Surinder Singh Ko Kuchh Ho Gaya

April 15, 2012

This incident dates to 1989. The patient had septic shock. I still remember his

name.

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We were at a remote place. You reached there after a 50-km walk. There was

nothing much to do. I had two officers for company. Although not willingly, we

had accepted that isolated existence.

It was really hard to deal with the overwhelming sense of inertia that hung

around us all the time. The day began with breakfast. (All meals were taken

together.) Then some time was spent lazing in the mild sun. Our newspapers used

to be several days old. The events reported in them were no longer relevant. Yet

every word was scrutinised to squeeze out every possible meaning. Things were

discussed endlessly. We often walked around the place. Lunch was sometimes

served outside. Weather would change by then. Strong breeze kept slapping our

faces. Soon clouds would appear, turning the sky grey. Quite frequently,

snowfall confined us indoor the whole day.

Evenings were spent around a bukhari. The heat made the room comfortable. We

invariable played one of the three cassettes we had. Pyasa, a timeless classic,

was seen repeatedly. Each aspect of this film was analysed. WaheedaRehman's

stunningly seductive looks left a permanent mark on me. There were days when

nothing was said. With eyes fixed on the bukhari, we just luxuriated in the

warmth spreading through the room.

The routine was shattered one day. A young patient was brought after he had

fallen ill a few hours before. His appearance conveyed a serious problem. A

quick examination confirmed my worst fears. He had a condition which is

considered a grave emergency. Unfortunately, we were not equipped to manage such

cases. He had to be evacuated to a hospital immediately. Helicopters were the

only means of transport in those circumstances. Unfortunately, inclement weather

precluded any flying that day. So SurinderSingh (that was the patient's

name) stayed with us.

If this disease is not treated promptly and properly, death is certain. Nothing

could have been done to avert the fatal outcome. A sense of impending doom

smothered the patient. He was slipping away. A feeling of resignation enveloped

everybody present there. Utterly helpless, I withdrew from there. I was

desperate for a tea.

I was almost immediately followed by a man, who announced in a broken voice:

" Sahab, jaldichalo. SurinderSinghkokuchh ho gaya. " I knew Surinder no longer

needed me.

Bharat

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