The Letters ?

Prabhu was sitting in his room working on his laptop. He looked at the door and found a letter. He read and got worried. There was a single word written in red - DANGER.

“What’s this? What does it mean? Is it a prank? But I’m staying here for a month only, nobody knows me well ”, Prabhu was mumbling under his breath. Thousands of unusual thoughts tried to scare him. The more he was thinking, the more he got confused.

Prabhu Sarkar, 22 years old, completed his MBBS course at a government hospital in West Bengal last year and joined as a medical officer in a block hospital far away from his native place. He badly needed this job due to the financial crunch in his family and accepted this remote place for his service without hesitation. He went through many ups and downs in his short life, and challenges have become part and parcel of his life. When he visited the place, he felt like quitting the job for a while. The hospital building looked worn out, the doctor’s cabin was untidy with tattered bedsheets, and the medicines on the shelf looked outdated. He came across a good number of unexpected deaths within a month. Amidst all these messes, he was pleased with the rural people for their simplicity and warm hospitality. They, especially Hari Kaka, staying a few houses ahead, offered him homemade foods, and fresh vegetables, and it was like an extended family within a short time. He couldn’t think about what a single village person could do.

But who can write such a letter to me? he continued muttering.

‘Prabhu sir? What are you talking about under your breath? Are you okay?’ Raghab, a tall, thin middle-aged fellow with multiple scar marks over their face, the compounder of the pharmacy, entered the room. He was very jubilant, a kind of extrovert, and guided Prabhu as an elder brother.

Prabhu showed the letter and asked, ‘Who could send such a letter to me ?’

Raghab went through it and laughed out loud, ‘ It’s such a sick prank, ignore it, sir. Patients are waiting outside for you, please come and start check-ups. It’s already half past five .”

Prabhu kept the letter over the table and left the room. While attending to patients the thought of the letter vanished from his mind.

The following day, he woke up early. It wasn’t even dawn. Outside was still pitch dark and icy -cold. Wrapping himself under the shawl he came out and discovered another letter near the main door; written in black colour – LAST WARNING. RUN. 

This time he was panic-stricken, and immediately rang Raghab. Within five minutes, Raghab and the caretaker hurried into the room. The caretaker , a fragile old fellow of the mid-seventies, denied the presence of any unknown person outside. Raghab assured him that they would talk to a higher authority the next day and, if required, inform the police station.

Early in the morning, the local head counsellor and two police constables met Prabhu. The counsellor was reading the letters and frowned his eyebrow , ‘Oh shit . How can it be possible? The same handwriting, the same paper texture.’ He muttered to himself. He looked a bit muddled and called Dactarsaab, an 80-year-old person who practised in the village for the last sixty years. 

Everyone called him Dactarsaab, A tall skinny old man of eighty with freckles all over his body, very kind to the village people He read the letter and gave a sigh, ‘Oh, he has come back; he will not allow this poor young man to work here

‘Who has come back?’ Prabhu screamed 

‘That’s a horrible story, sir. Around fifty years back, a pregnant lady died during delivery in this same hospital, and her family members claimed that the doctor posted was responsible for it. After the court's case, the doctor was relieved, but he didn't escape from her ghost . Every night , he started getting such letters, initially, he ignored them. One morning, he was found paralyzed, his limbs were not moving at all . He was scared and confined to his room . Later he informed me that he saw the same lady in a white saree. He left the place the next morning .’

‘What a rubbish story, It must be done by her family members to take revenge .’ Prabhu yelled at the counselor , ‘Any further incident ? “ 

‘Mostly no, sir, but this post was vacant for ten years before you’. replied Raghab , his eyes looking tense .

‘Ten years? Who used to see patients during this period ? No doctors in this whole village? How can it even be possible?” 

“I am there, young man. My nerve is still vital to manage my poor men ,’ Claimed old Dactarsaab , chuckling , ‘Raghab and his father know me very well; they call me for my opinion when they are in any doubt .’ His mouth was now broad with a grin . He looked satisfied suddenly . 

“Ok. Then what about ten years ago , I mean to say before the last one ?’ Prabhu was curious 

‘One old physician was there, and he practiced for ten years; he was alone and died here .’ 

‘Oh . How did he die?’

‘Oh, my kid , you're so snoopy . He had a cardiac arrest , age related , he was a chronic smoker’ The old man started coughing .

The discussion ended there, and Prabhu returned to his room , tired but not scared now . 

                            

He rang his uncle, the chief police inspector in the town. He assured Prabhu not to be worried and will look into this case. The next day, he was talking with Raghab, “were you aware of all these past events ?’ 

‘No sir, I know a little bit, I was a kid when all these happened’ He looked distracted 

‘Do you know anything more about that doctor who was in my post ten years back ?’ My voice was inquisitive .

“ Oh, he was kind of an odd sir. He stayed alone, with no family, talked less, was a chronic smoker and alcoholic, but he stayed here for ten years .’

“Did he never get such letters’.?

“I don't know sir, mostly not’ 

‘How did he die?’

“He was fully drunk the day before he died. The next day morning he was found dead in his bed and our dactarsaab declared it as a cardiac arrest ‘

‘No post mortem ?’

‘Hehe , you are kidding sir. Who will do a postmortem in this remote village? 

‘Who is this dactarsaab? Is he MBBS ?’

‘I don't know sir , may or may not be. but he is so generous , he serves all the people kindly ‘ 

Prabhu remained silent , absent minded , Raghab left .

The next day , Prabhu again called his uncle to meet him once . He came to the hospital, saw both the letters, and started checking the handwriting of all persons working in the hospital . With Prabhu , he went to the dactarsaab's home and verified his old records . He was not an allopathic doctor , but he used to practice as a doctor for a long time, and he had no medical practitioner license. But , this practice is so rampant that it was a herculean task to take action . He mentioned this to Prabhu. His handwriting was also not matching .

Then they went to Raghab's home , a small single story home , one room was locked from outside . Raghab informed us that it was the pharmacy room when he was a kid long back, but now it has been closed for ten years . He stayed with his old father who was also a pharmacist and trained his son . We discovered an old man , crippled , bedbound and has paralysis of all four limbs for the last ten years. He refused all sort of modern treatment and wished to die asap .

That night, Prabhu was reading a novel . Suddenly he heard the voice of Hari Kaka outside . Prabhu came out . Hari Kaka was screaming , ‘Please come , my Dulal is not moving his legs for the last two hours ’ 

When Prabhu discovered Dulal, he was conscious, but all four limbs were paralyzed.

‘How did it happen? ‘He asked

‘While I was going to my office today , I met Malati, the maid in dactarsaab home. Both of us were in the same bus and carrying similar tiffin boxes. While getting down from the bus , I mistakenly took her tiffin box. When I reached my office , I saw it was a delicious meat preparation, and I tasted it and finished also . See, there is the box.’ Dulal replied , breathing heavily.

Prabhu asked Hari Kaka to immediately arrange a van as he had to be shifted to the town hospital. He called his friend and arranged a bed in the town hospital . He called his uncle to remain ready with force as something unusual might happen. Within 30 minutes , the van came, and they left for the town hospital. Prabhu did not inform anyone though Hari was requesting to disclose to Raghav if any immediate medicines could be given After they left , he came to his room and lay down; he had made his dinner two hours back . Sarada , the maid of this hospital quarter , used to cook food and deliver it in a tiffin-box .

‘Both boxes are exactly the same looking ’, Prabhu was puzzled , felt aghast . 

It was pitch dark outside , gloomy , the trees were standstill . Suddenly he heard a female voice coming from distant and opened the window . He saw a silhouette of a female in a white saree strolling into the garden . He immediately called his uncle, and the whole police force covered the place . They caught the lady, and it turned out to be Sarada . On interrogation, it was revealed that Sarada was Malati’s own sister . In the meantime, Prabhu’s friend called him and informed him that Dulal was intoxicated with some neurotoxin found in the meat. He was treated with the antidote and out of danger. This chemical must be created in some laboratory .

The whole incident was now transparent to Prabhu . The old Dactarsaab was the mastermind behind all this. He instructed his maid to mix the toxin in food and hand it over to Sarada , but it was mistakenly taken by Dulal . What Prabhu ate for dinner was the home food by Hari kaka . They planned to paralyze Prabhu and frighten him with Sarada. But who supplied the toxin?

 Suddenly an idea clicked in his mind and he told his uncle to go to Raghab’s place . He opened the locked door and found Raghab’s old father was busy preparing some chemicals. He was not paralyzed at all, and there was also a cannula in his hand. 

 

Prabhu smiled at his uncle, ‘This old fellow is the scientist behind it, he made all these chemicals and I think he used to poison himself slowly and acted paralyzed in front of others.’

‘These two old combos are great’; Prabhu’s uncle laughed with a sigh.

The handwriting exactly matched with Raghab’s father . Raghab accepted that he knew something about these things, but not all. Prabhu was shocked, silent, stony silent. The next day, while checking his emails, he found a message sent by his uncle - It is better to have an honest enemy who slaps you in the face than a false friend who stabs you in the back.