Tag Archives: Mother

The Colour Of Blessings

The Colour Of Blessings

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Carefully calculating the dose and mixing it with the intravenous fluid with precision, I told the kind old lady: “I am starting the medicine drip now. If you feel anything unpleasant, please tell me.”

Through her pain, she smiled in reply. Her son, my lecturer Dr. SK, stood beside us and reassured her too. He had to leave for the OPD, there already was a rush today. “Please take care of her and call me if you feel anything is wrong” he said and left.

Dr. SK’s mom was advised chemotherapy of a cancer. It was quite difficult to calculate its doses and prepare the right concentration for the intravenous drip. Just a month ago, my guide Dr. Pradeep (PY) Muley had taught me how to accurately prepare and administer it, so when Dr. SK’s mom was admitted, he requested me to do it for her too.

The drip started. After a few hours, I noticed that her urine bag needed emptying. The ‘mausi’ supposed to do it was already out for some work. Any resident doctor in India naturally replaces whoever is absent. So I wore gloves, requested a bucket from the nurse, and emptied the urobag into it. Just as I carried the bucket with urine towards the ward bathrooms, Dr. SK returned, and offered to carry it himself, but I told him it was okay and went on to keep the bucket near the bathroom where the ‘mausi’ would later clean it. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Once the drip was over, Dr. SK invited me for a tea at a small stall outside the campus. He appeared disturbed. He said awkwardly: “Listen, please don’t misunderstand, but when I saw you carrying my mother’s urine in the bucket, I was amazed. You are a Brahmin, right? When you were away, my mom even scolded me why I allowed you to do it, she felt it was embarrassing, as we hail from the Bahujan community. I am myself a leader of our association, as you already know”.

I knew it, to be honest. His was a feared name in most circles.He was a kindly but aggressive leader of their community, but always ready to help anyone from any caste or religion, to stand by anyone oppressed, especially from the poor and discriminated backgrounds.

“I didn’t think of it Sir! She is a patient, besides that she’s your mother, and I am your student, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary. Otherwise too, my parents have always insisted that I never entertain any such differences”. I replied. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

“That’s okay, but I admit my prejudice about you has changed,” he said. “If you ever face any trouble, consider me your elder brother and let me know if I can do anything for you”. What an honest, courageous admission! Unless every Indian who thinks he / she is superior or different than any other Indian actually faces the hateful racist in the West who ill-treats them both as “browns or blacks”, they will never understand the pain of discrimination!

As fate would have it, in a few months, I had an argument with a professor about some posting. The professor then called me and said “So long as I am an examiner, don’t expect to pass your MD exams.”

I was quite worried. My parents were waiting for me to finish PG and finally start life near them, I already had a few months old son, and our financial status wasn’t robust. I could not afford to waste six months. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I went to Dr. SK. He asked all details. Then he came with me to the threatening professor. He first asked me to apologise to the professor for having argued, which I did. Then he told the professor: “Rajas is my younger brother. Please don’t threaten him ever. Pass him if he deserves, fail him if he performs poor. But don’t fail him if he performs well. I will ask other examiners”.

The professor then told me that he had threatened me “in a fit of rage”, and it was all over.

With the grace of God, good teachers and hard work, I did pass my MD in first attempt. When I went to touch his feet, Dr. SK took me to his mom, who showered her loving blessings upon me once again, and gifted me a Hundred rupee note from her secret pouch. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

Like most other students, I’ve had friends from all social folds at all times in school and colleges. I had excellent relations with the leaders of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Association, and twice in my life they have jumped in to help me in my fight against injustice when everyone else had refused. I love the most fierce weapon of all that Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar himself carried: the fountain pen!

No amount of fights will ever resolve any problems between any two communities, the only way forward is to respectfully walk together and find solutions. Fortunately, no doctor, even in India, thinks about any patient in the terms of their religion or caste. (© Dr Rajas Deshpande). Just like the Judge in the court premises, humanity is the single supreme authority in any medical premises. Blood or heart, brain or breathing are not exclusive to any religion or community. Just like the bigger brain, a bigger heart is also the sign of evolution.

I so much wish that the black clouds of disharmony between different communities are forever gone. The only hope is that our students can open any doors and break any walls, so long as they do not grow up into egoistic stiffs. © Dr Rajas Deshpande

I am proud to belong to the medical cult of those who never entertain any discrimination. A patient’s blessing has no coloured flags attached! Even outside my profession, I deeply believe that the very God I pray exists in every single human being I meet. If at all anyone asks me, I am happy to say that:

My religion, my caste and my duty as a doctor are all one: Humanity first!

© Dr Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist

Pune

Please Share Unedited

Annapoorna

Aai.jpeg

Annapoorna

“Everyone who enters our house must be offered water, a cup of tea, and snacks. If it is lunch or dinner time, offer meals. Never differentiate, be it poor or rich, friend or enemy, someone you like or dislike, offer them the best fresh food you have. You will always be happy when you feed someone. Also, never even tell a beggar that you don’t have food, it is already humiliating for them to have to beg for food”, she taught us. She scrupulously followed it herself.

My mother, Dr. Usha Kalidas Deshpande, insisted that no one should ever be hungry.

In spite of herself being a fulltime professor who was much involved in teaching, whenever I returned from school, she was usually available to make hot fresh poli / chapattis and my favourite curries. Dinner, as a rule, was almost always made by her. She remembered the food choices of my father’s friends, their students, my friends etc., and often cooked something quickly for them to eat whenever they visited.

“A man who does not sometimes cook for his family cannot fully understand his woman”, she often said. My father fully supported her views and sincerely attempted to cook till we all told him that he can instead take us to a hotel. He was happy, and so were we! (Although he made delicious omelettes!)

Mom taught me to cook too, right from making chapattis (of course the first few I made were disco chapattis). This immensely helped me in later life as a single parent, as I could often cook things that my kids liked (at least the poor boys said so then). Needless to say, we follow the food / host rules set by mom at our home even today. I loved the “Poli / Chapatti / Paratha” made by her so much, that when she passed away, gave up eating these.

Today is her birth anniversary.
Every year that she was alive, I had asked her “What would you like for a birthday gift?”. From the time that my salary was 1250 INR per month as an intern till two years ago when I could get her anything she could wish, her answer never changed: “I have everything, what else can I want?” with a smile! She was never fond of any jewellery, luxury or show off, so we always wondered what to gift her. Now after she has left us, we have finally found the right gift for her.

We (my sister and myself) have decided to start a new tradition in our mother’s memory: annadaan / food donation, whereby at least one hundred people will be served complete meals on this date at a center near Pune.. My children have gladly agreed to continue this tradition after me. Anyone from any religion / caste / age will be served, the only preference will be for the really poor and sick.

It is said that one should never speak about anything that one does for anyone else. I am guilty of that crime here, but the only reason to write all this is: most of the mothers feed their children along with their friends too with this same love. If this motherly bliss is passed on, also including those who really need to eat well, those who do not get to taste a complete meal every day, it will be a real tribute to one’s mother and a tiny return of what we received from her. One can of course always choose the form in which to remember one’s mother, I have chosen this, and felt like sharing it for my close ones as well as for those who knew my “Annapoorna” mother, Dr. Usha Kalidas Deshpande.

Dr. Rajas Deshpande
16th May 2017

The Official Daily Murders In India

The Official Daily Murders In India
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
She was breathing heavily. Pale and weak, she could barely speak. The ghoonghat covered her head, but her single eye that could be seen had given up hope. She looked at me just as she would have looked at God, begging to save her, or at devil, begging to end it all.
20, pregnant for the third time, in her eighth month, she was on the verge of death.
Her in-laws and two daughters accompanied her. “She has always been weak. We ask her to eat well, but she does not like to eat at all. You fire her, Doctorsahab. Ask her to eat well. How else will the child get food? This is her third child”. Somehow, the emotional words of her mother in law appeared as dry as the moving appeals of a political leader.
“She will need admission. She has very less blood (haemoglobin) remaining, she may require blood transfusion. Where is her husband?” I enquired.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“He has gone for work. He said he will talk to you on phone”.
I asked them to call her husband immediately. She was admitted. They could not arrange blood, she was transfused enough to settle her heart rate and blood pressure. The obstetrician saw her simultaneously, and took over.
Her husband had a guilty expression, but did not talk. The mother in law took charge. “What can we do, doctorsahab? He has to go to work. We try our best to treat her well, but she is very slow. She was probably a laadli (excessively beloved) at her maika (parent’s home), now she cannot work. She does not even eat well. Who will do the work at home? My son married her with the normal expectation: that someone will take care of his home and parents, and give him a son. Now if she cannot do it because she cannot work or does not eat, what is his fault?”
“Does that allow him to kill her, his wish to have a child?” I asked her.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Millions of Indian girls, married too early and too deficient already, are forced through pregnancy after pregnancy for their socially expected “duty” of producing a son. Poor diet, low levels of iron and other essential vitamins, minerals and proteins push their health to the verge of extreme torture: pain, weakness, breathlessness and many risks to health and life. Such a health status of the mother also badly affects the child, and many children are born with defects that are rarely noticed until they grow up.
This shameful phenomenon is seen at all levels of financial status, literacy, or location. It takes less than five thousand rupees to correct the maternal nutritional status and maintain it throughout pregnancy. Many cheap and healthy diets are recommended. But the love and care for a woman that must come from the in-laws is lacking in most cases, and the society that is busy with black and white money, patriotism and other higher causes in life, does not have time to correct black mind sets: of owning the health and life of a woman.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Thousands of Gynaecologists and Obstetricians, Medical Officers, Interns, Resident Doctors take it upon themselves to fight with this situation desperately: spending their own money, time and effort, in an ocean of apathy called social attitudes and administration failures. Hundreds of private practitioners and hospitals make available free treatments, counselling, investigations, consultations and other help for the pregnant women who cannot afford it all. All this is never acknowledged. Every OBGYN practicing in India, especially in rural India deserves highest civilian awards for doing far beyond their assigned duties. Instead, they are tortured by one-sided laws that presume everyone guilty of mal-intention.
There are many laws that the society can use against doctors. The Supreme court can appoint any number of judges on any big financial or other institutes and seal their accounts, suspend them, even call for midnight hearings. The government can meet overnight for special issues. But nobody has time to stop the “forced motherhood on deficient women of India” that causes thousands of deaths every year. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Do we have guts to make a law to make “Physical Fitness” of a woman a compulsory criteria before she becomes pregnant? Can the OBGYN society or IMA float a request for such a law, where it would be possible to punish the husband / in-laws for enforcing pregnancy upon a weak woman? © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
What do you call such a society that kills starving women and their children by expectation?
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

A Mother who killed the Wife

A Mother who killed the Wife
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“He is angry with us, doctor. He refuses to recognize us, even his parents and children sometimes. It was all my fault, I fought with him so many times over small things. I have said sorry so many times now.. But he is not ready to talk again like he did.. Some doctors said he is in shock, some advised psychiatric treatment. We did all we were told, but he is worse by the day. Please bring him back, doctor!” said the extremely depressed and tearful middle-aged lady. In her lap was a five year old daughter, seated behind her were her in-laws (patient’s parents) and her elder child, a 9 year old boy. My professor was listening carefully, and we Neurology residents were juggling possibilities in our minds.

I was assigned the work-up of this case. After a week-long evaluation and opinions of some senior neurologists in Mumbai, it was concluded that he was an exceptional case of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. The patient Mr. Bhooshan, an electrical engineer, was about 39 years old then.

Every morning that I entered the ward, I found his wife begging him to forgive her and talk normally again, he looked at her blankly, often irritated and with a questioning face. She would bring the kids to him every evening, and prod them to talk to him, crack jokes, and in general “get him to talk”. He would occasionally call them near himself, pat them, then suddenly vanish mentally from the scene. He sometimes asked his wife about them by names, but didn’t always recall the names accurately. Somehow, children sense moods excellently. They tend to know when a parent is disinterested / hurt / tired or ‘just not there’. These kids did whatever their mother suggested, but they were ok with just sitting by his side, in his lap, holding his hand.

I never saw his aging parents without teary eyes that begged for relief from this hell.

We have different memory areas in brain for sights, smells, words etc., as well as disciplined cascades of time-based memories in our mind. A large part of this is what we call the “Past”. Hidden therein is also our knowledge of ourselves: Name, Birth, Family, Culture, Religion, Education, Friends, Nature, everything that makes someone’s personality unique.

Imagine losing parts of this memory. Imagine not knowing who you are. Imagine being lost “Inside” your own mind. Then also imagine ‘not even knowing that you are lost’. It is only initially that the patient knows and cares about such loss of memory. Unlike dramatic depictions of “violent anger because of forgetting things” in some unstudied movies, patients usually also lose their concern / insight about what is happening to them.

There is a point of no return in the mental / cognitive decline in patients with dementia / memory loss, comparable only to the death of one’s mind as one knows it. Scary.

Relevant medicines were started. There was negligible response.
Mr. Bhooshan gradually became almost blank, and spent most of his day in the bed, often wandering aimlessly and watching windows in the ward. His wife couldn’t come to terms with this. She mostly just sat in a corner, often crying whenever kids visited. Right from Prayers to Herbals, everything that anyone suggested, was being done by the family.

Our counselors talked to her, even prescribed her with mild antidepressants, but she had just collapsed inside.

One evening, I didn’t see her by the patient. Curious, I enquired about her to the patient’s mom who was instead attending him. “Their daughter, the 5 year old, is admitted in the pediatric ward below with high grade fever. She is with her.” replied the old lady.
I went to the pediatric ward after finishing my duty.

I found the kid in bed, weak but comfortable, and smiling. Her mother, the patient’s wife, was telling her funny stories, laughing aloud and imitating comical characters, as she fed the child. Mrs. Bhooshan was a totally different lady then. She talked to me very nicely, without any hint of ‘hiding sorrow’, naturally. The innocent, happy kid invited me to sit by her and share her food.

In two days, the kid was discharged. Her mom had completely changed. She started taking good care of Mr. Bhooshan again, but now with a mysterious peace upon her face, often smiling and mothering her husband too, like her other kids.

Satisfied with the sacrifice that this ’mother’ had made by killing the ‘wife’ within herself, life had smiled upon them again, in the face of an obvious tragedy. They returned home, and she was still nursing him and looking after the kids one year later when I passed my exams and left Mumbai.

Their life had changed, but moved on.
So had mine. I started writing a diary.
Dr. Rajas Deshpande