Tag Archives: Women

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

“If I don’t set an example, who will?”

photo-23-02-17-18-56-00“If I don’t set an example, who will?”
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
One fine late morning, a phone call woke me up. “Hullo?” I used the trained professional cautious voice that does not encourage further conversation, hoping to not let go of the sleep stage.
“Good Morning. I am Rashmi Shukla, Commissioner of police, Pune. May I speak to Dr. Rajas Deshpande?” the lady on the other side said.
My heart missed one middleclass heartbeat and performed five higher class somersaults. Sleep ran away like a signal jumping two wheeler pursued by a traffic cop.
“Yes mam, speaking” I sat up in bed.
“I want to show my aunt to you. When can I get an appointment for her?”
This was unusual.
Usually most bigwigs just walk in without any warning and want to be seen immediately. Some soft-threaten an appointment via their secretary. Some come with the hospital owners, some hassle the boss to get the doctor rush for them whenever they want. There even are netas and officers (not only police) who ask doctors to “hurry up” with the patient in the chamber and see them first. If you make them wait, your boss usually would remind you many unpleasant things in chaste English.
So, about this call, I felt very respectful.
“Anytime you want mam. What time is convenient for you?”
“You say doctor, you people are always so busy. I will arrange my schedule accordingly”.
“4 PM today?” I asked
“Ok. We will be there” she said.
At sharp 4 she came with her aunt and waited patiently for their turn. Inside the chamber she behaved like a common citizen, and politely narrated the details of her aunt. She listened to the instructions and prescription details, and asked a few questions. She made me laugh with some puns too. Then she thanked me and left. We kept on reading about many new initiatives and improvements she implemented in Pune.
When she followed up today, again with similar polite call for appointment and then a punctual visit, I told her how admirable and respectable her politeness and etiquette was, and how rare it has become among the highly placed.
She smiled: “Doc, If I don’t set an example, who will?”.
Huge Respect, Commissioner!
May all police and government officers be like you!
Then when I requested her permission to write this and also for a a pic, she said “If you don’t smile in the photo, I am going to have you arrested immediately”.
Thank you, Mrs. Rashmi Shuklaji, Commissioner of Police, Pune, for making a common doctor like me feel great again about my choice of this profession!
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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.

Happiness Is

Happiness Is:
A thirteen years old sweet fighter coming over to gift something she made with such affection for her doctor 😀 Thank you, Kanika Kesri.
Delighted & obliged with your gesture🙏🏻.15403864_727777090704871_7134881359160639060_o

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

The Price Of Love

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

He tied her to the pole, abusing and insulting her.
Wielding a knife in his hand, he slapped her once more. “You are supposed to be the honest one” he shouted, “I am a man. You were talking with our neighbour. What did you say to him? Did you two fix up a place to meet secretly?” he was trembling with anger.
She looked into his eyes, and replied “Don’t you talk to other women? Doesn’t your mother talk to other men? Do you always talk about that? I was asking him about his sick wife”.
Pulling her by her hair, he said menacingly in her ears: “Look, don’t compare yourself to me. I am a man. You are supposed to be the one who gives up everything for me. Do you think I don’t know how ‘those’ women behave? You have chosen to marry me. I can do what I want”. She didn’t reply. What could she say to a paranoid, suspicious person who had one way communication? The option of violence wasn’t open for her.
As it became dark, his mood changed. He started speaking soft and sweet. He untied her from the post so she could cook. She could not eat well, the humiliation and insults, the allegations and violence wreaking havoc in her mind.
Silence fell upon the dark. The next day’s work awaited her at dawn, so she skipped the sobbing and tried to sleep.
“Make love to me” he ordered. She tried to comply.
He raised his voice “It should come from the bottom of your heart. Don’t pretend. Love me madly, deeply, and let it show in your action”.
Silently, she replied “I can’t. The only one thing that could have made me truly love you was true love from you too”. © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
This is the current scenario between the society and the good medical professional today.
Take for granted that the whole medical profession is one’s slave. Make allegations at every possible opportunity. Be suspicious and paranoid. Hold a doctor guilty for any news anywhere without logical enquiry. Make them overwork under the sacrifice tag. Disrespect them, beat them up, ask them questions as if talking to criminals. Presume every other doctor and every big hospital is a fraud.
Then, when one has a health problem, expect them to be truly, deeply compassionate, loving angels who will do the best because they are married to their principles of being good and kind to everyone.
If you expect the doctor to be truly nice and kind and compassionate to you, to make best decisions for you, ask yourself if you deserve that. No amount of money will buy you a doctor’s love and respect, no amount of hateful criticism or threats will compel your doctor to be compassionate.
A doctor’s real fees is the respect and trust you place in him / her. No amount of money is worth the value of your life. Pay with suspicion, threat and disrespect, and you destroy the compassion you truly deserve.
The doctor-patient trust is a coin with two sides, one side cannot be blank.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

PS: I know the word “exaggeration”. Learnt it from some movies and TV shows that criticise doctors.

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Made In Heaven

jadhavs

If I ask him about HIS health complaints, he points at her and says “Ask her, I don’t know”.

Mr. Hanuman Jadhav brings his wife Mrs. Laxmibai Jadhav regularly for follow ups, keeps all her records filed date-wise, brings all the medicines and asks me to do the best for her, adding “Don’t worry about the expenses, we can buy for her any medicine you want”. He has no source of earning, but his children provide for them.

“She has looked after me, my home and grown up my kids. I am nothing without her” says this retired foreman of an electric company. He spent his life roaming all over Maharashtra with his family, wherever the govt. transferred him. His old wrist watch and simple clothes reveal his humble state of life’s affairs. He is minimally educated, does not know the words “Culture” or “Gentleman”, but is better cultured and more of a Gentleman than most who know those words!

He patiently listens without interrupting till she finishes all her questions. He does not behave as if he is her ‘Master’. Then at the end she asks (rather orders) me to examine him. If I ask him about his complaints, he points at her and says “Ask her, I don’t know”. Then she blushes and lists all his complaints, and he usually agrees. The only argument they have is about the other one “Not eating well enough”.

In the end she always says “My illness is not important. He must stay healthy at all costs. He has worked hard to keep us all well”. As they leave, she does not forget to remind me that I am like a son for them.

They do not ever complain about each other, not even as a joke with hidden shades of truth!

We rarely see this respect and equality for one’s own spouse, even among the best educated. These two have not read any literature, nor seen any movies about women’s lib. Since the last five years that I know them, they have been one outstanding example of genuine, heavenly love only dreamt by those in the ambition industry. Even the most educated and elite seldom treat their spouses as equal.

These two are still so shy, they urged that I stand between them for the pic!
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

A Policeman’s Tears

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

“She was found unconscious and naked lying on the road. The baby was near her, moving when we found her, now she also looks unconscious” said the police constable. “Actually I had my civil dress in my jeep, I covered both with my clothes and got them here. Most likely an orphan roadside beggar”.

It was early morning, I had gone to the casualty for a call as a medicine resident, and was chatting with the CMO when this police constable had rushed in the mother and the baby, probably less than a year old. He and his colleague completed the formalities and left. The CMO was alone, so I stayed on to assist.

The lady had high grade fever and some bruises all over her body, only one on the thigh deep enough that it bled. She also had a contusion upon the head. Needless to say, unclean and unkempt, visibly quite weak and poorly fed body. There was a traditional tattoo on her forearm that said “Seeta” in distorted devnagari script. The baby was dehydrated and had fever too, with only minor contusions.

“Sending her to female ward, and the baby to paediatric” said the CMO. We completed the police information and Medicolegal form, the nurses had started the IV line for the lady. I accompanied the baby to the pediatric ward, handed her over to the resident doctor friend on duty and went to the female ward to attend the other admissions. Basic medicines for fever and head injury were started for Seeta. There was no CT scan facility in the hospital. Blood tests were sent.

In absence of relatives, it’s the interns, resident doctors and nurses who attend to the necessities of such patients. Administration mocks everyone sympathetic and compassionate to such patients, be it a government, private or corporate set up. My professor advised some more blood tests. Some tests were not available in the govt. hospital, we had to send them outside. As we had just received the stipend, money was not a big problem.

Next evening I went to the pediatric ward to find out what was happening with the baby.
“She has had convulsions”, the resident colleague told me. We have loaded her with anticonvulsants, but she still has fever. Dr. Jain madam (new lecturer in paediatrics) has advised lumbar puncture, but there’s the consent problem”.
I went to talk to the lecturer, she was all insulting. “Don’t teach me what to do. We will send a request to the dean, and if he allows, then the resident will do the lumbar puncture” she said, “By the way, what’s your interest in this baby? Why don’t you mind your own business? I have heard about you.. you are in the student’s union na? Don’t throw your weight around me.” She said.

The dean consented to our request, and a lumbar puncture was done. The baby had probable tuberculous meningoencephalitis (infection of the brain and its coverings). Antituberculous medicines were started.

The comments of the pediatric lecturer made me extremely angry. Most of her resident doctors hated her attitude too. Those remarks soon spread and various sick, exaggerated and vulgar jokes about me caring for that orphan baby made rounds among my colleagues. But one good thing about wanting to do good is the shameless pride and courage that comes ingrained with it.

My colleague Dr. Madhu stood by me. She often reminded me: “There are five percent good people in the world, and 95 percent bad, Einstein has said, but it is the five percent good who take the world forward, they represent human race”. That has always pumped me up against all the mockery that I ever faced for being “too sensitive and compassionate to be sane”.

The best support for the poor and helpless always comes from the poor and helpless. The pompous, actionless “blah blah” of advising others to be more kind and compassionate is usually the trademark of those who themselves rarely help anyone. The mamas and mausis (wardboys and helpers) of the ward came together to attend Seeta during their duty.

The pediatric resident told us on the third day that the baby’s health had gone bad, and she was unlikely to survive. Dr. Madhu stopped smiling. “At least can we shift the baby near her mom?” we discussed. It was of course not possible.

Dr. Oak (real name), one of our ophthalmology genius professors, learnt about this. He came over and told us in his royal tones, to tap him anytime for any help. He also left some money with us.

On the fourth day, the lady started having convulsions too. We ran around, trying to arrange whatever the professor suggested. She was gradually sinking. Tuberculosis neglected and untreated is one of the most cruel diseases. It takes over ten days for the action of Tb medicines to kick in.

On the fifth day, the baby passed away in the morning, and the lady shortly after. That coincidence was less tragic than their trolleys being rolled into the mortuary together.

“What happens now?” we asked the mortuary in charge.
“They will be cremated as orphan, unclaimed bodies after the post mortem” he told.

In a world of billions, ruled by religious, powerful and rich, a young mother and a baby girl would be cremated as orphans! We told the mortuary assistant to please keep us posted, and came out. Of course we could not sleep.

Next day we took special permission and went to attend their cremation.
On the way, we bought some flowers, a tiny dress for the girl and a saree for her mom, probably the first new clothes ever for either of them. Dr. Madhu had already brought a few bangles, a necklace and two bindis with her.

Dr. Madhu was sobbing as we returned. The rowdy looking policeman with us also wiped his eyes. He dropped us back to the medical college in his jeep.

He said in a heavy voice as we parted:
“Doctor, we see all the worst things in the society. We meet criminals day and night. But when such young girls and babies die, I feel like shooting everyone who didn’t come out to help them. People just talk, nobody helps. God bless you. You have what it takes to be a doctor. Don’t ever change.”

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

P.S.
Years later, I read about a divine human being from Chennai, one Mr. S Sreedhar, who collects unclaimed dead bodies from various hospitals, and performs decent and respectful last rites for them. Planning to meet and touch his feet one day.
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The Two Faced And The Mirror

The Two Faced And The Mirror © Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“I am far more than what anyone would define me to be. And my ego is not begging anyone to understand. It was my mistake, and I am over it now.” she said.
She kept her voice in control with tremendous effort. Her beautiful, extremely delicate and fair face with its sharp angles, thin sensible red lips and a quivering chin were all wet. Her curly hair was all messed up. Her large grey eyes were swollen, and one could feel the ache of her racing heart. But she refused to cry.
After a long relationship of over five years, on the brink of marriage, she had had a break up. Her boyfriend, a sensitive and handsome upcoming doctor, had come to a conclusion that she was not the kind of person he wanted to spend life with. They had grown together apart in last few months. He honestly told her so.
She could make his life hell, by fighting, showing others the many letters which he wrote to her earlier. She could have filed a police case. She could have gone to the Indian courts which have equated sex with a marriage deal. She had the social sympathy of being wronged, but she also had an eager army of young and old men willing to fight only for beautiful women, ready with buckets of mud.
But she was a differently honest woman.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“I don’t want to take advantage of being a woman. I am equal. If I was involved in him, if I had a physical with him, it was my equal wish, and my equal fault. I enjoyed it when it happened. So now I cannot say he deceived me. He has as much freedom to change as I have.” she said.
“It’s not the same for a woman” said a friend to pacify her.
“Then it’s time I make it so.. at least for myself.. I don’t want to think I was mentally weak enough to be physically taken advantage of” she replied. “I cannot imagine that he is not suffering this break up. I know he is. I will not tie my body to my wishes and hopes. I do not want my body to be a currency. I am as divine physically and mentally as any other human being. I am entitled to feel the same freedom as he does”.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
Growing up in a twisted world which had umpteen layers of standards when dealing with women, she knew all the politically correct words. When a teenager girl falls in love, the parents allege of her having been “deceived in a trust trap”. As if she was never aware of such traps, as if she was never educated of how most men behave. The concept of falling in love while growing up, having a relationship which may not terminate in a marriage is all too heavy for many societies, and there are umpteen resources roped in to chain a beautiful man-woman bond into the shackles of religious, social, cultural dictats.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
There are many instances of women being abused, mistreated and in general discriminated against, but there also are many (especially in the educated and higher classes) instances of the opposite. Both are equally bad and to be raised voice against. A woman should never be touched or spoken to against her will, and a man should also be treated with the same dignity. Wrong intention is not the monopoly of men.
“I will suffer, I know. But this is not extraordinary. People meet, like and dislike each other and go their own ways. To think that one can only correctly like and love someone with the sole purpose of marrying is too hypocritical. There are singles who love better than many married ones. There are many who found their soulmates after a lot of experimentation. Marriage is definitely a holy and respectable bond, but certainly not the only seal of true love”.
She went on. She recovered, albeit with scars. So did he. They are both doing quite well now, great achievers. They have both found new love again.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
The beauty of life is too big to be trapped inside the tiny cells of sociocultural prisons.
The words “I Love You” are used less to express true love than to express mortal desires, to blackmail someone into doing something that they do not want to, to take advantage of the emotional dependence and respect of the one who has affection for the other. This “blackmail by beloved” becomes a deadly game of unhappy endings in many cases, as the chains of these three beautiful words wear out by overuse. “You will do this if you truly love me” is an ultimate indication of a desperado taking advantage, on either side, who hasn’t the guts to ask for what they want and respect the other person’s choice to decline.
There are also the two faced. I know of a lady who turned into a sweet talking angel and continually talked about her ‘being a good girl always’, grabbing the attention of people around her every which way possible, to have them praise her. If they didn’t, she would cry to describe the umpteen unfair things happening to her, most of them imaginary. If not praise, she would try and get sympathy. But the real deal was when she turned into an altogether different person when with her husband. She’d throw tantrums, shout, break glasses and even assault her husband. She would not only attack him with forks / knives, but simultaneously shouted “Someone please save me, he is beating me, please don’t hit me” etc. The neighbours always looked upon the poor guy as if he was some kind of a villain, as she always was so sweet with them! After years of this hell, when he spoke about it to our common lawyer friend, he was advised “Whatever you do, do not hit her.. the whole world will blindly turn against you immediately. No one wants to know or understand the truth in a man-woman quarrel. Men are presumed and declared guilty already”.
“What’s my option? She attacks me, hits me, tortures me and no one ever believes when I say this.. not even my own relatives.. because she is an entirely different person with them” my helplessly torn friend asked.© Dr. Rajas Deshpande
“Leave that house” was the option the lawyer suggested.
We need better understanding, better interaction and better counsellors / resources while dealing with the most delicate of all relationships: the man-woman relationship. We need a less critical and judgmental society, we need better laws and open discussions.
The newer generations appear far more mature about acceptance of ‘break-ups’. There also are some excellent counsellors working in this field now. However the tendency to emphatically keep on repeating that every marriage is a happy ending in itself, that one’s spouse is the most ultimate best thing to have happened to oneself etc. is not necessary. It is like shouting “I am not a thief” in the street when no one has blamed you to be one. If you have a good husband or wife, you are lucky and deserve it. If not, one must have the courage to sort things out without pretending.
I am proud of the woman in first case, she is my student. I am also proud of the man in second case, who survived ending that relation.
The judgmental mudslingers in both cases are having a hard time dealing with their own lives for a change. Some spend an entire life time away from the beauty of reality. Others win the game of life.
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Only ‘Bachaao’? (Only ‘Save’?)

Only ‘Bachaao’?
© Dr. Rajas Deshpande

A “group” of four –five men was halted by the woman security guard. “Show me your pass” She asked.

All of them large sized, different complexions, dressed in all possible indecent dress codes but one common factor: chests and biceps were their only faces. Gold ornaments were their only social claim to respect. Failing which, the revolvers that could be seen beneath the shirts were meant to convey the message loud and clear.

“Our patient is serious, in room XXX. You can ask your boss.. He said we can go in. Go ahead, call your boss”. They smiled shamelessly, as two of them made faces at the awkward security guard. Knowing the VIP patient and his ways, she had no answer. They walked in, and as they passed the entrance, one of them abused her with one of the worst expletives, looking somewhere else. Her tears were as audible as her wet voice.

They all entered an elevator which had not only a patient on wheelchair, but a seventy plus doctor whom the whole medical fraternity respected, and a few male and female young resident doctors. The “musclegold group” made its way closest to one of the female doctors and together, scanned her from head to toe, notwithstanding the angry gazes of everyone else in the elevator. The senior professor tried to ease the situation by talking to the students about a case, when one of the “group” made an obscene comment which I am sure they won’t ever make in the presence of any of their own family. Everyone in that elevator will now remember that moment as one of the most embarrassing and disgusting one in their life. Their fiery eyes kept lustfully embarrassing all humanity till they went out. I wonder if that lady was able to sleep that night.

They went on walking like they were all movie heroes, a culture of arrogant, muscular, aggressive macho men cracking cheap jokes, taking for granted that this attracted all women without exception, and those women who are not actually falling down yet, will do so when they start passing indecent comments and throw the nauseating pick-up lines. They were blind to the disgust in the eyes of everyone sane around them. Whether it was the nurses, receptionists, servants, relatives, doctors or even patients upon the stretcher: if female, the “group”s eyes were full of shameless lust that moved all over their bodies, and if male, their eyes said “try me for a fight”, “just please argue so we can start a physical”.

Age of the girl / woman / lady is immaterial for these “visuo-sexual” offenders.
They are connected and related to almost all those who must act against them.

They usually have a boss too: in white linen, with colorful indications of powerful affiliations, language where threats compensate for the grammar, and who knows your bosses too, who is also a close friend of the ultimate bosses in the region. All of them have mother, sister, wife, daughter etc. at home. All of them are very powerful, with hundreds of such “groups” who are their ardent followers cum bodyguards cum social valets. They make the regional bigshots in society and politics, hence are often protected by those who run the show.

But none of these “Manly” powerful men and richest of the rich are ever seen interfering with this daily scene in almost all hospitals, malls, theaters, offices, gardens, colleges, roads, markets and almost all public places. No political party swears or makes agenda against insulting, misbehaving and harassment of women in public places. There are so many dreadful national and regional political parties in India, but there is none which stands against this “daily roadside” eve teasing, and visual/ verbal harassment. All those muscles, all those macho looks and words and all those guns are so useless when someone else’s mother or sister is openly abused. So many intellectuals on big posts. So many educated ministers. So many “Super Duper” public-ke –liye channels: all unconscious until there is a mishap or a crime. And also the ‘pseudos’ who take every opportunity to exploit the “news” under the pretext of sympathy.

We need to add “Stree-suraksha’ to the essentials “Roti-Kapda aur Makaan” in India now. We need at least one national political party to take up this cause.

A woman is much more than a mother, sister, wife or a daughter. She is as much an individual as anyone else. It must be extremely difficult for her to endure this type of rotten behavior.

We must extend the “Beti Bachaao” slogan to “Beti Bachaao, uski rakshaa karo aur usse sadaa sammaan do” (Save, protect and also respect the girl child). And maybe also launch “Beta sudharo” abhiyaan, to educate boys from kindergartens how to treat a woman.

© Dr. Rajas Deshpande