Saturday, September 7, 2013

"One more patient"

Beethoven's fifth symphony. One of the most powerful music ever composed. The distinct rise at the beginning; followed by the fall, then the gradual growth again. I fell in love with it many years back. As they say once you are enticed by that beautiful piece of music you will find it hard to go back.

Nurse asked if she should get the phone. She is new. The regulars know that this ringtone is assigned to my other love. She’ll be calling to tell me she reached. She can wait. While this patient cannot. Road traffic accident it seems. What do we know but what the patient party tells us. Even in the casualty they tell stories to keep their side safe.
I told her I’ll be done in 10 minutes. Well that was around 40 minutes ago. I don’t think anybody would understand my duties so well.
Patient is conscious but numerous bruises on the face. Only after the blood and dirt is removed you get to know the full extent of his injuries. Sometimes it is not as bad as it appears. From the looks of it all the major arteries are intact. It won’t take much time hopefully.
The fifth symphony. Again. She will be waiting outside. She has been with me long enough to know my 10 minutes might go up to an hour or sometimes more. She will be probably calling to see whether I am stuck with the paper works. She sometimes helps with those stuff.
 If only the patient knew what and all thoughts that go through our heads while cleaning up the wounds. Sometimes the training and your instincts take over and let you do certain procedures with ease.
“Doctor one more patient. They are trying to stabilize her”
Almost one hour since my duty got over technically but I am still here. I looked at the clock, making it obvious for the nurse that I am looking at the clock.
“Last patient sir; promise” nurse said with a smile. I was amazed at the ability of the nurse to smile at that moment.  Her cheerfulness was contagious. Last patient it is.
“Take my phone, call Sarah and ask her where she is.” I said as I walked to that patient on the other side of the casualty.
Her ringtone becomes louder and louder. She is already here? I thought of looking around but she shouldn’t be inside the casualty. I first saw that lady holding her phone, one look at the patient told me what I feared.
Everything went black. I think I fell down.

(I got the idea for this story from a real life incident where I couldn't meet an old friend due to my professional responsibilities. I was feeling bad about it but then I realized that is how it is gonna be. I accepted the fact that sometimes or most of the times professional commitments might stand in the way of personal ones. Beethoven's 5th symphony is indeed a masterpiece, it is worth listening to.. )

Monday, September 2, 2013

Memories. .

It has been a long hiatus from the blogosphere. A series of personal and professional commitments came during the last three months and I am still not settled.
Above all my grandfather, who was an inspiration for me to start writing passed away one month back. He has published one novel and 3 short story collections. His stories were simple and gave out a message to the readers. He put across his ideals and principles of life through his stories. The stories are simple enough to emotionally connect with the reader. As he himself tells in the foreword, the stories had come to him while he visited various places across India. Stories of people.
He has read only my first story and he pointed out certain flaws in it but was happy about it. I was apprehensive of showing him my later stories and I did not show him anymore. Simply because he was an authority in English grammar and I was not very good at it. Also I thought my content and language might be offensive but what did I know.
 I was with him for quite sometime in the hospital and that had given me a new perspective of life. The days were basically spent talking to him as he was fully oriented and had an excellent memory till his end.
I also got the single copy of his first book which was published around 40 years back. Till then I had read only his recent books. Reading those stories I realized the violence streak I sometimes have in my stories might be hereditary because unlike his later stories those stories were violent and brutally emotional. Now I regret not showing him my stories and missed his valuable observations.
The most important lesson I learned from him is not to be in a hurry, fate will twist you, throw you and take its own sweet time. We just have to be prepared.
He left us all with a great deal of memories.

May his soul rest in peace.
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