SHORT STORY: PSYCHIATRY WARD
BY MOHAN LAL PHILLAURIA
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All my family members were very happy after admitting me in hospital. I was wondering what was there to be happy in it. People never want to go to hospital. A chatty lady from my opposite was saying,, “ Keep him here for few days, he will be all right and of course, will know what is the pain of by being ill,” Relatives were also thinking the same. But the hospital was giving a fetid smell- nauseating me.
“There was nothing wrong with me nor it will be – I was thinking and was saying this to all.” Then what is wrong with you, all are disturbed for you,” came many voices; those were not sparing me. There is nothing wrong with me.
A man is refusing to recognize his fellow man; quite oblivious of every thing around.
“Get him admitted here,” the doctor said after examination.
He came with us out to the counter. And said,” Get his file ready here.”
There was a nurse at the counter I startled as I heard her saying “file".
“Files are made here as well, in this hospital, too. I am fed up of the files. What is the matter,”? The nurse asked.
“I am undone by the files in the office and here too, these always preoccupy me.”
“No, here files are different from those in the offices. Office files never move without greasing the palm of the clerks,” The nurse was trying to smile after saying this.
"Go ahead- first you deposit the money,” spoke another nurse, throwing the file towards us
“Only crazy come here, those mad,” the first nurse said to the other.
We too throw files in the offices in the similar manner. I was thinking sometime about the hospitals and very next moment about the offices. The atmosphere of hospitals and of offices was going in my mind. There is basically no big difference between hospitals and offices. Hospitals are like offices and offices more like ailing hospitals.
"Go ahead, oh babu, only God can save you, you look at to one direction and walk to another. Look ahead, there is psychiatry ward, you see. This ward is already full, I wonder, -perhaps the whole country has turned crazy.”
This was an attendant. He got the file and looked at my wife. My wife gave him ten rupees.
“It will do,” he spoke.
We saw yet another nurse in the ward “Take them to bed number thirteen.”
And I was on bed number thirteen soon after.
“Sit or lie here.” This was being told by someone there. The bed sheet was filthy. Its dirty white color was indicating that hundreds of patients had used this bed before me. My wife was edgy looking everywhere. There was a man of my age on the bed next to us. His wife was also with him. He seemed to feel a bit relieved, seeing us there. As I was staring at that lady, she got frightened and took me as a mad.
My wife after looking at her said for breaking the silence,” Is this bed number thirteen?” “Of course, it is bed number thirteen.” She sobbed.
Their bed number must be number twelve. “What is wrong with brother? She was expressing sympathy.
“If we are here, in this hospital, there must be something wrong, only then, people come to hospital,” my wife spoke wryly.
Thus, the arguments started. “You should have taken another bed. This bed is number-thirteen and there is menacing about it, I mean boding evil. Only an hour ago, a dead body was taken away from this bed. Otherwise, he was an elderly and was from Rajpura. Some doctor had injected a wrong dose and his brain stopped working. He turned mad for doctor’s mistake. And all this occurred despite the electric shocks. Just his dead body was taken away about an hour ago. And now, it seems nothing. This world is just cyclic.”
That lady was saying—And, my own body seemed me a dead body. I am a dead body. Of course, a dead body. I pinched my arm to feel whether or not it pains. I was well.
The pinch pained me.
“He was an elder, but brother is well as yet. He will be right.” that woman spoke again.
But I was looking towards, from where that dead body would have been taken away. I was
looking out of window. I was in Psychiatry ward of a city hospital. People were coming from one side and going away to the other. There was another side from where dead bodies pass. I fancied that my own dead body was being taken away on a stretcher and my own people were wailing, crying over my dead body. I was looking outside.
Attendant came,“ Oh , Babu , here is your uniform , put it on. "
He threw the uniforms and left. I put on that shirt and pajama. Now, I was a dead body sitting on bed number thirteen. I look here and there. There were many other beds in the room and I looked at each one by one. I saw all the dead bodies. I stood up there from my bed.
“What is the matter,” it was voice of none other than my wife. I got up and left the room to reach in Verandah, where there were nurses sitting on duty.
“Where are you going to, oh man, what is your bed number, go there,” It was a security guard speaking. He poked the point of his stick into my belly".
Go, go on to your bed- I looked at him and he got frightened. He withdrew back the stick and stood there saying nothing. I surveyed the whole of the verandah. Nurses were talking among themselves.
Looking around I saw a poster pasted over the window. " Doctors are on agitation against reservation. Please support them." I got irritated after reading that poster.
“What is this struggle – you bustard?"
I was murmuring.
“Who pasted this poster here” I asked from nurses and they got frightened.
“We didn’t. Doctors did. They were on strike against reservation. It was called off only yesterday,” said one of them. Hey! Why don’t you tell me, who pasted this poster? I was crying loudly.
My eyes became red with anger. I pulled a bench lying nearby, in the verandah. Standing on the bench, I removed that poster and read it once again, tore it into pieces. First, I thought to dispose of those pieces into a dustbin; however, I put these into the pocket of my pajama. The security guard didn’t say anything to me. -- There was a sweeper who was sweeping the floor from the other side with a wooden rod with pieces of coarse gunny bag tied to its one end. He was singing a tune of Gurdas Mann—like Chhala is a pendent of neck----- and stopped when he came near me. He had noticed me removing the poster.
“Well done, Babu. You have done wonders, I have been thinking to remove it for many days—anyhow, the doctor’s strike has been called off. They are brothers-in-law of reservation." He was a bit abusive.
"They call for strike- and ask for stopping reservation- he was perspiring because of sweeping. Here, people are dying and they are on their way to stop reservation".
The security guard with his stick in his hand was looking at the sweeper and got hold of him from his collar.” Oh! You brainless, how many times I told you not to speak uprightly like this, always. In case you are caught by the doctors, they will reprimand you, and will speak ill to you. They, too, are the messengers of death. Look, how they kill the patients slowly,” the guard was warning him and was looking around.
“You- my brother-in-law, you had been in army for those twenty years and then you are afraid of, but I amn’t. This is what they teach you in military? and what reservation they are opposing."
What we have got as of now. I got this broom and you this stick- and now at the time of our boys – they demand stopping reservation. And in their own case, if they fail to get admission here, then they would get in South by paying tens of lakhs and get their children become doctors. I tell you – you hold this stick firmly in your hand and I will also flex my muscles, only then it will do.”
The sweeper finished his chat. Then they both burst into loud laughter. Nurses too joined in their laughter. The security guard came to me with his stick.
“Leave it, he seems of our caste, look, how he dared to remove the poster and tore it into pieces. I too had been thinking to do so for many days—but he is from this ward,” spoke the sweeper. He has been admitted into this psychiatry ward and understood to be on bed number thirteen and he does not like such posters,” the guard told him.
I wondered why they both became alert all of a sudden “Move, Move doctor is on the round” the guard caught me and dragged me on to my bed." Get hold of this man,oh,mother. He has been wandering in the corridor for nothing,” the guard spoke with an authority.
“Besides, it is a psychiatry ward, make him sit here, otherwise, he will be chained. He has torn the poster there in the corridor. I fear he might invite troubles. "
I sat soon back on number thirteen; a dead body was taken away from nearby. There is nothing else than dead bodies. Then the doctor came directly to me. He was holding my file in his hands. He was accompanied by two junior doctors and two nurses also. "This is his file-"?
Yes, mother, what is wrong with him,”
The doctor was feeling my pulse while holding it and started questions. I was noticing every thing.
“He thinks continuously, all the time recklessly, aimlessly. Never know what he thinks all the time. He speaks nothing, “ my wife told."
" Oh, mother, this is a psychiatry ward, here only those who think, come. What they think never tell. Only they would look or stare without batting eyes. Oh, just tell what they think. We might know every thing, at least. If there is any thing in mind that troubles, had better tell uprightly. If there is any resentment, then again should be told. Whatever, he wants to do. Why does not he do??”
“What might come out would be seen, later. He is troubling not only to him but us also. All say, he thinks for nothing, all the time. Only he does not say anything. What is the benefit of thinking, after all, for what avail? Then if thought, tell or do. Let others drop bombs any where. If you have enmity with any one, then say, besides what you did.”
The doctor was speaking continuously –lecturing, the whole ward was listening to him.
“Yes, brother, what is wrong,” he spoke again.
But I was silent.
“Yes, brother, say something – what is your name- Are you in service, When did he come here, today?”
“He came today”? Someone spoke, “and started to remove posters no sooner than he came did he come---? The doctor was thinking and was looking towards my wife.
“Yes, mother, since how long, all this happening, all these systems----”
“He is in a govt. office and is scared of files. He says all are corrupt and he himself is very honest and he thinks they will incriminate him wrongly someday. All his career reports have been spoiled and promotion chances weakened. He has been biased. He only is scared of every thing and does not speak anything of the kind.”
My wife was telling barely, giving superficial details.
“Have you ever loved any one?” The doctor asked me.
I was silent and others were laughing.
"Say, if you have ever loved. Today is a time to write a good love letter to your beloved.. Then, you write a letter to your wife. Have you ever written a letter to your wife? Be a lion, why are you scared of all these files. These are not ghosts. People are hitting jack pots from these files.”
The doctor stopped for a moment while examining my chest.
"Oh, then say if you ever hated any one. If so abuse him loudly just here before me. Release your emotions and feel relaxed. Abuse- abuse, you would be just right by abusing. Come on, abuse,”
The doctor was laughing for no reason.
"They are bustard—those, who have pasted these posters against reservation. "I threw the pieces of torn posters on doctor’s face. No sooner did I do this than almost five or four men caught me forcefully.
"Leave him,” The doctor said.
He stopped questioning. There was a line written on the file." Inject this injection immediately. Then, we would see what to do .It is very complicated matter".
The doctor returned the file. The doctor and his team marched towards the private room.
On the bed, there was a girl of age about twenty five years. She seemed beautiful and educated. She was lying patiently. She got hold of the junior doctor on seeing him and started crying. “Oh, doctor would you marry with her, Oh doctor will you marry me – Why don’t you speak why are you silent. Hey, doctor , speak. why don’t you speak?”.
She was Sujata,” the patient on the next bed told. She once loved a doctor and the doctor left her deserted. He had promised her of marriage but did not fulfill it. She was cheated and became mad since then. Her parents were troubled. And, this doctor resembled that doctor whom she had once loved."
And, whenever this doctor comes she makes a noise and cry, weep loudly and say doctor,” Doctor would you marry me.”
Only if and when doctor says "yes", she becomes silent and speaks again You see, we know the pains only once you are here, - this girl is extremely beautiful. Mysterious are the ways of this world that is why this world is a house of troubles. She was silent oir sometime and I was thinking for taking rest.
The doctor went to next bed. And I heard his voice after I closed my eyes.
“How are you Bhagat Singh,” the doctor was asking from a patient. This was a patient on bed number fifteen. The doctor called him “Bhagat Singh”.
The patient responds,” Don’t do kidding like this by saying Bhagat Singh, say a "comrade"—"comrade" Joga Singh. Bhagat Singh was a big titan, a doyen. He was a name given to a philosophy. Saying Bhagat Singh to me is like making his mockery Better you call me a comrade, comrade Joga Singh. "
The lady on the next bed was telling that he is a comrade from Banga side. He always ruts of Bhagat Singh—all the time. “Yes, how are you comrade?” spoke the doctor.
" It is well doctor Sahib – but, what worries me is globalization, it will eat our country and will leave it hollow, the inflation it is going up and up. Even so, the corruption will swallow whatever will be left thereafter. People will die for castism. What will be the future of a layman? - A common man? We were talking of awakening the people- the whole world. But what is this that my own left me here. Bhagat Singh’ attitude was right. It is good that what is happening is not seen by him here – all this a fuss. But doctor, The one on bed number thirteen was saying right yesterday that it is duty of the doctors to serve the humanity. And treat the people, give them medicine. It is just enough, unprecedented- doctors are fighting against reservation. Support them. What is this fight against reservation? That he torn the poster is good. I had been looking at this poster for many days. If you want to fight, fight against corruption. Against poverty—there are so many other issues to fight against." Comrade was talking endlessly.
“Leave him, now this comrade won’t stop.”They looked at his team.
The old patients were looking at him.
The patient on bed number fourteen had returned from Italy after altogether ten years. He was already caught by police no sooner did he leave the airport and was asking for his passport. The passport was bearing his photo in turban, and he no longer wore a turban then as a man in turban was not considered good there.
“Everything was fake, his identity,” the police thought.
He was beaten and was released after decamping him of everything he had. They looted his money. Now he has a screw loose in his brain. He wears a sweater in such hot weather of season.
I wondered who injected me and when I slept. Every thing was fresh and fine next morning. The doctors were in Sujata’ room, again with their team. She was being injected. She was making a noise.— "Oh , doctor will you marry me". Oh Doctor---?"
"Yes, I will."
"Then why don’t you do, you said this many days ago as well. It was a false promise. Doctor, you are a liar. Doctor Sahib is a liar. They all are deceitful, and are telling lies. Why don’t you are afraid of God".?
Sujata fainted again; perhaps it was effect of the injection. She became patient, pacified. She was touching doctor’s feet while she was pacifying."
“Doctor say – say-” The lady on the next bed was very sympathetic with Sujata and when ever doctors come on round, she comes to her. Embraces her and doctors get her slept with injections. She would see through corners of her eyes while feeling sleepy. These doctors- doctors- what I will say---.
I tried to look at that girl, she was already slept but before she slept she made sleepless to others, all restless. Their accomplices were impatient too. Comrade Joga Singh was also looking at her. Comrade was all well, then, he becomes silent."
Look, the ways of God, these days were in this girl’s destiny” Comrade Joga Singh said.
I tried to go that Comrade. Two guards were looking on to me and were having hard instructions about me.
One of them spoke, “hey where are you going to? Sit there calmly", push me back to my bed.
”Sit here with calmly, otherwise, you know-"
“Then, what”- it came all of sudden from my mouth. “Then, what?” Bring that shackle, let me tell him the meaning of “then what”. One guard fired at me.
All big or small obey the rules here. The other brought a shackle. They were enforcing on me. They fettered me. I revolted slightly and silenced. I was silent and unable to do anything.
"O, let him lie here, and we take rest comfortably. This man seemed a bit difficult, others are all old here.” The Guard hinted.
They were murmuring there. They were relaxed after chaining me. They would sleep through but I was sleepless. I remained awaken even though I was chained.
Why I would run. Suddenly, I felt light sleep and ache in my head. There was a small scarf of yellow color by my side. To weaken the pain I tied my head with that scarf. I felt much relief by tying my head with it. Then, I untied it and made my hair. My hands were handcuffed and feet fettered. I was silent altogether there, looking here and there. Then my sight rested on Comrade.
He waived from far away and spoke—“ O, well done, comrade, I tell you there is portrait of Bhagat Singh hanging on the wall of my house .It is framed in glass frame. That photo is certainly of before his hanging. Bhagat Singh was in Jail with his one hand and foot tied in shackles. You now just look like him, the same as he was in that photograph. My father was too a comrade and he brought that photo one day. It was years before and today’s generations is not of that type. When do they respect these martyrs- just money, money, money is their motto. And, the one I am talking about might be dusty, perhaps no one dusts it, clean it now, let alone follow his philosophy. But, Bhagat Singh was guilty of throwing bomb in Assembly, and what is your crime. Why have you been chained.—why do not you speak. For nothing, you are chained – be brave, get up-- have courage?. Comrade stopped.
I was not answering but only listening.
“Oh, comrade, why don’t you answer? The govt. has choked Bhagat Singh’s philosophy in the manner as he is shown chained in his photo. The govt. is very cunning and never let a philosophy make its effect ahead or bear wings”.
The comrade was speaking. “Oh, you comrade, you are good for nothing, and even don’t speak here as well. No medicine works on you. Any how, these local English would make you Bhagat Singh. And, subsequently hang you. Get ready. You speak at least, here. Look, how worried they are about you. Say something, oh friend- You will have to say- long live Bhagat Singh. Other wise they will make things worse for you – just you remember.” Comrade perhaps would have spoken more, but, by then a newspaper vendor reached.
He was saying “today’s " latest newspaper- a big state of mess in Akalis’ quarters, and political parties have charged ten lakh from tobacco companies. And, it was against the tradition of Sikhs. Opposition was demanding action against such leaders.”
All patients were attracted towards the news and their relatives read the newspaper. “Just you see, political parties took fund from these tobacco companies and here we are prohibited from smoking here”. A voice came from a bed. This patient was once a chain smoker and there is restriction on smoking. Only three cigarettes, he gets a day. It is a talk. It was whether or not to smoke but it was that when Sikh Gurus prohibited smoking then it was not right to get funds from tobacco companies.
It was not the talk Then , What it is “ there was a voice It was a talk that here In this psychiatry ward, if talks all correct is not taken correct and on the other hand if one talks all wrong out side here is considered right in all shapes.”
There was another voice. Comrade appeared from nowhere “Oh, you should never speak. so frontally like this. Truthful people are chained. Bhagat Singh always said right. Comrade was throwing out what ever there was in your mind. This will not do, your depression and stress, you know, I speak this or that always and always think. You think for well like Bhagat Singh did, for people’s welfare—take some rest now” Comrade wanted to stop and wanted to take rest.
I was on the bed and my eyes looked towards the roof. Then, I looked towards the walls . There was Jawahar Lal Nahru’s photo on one of the walls—and that of Gandhi as well- and on another side of Guru Nanak also, that of Krishana and of Devi Mata. But, there was one of Bhagat Singh.
While I was trying to close my eyes, two young looking boys came there. Their faces were tied with green straps and were holding a stretcher. “Is this number thirteen” one of them spoke and was looking like just as a executioner. They were not fearing but were frightening.
I uncovered my mouth "Hey babu, get up ".
“Where to", I tried to get up.
They opened my irons. "You would have been troubling your family members. Let us swing you. "
Yes, bibi, he speaks very much or nothing. Two kinds of people come here, either those who speak much or nothing. Of course, this, remaining silent is dangerous but speaking more is even more dangerous. There are many who come here of this ailment. Only family members are of bad luck. This ward is jam packed with depression or tension-hit people". One of them argued.
I was put on stretcher. My right hand pointed to the comrade.
He waived his right hand
“Oh it is ok. Does n’t worry? Take that one swing. Get hanged and become Bhagat Singh. That all to be Bhagat Singh never think much like Bhagt Singh. But you will be safe from these wicked. They cry a lot -create fuss about it. Here, you, a so-called comrade, do not speak much, of what you are a Bhagat Singh. Gone are the days of Bhagat Singh, those better days. Otherwise, he would have hid himself by seeing the corruption or would shed tears by seeing today’s India the boy in green turban spoke. Go ahead – we have to take another patient as well ".
Then they started talking among themselves.
" Bhagat Singh”--- This was what I spoke and those both frightened and pulled the stretcher All in the ward were looking at me When I was about to go out then I saw Nehru’s photo and got up.
“What are you looking Babu. He too had lived here” Spoke one boy.
"O! brother come back , don’t you get electric shocks, they kill you There is nothing wrong with you, You are just well, What ever is there in your mind, you fear to speak out. Here doctors turn those well people mad by electric shocks” “ My neighbor was wailing Here, brother , they won’t spare anyone—kill him for nothing This was the same man who had removed the posters, well done babu.’ I saw the same sweeper following me Besides, this noose is for those who dare or show guts of his kind” The sweeper pushed the stretcher and I was in It was very cold in side, just freezing.
The same doctor was in front of me and was smiling.
His mouth was covered and ordered, “Where is his file” Nurse brought the file isn’t the same man who removed the poster in the morning.
"Yes sir,” the nurse spoke.
“He is a follower of Bhagat Singh and ruts always his name.”
“Yes, you want to become Bhagat Singh” Doctor enquired.
“Yes, I will, I will become Bhagat Singh,” I said and rose on the stretcher.
All got hold of me. Keep lying, what ever you want to say, - say while laying on bed, but now you can’t become Bhagat Singh ". It was doctor who decided.
“But why?"
"There is a certain age of becoming Bhagat Singh. He was of 24 years age then, As such, you are overage now—"
“No, any one of any age can become Bhagat Singh. There is no definite age for that. You need guts of kind only- a brave mind. We are of reservation category; hence there will be age relaxation, especially on the upper limit—to this particular category”
“No you won’t have any relaxation in age, you have already availed certain facilities” Doctor suggested.
But, I am not asking reservation to get service but for becoming Bhagat Singh, very strange matter, isn’t it. You are saying I can’t become Bhagat Singh,
“So much so, Bhagat Singh was a Jat by caste."
Even then, now these Jats are Jathedars only “I justified If there would be any Bhagat Singh, he will be from those dejected people, the way Guru Gobind Singh chose five Sikhs from such community. Therefore, Doctor I shall be Bhagat Singh. You are closing all paths, even to become a doctor and also to become Bhagat Singh. Listen One thing clearly that doctors would be from these wretched people. In case, they are hindered, then they would become Bhagat Singh. "
I found the torn pieces of the poster in my pocket. I was fancying- something bizarre.I threw those torn pieces on the face of the doctor. Then, they injected one injection. I was peaceful then. The doctor was smiling, I tried to speak now. My voice has been choked with injection but I was seeing every thing around. "Go ahead; let us make him Bhagat Singh". Doctor went ahead.
My lips moved. No, comrade, It is better to be Bhagat Singh, instead of being dishonored here. I was listening clearly and my lips trembling. Every thing was clear whatever was happening in broad day light- every thing being looted. Money makes the mare go. Each file needs money for its movement. Man does not recognize a man. Promotions are denied with stained files and records. But I was noticing, I was given electric shocks first, then I writhed and pacified. It was an electric shock “.
One shock will do” The junior doctor suggest". " Let it be one more shock ''.
"He is the same who had removed the poster. Let us make him Bhagat Singh."
I was hearing silently. My tongue stopped and eyes closed.
"Here we go; he is now Bhagat Singh” There was one voice.
“Now, he is no longer capable of removing posters".
"Yes”, soon he will be right, and once he is right, then he won’t let poster be pasted. He seems very weary of posters. In case, he turns violent, goes berserk, he will be dangerous. Besides, the lesson he is teaching to others in the ward, had better be stopped or other will also become Bhagat Singh. This comrade should be relieved ", Orders the senior doctor.
Then, I never knew when my dead body was on bed number thirteen.
I remained there for several hours, unconscious. Comrade came to me every now and then Comrade said, “Get up, Comrade, have courage, you said to become Bhagat Singh. Now all your diseases will be gone. Bhagat Singh is a symbol of courage. And courage undo all diseases, heal all wounds."
There is a specific age of becoming Bhagat Singh My body was aching. My eyes were almost closed, difficult to open the woman next bed encouraged. My dead body was on number thirteen, It was very bad bed, quite ominous. The doctor comes again on the Sikhs from such community. Therefore, Doctor I shall be Bhagat Singh. You are closing all paths, even to become a doctor and also to become Bhagat Singh. Listen One thing clearly that doctors would be from these wretched people. In case, they are hindered, then they would become Bhagat Singh. "
I found the torn pieces of the poster in my pocket. I was fancying- something bizarre. I threw those torn pieces on the face of the doctor. Then, they injected one injection. I was peaceful then. The doctor was smiling, I tried to speak now. My voice has been choked with injection but I was seeing every thing around. "Go ahead; let us make him Bhagat Singh". Doctor went ahead.
My lips moved. No, comrade, It is better to be Bhagat Singh, instead of being dishonored here. I was listening clearly and my lips trembling. Every thing was clear whatever was happening in broad day light- every thing being looted. Money makes the mare go. Each file needs money for its movement. Man does not recognize a man. Promotions are denied with stained files and records. But I was noticing, I was given electric shocks first, then I writhed and pacified. It was an electric shock “.
One shock will do” The junior doctor suggest". “Let it be one more shock ''.
"He is the same who had removed the poster. Let us make him Bhagat Singh."
I was hearing silently. My tongue stopped and eyes closed.
"Here we go; he is now Bhagat Singh” There was one voice.
“Now, he is no longer capable of removing posters".
"Yes”, soon he will be right, and once he is right, then he won’t let poster be pasted. He seems very weary of posters. In case, he turns violent, goes berserk, he will be dangerous. Besides, the lesson he is teaching to others in the ward, had better be stopped or other will also become Bhagat Singh. This comrade should be relieved ", Orders the senior doctor.
Then, I never knew when my dead body was on bed number thirteen.
I remained there for several hours, unconscious. Comrade came to me every now and then Comrade said, “Get up, Comrade, have courage, you said to become Bhagat Singh. Now all your diseases will be gone. Bhagat Singh is a symbol of courage. And courage undo all diseases, heal all wounds."
There is a specific age of becoming Bhagat Singh My body was aching. My eyes were almost closed, difficult to open the woman next bed encouraged. My dead body was on number thirteen, it was very bad bed, quite ominous. The doctor comes again on the Sikhs from such community. Therefore, Doctor I shall be Bhagat Singh. You are closing all paths, even to become a doctor and also to become Bhagat Singh. Listen One thing clearly that doctors would be from these wretched people. In case, they are hindered, then they would become Bhagat Singh."
I found the torn pieces of the poster in my pocket. I was fancying- something bizarre. I threw those torn pieces on the face of the doctor. Then, they injected one injection. I was peaceful then. The doctor was smiling, I tried to speak now. My voice has been choked with injection but I was seeing every thing around. "Go ahead; let us make him Bhagat Singh". Doctor went ahead.
My lips moved. No, comrade, it is better to be Bhagat Singh, instead of being dishonored here. I was listening clearly and my lips trembling. Every thing was clear whatever was happening in broad day light- every thing being looted. Money makes the mare go. Each file needs money for its movement. Man does not recognize a man. Promotions are denied with stained files and records. But I was noticing, I was given electric shocks first, then I writhed and pacified. It was an electric shock “.
One shock will do” The junior doctor suggest". “Let it be one more shock ''.
"He is the same who had removed the poster. Let us make him Bhagat Singh."
I was hearing silently. My tongue stopped and eyes closed.
"Here we go; he is now Bhagat Singh” There was one voice.
“Now, he is no longer capable of removing posters".
"Yes”, soon he will be right, and once he is right, then he won’t let poster be pasted. He seems very weary of posters. In case, he turns violent, goes berserk, he will be dangerous. Besides, the lesson he is teaching to others in the ward, had better be stopped or other will also become Bhagat Singh. This comrade should be relieved ", Orders the senior doctor.
Then, I never knew when my dead body was on bed number thirteen.
I remained there for several hours, unconscious. Comrade came to me every now and then Comrade said, “Get up, Comrade, have courage, you said to become Bhagat Singh. Now all your diseases will be gone. Bhagat Singh is a symbol of courage. And courage undo all diseases, heal all wounds."
There is a specific age of becoming Bhagat Singh My body was aching. My eyes were almost closed, difficult to open the woman next bed encouraged. My dead body was on number thirteen, it was very bad bed, quite ominous. The doctor comes again on the round. I did not like him He was feeling my pulse. Neither he spoke or told. I wanted to release my emotions. Even he did not ask whether or not to become Bhagat Singh. It was same for many days. The electric shocks became a every day- routine. I was becoming weak , my eyesight lessening, and power of hearing dissipating.
Comrade was relieved one day. He was meeting to all, emotionally. I started speaking again but wondered whether or not my voice reached further to anyone. All were coming to ask about me. The general wind or word was that due to office work he had gone mad. Many said that he had been weak and could not carry load of files and is bogged under. You need courage to remove files the doctor came on round again. There was no file this time in his hand He read the chart hanging over my bed “when he was admitted “Spoke the doctor,
"Of course, seven days before", he spoke himself.
"Yes, have you become Bhagat Singh now"?
"Yes, I have? “ I answered triumphantly.
"What will you do after becoming Bhagat Singh". “That did he.”
"Go live in peace, today we are relieving you. Now, stop dreaming like Bhagat Singh. Bhagat Singh is a rare chance Bhagat Singh spoke in the favor of Bhagat Singh. Long live Bhagat Singh".
O, Wonderful, O You have started speaking.
The doctor was surprised here,
"We will relieve him today, mother Will he be right now,” She asked.
"Yes", of course, he is all right, if he is n’t, then come, it is very near, we are here. Today you can go; more over such patients have their own class. They would think and think always and never speak If they would tell us then it would be right and good.” And the doctor left saying all this......
Posted on March 03, 2009 (Time: 01:01am) |
