Tag Archives: Love

The Parceled Sandwiches

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Entering the hospital that morning, I was wondering if I could finish early and go for a relaxed dinner with a friend who was visiting. Iwas in an excellent mood when I entered the hospital at about 10 AM. That’s when I heard the noise.

In the entrance lobby, there was a group of men, women and children, wailing, crying, shouting, pulling their hair, beating chests, and throwing their hands and legs around lying upon the floor. Few of them were shouting loudly “All doctors are looters. They robbed us and still killed the patient. How can our patient die? Catch them. Kill them. Burn the hospital” this was accompanied by abuses that cannot be mentioned. The security staff and PROs were patiently trying to tell the violent relatives that there were other patients and relatives, that there were women and children around, but the most vulgar of the abuses continued.

I walked past the abusive crowd and met my resident doctor in the ICU. The first case was that of an old man who had had a fall a week ago, but was treated at home for the first three days. Three days later, the old man had suddenly become unconscious, and on admission was found to have a large bleeding in his brain. If not operated within minutes, he would have died. Our neurosurgeons rushed in and operated him with a huge risk. Now he had just started responding, but was still not fully conscious. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Why is he still unconscious, doc? Was the surgery not done correctly?” the son asked.

“We have repeatedly told you Sir, the delay in admitting your father has caused a lot of damage in his brain. We cannot predict when and how much he will recover. The surgery was done to prevent imminent death. In my opinion, he is steadily improving. ”I explained again.

One after another, different faces of suffering and allegations, pain and expectations kept mounting and in a few hours it became difficult to feel happy. I am seriously not the type who can keep a perpetual meaningless smile upon my face without actually being happy. However, I must keep calm and smiling, because the next patient will be coming in with a lot of hope, expectation and fear. I did my best.

But my hope of having a relaxed dinner with the friend was gone. All I wanted now was to go home, take a hot shower and try and kill the negativity that was cluttering my mind. The wails and cries of the crowd were still noisy in my heart. “Who must have died? What must their family be going through? What about their children and spouse? Was this preventable?” I was curious. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The casualty called. A young girl had come with fits. Her old farmer parents had brought her. Stabilising her, and completing the examination, I asked questions to her father. With teary eyes and folded hands, he told us “We have no one and nothing left. Please do something”. Reassuring him, I messaged my CEO, who graciously allowed to treat her as a free case. I started writing notes.

“What was the ruckus in the morning?”I asked the resident doctor standing besides me.

“Oh that!” he replied “That patient was admitted for a head injury two weeks ago. He drank too much alcohol, and his bike had slipped. We admitted him as an emergency, and treated him on compassionate grounds as he was comatose. The relatives were well aware about the poor outcome. We did everything we could. I don’t know why they reacted so. Someone told me that the local politico wanted to extract some funds from the hospital”. This was not unknown, but loss of life does cause unexpected reactions, the doctors and the hospital staff bear the brunt.

Many patients were treated that day, many came cured, many went home happy, many expressed gratitude. But the fact remained that I was unable to forget the wailing family and the accusing son of the ICU patient. Am I supposed to smile and be happy for those cured and improving, or am I supposed to feel sad about the death and suffering I see every day? The emotional highs and lows that happen in every doctor’s day are too wide, too heavy and dynamic. It is not easy to forgive and forget bitterness, thanklessness and paranoid accusations on a daily basis for years, and keep smiling in between. (c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

My friend called. “Rajas, I am standing outside your hospital. Come let’s have a quick bite. My bus leaves in anoter one hour” she said. We entered the nearest restaurant. Her witty words indeed relaxed me somewhat, and she ordered soup and sandwiches, knownig my favourites. As the steamy soup eased my throat, I started telling her about my day. My cellphone rang.

“Is that you, doctor Deshpande? Do you remember my father Mr. Ramakant who you were treating? He passed away today. We were supposed to come to you three months ago, but as I was out of India, I couldn’t bring him. He had stopped all medicines”.

I winced. Mr. Ramakant was fairly healthy, happy and stable on medicines, they were told never to stop the treatment. How should I react?

“Very Sorry to know” I said.

“That’s okay doctor. My problem is that no doctor is giving a death certificate for him, as he had not seen a doctor since long. We need it for the funeral. If I come to you now, can you please write a death certificate for him? I will pay your charges” he said.

“Sorry, someone has to examine him and issue a certificate. Please call your neares doctor home, or take thepatient to the nearest hospital” I told him. As I kept away my cell, I avoided looking at my friend.

“What happened?”my friend asked. Looking at my face, she sensed it.

“Oh. Sorry” she asked the waiter to parcel the sandwiches.

Both of us knew that neither was going to eat them.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please share unedited. Please let the society know what a doctor’s day is typically like.

“My Turn Now”

©Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“I don’t want to live like this. I have stopped eating since today. Please do not be angry with me for this, but I cannot see you and my children suffer because of my illness. Let me go with peace” Geetanjali said to her husband.

Eighteen years after her marriage, in her late thirties, Geetanjali suddenly lost the function of one half of her body. Her children were still in school. Her husband Gajendra Jagtap works as a school teacher and does some farming on a small piece of land they own. The whole family was shocked and shattered with this calamity that befell Geetanjali. But Gajendra Jagtap decided not to be broken down by destiny, and took his wife immediately to the best hospitals in Mumbai. They were told that Geetanjali was suffering from Multiple Sclerosis. After a few days of treatment, they could not afford to stay in Mumbai and came to Pune as it was nearer to their village. The Multiple Sclerosis Society of Pune extended its helping hand. Geetanjali was yet unable to stand up or walk. ‘This illness is totally unpredictable, anyone can develop blindness or disability anytime’ doctors told them. Geetanjali felt hopeless. She was very depressed with the thought of stressing her husband financially to provide for the treatment expenses. She also worried if her children’s education will suffer due to her illness and financial constraints. This was the reason she decided that she did not want to live any further, and gave up eating or drinking anything.

But Gajendra was not the typical Indian husband. This B. Sc. Graduate who had taken up teaching in a rural school as his profession had a big heart, and harbored principles of equality and respect for women, just like a highly educated spouse in a developed country. He told Geetanjali, ‘You have served me and our children for over eighteen years now. When I was working in the school or in the farm, you looked after the home, cooked for us and fed us sumptuously. Now give us a chance to repay for what you have done for us. It’s my turn now. I am going to take care of you just like you cared for us.’ Geetanjhali could not hold her emotions and sobbed when she narrated this story to me.

‘At that point of time, I felt like living only to help my family. I decided to use whatever few healthy days I had to make my husband and children happy.’ She started to fight her disability with a new spirit, and in a few months could walk very well again. Since then she had attacks of this disease many times, but vehemently fought it to recover every time, with the help of her husband.

Gajendra told me “I explained my children our situation. I told them that we don’t have much money left, and that they must only complete their education based upon merit. We are very fortunate that our children decided to grow up quite early in their childhood. Both of them studied very well, and my elder son is now doing his post graduation which he got through a scholarship in Delhi. Even my daughter got excellent marks and is now pursuing her post graduation by winning a scholarship. Both of them take care of their own expenses, and never bother us for money. Even I have decided that whatever our destiny presents us with, we will face it with a smile, and never accept defeat in any situation. We have to visit hospitals many times, spend on treatment and investigations, travel many times, but we do it all with a spirit of winning together. Whenever she can, she still takes care of the home, and when she can’t, I do it with the help of my daughter. But we never feel desolate or depressed”.

In the developed world, people suffering from this illness get a lot of healthcare facilities, and even income tax concessions. However, this farmer from a lower middle class background who does not receive any such help, has not only resurrected his family, but created a new life for his wife with his sheer love and determination. The most admirable thing about his love story is the respect and feeling of equality with which he thinks of his wife. Geetanjali also stood up firmly with him to conquer this illness, with all her love and might. Together, they have indeed defeated their destiny.

We sincerely pray for the excellent health, well-being and long life for each member of this wonderful and ideal family.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist, Pune

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The Goddess Of Humanity

The Goddess Of Humanity

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

When I entered the hospital today, little did I know that I would meet someone who changes lives by example.

Then I met Mrs. Jasmine Govindji Majethia. A lady far superior than most men I ever met, a spirit with an energy to defeat ten ripped-jeans-teenagers, a soul that can only belong to a saint in any religion!

At the age of 80, Mrs. Jasmine Majethia is working 24/7, traveling alone all over India to help patients with Thalassemia get treatment in time, to generate awareness among people and even medical community. She has been doing this for over 30 years now. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

This morning I had received a call: “Hi. I am sending an old lady to your OPD. She has done a lot for the society. She has had some episodes of unconsciousness recently” said our Pathology chief Dr. Mrs. Nita Munshi, always out to help others full throttle.

Mrs. Majethia told me that her tremors were long standing, but recently she had had some episodes of unconsciousness. It had all started after a stressful event related to one of her Thalassemia kids.

“I cannot sit at home. I have so much to do. Tell me what tests are required, tell me what medicine I should take, but I want to continue my work” the lady had an authority difficult to match. I followed her orders.

Born and raised in Calcutta, married in Mumbai, she finished her family duties and joined the LTM Medical College Sion to work as a liaison officer with Dr. Lokeshwar, who invoked her interest in Thalassemia. Witnessing the plight of children with Thalassemia and their parents, she decided to make it the mission of her life to stand up for them. She established PATUT (Parents Association Thalassemic Unit Trust) to help the affected families with financial and other support for treatments. This Goddess of humanity has thus saved many a lives, roping in doctors, hospitals, trusts, friends, rich and poor donors to help this cause.

“Zero Thalassemia Birth Rate in India by 2020 is the mission of my life. I am not ashamed of knocking doors and asking for help because it is not for myself.” said the lady with a steel resolve. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“There’s hardly anyone who can resist helping her cause. She is like a gentle pinch of conscience for those who have excess, to help others” said Dr. Munshi.

Thalassemia affects over 40 million people in India and kills thousands every year, it can easily be prevented with simple precautions. Even countries far backward than India have rules that make Thalassemia screening legally mandatory before / during pregnancy, and thus prevent any child births with this condition (“Zero Thal Birth Rate”). However, lack of awareness and screening, apathy on the part of our governments has continued to increase the burden of this disease in India. The treatment is extremely costly in some cases, and out of reach for most common Indians.

Mrs. Majethia spoke with the passion of a revolutionary: “So many doctors all over the country, like your colleagues Dr. Vijay Ramanan, Dr. Nita Munshi and Mrs. Trupti Thanekar always help me in my cause, whenever I request help. But the sad part is that there is almost no health awareness in our country. Even if we offer free treatment, many parents do not avail of it until it is too late and the case gets complicated.”

“Yet I like to think that God has given me in excess than what I need. Even Life. It is my duty to give some of it to those who are unlucky. I tell myself that God has selected me to do this work, because I can.” Such simple words, yet so powerful in their meaning! I really wish that she must receive best of the National Honours and medals for her work.

Every now and then, some insurance agent gives me plans to retire early and still earn well. Some tell me how people make retirement plans by age 40. Until now, I didn’t find exact words to tell them that many of us do not want to retire, that I wanted to work till my last breath. This lady was the answer, the literal personification of the words I AM MY WORK.

Across the cultures, there are Gods and Goddesses of Beauty, Fame, Love, Sport and Affluence. Rarely do we hear of a God of Work or Goddess of Humanity. In Mrs. Jasmine Majethia, I found the Working Goddess of Humanity.

My highest respect to this lady, one of the most inspiring women I ever met!

PS: She agreed to record a short message for everyone including doctors, please click this link in my comment below this article to listen to her divine voice.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Please share, to get this lady the respect and honour she deserves, and to spread awareness about her great selfless mission.

To pause for respect

To pause for respect

To pause for respect

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

After completing the neurological examination, I asked Mr Harkishan Budhrani to sit down and put his shoes on. His son accompanying him got up, sat near his father’s feet and started to adjust his father’s shoes for comfort.

To pause for respect was my only choice.

Mr Harkishan Budhrani is a British citizen, and so are his sons Mr Naresh and Mr Raj. Every time one of them accompanies Mr. Budhrani for the consultation. They not only come prepared with their father’s health details, but also take notes and follow all the suggestions. Yet what is most noticeable for me as a doctor is the care and respect with which they speak to their father and treat him. There’s nothing artificial about their attitude, which makes it special! They take his permission for every change we agree to make, explain him and patiently wait for his consent and questions. They hold his hand and even ask him whether it is ok to walk ahead! Rarely do we see children from very affluent families being so careful and loving to their parents.

In an era where many a times sons and daughters accompanying their parents either bluntly ask “How long is the parent going to survive, What basic minimum can be done without much expenditure, Is it okay not to treat at all” etc., when we come across such extremely gratifying moments, I feel that all is not lost. By experience now I don’t think that this belongs specifically to Indian culture, in fact people from most cultures in the world treat their parents far better than many Indians. The very fact that Our govt and courts have to make laws and take steps for abandoned and neglected parents speaks a lot about what is happening. In fact, the more affluent a family is, the less likely that the children genuinely care for their parents.

Taking for granted that the parents do not want to live longer, deciding on their behalf that expensive treatments are useless and unwanted, oversimplifying all complaints as ‘age related’ and completely neglecting medical care are common observations in our practice.

This moment therefore brought me a beautiful ray of hope.

21st July 2018 is Mr. Harkishan Budhrani’s 85th Birthday. While I pray for his excellent health and perpetual happiness, I wish that every parent is as fortunate as him and that Mr Budhrani lives on many more hundred years as an example for all of us.

©️ Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The Higher Suffering

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Stuck in the heavy traffic due to rains, I tried to remain calm. The cellphone kept on ringing, patients who were waiting, those who wanted appointments, those who were to catch their ride out of station anxiously asked when will I reach. Some lost patience and raised voice. In addition, there were calls about the patients admitted in the hospital: critical decisions to be made, idiotic questions by insurance companies to be replied to. There were huge processions, the traffic was diverted, without any arrangements for ambulances. Impatient, aggressive and violent people is a reality on almost all Indian roads now. No one cares for law on the road. You are at the mercy of anyone who chooses to pick up a fight with you.

There were some issues at home too, the cook had called in sick, we had to do some emergency cooking. That had delayed my start.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

At last, an hour late, I reached the OPD, and entered running. Faces with controlled anger greeted with cultured politeness. Prepared for bitter comments, I called in the first patient.

This was a free patient, she did not need a follow up. But being free, she visits almost religiously every month, whenever she has a fight with her husband. Sometimes, when the only guaranteed compassion is from a doctor, it can be misused. However, as I was late, I decided to respect their patience, and told them to visit a counselor. Nevertheless, my irritation heightened, that this added to the wait of other patients.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

I certainly am impatient with meaningless waste of time, and sometimes the traffic, the sudden changes in schedules due to someone’s irresponsible behavior, and misuse of compassionate services bring me to the edge of a reaction. This was one such moment. My face must have become grim.

The next patient walked in, an elderly gentleman with Parkinson’s disease. He was accompanied by his wife. They were supposed to come back three months later, but had followed up early. I examined him, found him quite stable neurologically, but the usual twinkle in his eyes was absent. Even his usually smiling wife appeared lost. It must be the traffic, my late arrival or something likewise, I thought, and curbed my curiosity to ask them. Today was heavy and behind schedule, I must wind up fast. Yet, as I explained them that everything was stable and alright, that they need not worry, I noticed the unspoken uneasiness in their body language. A little reluctantly but keeping up with the expectation of my own heart, I asked them: “You look quite disturbed and stressed. Is anything the matter? I am sorry I came late today”.

“No, no doctor, it’s not that. But yes, he is stressed and disturbed said the wife, and looked inquisitively towards her husband. ”Shall I tell him?” she asked.

Looking down, hiding his face, the husband nodded.

“Doctor, we lost our only son ten only days ago. Someone killed him on the road. Some drunk goons dashed his car from behind, and when he got down to check the damage, they attacked him and hit him on the head with some rods. He was lying on the road for a long time, and by the time police took him to the hospital, he was gone. We came to know after a few hours. He was our only child, an engineering scholar who had returned to India with great dreams .”

The lady was silently weeping as she kept her emotions in control. The patient was sobbing, I called the receptionist to get a glass of water.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“We have done so much for our town and the society” said the patient, “but now I feel it was all useless. No one is safe even on the roads. We see so many rules and laws broken, so many violent and aggressive people that it has become difficult to question anyone even when they misbehave”.

I had no words to pacify them. What can pacify the parents of a dead child, that too a victim lawlessness?

The receptionist called “Sir, the next patient is shouting” she said.

“Five minutes” I requested her.

“You are busy, doc, we will leave. But I brought him here only because he feels better when he meets you. Once you reassure him, he will feel a little secure. Even I feel better when I see you. Otherwise we sit at home just staring at each other’s sunken souls. We have no relatives”.

That was a bitter eye opener to me. They had chosen me to be their lifeline in the worst times of their life, and here I was, thinking about my worries, my time, and the inevitable small happenings that block the path of every working person every day. I had momentarily ignored the fact that I must still enter the hospital with a smile, push behind myself all the negatives that pull me down. For every patient here to see me comes with a hundred fears and a thousand expectations, the least I can do for them is be compassionate and reassuring, whatever may have happened till that moment.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“You may see many patients in a day and listen to their troubles, doc, but you are the only doctor your patient meets in a long time. I don’t know about you, but we always feel good when we see you”. The wife added.

Yes, I had heard that earlier, in my teacher’s cabin. Once a patient develops trust in his / her doctor, they look upon the doctor as one of the most reliable resource for courage, compassion and troubleshooting, even beyond the expertise of that doctor. As doctors, we must never forget this, and stand up tall above all our personal problems to be the supermen and superwomen, the Messiahs, the Saviors that we are expected to be. Law and some idiots do push a stick in our wheels, but then the patient is far above both. A patient’s suffering is always far above that of any doctor.

I stood up, held the patient’s hand, and reassured them: that they do have a relative here in Pune. “According to the Pune tradition”, I said, “one should offer tea only when the guests are half out of the door, but I will make an exception today .”

Having them sit in the next empty room, I proceeded with the OPD. Ordering tea for everyone in the OPD waiting room, I stole a few more minutes to calm the ruffled souls of those two, and asked them to see me again, whenever they wished.

As I returned late after dark, even through the rainy night, a sweet moonlight made the raindrops glow. Just like every doctor brings back the smiles to the burning hearts of their patients!

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Worse than Death

Worse than Death
(C) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Doctor, I have started to die. Can you help me somehow?” he asked, calmly.
In his late twenties, a handsome young man, well dressed, but with a certain painful gloom upon his face that was a mismatch to an overall nice and clean appearance. What could this be? I started thinking, hoping he was wrong.

Then his shoulder twitched, and arm had a slight jerk. A pang of suspicion bit my heart immediately. He confirmed it in few seconds. Those who take life for granted are often so full of anxiety, and here he was, who had initiated a countdown to his own death, talking to me in a low but clear voice.
“Doctor, I have been diagnosed with Huntington’s disease over 7 years ago” he said, “Till now I had only these jerky movements. Now I have started having some mood problems and also memory issues. My parents died in an accident when I was three. My uncle’s family cared for me till I could go to a boarding school. I stay alone in a rental apartment, I work in an IT company”.

Examination and review of reports established that his diagnosis was correct. There is no treatment.
This illness of brain degeneration starts with abnormal movements, then causes loss of memory and other cognitive functions, mood swings, depression, finally causing complete immobility and usually death ensues due to blockage of windpipe because of food while swallowing. A patient usually survives less than 13-18 years after the diagnosis. Some commit suicide.

What do I tell someone aged 28 who knows he will definitely die soon?
Yes there are research options and support groups. Yes I can send him to a professional counsellor. Yes I can use some mood stabilising medicines and antidepressants.
But can I emotionally detach from this event as a doctor? (C) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Diagnose and treat with empathy, educate and move on. Don’t take home the burden of your patient’s illness. Don’t get emotionally involved in your patient’s lives and problems. Never. But is that possible?

Shall I ask him if he has any bucket list of things he wants to once experience, before he forgets who he is? Is there something there that I can help him with? Has he planned anything about his life when he is mentally or physically disabled?

I told him that some medicines can help him, and wrote a prescription. Also referred him to an expert counsellor.

What would I do in such a situation? What is it that I would like to hear from the doctor, knowing the obvious too? What is so important in life when one knows that there are only a few years remaining?

Those who have the luxury of ignorance can laugh and superficially answer. Those who answer immediately have seldom used thinking. Those who are assured of their health have changing answers.
But those who know it?

I decided to ask him. (C) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Next time he visited, he told me that he has resigned from his job, as he had problems dealing with the responsibility. He could not ride his two wheeler too, he had sold it off.

“I am going to my ancestral village, doctor. A dharamshala (religious sanctuary) has agreed to allow me stay and food, and help me as much as they can. I am also willing to donate my body for research, so at least others don’t suffer this. But I have to finalise yet”.

In India, just as there is no scope for genuine research, there also is complete lack of any infrastructure for the care of such patients.

I decided to ask him what troubled me.
“Is there something you wanted to do?” I could not bring myself to say “before you go”.

He tried to smile. His eyes welled up as he thought about the question.
“Yes, Doctor. I wanted to feel someone loving me madly at least once. In fact I had a girl in my office whom I liked. I think she liked me too. But then my diagnosis was confirmed and I didn’t want her to suffer, so I never told her. I met her before resigning, and told her the truth”.

“Everyone will only degenerate,” he continued, “I am ready to see myself degenerate early. But the one purpose, the one good memory of life that one can wrap himself with when facing the decline, is love. Everything else only reminds of loss”.Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Then, wiping his tears and sobbing, for once, openly, without the restriction of pride, he held my hand, and said, “Thank you doctor for all your help. I came to know just now, that not having loved is what I regret most. It feels worse than death. Even if I had felt true love once, I won’t have regretted this early death”.

He had only echoed what every particle, every corner and every breath of life always reminds us of, while we keep on searching for everything else.
Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Thank you, Life; Thank You, God!

Thank you, Life, Thank You God!
photo-07-01-17-21-14-15-2
This was my first birthday without either parent, and I woke up feeling sad about it. Who knew, by the end of the day, God will have set things right, as He always does! Add to that an important message that the day left..

Knowing myself, I cannot understand how someone can like or love such an asocial reclusive loner who is obsessive, over-expectant, irritable, slightly egoistic, sarcastic, does not party or gossip, and cannot understand many people around himself.

Somehow though, the friend list is full, thousands of wishes pour in from across the world, and personalised messages and calls and prayers for happinees, health and everything good keep resounding the day with God’s grace. I did not know how many souls I am connected to, and my heart is full of joy today that so many people actually think of me!

Many colleagues dropped in to wish (in fact since two days prior!), bringing gifts (Oh I love them!). And at the end of the day came the family: my beloved students, who come with the sole aim of make me laugh, become a child again.

To deserve this love over and over again, for this is my only treasure and achievement, I must now make an effort: to be less sarcastic, irritable, obsessive, and to be always thankful for these beautiful people in my life. I will make an honest effort!

I can never forget what my friends and students love me most for: my effort to imbibe kindness and humanity and to live a life drenched in an honest culture of creative intellect and equality. On this birthday, I have promised myself to try and improve myself every which way possible, to deserve this love and affection.

Thank you, everyone who wished me today!

Thank you God, Thank you Life, for today!
(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande


The Definition Of Love

 

The Definition Of Love
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

claude-and-marie
How frequently do we use the phrase “True Love”! As if there existed some other form of Love..
Mr. Claude Gatien, a farmer from the city of Tours in France, decided at the age of 36 that he wants to change his career. He started to work as a music salesman, selling CDs. Eventually he got a job as an assistant to a psychotherapist in Paris.
He met Ms. Marie Briquet there. She was a social worker, dedicating all her time to the sick as a volunteer. He respected her work, and helped her often. They fell in love. She told him she was having some mild neurological symptoms, mainly tremor and fatigue.
His thinking was as innocently clear as the first rays of a rising sun. Love was the only bond and the most precious thing between them. They stayed together, and started taking care of each other.
The psychotherapist who they worked with was a spiritual man, with immense love for India, mainly for its spirituality. Like most with a heart, he followed his calling. By then, Claude and Marie had developed the same affection towards spirituality, and followed their ‘Spiritual Guru’ to India.
“We fell in love with India”, Claude told me; “because for some reason I find that my mind is at peace here. We have everything in France, still we felt happier in India, because there is so much spirituality in the region, and even among its people”.
They are staying together for over 27 years now. “We never thought of marriage as we thought it is not necessary to perform rituals to prove either love or honesty of intention” Claude said, after consulting Marie in cute French. “It was her answer, but I feel the same” he added, winking!
Multiple Sclerosis, that scary disease of brain and spine, took away Marie’s ability to walk over 5 years ago. She has become almost completely dependent and wheelchair bound. Claude attends her 24/365. “I enjoy caring for her. It gives me many more opportunities to tell her how much I love her” he says.
Mostly people swear about anything that they want others to believe. A teacher taught me long ago never to “swear or promise”, but instead keep every word, complete every commitment without using the words “Promise or Swear”. “Everything you say is actually your commitment” he infused. I met the personification of that principle in Claude.
About a month ago, Marie suddenly had to be admitted in the ICU for some serious complication. Needless to say, Claude was by her side all the time. She was unconscious for over two days. One late night I had to attend some call, and went to the ICU to check if there was a change in her condition. Claude was sitting by her side, sleepy but awake, looking at her face.
“I can wait here for some time. Do you want to take a nap?” I asked him.
“Oh no, Thank you doctor. I won’t sleep till she wakes up. If she wakes up and does not see me, she will worry about me. That may stress her. Once she opens eyes, I will tell her she is ok, make her smile, then I will sleep” he said.
That was a month ago. They came for a visit yesterday. I requested their permission to share their love story. He said he was willing, then asked for her permission.
Then I saw the beautiful smile that had made Claude fall in love with Marie.
“Yes.. She says this is all there is to share about life.” Claude told me, translating.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Faster

Faster
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“Faster, faster, I must feel the force of wind pushing my hands back” she said, stretching out her hands. Tightening the grip and bending still forward, I squeezed the accelerator grip.
At 2.30 AM, there were no vehicles on the roads. We had completed the rounds on Worli Seaface, and were now scaling the Marine drive. The police chowkies had enough light to spot them from a distance and slow down near them.
The red Yamaha RX 100, that bike which many bikers will know becomes one with the rider’s brain and body, and picks up human feelings better than most humans can, was doing its best spell that night, purring like a wildcat only happy to be tamed. The only noise it made was the silent pleasure it infused into the riders, not the loud firing that begs for attention.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“I want to spend every moment of my life at this speed” she said, shouting in my ear, her joyous face lit up the rear view mirror. “I don’t want to ever slow down. I don’t want to take it easy. I want my life to be like the massive eruption of a tremendously powerful volcano and then I will be happy to not exist. I cannot simmer.”
I understood.
Not everyone is fond of a laid back, slow, long life of collecting candlelight moments. Repetition of the same still ignites many. I am in love with fast myself: speaking, working, achieving, reacting and even forgetting! The faster I am, the more life I live. More is not synonymous with longer when it concerns life. I really dislike slow. I hate repetition.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
The huge dark blue sea had the long white wake of moonlight upon its surface that reached the shores, and appeared like an invitation to walk into it. The Sea-moon combo of blue and white is the liveliest example of ‘cool’ that we all search within us.
We stopped at Nariman point near the chaiwalla on his cycle. I feel one of the greatest social service possible in this world is making tea and snacks available for the night owls. We had the hot chai-shots fast, speaking nothing. The ocean roared and hummed pleasantly. The feel of speed was still upon our skins.
An old banarasiya spotted us together, and offered his best “Paan”, probably an ultimate gesture suggestive of romance for some past generation! I politely declined. He smiled cunningly, as if he knew we were out on some immoral trip. Looking at my embarrassed face, she asked: “Why are you concerned about what people think?”
“I am not. I am irritated when someone presumes” I replied, my anger reflected in the kick that restarted the Yamaha.
“Oh let them be! Not everyone understands that they cannot understand. Everyone can criticise, but few know they should not even analyse.”. I suddenly realised that this is what I needed to imbibe, if I wanted to live a different life than a drab set routine.
“Thank you”, I said, happy that the night had dished out a lifetime nugget of wisdom.
In my future life I met many who are far ahead of the world, far more brilliant in everything, and still far away from people: they are happy because they know they are beyond the need of certification from the slower , repetitive, attention and fame seeking mediocre hypocrites. Besides their stunning achievements, they also live a stunning, magical life. The earlier they realise that they must overcome analysis and criticism by others, they start living.
This wasa new beginning for me.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“Chill and Speed up, angry doc!” she said, her glorious face in my mirror again.
At the highest speed, when the bike and us became one with the road and the wind and the sea. I felt her close to my ear. I could not afford to even look into the mirror, we were that fast.
She was close enough not having to shout now.
“This alone matters”, she said, “Neither us nor people”.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

The End

The End
(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande
He picked up the call he awaited desperately. She was ecstatic.. “Happy Birthday! I have been thinking about what you said. I have feelings for you too. Can we meet at the tea break around 4?” She asked. “Yes” he replied, excited.
“Oh yes and I also wanted to tell you that I got my visa yesterday”.
“Yes, congrats! See you at 4. I will wait” he said hastily, and disconnected. Another call was waiting, from the hospital. “Sir there is an admission, paralysis since yesterday. He had stopped his BP medicines two months ago. Now vitals stable, lab sent.” said the CMO.
“Get an urgent MRI, and shift to semi-ICU. I am on my way” he instructed.
He answered all the questions about “complete cure and guarantee” by relatives, and also listened to their hidden threats. He did not want to spoil his mood especially today.
He had left without breakfast, so went to the canteen and brunched a hasty sandwich and a coffee. He mused about her. After a long time he had liked someone, and wanted to take it further. She was a paramedic, and the kind of guileless straightforward, soft, smiling person he required to be with him all his life. He felt her affection in everything that she said to him. She seemed usually unaware that almost every head turned to look at her. He decided to make the best of today’s meeting. Life was going nowhere outside the hospital any ways otherwise. He had even forgotten birthday celebrations long ago.
More patients kept him busy for the whole noon. The poor had an unsaid plight coupled with their fears: of the illness, of the surgery, of the expenses, of the big city, big hospital, and even of the doctor. The rich were mostly ill-behaved, irresponsible and seeking ways of taking advantage: to avoid tests, visits, payments, vehemently reluctant to give up their addictions: alcohol, smoking, weed and money. Few kind patients realised his gloom and made an effort to soothe him with compliments, make him laugh.
He had no time to think or plan what he was going to say to her. They knew each other for over three years, but had not been able to spend quality time because both were PGs till three months ago, lucky if they had their meals and sleep. Now that they were out, they had to work harder to survive in the competition. He desperately wanted to spend his life with her. This was his last opportunity to say it properly.
Because she planned to leave India in a month, and if he didn’t speak his mind today, he would have no chance again to do so. He wondered about the coincidence that this was happening on his birthday. “She should not accept me just because of that” he thought. His inner voice said “Its ok even if it is that. You are going to make her happy in either case”.
It was 3.30 PM. There was no time to go get a rose or a greeting. He pictured for a second in his mind that he is romantically kneeling in front of her in his blue suit, holding an open box of a beautiful sapphire ring, and she, ever gorgeous, surprised and pleased, tearful and smiling, is holding his face.
The junior doctor came running. “Sir, there’s a traffic accident, head injury, unconscious, intubated in casualty”. They went to the casualty. Twenty years old, no helmet. Bike slipped and his head hit the pavement. Shocked, panicked and angry, the relatives thought everything was wrong at the hospital. As he ran to the patient, five relatives surrounded him and asked questions. He politely asked them to wait till he examined the patient. “When did this happen?” he asked the junior “Sir eight hours ago” he replied.
Pale and cold. Pupils not reacting. No Doll’s Eye movements. No spontaneous activity. No reflexes. No response to caloric tests. Heart rate high. BP low. CT scan showed large bleed, multiple skull fractures, and a compressed brainstem. Sodium already high. Beyond surgery. Beyond possibility of survival.
“Did he have any earlier illness?” He asked. The uncle replied; “He used to have fits. It was his birthday yesterday. He may have had some drinks with his friends”.
It was difficult to look at the face of his mother and father, lakes of hope, shock, trauma and expectation in their eyes. “We will make an effort, but things look quite bad as of now” he told them. “Do everything, doctor, call the best doctors. Just save my son. Don’t worry about money” said the father.
He lost his mind for a split moment. The doctor within him was crying for the lost patient. If you had all the money, why didn’t you buy a helmet for your son? Why did you allow him to drink and drive? How come his epilepsy medicine was stopped? But there was no use thinking about it all now.
He wrote the orders, and waited to answer the crying mother, who begged him to get her son back. He thought about his own mother and her anxieties for him. Helpless, he even felt at one moment that he had chosen another profession than to face this every other day. For it was not the courage or goodwill, it was not the hard work that tormented him daily, but it was the scars that each such event bruised upon his soul. For years.
He realised that the phone was ringing. It was 4.45. He ran to the canteen. She was already a little upset, but conjured a smile. “Happy Birthday” she said, and handed him the greeting and the gift. Thanking her, he sat there, the sobs of that mother in casualty still continued in his mind. “So, did you think about what I said?:” she asked, and continued: “my parents will accompany me there, stay for a week, and then return. I won’t be able to return for at least a year. The curriculum is too tough. What’s wrong with you? Are you listening?”
He told her about the near dead patient in the casualty. She became silent. He talked superficially about her travel plans, her parents and her stay there. He could not bring himself to speak of his love at that moment. Death, anyone’s, stuns most around.
They finished the coffee. With cordial words, asking him to take care of himself, and a promise to stay in digital touch, she left.

“It is your choice, your duty. You must think of the service you are doing to this society. Death, shock, trauma and illness are a daily routine for you, why does it even bother you any more? People get sick, die almost every day, and you have chosen to spend life in hospitals. Why can’t you learn to be insensitive, unemotional to medical issues?” asked a part of his mind.
The other part of his mind, stunned in an abyss of a silent agony, because a lifetime of love had just passed away, did not answer.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande