The Saviour

Chapter I

Night had descended on Ratanpur, hiding from view overflowing gutters exposed to the
elements, dilapidated shanties across the field and the low hills beyond. Rain was pouring
down steadily and all was pitch dark. Compounder Tiwari, coming out from the only
ward that was in a shape to receive patients, took only a few seconds to realize that
virtually half the village had decided to pass the night under the portico of the newly
constructed Hospital. They had come to be with Ramsukh's parents in their hour of need
and, besides, it was safer to take shelter within the Hospital premises than braving the
fury of the monsoon inside their hovels.

Tiwari started feeling distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of so many people. A

group of villagers, among them Ramsukh's father, were on him even before he could
make his way to the lone bench near the door. Conscious of the weakness in his legs,
Tiwari braced himself up for their questions that fell on him from all sides, in a multitude
of voices.

"Tiwariji…is he…he'll live, won't he?"

"We are losing him," he said simply.

A brief silence followed. He tried to look elsewhere but their eyes held his and he felt
their piercing stare lacerate him through and through. Utter disbelief mingled with
indignation and pain accosted him.

"What has happened to him?" – The steady voice of the father.

"His pulse is weakening every moment. Doctor Sahab wanted to contact some other
doctors in Gwalior but the telephone lines are out of order."
"Gwalior? Must we still rely on Gwalior? What are you and your Sahab for? Why this
paraphernalia?"

"Listen, we are trying. The Doctor is doing all he can but nothing seems to be working."

"What has happened to him? Half an hour ago he was just fine."

"His heart is caving in.…See, what we need is a specialist's opinion but these telephone
lines….and there is no way he can survive the journey to Gwalior. But we are trying
hard."

"Why are you here then? Is it because of the fact that you all have already given up?
Where is Doctor Sahab? We want to meet him"

A chorus of similar sentiments prevented Tiwari from speaking further. One of the men
rushed towards the inner recesses of the Hospital followed by a few others talking loudly
in voices that betrayed anger and anguish. But they were immediately silenced upon
seeing the Doctor coming towards them from the other side of the passage.

Doctor Mehra was walking like a somnambulist. He was a young man, barely into his
late twenties with a rather sorrowful look in his eyes, sent out to get the newly
constructed Ratanpur Medical Hospital up and running. His more experienced colleagues
were expected to reach last weekend itself but the onset of monsoons had delayed their
arrival. As such, the Hospital was still closed to public but, thanks to the ceaseless efforts
put in by Tiwari, it had already caught the fancy of the villagers. He had spoken at length
about 'Doctor Sahab' and before long, with his peculiar walk, his jet black tuft of
rebellious hair that refused to conform to any set style and his quiet manner of speaking
as if he were a priest delivering sermon from the pulpit, the Doctor had managed to
become a hot topic of discussion for all. There were many who derided him and the
Hospital but everyone was intrigued and felt important because their village could boast
of the only Hospital within eighty miles.

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At 10:00 p.m. when they rushed Ramsukh to the Hospital, Dr. Mehra had just dozed off.
The Doctor never allowed himself to dream while awake or asleep. This was a conscious
decision, adhered to with all the strength of his Will. But the loud knockings on the door
and what happened during the next 20 minutes or so was nothing but dream-like: a
nightmare, rather. The frantic relatives, the frightened staff, the semi-conscious patient
and the incessant rain all combined to lend a hazy touch to the reality of the dark night.
They had brought the dying man there and put him on the bed even before he had time to
change and reach the ward. It was with difficulty that he could manage to get the area
cleared of the teeming mass of humanity. He ordered a couple of tests but realized that
there was no power and no generator. This was hell and he would have to face it alone
and unaided.

After an eternity of trying out all he knew- which was not much –and all that he had
experience of – which was limited – Dr Mehra was reduced to the state of a wreck. As the
youngest member of a team of doctors, all of whom chosen for the Hospital because
everyone else had managed to avoid a village posting, he had prepared himself for
inconvenience and hardship. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined
confronting all alone a case like this where death was possible at any moment.

As a doctor, he had had his encounters with death. He, along with rest of the team
members, had struggled till the bitter end and then returned exhausted to his room
knowing that they had not succeeded. But not succeeding was not failure. They had tried
all the way and given it their all. Many a times through their sheer brilliance, skill and
perseverance, he had witnessed his colleagues prolonging life and sending out messages
of hope. It had always been a humbling experience to be defeated by death but by no
means had it ever been a humiliating one. However, this was different. He was all by
himself and what made matters worse was the near certainty that a better-qualified doctor
than him would have tackled the whole thing much better.

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Try as he might, he knew that his fear was greater than his resolve not to show it and his
nervousness more pronounced than his attempts to hide it. Seeing the scores of men walk
towards him, he felt an involuntary shudder pass through him.

"Doctor Sahab…Tiwari says…is it all over?"

"No….,Tiwari, some men must be dispatched to Gwalior Civil Hospital immediately

Meanwhile, you go to the DM's bungalow and, if his telephone is working, request him to
contact a few doctors. Hand him this notepad in which I have mentioned the case details.
Hurry up …"

"Doctor Sahab, my son…"

"Look, we are trying our best to save your son. You must not give up." He knew he
sounded false. He felt irritated at the artificiality of his voice, the useless show of activity
to hide the emptiness within. A desperate call for help from the nurse made him rush back
to the ward and the sight that met the eyes was enough to convince him that it was all but
over. Nonetheless, he issued orders for the patient to be shifted to the operation theatre. A
minute later, bending over the dying man in an attempt to get his heart to respond, he felt
Tiwari's eyes on him and turned towards him, furious.

"Tiwari, why are you still…"

"Doctor Sahab," and literally dragging him aside, he almost whispered, "Must we delay
any further? If we have to operate him, we need to do so immediately."

He paused. Dr. Mehra continued to stare transfixed.

"He is dying. Your preliminary diagnosis says that he needs to be operated upon. We have
to get on with it, Sahab. We cannot wait any longer."

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"Tiwari… even if I knew for sure what exactly is needed to be done, I am not qualified
enough to be able to do it successfully and…."

"Doctor Sahab, you are a better judge of that. But I know this Hospital embodies the
hopes of a whole set of people. In fact, it is much more than that. These people were, and
are, deeply mired in superstitions. It is an act of faith for them to bring Ramsukh here,
against the advice of many of their tribe members. If we let them down like this, the
Hospital is doomed."

Dr Mehra knew that. He had been around when the DM had given an impromptu speech
at the function organized to welcome him ten days ago. The Hospital was billed as a
beacon of hope, open for one and all. In his stentorian style he had mentioned, "This
Hospital promises that no one in Ratanpur shall die unattended" and had exhorted the
tribal elders to shed all their inhibitions and fears. Asked to say a few words, he had let
the youthfulness of his idealism take over the cold logic of realism and remarked, "This
Hospital not only promises that no one in Ratanpur shall die unattended but also that no
one shall die of causes that modern medicine has triumphed over." It was only much later,
tossing in his bed at night, that he had suddenly realized omitting the words, 'God
willing!' while delivering his exuberant statement. The romanticism of days gone by had
once again exposed him to the wrath of the ‘powers’ up there and he hurriedly muttered a
prayer but, apparently, not sincerely enough for he was now about to let a young man die
in front of his eyes. Unless…

His face must have mirrored his thoughts for Tiwari spoke up, "Unless, we operate upon
him immediately and leave the rest to God."

"But, Tiwari, I am not a magician, just a doctor and not a very competent one at that. I
know what I cannot do. If I operate him, it would be akin to killing him. He shall die with
me holding the scalpel as if it were a butcher's knife. My expertise does not extend to
carving a man up and then stitching him back. This would be slaughter and…"

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"Doctor Sahab, it is over for him in half an hour at the most. How would it matter to him
one way or the other? I can say this on behalf of the villagers: given a choice they'd rather
remember you for your heroic failure than for your abject surrender. They'd rather you
fight for life than be helpless before death. Please forgive me, Sahab, I know I am
crossing the line…" He paused and then, "I have already sent somebody to the DM's
house with the notepad. I am going to the change room, Sahab, and would then join the
rest of the staff in waiting for you in the OT.

"Tiwari, just see to it that everything is ready. Any moment the lines may come to life and
we may be able to establish contact with somebody in Gwalior."

Left alone, Dr Mehra stared into nothingness for a while. Turning back, he saw a few
villagers sitting at the bench near the OT. Some had heads bowed, others looked back at
him without any emotion whatsoever. A child cried somewhere and was immediately
hushed into silence. He saw Ramsukh's father approaching him and tried instinctively to
rush to the OT. Too late!

"Sahab!"

He stopped, rooted to the spot.

"Sahab, Ramu's mother chooses to believe that you can get our son back on his feet. Her
wild hope makes her feel better." After a moment's pause he added, "It makes all of us
feel better. We are all praying. Shri Ram would not let us down."

He could take it no more and rushed inside.

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Chapter –II

Admiring the famous skyline of Connaught Place from the window of his hotel room, Dr
Mehra could hardly believe that almost a month had passed since that rainy night at
Ratanpur. He turned to survey the mess his room was in and, looking at his watch,
decided to rest for a while before packing for the journey ahead.

But rest was impossible. As soon as he closed his eyes, the present yielded before the past
in an ignominious surrender. Images and voices caught up with him, like they had all
these days, and it was impossible to ignore or wish them away. It was not that he had
been running away from it. Far from it. He had squared up his shoulders to go over the
entire sequence of events much before the Medical Council had summoned him for
detailed cross-questioning. The exercise had bestowed on him greater clarity and sharper
focus but it had also convinced him of the fact that he'd never be equal to the task of
facing the events of that night with equanimity.

Again and again he had asked himself why he had gone ahead with it knowing with
perfect surety that it was something he was not ready for. There was not even the faintest
of beliefs in his ability to salvage the situation and he had not the least idea how to go
about it. Even after much effort, he had not been able to come to a definite diagnosis and
as for having a plan of action, he had nothing concrete in mind. While entering the OT
after leaving Ramsukh's father behind, he kept telling himself that they would not operate
upon the patient in such a scenario. Even as his mind had searched for answers, even as
his eyes had continued to gauge the time left before death took over, he had kept on
discounting more firmly than ever the option of conducting the operation. He had allowed
no wild hopes to animate his being and no sense of heroism to urge him on. But after
what had seemed like an hour, but was actually less than ten minutes, he had inquired of
the nurse next to him if they had been able to contact Gwalior and she had replied, "No,
Doctor, not Gwalior or anyone anywhere else," he had asked her for the scalpel in a voice
that betrayed absolutely nothing.

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An hour and twenty minutes later when he emerged from the OT, tired and exhausted,
news of his 'stupendous' success had already reached the anxious villagers and they had
erupted in joy and relief, threatening to smother him in a massive display of emotion.
Making his way through the confusion, never once looking up and, but for issuing brief
instructions to Tiwari, remaining absolutely quiet, he had run into the DM standing at the
foot of the stairs with a smile on his face. His words, "You have saved the Hospital,
Doctor!" had fell on him like a huge block of stone, crushing whatever little was left
within. Back in his room, standing before the mirror, he had let himself go. Convulsive
shudders soon gave way to quiet sobs of anger.

Three days later, the other doctors having arrived, the Hospital was formally thrown open
to the public. The medicos had got down to serious business almost immediately but Dr.
Mehra was not among them. He had been advised by his chief, Dr. Rodriguez, to prepare
his report for the Medical Council which had asked for an 'explanation'.

Chapter -III

Facing the Medical Council everyday for four days had been taxing, to say the least. They
had treated him with courtesy and had not rushed him at any stage. But he had felt the
pressure and was relieved that it was over, at least for the time being, and that he had
been allowed to proceed on leave to Chandigarh to be with his parents.

The Council could not quite fathom why he had not been able to diagnose the case
correctly. He explained his version and admitted that some two minutes into the operation
he had realized the mistake. However, by then he had no option left but to continue.
Finally, the Chairman had exploded:

"But, Doctor, for Heaven's sake, it was only a contraction, an unusual one, perhaps, but
a...a...bad spasm, so to speak, and nothing more. Surely you could have made that out
despite the near darkness and the absence of any comprehensive medical report? You
subjected a man to hours of excruciating pain, nearly killed him with your indecisiveness

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(imagine the consequences if that had happened!), operated him for something that
required no operation at a juncture when it was almost too late for even an operation to
save him and left him at the mercy of post-operation related complications which, I am
sure you can appreciate, are grave indeed!"

"Yes, Sir."

"But what we, the Council members, find most galling is that for all this-pardon my
choice of the word- tomfoolery, you were cheered and are now looked upon as some sort
of a Saviour by the villagers! Can you understand what you have done? Their faith in the
Hospital is based on foundations that would give way the moment the facts of the case
come out. Of course, we'd try to ensure that the details do not spread but, really, you have
put the Hospital in a false position. The Council shall decide on this matter keeping in
mind your inexperience and the exigencies of the situation you faced. Meanwhile, you
are to be transferred out of Ratanpur immediately."

And that was that.

He had spoken to Dr. Rodriguez and requested him to send his books and personal
belongings to Chandigarh. He could not have gone back there to receive the undeserved
acclamation of unlettered villagers or the sneers of his colleagues.

He got up and started packing.

-------------------------------
A week later, opening the carton that had arrived from Ratanpur, he found a letter from
Dr. Rodriguez inside.

Dear Akhilesh,
News of your transfer from this place has been taken in rather badly by the villagers and
the Hospital is literally inundated with endless queries every day. They were even
planning to 'gherao' us but the DM managed to calm them down.

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Nobody else can understand what you went through or are facing right now. But, if it
helps, please accept my best wishes. You did well. I say this knowing what you know.

In the final analysis, may be it was an error of judgment, may be even your 'success' is a
failure but I hope you'd not allow yourself to feel guilty because the price of guilt can
never be estimated, let alone paid.

Ramsukh lives. No matter what anyone says, he lives because you stood up to deliver.

I hope you'd soon enter an OT again. You must.

(Dr. C.N. Rodriguez)

Dr. Mehra folded the letter and looked out. It was raining. He got up and closed the
window.

Epilogue

Dr. Rodriguez was slightly irritated at being informed that some villagers were waiting
outside his office. He knew why they were there. Anyway, he told himself, he cannot turn
them away yet again.

Walking out of his room, he could not but feel proud at the progress that Ratanpur
Medical Hospital had made under his stewardship. Within a short span of one year, the
Hospital had successfully combated a major epidemic and averted two more by
conducting intensive awareness programmes. There had been a buzz of purposeful
activity in the campus that both thrilled and satisfied him.

"Ganesh, how are you? So, all fit and fine with Ramsukh?"

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"Yes, Doctor Sahab. Today I am celebrating my son's new lease of life. It is one full year
since this Hospital saved him from certain death. On this auspicious day, we have come
to request you once again to get Dr. Mehra transferred back to Ratanpur."

Dr. Rodriguez took only a minute's pause to answer: "Others need him, too, Ganesh. Take
care of your son. That's the best way to remember Dr. Mehra"

The villagers could understand this. They nodded their heads in agreement and left with
folded hands. Dr. Rodriguez watched their retreating form for a while and then, with a
slight shake of his head, headed back towards his room muttering to himself what he
always did when he thought of Dr. Akhilesh Mehra, "Poor man!"

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