The Last Wish-I

Dr Rajesh checked his phone. There were twenty missed calls. He switched it off and again entered the operation theatre. The intestinal surgery was a very complex operation. He had to remove a one-foot-long large intestine ruptured by an ulcer from an eighty years old patient. He had to call a few other surgeons as there was a possibility of multi-organ failure due to the old age of the patient. The first half was very smooth, but the second half was the most delicate and risky one. Finally, he could remove the damaged intestine without any major setbacks. It took twelve long hours to complete the procedure. When the operation was over, he had no energy to move his legs even. His eyes were automatically shut due to exhaustion. He took only four cups of coffee during the entire procedure. After cleaning his hands and removing the surgical apron, he hurriedly walked into his private chamber and lay on the sofa. In a few seconds, he fell asleep.

A loud knock broke his sleep. He looked at his phone, it was 1 am. A nurse opened the door, and said, “Doctor, someone from America has called thirty times on the reception number. I have told him to call tomorrow but he is not listening. So, please attend the call. He is on the line.” Dr Rajesh kicked his shoes and said, “Just leave me alone. I need some sleep. Please get some food and a bottle of water for me. Just cut the call.” The nurse wasn’t ready to go. She repeated, “Sir, the caller is very abusive and adamant. So, please attend the call unless he won't stop.” Dr Rajesh shouted, “For God’s sake, leave my chamber. Just say to him, I am in the operation theatre. Just leave me.” She hurriedly left the place.

At dawn, he woke up. He saw his phone. It was 5:30. There were fifty calls. He smiled and rang the bell for a cup of coffee. The untouched dinner plate was still kept on the tea table. The mineral bottle gave him some relief. He emptied it in a few seconds. In the meantime, a waiter appeared with a cup of coffee and a few cookies. Dr. Rajesh threw the cookies into his mouth and opened the window screen. He pulled the armchair near the window and sipped the hot coffee watching the thick fog shrouded the capital city with its cloud of mist. From the tenth floor, the city looked like a flying plane with only one distant high tower visible. The coffee cleared his night’s stress. Now, he was ready for another hectic day.

Dr Rajesh loved long showers. After a long bath, he changed his clothes and rushed to the hospital cafeteria for morning breakfast. Nobody liked to be with him because of his unpredictable rude temperament. He was an unsought bachelor surgeon at 45; he still led a life like a college boy. His full time was spent in the hospital only.

Like any other day, he began with a visit to the ICU ward. Most of the patients were under his supervision. So, he stopped at every bed to interact closely with each of them. One junior doctor and two nurses were beside him taking notes. He was eager to see Hemant Giri, an eighty-five years old man whom he had operated on the previous night. The old man was sleeping. His gentle touch on his hand opened his eyes. He anxiously greeted him, “Hello Doctor, Good morning.” Dr. Rajesh massaged his hands saying, “Now, you will be alright. All your stomach pain will go. It is a matter of four to five days, and then you will be discharged.” The old man was silent, and there was an untold pain in his eyes. His eyes were sunken under his cheekbones. His static vision was bereft of any interest to see. Dr. Rajesh had already spent forty days with him, and he could understand every nuance of his facial expression. He massaged his cold wrinkled hand, and consoled him, “Uncle, your son will come after some days. Don’t worry. I called him in the evening yesterday. He is very busy with his office work.” There was no reply from the old man. With shifty eyes, he continued, “You know, he called me fifty times yesterday. Really, he cares about you a lot. He inquired everything about your operation. He was unwilling to cut the phone till he was fully convinced about your wellbeing.” The old man couldn’t control his emotions, “Rajesh beta, there is a limit to lies. How much would you lie to me? I could understand your feelings but I know my son better than you. Your thoughts about me are nobler than my own son. He would call only to know if I am dead. Would you lie like this to your own father?” Dr Rajesh ran out of words. He avoided looking at his eyes and called the nurse to see the blood sugar report. The loud shout shook the nurse. She appeared with a long report. Dr Rajesh thoughtfully observed, “The blood sugar has shot up. Now, double the dose of sugar medicine. Check the sugar after 5 hours and inform me.” The nurse was scared to see his face. She replied, “Yes, sir, but the sugar level is very high. If it doesn’t come down.” Before she could finish her sentence, he said, “I know but we have to wait for another day.”

In his career of thirty years, Hemant Giri was a unique case. The old man had no relatives, no acquaintances, no visitors, and no neighbours. His son, an IIT graduate, was settled in the US with his batchmate wife. It had been almost twenty long years since they last visited him to attend his wife’s funeral. At that time, he was a college professor. His wife died of cancer in the year he retired. Life had been merciless on him since then. One caretaker named Siru brought him to the hospital unconscious. He looked after a big house owned by Hemant Giri. The son wanted to sell the house when he would die. That’s why he had been calling Dr Rajesh to know if his father was dead or not. Dr Rajesh was the only connection between the ailing old father and the uncouth son.

Siru arrived in the afternoon. The nurse reported about the self-imposed fasting of the old man. Hemant Giri had even stopped taking routine medicines for recovery from the surgery. Dr Rajesh fumed at the report and rushed to the ICU. The disobedience could be life-threatening. Hemant Giri avoided his look. Dr Rajesh requested him to take the pills. He had covered his full body to prevent any intravenous injections. The doctor was not in a mood to persuade him. He pulled his hands and held them tightly, and asked the nurse to inject the medicine. The old man didn’t try to resist, yet there was an inward non-cooperation in his willful surrendering to Dr Rajesh. Both exchanged no words. The nurse murmured in a low voice every now and then but after Dr Rajesh’s reprimanding her mouth was shut. Siru was watching the entire scene at a distance. He wanted to talk to his master but the old man signalled him to leave the ICU. He left the place with watery eyes.

Dr Rajesh’s observation was flawed. Siru informed him about the old man’s suicidal tendency right on the first day when he was brought to the hospital for his chronic stomach pain. The doctor took this as a challenge and tried to offer every possible comfort only to change his mind. In the process of changing his mind, he developed a bond with the old man. Both of their stories had similarities. The only difference was age. The doctor had embraced solitude by choice. Dr Rajesh’s self-imposed isolation from the family, friends, and patients sometimes triggered his suicidal thoughts but he never allowed those to dominate his life. He willfully opted for an escape route. He worked day and night in the hospital to overcome his pain of isolation. His close association with the old man firmly cemented his willingness to live. In the old man’s death wish, he found his own meaning of life. Now, he realized, he had failed as the old man was still willing to die even after a successful operation at such an age. His attempt to cure him physiologically was successful but he failed to arouse his interest to live at heart. How to succeed at that, he had no idea. He adopted two techniques in life: either to dominate others or to surrender to whom he couldn’t. Now, if he was unsure of what to do. His both ways of managing others would lead to death. The old man’s disinterestedness to live had an echo of his own instinct to leave the world. He hoped for a reconciliation of his opposing thoughts. Then, he whispered to the nurse, “Don’t get carried away by the disobedience of Hemantji, just you need to cure him. I shouldn’t hear these silly things again. Neither, I will remove you from the ICU.” Annoyed, he left the ICU. The nurse's murmuring resumed after his departure. The old man turned his side and opened his eyes. She vented her anger at him, “Oh, God, save me from this demon doctor.” Hemant Giri smiled. At least, there was someone who could vent her anger on him.

Dr. Rajesh’s phone started ringing again. It was the old man’s son calling from the US. The last time he spoke to him was on the day of the operation. He had no interest in talking to him. He switched off the phone and entered the OT to perform another operation. The old man occupied his thoughts. After hurriedly finishing the first operation, he instructed the OT in charge to postpone all minor operations to the next day. He wanted to come out of the hospital to breathe in fresh air. He removed his car from the basement, lighted a cigarette, and drove away from the city on the NH towards the east. The forest began shortly after he passed the toll. He opened the window glass and switched on the FM. The high-beat song didn’t interest him. Then, he put it off. The large trees on both the sides of the single lane NH shadowed the road with its strange shape of shadows. He stopped his car and started walking in the shadows. He tried to figure out the shapes of shadow. After walking a few meters, he saw a meadow. Then, he climbed on the top of it and lied down there watching the open sky. Through the gaps between the expanding trees, he could see the blue sky majestically staring at him, laughing at his restless self. He felt sleepy. Turned his face opposite and rested his head on his hand. It was soothing. He dreamt of his childhood days. He was an actor and all the shouts and shrills of his father and mother were his rehearsal for his solitude in his youth. He smiled at himself. A butterfly sat on his head. He couldn’t feel its presence. Then, he saw hundreds of yellow butterflies flying towards him. He turned his face upward. All the tiny yellow creatures flew above his face. He felt better. The butterflies were dancing to some unknown tunes. The distant hissing sound of the breeze chilled his body. A loud ringing of his phone broke the rhythm of his thoughts. He picked up the phone to answer, “Dr Rajesh, I have been calling you for three days. Just answer my question, is my father alive? I will give you one crore if you fail to cure my father. You know, our house would fetch four crores. You will take one and I will have the rest. I have lost my job here but I am not in a position to return to India. I have to clear my house loan, car loan, health insurance loan, and firm loan before leaving. I am trapped in the web of loans here. So, help me. I have requested my father a thousand times to sell the house and help me but he is adamant and unchanged in his decision. He is ready to die but he wouldn’t help his son. So, you can help me. I beg before you. If you wouldn’t help me, I would commit suicide with my wife and little daughter.” Suddenly he cut the call. He didn't even wait to hear his reply. Dr Rajesh threw his phone angrily.

After some time the phone kept ringing continuously. He thought to break it. Then, he crawled to see if it was the call of Soumya, the son of the old man. He received the call as it was from the hospital. Hemant's condition was deteriorating fast and his pulse was irregular. Then he ran to his car. In a few minutes, he reached the hospital. He rushed to the ICU. A doctor was taking ECG readings. Seeing him, he stepped aside. Dr Rajesh opened Hemant’s eyes and checked his mouth. After one long beep, a stream of long paper came out of the ECG machine. He saw it minutely and then shouted, “Get the oxygen mask, and arrange the ventilator now.” In a fraction of a second, the ICU staff arranged every machine required. Dr Rajesh injected three syringes and kept two pills under his tongue. Then, he waited for the reading on the ECG machine. In a few minutes, he was stabilized. All breathed a sigh of relief after all parameters started to show normally on the screen. Dr Rajesh wondered how the condition eroded so fast. After a thorough diagnosis he concluded, “Hemant uncle, now I am fed up with you. You are not trying even a little to cooperate with us. If you are hell-bent to die, then first get well, then go from this hospital and commit suicide on the railway track but I will not allow you to die here.” The other doctors and nurses were silent at his loud burst. The old man was still listening but had no response. He continued, “You have stopped breathing and this whole drama is a result of that.” He ordered the nurse, “Now, put him on high sedatives for one full day, and then call me. Till then, let him sleep.” He left the ICU. Hemant smiled inside the oxygen mask at the doctor’s helplessness.

Dr Rajesh took the lift to reach the rooftop of the six storied super speciality hospital. He lit a cigarette and walked to the edge of the roof. Sitting in his favourite place, at the pine basement, he puffed out the smoke. He looked around. The city was invisible, but it was not night. Everywhere dust rose high. Noises of factories and vehicles were playing hide and seek with the deafening sound of aeroplanes and railways. Amidst such chaotic sound and unsettling fog, his thoughts were taking a deep dive into his inner soul to find a solution to the father-son problem. He started pulling the smoke heavily but his mind went blank. Then, he lit another cigarette, and looked at its fag end closely, threw it on the ground, and crushed it with his shoes. He took the stairs to climb down.

A big gift pack from a stranger was waiting for him in his chamber. He opened it. It was a vanilla cake, on its top “One Crore” was written with yellow strawberry chocolate cream. His blood ran hot. He threw it through the window. Then, he dialled Soumya, the old man’s son. At the first ring only, the answer came, “Dr Rajesh, I knew, you will get furious, and call me to scold. I am ready to bear your anger but I mean what I have said.” Dr Rajesh shouted, “You idiot, how dare you to talk like this to me. I am the last person to do it. Stop this nonsense, and remember, don’t call me again ever. You are an uncouth scoundrel son. Let God not give a son like you to anyone!” A loud laugh from the other end infuriated him, “And, what about you. Are you a good worthy son? I know everything about you. Your father hates you, your mother died because of you, and do you remember your sister, she committed suicide as you disapproved of her marriage with a Muslim. So, Dr Rajesh, your father is in an asylum under the strict observance of Dr Sharma, and it is very easy to manipulate his health with some money. You know, everyone is after money nowadays.” He cut the call and kicked his table in anger. The bottle and the glass fell down the table scattering water all over the chamber. Soumya opened the window of his most forgettable past with his evil intentions. A stream of tears rolled down from his eyes. He opened a diary from the drawer. As he opened its first page, his tears became heavier.