Tag Archives: mumbai

Mumbai Diary- 3 To The Silent Patriots

Mumbai Diary- 3

To The Silent Patriots

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist

Mumbai / Pune

Usually I stay in Mumbai on Sunday nights to be able to attend the OPD at Lilavati Hospital on Monday. Strolling by the sea is usually a pleasant addition to a Sunday evening. However, this time there were huge crowds as Christmas was only three days away, and people thronged to have a glimpse and seek blessings of their beloved Mount Mary. I decided to use the evening to visit my favourite Udyan Ganesh Temple at the Shivaji park.

I had my car but didn’t want to drive in Mumbai traffic that day, so I requested for a rental car. As the car came up, a perfectly dressed chauffeur in a white hat got down swiftly and held open the door, politely wishing me. He must be in his sixties. “I am Abdul, Sir” he introduced himself. I introduced myself too.

“Can you please drive me to Shivaji park?. and on the way I also want to visit the Mount Mary for a minute.” I requested.

“Sure Sir” he said.

In a few minutes, as I returned after praying at the Church, we headed towards Shivaji park. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande.

We chatted, he opened up very well, a rarity in a world full of cellphone robots. His father had retired with many honours from Mumbai Police.

“Those were the days, Docsaab! We stayed in a small society, there were three Hindu and a Christian family around us. Yet there was no awareness about religion, any child went and ate in any home. There was also no hesitation in anyone scolding any child for being naughty .. we were like a single big family. Nowadays one has to think a lot before speaking even to one’s own kids!”. I agreed with him.

I met my favourite deity at the Shivaji Park and returned. As we drove back, we crossed a building belonging to an ultra-rich famous businessman. The intention of the owner to show extremely gaudy luxury and glittery affluence in every inch of that construction was truly manifest. Passing by that building, we witnessed the state police guarding its gates.

Mr. Abdul spoke in a tone with hidden bitterness: “Every glass, every brick of this building is cursed, Doctor saab. This man has cheated and looted millions to earn this kind of money. There’s nothing against anyone being rich, I mean who doesn’t like to have a lot of money? But it should not be made by sucking people’s blood”.

In a few minutes his tone normalised. His smile returned. “Docsaab, I have worked for this company belonging to Mr. Ratan Tata Sahab for over 20 years. No one has ever seen any show-off of affluence or power from the Tata family. Once I was posted as a night-duty chauffeur at Mr. Tata’s bungalow. Sitting in my car, I dozed off by midnight At about 3 AM, I heard someone knocking on my car window. I woke up with a shock: it was Mr Ratan Tata, holding his own bag. I came out of the car shaking and apologising. He said to me: “Why do you apologise? Everyone gets sleepy at night. Not a mistake. In fact I am sorry I had to wake you up, but I must reach the airport as soon as possible. Will you be able to drive, or are you feeling sleepy? I don’t mind if you sleep in the back seat, I will drive the car to the airport and wake you up there. You can bring back the car in the morning”.

Pausing to clear his emotional throat, Mr. Abdul said “I felt that it was like meeting God. Since that day I never felt like working for anyone else. People usually show off and become mannerless when they get even little power or money, they insult and mistreat their employees, dependants and staff. But not Mr. Tata, he has the biggest heart I have known”.

That this should happen with me on the very day of Mr. Ratan Tata’s birthday was such a divine coincidence for me! © Dr. Rajas Deshpande. It provoked a different line of thought.

Soldiers, Police, Doctors, and millions of workers, labourers, watchmen work day and nightshifts, silently performing their duty while also serving the nation with their blood and sweat. Somehow people tend to think that these “true patriots” do not have a right to sleep well, eat well, and spend some good time with their families. Many think that sacrificing sleep, hunger and family time comes naturally as a duty when someone chooses such a career. As if it is a crime for a soldier or policeman to feel hungry, or a doctor to need adequate sleep. As if the children of these professionals do not need a father or a mother at home! © Dr. Rajas Deshpande. Our society thinks that, it is okay for them to sacrifise, suffer, even die in the line of duty. That is hardly a sign of an evolved, civilised or humane society!

Most people in our society get to sleep eight hours, have three square meals a day, then watch TV / entertainment, and in the remaining leisure some of them scream about Patriotism, share posts of emotional speeches about loving one’s country. There’s no better patriotism than actually working hard. Those who shout slogans and bellow speeches actually do nothing good for any country.

Through this post I would like to thank the millions of silent nation lovers: men and women from all religions, from all parts of my Great India, who show their love for their nation in their work, in their perfect execution of duty and service. May this New Year bring you immense inner happiness, exuberant health and realisation of the beauty of life.

Of Course, Happy Birthday Mr. Ratan Tata, if at all this post reaches you someday! You are one of the most respected icons in this world.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Neurologist

Pune/ Mumbai

Please Share Unedited.

A Medical Lesson That Still Hurts

A Medical Lesson That Still Hurts
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Can’t you see I am with a patient? We can talk later. Or may be tomorrow” snapped my lecturer at Pallavi.

Pallavi was 26, had epilepsy herself, but used to sit in our OPD to help other epilepsy patients. She came from her home by local train, travelling over two hours, and went back after OPD to attend her father. She was on many medicines to control her fits and depression, still used to have frequent fits. An epilepsy surgery was not possible, my professor and lecturer who were her caretakers had explored almost every avenue for her. Some unfortunate patients do not respond well.

Obviously she could not get a job and sitting at home worsened her depression. She was quite good looking and kind. However, her father was bedridden with a paralysis attack, and had many problems, even bedsores. That stress made Pallavi cranky and always worried. With no source of income, she was dependent upon help from the staff at our municipal hospital. As she was too proud to accept money without working, my professor had eased her ego by requesting her to help other patients: OPD paperwork, forms, getting medicines, patient education and restrictions etc.

She would either consult us resident doctors or our teachers if there was anything wrong with her or her father. Sometimes her anxiety was too much to deal with, she often asked repeated questions. Some epilepsy and psychiatry patients have worst symptoms around menses, and even get combative.
Most government and corporation hospitals have a never ending line of patients. In that rush it became impossible to answer her repeated questions patiently, and someone or other usually had to either snap at her or prescribe her an anxiolytic. Sometimes being too kind or available results in more attention seeking.

“See if Pallavi is OK” my lecturer told me after a few minutes.

Sulking, Pallavi had gone to the pantry near OPD and sat alone. During our tea break myself and my colleague Dr. Sachin went there too. My thesis / dissertation submission was in final stages, where everything about it seems so pointless and meaningless. I had to submit it within two weeks. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“Tea, Pallavi?” we asked her as she sat in the corner.
“No, Doctor. I’ve had it. Thank you” she said. We drank our tea in an invaluable silence.

She suddenly said: “Doctor, my father has started continuously calling me names. He uses very bad language. My headache becomes unbearable when he starts shouting.” She became tearful.
While having tea, I wrote her prescriptions for herself and her father too.
“Doctor, I want to talk” she said, “I need to sort out things in my life” she said.
“Pallavi, the OPD is still heavy, we will talk after lunch, ok?” I replied. It was 3 PM already. We finished tea and returned to the OPD.

A few minutes later, I heard her crying in my teacher’s cabin. “You must learn to be patient” my teacher was trying to pacify her while attending other patients who kept angrily rushing in, demanding their own time. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Pallavi got a call from home and left the OPD before it was over.
I went straight to the printer after OPD for the final corrections of my dissertation.

That evening we got the news that Pallavi had fallen off a local train, killing herself. No one knew if it was a suicide.

I have never been able to overcome that till now. What if I would have spent few more minutes, talked her in kinder words, pacified her better?

I learnt one of the most important and precious lessons that every doctor learns eventually: There’s no afterwards. Answer the patient in front of you NOW. Never deny time to one in genuine trouble. A minute of a doctor’s patience can save lives.

This became clearer later, this is true about everyone, not only doctors or patients; no one ever knows which one is the last meeting between any two. Now I make sure to only part with a proper goodbye, a smile and no bad feelings: apologise if I am wrong, forgive if the other one is. Some say that feels too formal, some think it is a way to impress others, or being excessively unnecessarily mannerful. But I know what I mean. There are no guarantees in life: about myself at least. Every goodbye is potentially final.

Patients never seem to stop. Everyone is in their own hurry, tired, pissed off . The doctor is the common point of venting problems, frustrations and also anger. Most doctors acquire the saintly art of not losing patience, raising voice in the worst of situations, but it is at the cost of being inhuman to themselves. To spend 12-16 hours every day (18-20 in case of resident doctors) among the angry, suffering and accusative without losing patience is not a joke. This is one reason why patients see irate/ less interactive doctors commonly and misinterpret it as “ego / pride / snobbishness” etc.

That said, since that incidence in our OPD, I do not refuse any question from any patient in front of me. I do not end the consultation unless I have answered their last question or the patient starts taking advantage by asking repeat or unnecessary questios.

Pallavi, I feel very sorry.
Patient First, Patience Highest, Always, for Every Doctor.
Thank you for the lesson.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Real Story. Identities masked. Please Feel Free To Share Unedited.

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