit we produce metro smart card and take the travel in a clean and air-conditioned train. The only limitation was the Cinderella-feeling which crept in late evening as the metro service stops at 2315 hrs.

Its well experienced that when you feel comfortable and conditioned, you become callous and lose guard. This is what actually happened one day. My husband lost his wallet which had all sorts of credit cards, membership cards, driving licence, PAN card. In short he lost his identity. He spent next 3 days in trailing the route on which we had travelled the previous day. It was an experience in itself. At Kashmiri gate metro station, there is a lost-and-found department. Valuables, cell phones, bags, umbrellas etc. were stacked there unclaimed. Either the passengers were unaware of such a service or they did not bother to find their belongings succumbing to the apathy developed towards the system. Arvind also filed an FIR at the local police station. It took him 3 hours of being volleyed around . That’s why people feel intimidated to approach the police station, hospital and the judiciary system in this country. He came back to Bhopal with a feeling that he has done his bit and left it to the fate. All the credit cards were blocked, applications were written for renewal of the other cards and we counselled ourselves for getting over it.

The phone rang again and brought me to the present. It was the same number. I picked it up with a determination to turn down any offer , no matter how lucrative it was.

Is it Dr Aboli Gore?

Yes… who is this?

Mam, this is Sandeep… Sandeep Gaur (the voice did not have marketing finesse, he cant be selling anything)

I had already opened my mental checklist of saying NO

I am not interested (if it's an offer)

I am in a meeting ( if somebody is asking for a favour)

Please contact my husband (if it’s a bank or insurance company)

Ok, how can I help you?

Mam, have you lost anything few days back?

(Of course I have !! I have lost my sense of humour, my appetite, my patience, my confidence… what are you talking about man?)

Sorry, what do you mean?

Is Arvind Gore your husband? Has he lost something?

Yes, yes, he lost his wallet.

Suddenly I didn’t want this man to hang up.

 Mam, can you please tell me what all was there in the wallet?

I could visualise him flipping through and checking each item as I enlisted them.

Yes mam, that’s it.

 I was overwhelmed by the statement. It’s a miracle to get everything back! He sounded like an average Delhite who takes pride in conversing in Punjabi-english.

 Thanks a lot. Where can I contact you to take it ?

Where do you work mam?

Aha !! That’s an interesting question ! He wants to assess what he gets back in return before revealing his identity fully. I gave the information and asked back the same. He turned out to be Sanitary Inspector with Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD). One of his cleaning men found the wallet dumped in a trashbin. The wallet did not have either mine or Arvind’s phone number. He traced us down through the library membership card. He took my mobile number from the library. He verified all the details before he revealed his whereabouts.

We agreed to collect the wallet after 2 days when Arvind was back in Delhi. It was a convenient decision as I was at loss on how to handle the situation. Is he expecting any money or favour in return or he will feel offended if we offer him anything. It was a complicated situation.

On the fixed date , Arvind was met with a middle-aged , average looking person. He came all the way in his 12 year old Maruti 800. He refused to take favour of any kind except the word of gratitude which my husband was very liberal in showing. I have heard so many stories about Delhi that its difficult to accept that we got back the lost property without any cost? But that’s true as of today. Being from Delhi and working with the government , I easily stigmatised him as a corrupt, dishonest and irresponsible person. I thank  god that I am proven wrong .

Pinkie pinkie what colour…..

The office lift was full with people adorning pink attire. Any rightly so…. it was 8^th March…International Women’s day!!

The state government had issued an order requesting the employees to wear anything pink for this occasion; symbolic of supporting the gender equity. To many of us it seemed to be a Tughlaqui farmaan.  Will things change by adorning pink clothes for one-thousandth of time in a year? I heard few interesting statements throughout the day:

Sarkaari adesh ka paalan toh karna hi padega (have to comply with the government order)

Ek din ke liye gulabi shirt kaun khareede, faltu padi rahegi (why waste money on pink shirt just for a day)

Madam aaj apko kuchh keh bhi nahi payenge, aapka din hain naa (won’t say anything today, it’s your day)

Indian society has very deep routed gender discrimination, most of the time it is passed as social standards. A male Gynaecologist and female Surgeons are still a rare commodity in this part of the globe. Women are socially labeled as bad car drivers and a house-husband (oops … is it not a male version of housewife??) is still a shameful responsibility. To top it up we have modernized the stigma by accepting pink as feminine and blue as masculine colour.

The same day I was screamed at  by a person who was himself driving on a wrong-side. The lady officer in my bay (who was also wearing pink clothes) was ridiculed behind her back for being bossy …aaj mahila diwas chadh gaya hai madam pe (madam is intoxicated by women’s day). Newspaper reported that a man sold his wife on Facebook to repay his debt, a minor girl was raped by her family member.

In the state which tops the country in violence against women, isn’t this wear-pink-bring-gender equity-formula an eyewash? What we need is a social raking and infuse an enlightened thinking in our new generation. We need to teach our girls how to behave, yes of course ………but more so to our boys.

A Marathi poetess Ms Anuradha Mhapankar has aptly written:

Baipana che aaj majhya kautuk tumhi karne nako

Kartutva che aaj majhya vajan tumhi tolne nako

(Don’t flaunt my womanhood just for a day, don’t judge my ability just for a day)

Few years back on a women’s day the chief guest (a bureaucrat’s wife) said: “I’m waiting for a day when we shall celebrate Human day.” (applause)

The burning birthing train

We are born in others’ pain and perish in our own

This statement is so true not only in the worldly sense but also in spiritual one. Empathetic outlook helps in understanding where the shoe pinches. Sometimes the situation engulfs you in such a way that there is no option other than to feel the pricks. The experience can be traumatic or enlightening depending upon the outcome.

It was late January morning in 1990 when I boarded the train at 10.30. Gwalior experiences chilling cold during winters. I was 5 months pregnant and tired with the continuous exchange long duties in the hospital in order to get 3 days compensatory off. With my swollen feet and 9 gm Hb (!!), I had to travel to Bhopal to attend one of the many ceremonies to be held in the first year of marriage. Thanks god, it was the last one of the series. With lack of sleep and physical awkwardness experienced in the first pregnancy, I was irritable. To top it up, I had outgrown all my clothes and didn't have enough time to buy new ones. Aradhna solved my problem by handing over 2 oversized dresses.

My maasi (mom’s elder sister) was accompanying me for two reasons. First, I was in second trimester and second, she was like a mother to me. I didn’t agree to celebrate anything in her absence. She was a woman with very average looks. Being a high school teacher, her students (exclusively girls) were everywhere on the earth- in market, at the railway station, in the marriage…She was an ideal for her students, but more than that she meant a lot to me and my siblings. She never got married due to her plain looks and the fact that she wore spectacles. My grandmother stopped expecting of getting her married after few bitter experiences. I always pity that non-existent family of my maasi who could have benefitted from her wisdom, intelligence, culinary skills and other life-skills.

We settled at the window seat. We were the only female passengers in the compartment. With my obvious protrusion, the co-passengers gave enough space for me to lie down. Being assured that I am comfortable, maasi settled down to finish the woollen pullover she was knitting for Arvind. Sleep deprivation and rhythmic motion of the train cradled me to deep sleep. I could smell the spirit and liquor in the labour room. I was dreaming about preparation being done in OT. The woman was very nervous as she was told that her baby is sinking. Being a house surgeon, patients felt at ease to talk to me. She was holding my hand very tight. I was trying to tell her not to worry and let me go and get scrubbed for the caesarean. My senior was scolding one of the interns for not matching details of the blood unit –“how can you be so callous? It’s a human life that we are dealing here. Let the experience lead to a mechanical management of routine situation and not groom insensitivity.” Suddenly the woman let out a loud shriek and was shaking me vigorously.

I woke up with a startle. Maasi  was shaking me up, with the co-passengers looking at me expectantly. There was a lean teenage boy standing in the passage. He had tears in his eyes and lump in the throat. He was escorting his full term sister from Jhansi to Ganjbasoda. As it was her third pregnancy with two living daughters, the in-laws were not ready to bear expenses of this delivery. She was in active labour now and we were the only females in the compartment. “I don’t have any experience of childbirth, but my niece here is a doctor” maasi informed him. Now I could infer their expressions, I was being looked upon as the saviour. My throat started choking under the pressure. I am trained to deliver a baby in ideal situation, can I do anything here? But I was not left with any other choice than facing the music.

The boy led me to the toilet where I was horrified by the scene. I could see the baby’s head, another contraction and it will be out!! There was no time to take the lady back to the compartment. I have to do something. Its right or wrong will be decided retrospectively. In the small 4x4 space I squeezed myself with the only aim to catch the baby when it delivers. One lapse and it can slide down the toilet.

What is the normal birthing process? What did my magician obstetrics teacher Dr Oliyai has taught me? Childbirth is a natural process. Do not interfere it, support it. My eyes were fixed upon the baby. It rotated and delivered in what seemed to be eternity. It was a tiny girl with wide eyes. Her body reflected position of her mother in the family but her eyes were blazing with life. (God! let the placenta deliver and spare me with the nightmare of bleeding!)

“Can somebody get me a clean blade and a thread, and some clean cloth too?” I yelled to the compartment without losing focus on the baby in my hand. It was quite a balancing act to sit on toes in a rocking enclosed space with your hands full with a slimy active life. Till now the men were stand-still and stupefied with the experience they were encountering. Suddenly everybody started responding to my request. Somebody sacrificed a new blade from his shaving kit, maasi handed over wool strand to tie the cord, few male handkerchiefs replaced sanitary pads, a bath towel was generously given to wrap the baby.

I was holding the slippery cord in my hand and massaging uterus with the other. Don’t pull the cord , Keep one hand on the abdomen. Put baby to the breast, it will help in uterine contraction and expulsion of the placenta. It seems that Usha sister- the labour room incharge was overlooking the process and giving me instructions. I followed all of them obediently. The placenta was kept in an empty mithai  box . Always examine the placenta for its completeness. I carried the baby and asked maasi to escort the exhausted mother upto the berth. The baby was put to breast while I kept on massaging the uterus till I was sure that it was hard. It was the first time that I looked at the woman. She was worried as again a daughter was born. At the same time she expressed mute obligation for supporting her during the difficult time. The whole compartment rejoiced when the young boy brought the baby out to show them.

Suddenly I felt drained. With limp legs I came back to the seat. My enxiety and apprehension seems to be transmitted to the life inside me and I could feel excessive foetal kicks. I started crying with an unexplained mixed feeling. I was afraid, horrified, shocked, happy, elated, relieved, worried…. Co-passengers were understanding enough to let me settle down . Baby and the mother got down at their destination. The young boy came to me and touched my feet without saying a word. We all were overwhelmed with emotions for different reasons.

The train Ticket Collector came to know about the incidence. He was very overt to show the appreciation and gratitude. Later I got a letter from him which was written reiterating the feelings he had expressed earlier. That letter is still a source of motivation whenever I have the doubt and start asking myself the question- What can I do alone?