Next day, 7 February 2012, we started early in the morning for the hospital. The hospital was in Parel and very far from the place, where I was staying. Besides I din’t wanted to be struck in the famous Mumbai traffic jam. We reached the hospital around 8:45am. It was early, still it was so crowded. gosh! whats wrong? why is it so crowded? Is it so crowded everyday, I wondered. Till few days ago, i rarely heard the term “cancer" and barely came across any cancer patient(s). And today, I am standing in a room full of cancer patients. Why are they suffering from cancer? what is their fault? Is it their karma? I was thinking!.
Lost in my thoughts, I was trying to reason myself on behalf of those millions of people suffering from cancer and eventually dying sooner or later. As i struggled, i looked at my wrist watch. It was 930am, the counters were open for public dealing. I was the eleventh person in the queue. The lady at the counter asked me, what is the purpose of my visit? I wanted to scream and ask her why do people come to the cancer hospital?. Bringing my views to check, i controlled, and said i am here for my father’s treatment. She said, deposit Rs10,000, and fill in the form(s), as she passed me a bunch of papers. I said, what for? she said for the treatment. I said, the treatment hasn’t started. I haven’t met the doctor yet. She said this is the procedure. Reading my expression(s), she suggested me to consult the doctor first.
Consult the doctor, I asked what is the difference between the two?. She said for consultation you have to just deposit Rs 1000 and meet the doctor. I took the form(s) and requested for a pen. she flatly refused. I was shocked ( I like my Delhi, at least people are sensitive enough at a places like this). I asked papa to wait for me in the waiting lounge till I go outside and buy a pen. I filled the form(s), deposited the money, and went to two more counters( i don’t know for what, i was made to go from one counter to the other). After running from one counter to the other, finally i was given the file and a token to visit the doctor. It was 10am and i was informed, the doctor would not come before 1130am.Therefore i decided, to have a cup of coffee to restore my drained strength. Papa and I had coffee and settled ourselves at the two seats in the back row of the waiting area.
230pm, papa’s name was called. We went inside, the doctor asked papa, his name and 1 or 2 more questions. He picked up the file, flipped through the pages, looked at papa and then shifted his gaze to me and then back to the file. He said, the treatment papa is receiving is the best and, I asked - he said nothing. This is it !
Of course papa is getting the best treatment, and I don’t need a confirmation for that. I din’t know how to react. I mean a patient who is terminally ill, travels 1500km, waits for 6hrs just sitting and not taking rest ( what he should be doing, actually), and this is what he gets - 2 minutes and something we already know. The doctor din’t even had 5 minutes to spare. After seeing the file and knowing that the papa has very less time. He could have at least pretended to look concerned or may be talked for few more minutes and said some motivation words ( oh! i get it- i should have deposited 10, 000 rupees to get the doctor's attention and time, what a pity!, shameful!). But he din’t, he was one of those doctor who was just doing his job ( to get a fat paycheck at the end of the month, because he trapped those patients who had deposited the 10,000 rupees even before taking the treatment not wasting time on patients like papa who were just taking consultation) .
I have always believed that people who are suffering and are in deep pain, may be will not heal by any medicine or treatment. But saying a few words of kindness will make them feel a lot better. Is being kind so difficult? Was I asking too much? He was rude, Before coming here, I was so hopeful. And now, I was disappointed, I felt bad, I felt betrayed. I wanted to cry. But how can I? I have to be strong for my father, who had put his faith in me ( I am sorry, papa for letting you down, i wanted to say but couldn't). Papa, realized this, he said,”I like Delhi better, I have you and "chutki beti”. Delhi is my home. I want to be home with my people. Let us go back！
We smiled( for each other) and started walking towards the parking area.
Miss you Papa!
No comments:
Post a Comment