Diwali has always been known as a festival of celebration and homecoming. However, the times witness a good number of students, office-goers and other professionals who could not return home with their family due to study/work commitments. While the world cribs about it, I wish to put in a positive word about the devotion they have for their work which keeps them going. This Diwali, I have written a story to show my appreciation for this devotion.
Speaking of devotion, there's one figure in mythology who comes to mind. Lord Hanuman. The Monkey God who is said to have achieved great feats such as lifting up an entire mountain and carrying it over the ocean. His devotion for Lord Rama, and in extension, His cause, does not go untold. However, there is a slightly less known story that goes as follows.
A small story from the epic, Ramayana, tells us of a day when Sita was engaged in her usual morning routine. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a furry-tailed creature looking at her curiously.
"Hanuman, is there something you want?"
"No, my Lady. Forgive me for asking, but I was wondering what is it that you are putting on your forehead?"
"This? It is just vermilion!"
Hanuman was still confused, "Why is it that you do so, my Lady?"
"Oh! It is symbolic of my deep reverence for Lord Rama, and that by putting this pinch of vermillion on my forehead, I ask the Gods for his long life and safety."
Hanuman nodded intently.
Later that day when Rama walked through the corridors, he noticed a familiar humming coming through one of the chambers. His curiosity piqued, he decided to peek in. He was so amused by the sight he saw, he couldn't help but burst out into laughter.
Aware that his Lord was watching, Hanuman stood up and bowed. He was smeared from head to toe with vermillion.
"Care to explain yourself, Hanuman?" Rama spoke through laughter. Sita, too, had walked in on the hilarious scene and joined in.
"Nothing, my Lord. It was just this morning that Lady Sita was telling me how applying a pinch of vermilion would grant you an extended life," Hanuman said with folded hands, "I, your humble devotee, applied it all over my body so that you may have your eternal life."
"Oh, Hanuman!" Rama, overwhelmed, drew the monkey into an embrace.
Vermilion
Chapter 1
The Primary Health Sub Centre at Drona lay severely understaffed on Diwali this year. The silence bored Dr Kapish, the on-duty medical officer. He had been unable to procure a leave for the holidays; his other colleagues had called dibs on those. Kapish had shrugged it off; not like he had a family to return to. His parents were busy with their hospital, one of his siblings was abroad while the other was on vacation with her husband and kids. He had stuck to serving the community.
As he closed his eyes, he saw the image of a senior doctor, Raghav, who had guided him during his internship. Dr Raghav had been a kind personality. He had once said to Kapish, "We make a small sacrifice every day, but remember," he washed away the little blood on his fingers, "every small act is an act of great devotion."
Chapter 2
Raghav was a different person altogether, 'I could never be like him,' Kapish thought.
He was aroused by the aroma of freshly brewed tea. The old staff nurse, Mrs Anjali Raut, had brought him a cup as well.
"How does it look?" she asked, looking towards the lamps and candles she had placed at the doors and on windowsills.
"Couldn't have been better!" The aroma of the scented candles was mildly annoying to Kapish. But Mrs Raut had worked hard for it, much less thought about the fragrance of candles before purchasing them. Mrs Raut had been widowed by a stroke over a decade ago. Ever since she celebrated Diwali at the sub-centre. She would prepare plentiful of 'faraal' at home and distribute it among the doctors there as if they were her own children. And indeed, Mrs Raut had been like a mother to Kapish and there wasn't another staff nurse he could tolerate.
"Diwali seems pretty light this time," the nurse remarked.
"It always is, isn't it? so I am told. Everyone can bear a little cold or a cough until the celebrations are over. And I think that's fortunate because the centre at Andhup has been shut down for inquiry."
The Andhup Primary Health Centre served as the main health centre of that area. Their subcentre was merely a political gimmick to be praised on paper. Yet, patients kept trickling in week after week, satisfied with the scarce tablets and injections that were given to them. Now that Andhup was shut down, they'd have to refer patients to the District Hospital 50kms away. Unsatisfactory.
It was unusually humid that day. Mrs Raut blamed it on the pollution produced by the firecrackers which could be heard in the distance, Kapish knew it to be due to late-onset rains. In fact, he was sure it would rain that night. And it indeed did. It poured.
Chapter 3
The rooftop rain gave melody to the ticking of the wall clock. Kapish had dozed off to sleep. It didn't seem like he was needed anyway. Mrs Raut looked off into the distance.
It was past midnight when she noticed them. A man in a yellow kurta had heaved himself onto the steps of the sub-centre. He was one of many penniless village folks who could barely earn enough to live comfortably but celebrated Diwali with great pomp. Yet today was not a day of celebration, for in his arms were weighed down by both, his wife bleeding to an oncoming death, and the grief of it. It so happened that while decorating their shack for the festival, the tin structure had given away under her feet, and she had come crashing down with it. Multiple cuts and lacerations had drained her body of its vital red fluid, which now mingled with fresh water of the rain and trickled down the coarse fabric of his kurta.
Words were not spoken, because Mrs Raut had jumped out of her chair and rolled out the gurney. Within minutes, the injured woman was in the examination room.
Kapish had woken up to helplessness.
"There's too many of them," he lightly examined the injuries, "We usually send these over to Andhup."
"But Andhup's closed..."
"The District Hospital..."
"It will be too late..."
"I'll call an ambulance anyway!" Kapish headed over to the phone as the thunder rumbled on―
"Heck! It's dead."
"The rain must have caused it."
"I'll give them a call on my cell phone."
"She is bleeding, doctor!" the patient's husband cried out, tears still rolling down his eyes, "Do something!"
"She'll need fluid, Nurse, secure an IV line please!"
She was conscious, he had noticed. Thank goodness. She was drowsy. Not good. But the fluid would revive her.
The lights went off. They had to.
'Damn this village of a place!'
The three solemn souls stood stunned in the silence, illuminated only by the light of the candles and earthen lamps around them.
"I need to stop this bleeding immediately. Do we have suture material here?"
"We might have some thread back in there," Mrs Raut motioned toward the storeroom. "I'll get it for you!"
"No wait, you focus on the IV catheter, I'll go. It will save us time. Where will I find it?"
"Somewhere in the boxes on the top shelf―"
Kapish had hurried out of the room. It was pitch black in Storage. He felt around; there was the fridge to his left, the records cupboard to his right.
"Ow!" His knee had banged in straight on a stool. Limping, he went on, he had reached the open stack of shelves where all material was placed. By instinct, he grabbed a bottle of fluid, possibly normal saline. He took another and placed both at his feet. But he had come for the suture thread. It wasn't something you could reach out for in the darkness. He moved his hand along the top shelf. There was a box, he pulled it down. Papers, a bunch of them. Can't be this one. He resumed his search. Another box, he went past it. End of the shelf. Okay, so this must be it. He put his hand inside. There were a lot of things there. He probed around; syringes? needles? cotton? Some box medicine, perhaps. The clock was ticking.
"I have no time for this." He picked up the bottles of fluid, grabbed the whole box and hobbled out of the room.
Chapter 4
"This is getting difficult!" Kapish exclaimed.
It wasn't, (yet.) Mrs Raut had successfully gained IV access and was now hooking up normal saline. She had also instructed the accompanying husband to wash his hands off the blood, lest he gets infected as well.
"You! Show me some light." Kapish instructed the man and passed over his phone to him. The phone's torchlight beamed through the yellow ambience of little fires around them.
'What should he do first?'
Torso? Clear, just abrasions there. Abdomen? No, clear. Scalp? Lacerations there, but no active bleeding. Face? Same.
Limbs? Okay, that's where the blood is coming from. There was a deep cut extending from the outer aspect of her right thigh to her knee, then pausing at the joint for another cut to rise from the other end and go all the way down to the ankle. Fractures were obvious. The tissues at the elbow too had been cut through and her right forearm flailed at her side.
'Okay, I need to achieve haemostasis. Just stop this until the ambulance arrives.'
He chose to begin with the thigh. He just had to get it closed for now, the orthopaedicians would later get it fixed; some simple sutures would do the trick. The first stroke of the needle went through, the thread ripped through the fragile skin and came out loose. More blood. It was going to be a long night.
The thread was coarse, unlike the fine material he was used to, back at the hospital. But it was strong and sturdy and would suffice. Most of the blood would clot, but a huge gaping wound was highly vulnerable. It had to be closed.
"Mop!" he shouted in a whisper to the nurse. She obeyed.
A section of the big wound had its edges brought into apposition. The bleeding there had ceased.
'Where the heck is the ambulance?!'
His fingers and wrists were sore. The patient might not have been ready for ambulation, but the doctor accompanying the ambulance would be of great assistance here. There was blood everywhere. Some splattered upon his clothes and shoes. His gloves were soaking in it, a bit overflowing to his forearms. His brow itched, but the only way he could relieve it was scratching it awkwardly with his arm.
"Light!"
'Come on, Kapish, you can do it. Just go on, rhythmically, steady, steady.'
Chapter 5
There were no sirens, but the rumble of the engines was a sound of relief. It was dawn, and after getting delayed due to a landslide, the ambulance had arrived. The doctor and nurse had jumped out of the vehicle and had rushed in to aid.
Kapish was half-dead by this time. The patient was drowsy but arousable. Her limbs had been stitched. Her scalp was shabbily decorated with mattress sutures. Some small wounds remained open, but Kapish had neither will nor the energy to go on. He jerked off his gloves and dumped them into the trashcan. Unperturbed, Mrs Raut was softly cleaning the wounds; the two visiting medical professionals joined in to help her with the dressing. She had rested herself hours earlier upon a stool as her legs could not hold ground any further at this age. She wobbled continuously as she moved to bring in the gauze pads from the trolley. But aching limbs are no match for a bleeding soul, and her duty asked her to nurture the second. The patient was being tended to. Everything was well. An hour and a half later the ambulance would reach the hospital.
The patient's husband handed over Kapish's phone to him. The exhausted doctor–now sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall–reached out with shaking, powder-smeared hands. No calls.
Just one message.
Dr Raghav, his guide, had passed away peacefully in his sleep last night. Kapish did not react― could not. His head hurt. His legs pained. His hands cramped up. He sighed, stood up, unbuttoned his bloodstained lab coat and hung it on a nearby hook. The little logo embroidered on his shirt reminded him of his good days back at the hospital, but now this subcentre was where he was needed. That's where he would be. Never had he ever been through a time as tough as this. But he was a fully grown doctor now. He saved lives, he had to.
'I hope the patient recovers soon. I do not know why I have to see such suffering,' he thought through his fatigue, 'Oh God, if only you had a little mercy on your humble devotee!'
Shaken, Kapish drove off on his scooter towards the rising sun.
Cover Image Credit: Karolina Grabowska from Pexels