Legend of the Golden Stethoscope

The old doctor lay dying. The hospital room was empty except for them both. His daughter, also a doctor, sat next to him, teardrops stained  on her young arms as she clasped his  scarred, weather-beaten hands. They sat in a gentle silence. Not the awkward one felt by strangers but the soft yet sad silence felt by people about to separated eternally. Whatever  that needed to be said had been said. His voice decapitated the silence. She was surprised at the strength of his voice even now. " how about a story before bed,  Tabby?" She chuckled helplessly, rubbing her nose. When she was a little girl, she always hated it when he wasn't home because of work in the hospital. When he returned after work late at night, he usually found her awake waiting for him. He then told her a story about something or the other,  putting her to a peaceful sleep. This however, would be his last story, so she nodded tearfully and put her stethoscope on her lap and leaned closer. He was an excellent story teller, and his voices began its magic.

"There was once a family of doctors who owned a large private hospital. This hospital catered only  to the rich and powerful. Their main agenda was money and money alone They were the kind of people who saw patients as money waiting to be cut loose with a scalpel. The rebel in the family was the youngest doctor. He was the son of the founder and he hated the way the hospital worked from the bottom of his heart. He joined the profession with the idea of being a hero to the helpless and poor, not live a lifestyle of lords. His father berated him and mocked him, trying to shake the ' immature dreams ' out of him. But this only strengthened tensions. Until finally one day, they argued and the son lost his temper. He threw his stethoscope in the garbage bin in front of his father and the patients staring at him. He then left the hospital without turning back.

After volunteering in a few medical missions, He decided to travel the world a bit, to do some soul searching. When he reached Cambodia, he realised he had been reckless with his money and was now almost bankrupt.
Pennyless and stoned, he roamed aimlessly in the wilderness and fields,  until he reached a monastery in the middle of the village. Hungry and tired, he decided to spend the night there.

He soon discovered that this monastery doubled as a hospital, with the monks treating the villagers with their ailments ranging from snake bites to childbirths, the villagers relied on the monks as their saviours and helped the monks survive in whatever way they could. The monks were delighted in the young doctor's presence and welcomed them into their family. He was amazed to find the monastery equipped with the facilities of a decent hospital, with antibiotics, sterile dressings, good range of instruments and many other features  that modern medicine flounced. When he asked how this came to be, he found out that these 'monks' were actually once doctors from the city who left trying to find a deeper meaning in their profession. The drugs and equipment were readily sponsored by the government who were only the more glad to have competent doctors working for free. This doctor then made his home there, learning the language and serving the villagers, finally content with his life.

The Doctor joined the monks in their evening ganja and tea where they discussed matters about their work. It was in one of these discussions that the Golden Stethoscope was spoken of. It began when the monks discussed how it seemed that modern medicine was slowly failing. Microorganisms spitting on the face of the the most powerful antibiotics. Cancers which failed the most powerful therapy. Mental disease and depression slowly rising and corrupting the minds of youth. The oldest monk one day sighed and said " If only the golden stethoscope would reveal itself. Maybe then we could tide through this undesirable time. " when asked what he had meant, the monks looked uncomfortable and avoided each other gaze. But the oldest monk looked at the doctor and said " The Golden Stethoscope was a gift from the angels to the first doctor of the world, Rowan Crowe . It was a  contract between God and Doctors, that the trade of medicine was done under his name and his name alone. It has mysterious powers, which cannot exactly be explained. It makes it occurrence at crucial times in history, choosing it's owner carefully. Joseph Lister, the father of aseptic surgery was rumoured to own it.  John hunter too and some say Virchow and Pasteur  as well. But it's appearance and disappearance in history cannot be predicted, But some say it only appears in the last place it owner died.". The old man smiled. "Its just a legend of course, a story of little value." The doctor nodded, and took a drag from his pipe and excused himself for bed.

The next few years passed in a blur. By now, he had gained the respect of his fellow monks who now treated him like he was a brother. The doctor finally told them all about his life story and they all listened patiently. Then the oldest monk looked at him and said " you must now meet your father. It is of vital importance, my son." The doctor felt uneasy and said " But great one, he is an old part of my life, and nothing else. I am happier here and wish to live the rest of my life and die here as well." The old man smiled sadly and said softly " A man who rejects his own family, rejects his own blood, his own heart and his own mind. You must return to him, and let whatever path you decide take you home. May the Golden Stethoscope guide you. " all the monks decided to help pay for his return home and so it seemed he was ready to go home. However , the day before he left, he noticed a new weight in his bag and Lo! It was a Stethoscope pure in Gold, its perfection and beauty enough to convert a sinner to a saint. He clutched it in wonder. Could this be the mysterious stethoscope throughout the ages? Or did the monks gift me this as an allegory? He did not mention it to any  of the monks and left his home with grief and apprehension.

When he stood in front of his father, he had expected to see his rage or his scorn, or even him acting like he did not know his son. But this did not cross him mind. His father hugged him and wept, like the father met the prodigal son. He asked him how he had been and what he had been doing, and when the son told him the entire story, the father told the son seriously, " Son, when you were gone I did some serious thinking. Your words, whether they were said in anger or truth, stirred something in me. I have changed the set up of our family hospital, would you like to see? The son eagerly said he would. And what he saw amazed him. The hospital was much larger that before now catered to both the rich and the poor. The poor, the father explained need not pay anything, the salary of all the doctors working came from the rich clients. The father himself , gave away his exuberant lifestyle and adopting a simple one, ensuring that his staff were well paid to stay and carry on the work. The father then looked at his son with eye that burned with pain " the only thing missing here is you, my son. Will you join us now?" The son smiled and of course agreed.

The stethoscope spoke to him subtly. It guided him in his work gently. It made him catch things the others would have easily missed. A murmur of the heartbeat, an abnormal breath sounds others would have ignored. Soon he learnt to trust it's voice. It guided his thoughts and assumptions until he never missed a diagnosis. It guided his hands till every surgery was perfection. The most complicated childbirth was rendered a cakewalk for him. Soon all the doctors around him recognised his power and proudly worked to their fullest, eager to gain his approval. People from far heard about this mysterious yet talented doctor who could cure anything and flocked to him. He was the King of all Doctors and he enjoyed it.

Many years later, something tragic happened. The stethoscope disappeared. His fear was like a palpable tumour and he searched everywhere but it could not be found. Finally a week later, it was found. A nurse had opened the nursery of the hospital to be greeted by a peculiar sight. An abandoned infant, clutching the golden stethoscope tightly, still asleep. The doctor took the stethoscope with trembling hands, but found it silent and dumb, like it was any other stethoscope. It dawned upon  him. The stethoscope had chosen a new master."

The dying man looked at his daughter. "The rest of the story is unclear. Some say he took the stethoscope and hid it, others say he destroyed it. Some say he took the child as his own and raised it, others say he killed it, trying to  gain its powers one again. But the moral of the story is the same. The golden stethoscope represents the ultimate duty of the doctor. To serve humanity and not riches and power. To be the saviour to everyone, with a mind untainted with greed and avarice. This is what I ask for you, my daughter. That is all." Saying so, the old man closed his eyes and smiled. After a while, he died peacefully.

The young woman sat by him for a while, her mind lost in a whirlpool of emotion. She felt the pain leave her and be replaced by determination to live by her father's last words. And as she stood up, her stethoscope on her lap fell on to the floor. And it was not iron and plastic, but pure holy Gold. She looked at her father, he looked content, like a man who had finally finished a hard task.

The End.

Workplace Romance

I am in love with a woman at work.I know it isn't ethical and all, but who can question a heart's choice? I certainly won't. She's usually the first person I see in the day. She never talked to me, because we speak different languages, but she's a doctor, and a very sincere one at that. You can find her at the theatre, next to me humming while she works, her black hair tracing seductively across her smooth neck, rocking gently like palm fronds in the wind. Her glasses perch on her button nose as she frowns at me slightly, especially when something is puzzling her. Finally, one day she began talking to me. It was during Saturday's, when no students would be there in theatre and she would be studying alone there with me. Since I work under her, I just kept quiet and listened on as she spoke. She just went on and on, while I just listened silently. It was related to a structure in the human body. She then began to speak to me as if teaching me, because I guess it helped her learn better as well as kill the loneliness. This began to happen every week. It became an intimacy the likes of which no reproductive organs could imitate. She then switched to passionately speak about everything that would irritate her, her useless students, who couldn't find their anus from their oral cavity and to her family. I hated her husband. He was a jealous, possessive fellow who always thought she was having an affair with someone at work, and usually barged in, while she was still working late in the afternoon. He always had a loud mouth and this irritated me to no bounds. Slowly, I felt love grow towards my employer, who seemed to look forward to the time when we worked together.

One day, he started this routine in front of all the students gathered around her. While she started fighting with her husband and the students started looking uncomfortable. I tolerated it and did my best to ignore it. But when he sIapped her and knocked her on to the theatre floor, I decided I had enough. I stood up. Riverlets of formalin ran down my naked, preserved cut up  dead body as I grabbed the scalpel from the stupid boy who was dissecting me and slowly rose up. Cut muscles contracted as I stepped over the table and gazed at the eyes of medical students, too paralysed to scream.  I silently moved towards him.Death is no barrier to love's call.

Enigma of Project Lazarus

When I was in medical school, I remember that a section of the research centre of our medical college was always active even in the dead of night. It was weird because that section didn't have any major attachments. You could hear the sound of people working, and researchers hanging out even at the early moments. Because of this very bewildering  scene, so many conspiracy/horror stories popped up, and I would like to relate to a particular single very interesting story. It goes that in the older years, there was a medical student so brilliant, he would learn everything with utmost sincerity and dedication. He had  an intense thirst for  knowledge nobody could surpass. He overtook all his professors in terms of knowledge and skill. It was said that he was the pride and glory of the university. For him, it was not mere concepts that was sufficient. He wanted an in depth knowledge which even the most well published authors could not cater to. He didn't even bother about exams. They were like insects colliding on to a  speeding bike rider's helmet. He passed out and after his graduation he decided to become a simple tutor and continue his life at the same institute. It was at this point someone informed me that he was an orphan. This simple teacher started to dedicate his life as a symbol for all the departments, an epitome of ultimate knowledge, and it is said, he lead 'the golden age of Doctors' in there college. He continued to teach at the same pace throughout the rest of his life. He was so brilliant he could have studied for his entrance examination and carry on as one of the greatest physician of the age, but he laughed it off and said that it is his love for all the subjects in our field that kept him satisfied like his academic wives, and then his duty was to spread this tale of love to as many students as possible. So one day this man died. And as a non religious man, he dedicated his body to science. So on the autopsy table, as he lay cooling, about to be dissected for the name of science , you can understand everyone's amazement when a heartbeat  suddenly appeared. It was noticed when one of the scientists wanted to take a selfie of herself holding the famous scientist's hand as if checking for a pulse. And so it did. The man's heartbeat appeared, and although he was still in a vegetative state, he still had a shocking resemblance  of life.
This then led to a lot of changes. They wiped out all data pertaining to him in the college directories and tried to eradicate any proof of his existence. Dubbed under 'Project Lazarus' They placed him in an observatory centre in the Research centre. And things began to get more strange , when apparently he slowly began to improve in other aspects as well. He needed as little as care required, with nutrition needed only once in  2 weeks. And then his EEG peaked up again was a day hell broke out, since it implied  the brain was making its first signals and messages jumping over each neuron  like a child in a playground ever after his heart stopped beating.  Brain dead was now Brain Alive. Like Lazarus, He was rising from the grave. All the departments in our medical college, as well as in other medical colleges around the world were involved in this project,  and although it was top secret,  in the academic churches, the rumours grew in wildfire proportion. This man was a master in all the fields and sciences related to the human body. He knew how the human body worked, down to the cell, down to the biochemical level thanks to his biochemistry. He knew how it carried on its existence thanks to physiology. He also knew each and every aspect of cellular damage, repair and recovery thanks to his general pathology. So could it be that this man's body, somehow because it was 'hyperaware' about each and every aspect about itself, managed to encode its knowledge into itself,  such that it would  then begin to use this information to it's benefit in a way that we still could not begin to understand? Scientists were all well aware about the 'mind over body' concept, but this was the unmitigated truth. Could it be that this intelligent body started to view death as merely a major injury and start regenerating and reviving itself in a slow and arduous process. And now, the CNS, being nature's most toughest thing to understand, was slowly opening its sleepy eye once more. So a secret alliance of scientist worldwide closed in on this phenomena, to study his physiology , especially his EEG findings to finally achieve to goal to find out what happens after we die. It seemed his EEG was becoming more complex by the day, with it almost seeming like he was trying to communicate back to them.
But my friends! It was just a rumour. A crazy story. If that's the case, how would he die in the first place!, that's what the health officials say about this special section in the research labs of my college to this very day. They deny the existence of project Lazarus. They deny the existence of this intelligent man. They deny everything.
But that's the funny thing.  I'm currently standing in the same place I got my medical degree 46 years ago. And even though a lot at the centre has changed, the same project is going on, supervised by a different hand, but on its on same secret agenda.

The enigma of the jigsaw puzzles

Nobody knew who they were or what they wanted. They seemed to appear and disappear like mysterious ghosts. Encounters with people have so far been random. They could meet you anywhere. In a crowded bar, in a graveyard by the moonlight, a school courtyard, anywhere. They looked so ordinary, you almost forgot them after they left you. But over the last 5 years, they have been met with mixed reactions. Those who survived 2 days later would claim that meeting them was a gift from God and love. Those who didn't, well they died. After they met you, they would give you a simple suitcase with the words ' you have 48 hours'. They then vanished like the stars at dawn. Inside the suitcase would be two things. A  black jigsaw piece and a letter. The Letter would state ' you have 48 hours to find the jigsaw piece which fits to the one in this suitcase, failing which you will die of a painless heart attack.
The missing jigsaw can be in the hands of anyone on earth.
If you both do not meet, then you will do so in death.
If one of you dies either by means of suicide or natural / unnatural means, then the other will survive.
These jigsaw pieces have been created keeping in mind the most perfect match possible. Don't give up! :-)

After the first few victims chose to ignore it and were soon found to be dead, people then realised that this was no hoax and started to take action. Websites started to pop up which helped people to find wherever their match were and amazingly enough, almost all of them, soon fell in love with each other and lived as literature would have it, happily ever after.

I met my stranger in the subway. He gave me the suitcase and told me the cursed four words which sounded like nails driven into my coffin. Nobody around me seemed to notice him. Maybe they couldn't. In all the accounts, it seemed they were invisible to all around them except those they came for. My initial reaction was to ignore it, leave it to the security guard and run. But then rationality hit. Calm down. No need to panic. I decided to call my best friend and tell her. Purva would know what to do. When I called her, her voice had a tone which caught my attention immediately. Having been her friend ever since we were kids, I could understand her like a sailor understood the sea. She then confided in me that she had met the stranger and got a suitcase herself. What where the chances! I told her not to worry and asked her to meet me at our favourite spot in the park. A warm feeling began to glow inside me. Was it possible? I always had a non progressive crush on her ever since I could remember. In one of her more pensive moments, she once revealed to me that she would only take a guy when she knew she saw the sign. I smiled as I raced towards the park. This was as auspicious as it would get.

If you never felt as if you'd been dealt a bad card in your life, let me know. I'll send
you an essay on how it feels. Purva and I had both got a jigsaw piece, but they didn't fit. They almost did, but mine had an extra bump on it and hers didn't, so in the end, we both felt lost and we didn't know what to do. I remember the look on her face when the pieces didn't fit. It was the look of a snake bite victim when he realises he's only minutes away from dying with no hope left in sight.

We both tried all the websites which catered to the jigsaw phenomenon. But there were no responses. For some reason, either the people who got them didn't hear about the website, or they were in some remote place in the middle of nowhere. How depressing would it be to know that the only one who would truly make you happy  for the rest of your life was a shepherd in  sub Saharan Africa who you had no chance of meeting? Or an Inuit for that matter.

It's been almost two days. I'm sitting at the park where we last met. The sun is dying behind me and soon so shall I.  In the last two days, the only thing on my mind was purva. I was convinced that she would be the girl for me, but it seemed the universe had other plans. I heard people who failed to find their others piece would admit themselves into a hospital, and hope the doctor could help them. But they were always wrong. Purva slit her wrists last night and sank into her bathtub, which I felt funny, because a painless heart attack seemed a better way. But I guess she wanted to go out in her own terms. I grinned to myself. I wasn't that brave. I didn't attend her funeral, because I was going to die anyway. Why get a haircut if you're going to undergo chemotherapy the next day itself? I sigh as I begin to get up and suddenly there is someone in front of me. My blood freezes as I realise it's the same man who handed me the suitcase on the first day. He politely nods his head and hands me another suitcase, and states that the last suitcase was a botched delivery and apologises. I open it and I see the perfect compliment to Purva's. The man vanishes as I close the lid of the suitcase. I lay my head on it and weep bitterly.

****

The broken stethoscope

I remember the happiest day of my life. The whole household was in celebration. We distributed sweets to all the neighbours and we invited all our relatives to share the good news. The farmer's daughter managed to get a seat in one of the most prestigious colleges in the state. I was to be the first doctor from my family. No, correct that. The first doctor from my village. I remember my father's proud eyes looking at me, making me feel like a little girl again who finished learning to recite her first nursery rhyme. My father whose entire life revolved around giving me an education and making me find my place in this world. As I gazed into his sun worn face, I remember something he told me once when I was small. Your mother died giving birth to you because there were no doctors in our village at the time. That's why you should respect doctors. They are ordinary people who do extraordinary things. I made a silent promise to myself. I would be the best doctor I  could possibly can.

I remember the hardest days of my life. Studying late at night. Trying to learn as much as possible, it was a. Struggle which I enjoyed because I knew that the harder I fought, the stronger I would become. I remember when my father gave me a surprise visit  and he caught me just as I came back after posting, still wearing my apron. The expression on his face is something that I'll never forget. It was a mixture of raw pride and happiness that made every cell in my body glow in joy. I'm sure astronauts would have spotted me from the moon. But there was also a tinge of sadness, and I later found out that he only regretted that my mother wasn't around to see me.

My father passed away shortly after I graduated.  He died a happy man, surrounded by family and friends. Before he left my hand and  join my mother into the great adventure awaiting them, he told me something I nearly missed. Remember me in every smile your patients give you. I will, father. I will.

For many years I worked towards that goal. I worked with a devil's frenzy and an angel's grace. Every smile was like a golden coin I greedily collected. I didn't want money. The smile was the only thing I wanted, to make my father live again in their eyes.

I remember the night it all changed. There was a bus accident. A lot of casualties and many more injured. There was a small boy whose injuries were too grave for me to do anything. Half his torso was crushed in and there was definite cerebral hemorrage.There was literally nothing I could do. The medical officer in charge told me to tend to the other victims who had a chance to be healed.  A man with a broken arm caught me and yelled at me, asking me to do something and pointed angrily at the child. I tried to comfort him and make him understand that it was beyond me, but he pushed my hand aside and gave me such a venomous look that it frightened me. Even after I turned away from him and rushed to the other victims, I felt his hateful gaze, like a deadly snake gliding over poisoned waters.

They say that your life flashes in front of your eyes in the last seconds of your life. Its true. I'm lying down in the parking lot of my hospital next to my destroyed car. The glass pieces glitter the sunlight and cast beautiful rainbows into my eyes. My apron, which I remember wearing with pride when I started the wonderful journey of becoming a doctor, is now torn and tattered, drenched in blood. My breathing is short and shallow as I take in the sweet April air. My stethoscope is crushed beyond recognition and splintered. Somehow that makes me feel sad. The pain comes in an intensity that makes me want to howl like an animal. I felt like a paper boat tossed into a raging river of pain and blood. As my vision slowly fades, I collect my last thoughts, I think of all the smiles I collected during my profession, all the thanks and praises. But in spite of all that, all it took was one look of hate. It was all a mistake of circumstance. How could I be blamed for this? How could I be punished? But all these feelings of anger and despair wash away like cobwebs in the wind. I can hear sirens approach me and the sound of people shouting from the hospital and I can hear my colleagues rush toward me. But ironically, I'm in the same condition as the boy was last night. There's nothing that can be done to save me. Before I slip into the void that awaits us all, I smile as best as I can. It would be strange, considering the painful way I died, but my father was right. Doctors are ordinary people who do extraordinary things. I have no regrets. None.

Vaginitis Proper

The atmosphere in the hospital canteen felt warm and soft. The doctors who sat there during the midnight shift embraced the relaxed atmosphere like a child clutches a teddy bear during his sleep. There was laughter and a steady conversation floating above the men and women. The owner of the canteen looked on as he wiped the already clean counter and hummed to himself. He glanced at the doctors who sat at the table by the window to make sure they were not in dearth of tea or biscuits.

He knew and respected these  doctors. He knew they were capable and decent people. He didn't eavesdrop, but he observed enough to know each one of them with impressive clarity. The doctor who played with her  grey curly hair and laughed easily was Dr. Savita who was an opthalmologist. She was so cheerful and her smile had so much light, she could make a blind man rub his eyes. The  muscular and stocky  doctor was Dr. Carlos who dominated the pathology department. He rarely smiled, and his students trembled at his shadow. A stern yet fair man. The lean  balding man who was currently making  Savita laugh was Dr. Marshal, the paediatrician whose wisdom and friendliness made him popular with even the most bitter and troublesome personnel in the hospital. The canteen owner frowned and glanced at the large clock on the wall. The fourth member of the group was late tonight. An intern walked in, with the look of a tired cat which was left in the rain. He grasped his hot cup of tea and sat down holding on to it like a titanic survivor to his lifeboat. The doctors ignored him and carried on their discussion without pause.  The owner felt sympathy towards the intern. The boy worked harder than his peers, pulling out so many late nighters, the dark circles beneath his eyes gave him an owlish look. A very intelligent and perceptible young man. He would be an excellent doctor soon. 

The door opened and a plump man entered with an anxious look and an agitated pace. He looked like a man who was afraid he had done a terrible thing and that the punishment would occur at any moment, leaving him helpless to change his fate. He went to the table by the window and sat down silently. Dr Stanislaus, one of the well acclaimed gynaecologists in Mother Teresa Medical College looked at his friends glumly. "I'm in trouble" he said shortly. "We could never had guessed." said Carlos dryly. "What's up?" Savita asked giving her worried friend's hand a gentle squeeze. Stanislaus took a deep breath. "I think I broke my Hippocratic oath." They all fell silent. Stanislaus admitting that was like a pig admitting to play violin. Marshal's mouth fell open. "You had sex with a patient?" he blurted incredulously and immediately looked defensive as 3 pairs of eyes aimed at him like angry pistols. "That's the only part of the oath I ever remembered." he muttered as he stirred his tea. Stanislaus turned to his friends. " I revealed very sensitive information about my patient " he said forlornly. The others looked slightly puzzled. It wasn't a very serious offence, but then waited patiently as he told his whole story.
" A few  week ago a very respected woman, the Assistant Commissioner of Police came to the clinic with some discharge. I did a few tests and it turned out to be vaginitis secondary to an STD. She was embarrassed and asked me to keep this in perfect confidence. I assured her readily enough and gave her the drugs myself.
So just earlier today, I was referring a journal in the library and as I returned back, I saw a boy and girl giggling in front of a book and the boy whispered to the girl's ear- " Assistant police commissioner has vaginitis proper". Stanislaus looked at them with fear welling up in his eyes. " somehow, without my knowledge I let that information spread. And when she finds out.." He finished the sentence with a grim swallow. The other friends looked at him without any words to say. Carlos was the first to recover. " Do you have any idea how this might have happened? " Stanislaus rubbed his hair tiredly. "The only other person who would know anything about this case was my staff nurse Ruth. But she's been with me for so long, she never seemed to be the gossiping type". Carlos considered this gravely. "They never do, my friend. But nurses gossip. It's a earth's truth."
Savita looked troubled at this generalisation. She knew Ruth as a friend and always considered her to be a sensible and professional woman. This was a very sticky business indeed. A cough nearby alerted them. They all stared in shock at the intern. Stanislaus' face grew even more paler if that was even possible. "Boy... What gives you the right to listen in on our conversation?" Carlos growled like a pit bull smelling a strange dog. "Sir, I couldn't help but..." His words were cut by Stanislaus' quivering voice. " If you repeat whatever you heard to anyone else , I swear...I'll make your life a devil's nightmare " Savita gasped. This was hardly the way to talk to a student, regardless of situation! .
Marshal placed a placating hand upwards, like a man trying to stop a raging bull. He gestured comfortingly " calm down, Stan. The lad could have slipped out silently and spread whatever he heard if wanted. Instead, he came to us. I think we should at least listen to him, don't you think? ". A huge pregnant pause ensued and finally Stanislaus looked down ashamedly " you're right. I'm sorry. What is it you wanted, son? "
The boy sounded humble yet confident as he asked. " sir, would you remember what those two  students were reading in the library? " Carlos snorted rudely. Even Savita seemed baffled. How on earth would be useful? . But Stanislaus frowned thoughtfully. " It was biochemistry, I think. There was a picture of heme synthesis, I recall." All three friends were barely surprised. Among them, Stanislaus was blessed with a near perfect photographic memory. The boy nodded and sat back scribbling with a piece of paper as if none of them existed. Weird kid ,thought all four of them. The silence was then broken by Marshal who asked " even if Ruth did the gossiping, how would it reach the boy in the library? " Stanislaus looked up at that. " that's the thing!  I did some research, and it turns out that the  boy's mother is a nurse in our hospital! What are the chances? " Stanislaus slapped the table with his palm, rattling the teacups. " that makes it conclusive! It's easy that this Ruth spread that piece of information on to her! Stan, you must report this woman at once."  Marshal tried to take control of the situation. " now hold on. There's no need to do anything rash without any solid evidence.. " Stanislaus turned to him, an angry response ready, when they were one again interrupted by the intern who wore a mysterious smile on his lips. "Sir, I think I know what really happened." Carlos sneered and was about to retort but was hushed by Sativa, who encouraged the intern with a nod. He cleared his throat and read from his paper. " acute intermittent porphyria, congenital erythropoeitic porphyria , porphyria cutanea tarda, hereditary coproporphyria, variegate porphyria and protoporphria. " All the doctors looked at him as if he recited the Russian national anthem. Then Savita hissed. "Its a mnemonic! Assistant commissioner police has vaginitis proper is just a way of remembering the list of porphyrias in sequence of heme synthesis!" The intern just smiled and nodded. Just a coincidence it reflected your case, sir." But still they were not satisfied. " how are you so sure? " asked Stanislaus, but his voice lost all its previous rudeness and harshness. The intern looked at them as if it was the simplest thing in the world. " why call it vaginitis proper?  It seems a pretty redundant term. And why would the boy tell the girl such boring gossip? If one of their classmates contracted an STD, then it would make sense, since it would be interesting. But the assistant commissioner of police? Boring. They don't even know if that post is held by a woman. "
The  four doctors stared at this intern in a new light. The canteen owner smiled as Dr. Stanislaus called on one more round of tea  to celebrate and invited the intern to join them. Yes. He would make an excellent doctor soon.

Mother's Love

The intern rubbed his eyes wearily as the rain pounded outside. One thing he loved about being posted in a rural health centre was the serene isolation from the outside world. With no visible light in the horizon except the occasional lightning, he felt like he was in a different planet altogether. A soft cry tore him from his thoughts. A new born girl , just about a few hours old sensed his mother's absence and seemed in need of some attention. He sighed as he turned to the baby. He knew he was not good with kids. He tolerated them at best. Komal, his fellow intern never understood this. " what? You don't like babies? " she would gasp incredulously. It was as if he admitted performing cannibalism on them instead. "Everyone loves babies, yaar." He would just shrug as he filled up the forms and got back to work. Komal loved children. She assured him that she would love to have a large family. Lots of children and all that.
Not him. He would get a dog. More than enough for a lifetime. Another of komal's favourite topic was mother's love. Yes, he was thankful for his mother for all that she did for him, the colustrum and the medical schools fees particularly, but was it really that mysterious and powerful  as she would have him believe? Never mind that now. But even with such principles guiding him, he felt something stir towards this little one. Her mother was being treated in another room, suffering from severe anaemia after the delivery and was surrounded by  the relatives. After cooing after the child for a while, they quickly left, leaving him alone with the baby. Komal was helping the doctor and so that made the entire staff tonight. They had a few other cases, but nothing they all couldn't handle together. In such an isolated health centre, it wasn't unusual. The doctor would laugh when he complained about it being boring. Once you're as old as me, you'll come to crave it. The mother would be fine and ready to breastfeed by morning, the doctor assured him. His job was to look after the baby by then. He stifled a yawn and glanced at his watch. An hour after midnight. The baby gurgled to itself and fell asleep promptly. She was surprisingly healthy, taking into the light her mother's condition. He decide to read for a while before komal came back. They would then have some tea while she talked the night away. A short while later, he began  fighting sleep away like a man fighting a pack of wolves with a rubber slipper. He rubbed his eyes  wearily as he played with the idea of taking a short nap. The old doctor would frown at him, but just a short nap wouldn't hurt, right?
                          **************

Err...doctor sir?.." The boy's head jerked up in surprise from a troubled sleep as he faced his speaker. A young lady, so thin and pale, her face having a pasty unhealthy look which was currently looking at him with a sense of fear and anxiety.  How long was I out? He wondered. Was this the mother? How could she even be standing? The doctor would never have allowed her to be up and about so fast. He was about start asking the questions that plagued him at that moment, when she suddenly blurted out in anxious distress " doctor sir, my baby... I think he stopped breathing! ". There were a few sentences in the world that would have evaporated all his sleep within a second. And had sentence was one of them.Grabbing his stethoscope with a fist that felt numb and cold, his brain slowly hummed to him all useful information it could find in his cranial cavity. First he kept a cool head. Respiration was pretty  irregular in the new born . No need to freak out unnecessarily. Just observe the... Whatever sentence he formed in his head died pitifully like a frog in a bucket full of acid. Bluish discolouration of the lips and skin. The devil's lipstick.Cyanosis. Short gasping breaths. Uh oh. This was bad. " call the doctor !" He yelled stupidly, a corner of his brain reminding him he was technically a doctor too. His fear and sense of emergency seemed contagious, as she stared at him in fear and trepidation. "They are all busy, sir! There is an emergency case ,it seems."  What emergency case? Never mind. This was an emergency itself. The mother looked at him, liquid eyes shedding desperation and hope. " please....my child. Do something... " He took a deep breath and began. He knew he was no genius. His memory failed him at times, he never could do that 'thinking outside the box' his teachers seemed to keep going on about, but right now, in the midst of the confusion and chaos, he found it sitting right there like a giant butterfly on a beautiful flower. The words of his mentor and professor came to him once again in the same squeaky voice. Now son, the first thing is to perform a pulse check. Place two fingers on the inside of the upper arm, between the elbow and shoulder. Check for about 10 seconds. He felt nothing. Okay. That means we need to start compression. Place the kid on a firm and flat surface. He did. 2 fingers on the centre of the chest, just below the nipple line. Alright. Press hard and fast, it should reach at least 4cm inward. Do that 30 times and give 2 breaths with that bag mask. Make sure the chest rises, boy! For an adult, oxygen content of the blood is typically normal. But for an infant, the oxygen content is decreased due to the respiratory failure. So chest compression isn't enough for delivering oxygen, you need good breaths administered as well. Repeat. Repeat he did, for how long, he did not know. His arms began to ache, his apron soaked in sweat. He was aware of the mother standing silently, either too tired to react or just praying  to herself. He focussed on the baby. Was she getting better? He couldn't tell. He worked mechanically, like a robot on its last legs. A thought fluttered past him. Was he too late? Was the child beyond saving? Just as he decided to abandon his efforts, he was rewarded. The chest stirred feebly once. Twice. He removed the bag mask with trembling hands. A slow gasp emanated and then another. The blanched face turned red and healthy. He felt like he was watching a rose bloom in front of his very eyes. He took a step back from the baby as if it was a bag full of serpents. It worked?! He felt dizzy. The mother laughed and rushed to the baby's side. She nuzzled the child as she whispered the word ' thank you ' repeatedly. Whether it was directed to him or God he did not know. He did not care. He needed the doctor. He might have taken care of the emergency but he couldn't stop it from happening again. He told the mother to stay right there and not keep the baby out of sight and  without another word, he rushed to find the doctor.
                             ***********

He knew something was wrong the second he stepped out. He heard voices shouting and the doctor on the phone speaking so quietly, he almost missed him. And then she saw komal. She was leaning on a wall, seemingly staring at nothing. When he shook her, her eyes seemed dull, like that of a dead fish. " The Mother died." She said simply. It happened a while back. The heart failed her, as simple as that. Simple as a Dimple. They tried everything, and failed. The mother was the emergency case, the mother was dead. Then how? Who woke me up? The boy felt the world flicker like a bulb that had spent too many of its days shining. He took short steps back to the room he had just exited. It was empty save for  baby  who was alive and breathing , comfortably asleep somehow. Outside, the rain had stopped and the cool scent of wet life and foliage glided into the room. He almost heard the whisper 'thank you' tickle across his mind, like raindrops on a coffin.