The romantic notion of "serving" the undrepreviliged people with compassion and sympathy once you graduate from Med School is somewhat an illusion, rather than being rooted in any reality. True,there are many successful doctors out there who do their bit for society..but fresh graduates do not relish the idea of serving some remote village unless its out of compulsion,or if they are paid well,or both.In my case,it was compulsion that forced me to for the post of Medical Officer in a rural area for a period of one year immediately after i finished my internship. Having had the most gruelling,yet one of the most memorable experiences of going through a five and half year long MBBS course and enjoying the crazy revelries that come with hostel life,the idea of going to some godforsaken nook of the state hardly appealed to me.
Nahira can hardly be called a small village. The population exceeds 19000 people approximately,and its the second largest village in the district. My first thought about Nahira as my car swerved to leave the highway and enter this huge village was of just how clean it was. Typical rustic images flashed by me...farmers looking tiny as they worked in large fields, lazy village school bells signalling the end of classes followed by barefooted children scampering about, youths lounging by the pond with their fishing rods n nets in place, women weaving in their courtyards...and as the noise and traffic of the highway fell away,it was all tranquil somehow. And right in the heart of this sleepy village was the hospital which was to be my workplace for the next one year.
It took me quite sometime to convince people that I was a doctor (being a female is quite a handicap in these parts)...and even longer to assure them that it was perfectly by my own choice that I wasnt married..the latter being more of a concern with the old dames,some of whom gave me a sorry look once informed of my unmarried status. But slowly and gradually, hesitation gave way to familiarity..and inturn,provided me with many memorable experiences during my time there.The population is an almost equal mixture of Hindus and Muslims,although their pockets of habitation are strictly exclusive within the village. Superstition and prejudice are quite commonly encountered and these simple people choose to cling on to them rather than believe otherwise. I had patients who insisted on tying charms around their arms and wrists so tight that they would cut into the skin,or even compromise circulation,but to persuade them to loosen the holy thread was quite an uphill task. Some were visited by Gods in their dreams and one even came to me asking for eyedrops so that he could see the Goddess more clearly as the vision in his sleep was hazy,although he had no such problem of hazy vision during the day.
Rural hospitals are not equipped to handle extremely serious patients or terminal illnesses etc,as a result of which,once these cases are diagnosed,we refer them to a higher centre for treatment after properly counselling them. I came across patients fighting cancer,couples coping with infertility, patients for whom dialysis is as unthinkable because of the expense as much as it is possibly life-saving...treating these patients was beyond me,and talking to them was the only way I could somehow help. Some would take the news stony faced,while some would break down...and this was the most difficult of all my duties.Counselling,or talking to patients has its own quirky side effects. The middle aged and elderly female patients loved to share their family tales,curse their husbands,daughter-in-laws,fate,fortune and pretty much everything else. Cutting them short in the midst of their earnest storytelling would be rude,and on the days I didnt have a long queue of patients waiting, I enjoyed listening to these women. Some attributed their vague arm pain to a fall four years ago,some lamented that a lazy daughter in law had given her a backache. The men weren't very far behind either. Aches and pains were the usual complaint,and more than medicines,all they wanted was a Medical Certificate so they could have off days from work.
Womens liberation hasnt reached the confines of this village yet. What was really ironical that almost all girls were literate,and families made sure their daughters completed school,a few of them even managed to complete graduation. But education is usually a certificate for eligibility for marriage,as educated girls are more in demand in the matrimonial prospects. I met a few girls who were graduates and even working before marriage,but were forced to quit after they got married,usually to a boy who would be a school or college dropout. Some continue working as a compulsion as their husbands chose to stay at home at will. Sons are treasured,valued and hero-worshipped and these young men seem to enjoy the luxuries of unemployment and the benefits of having a working wife,mother,or sister. Housework being beyond them since they are men,they chose to spend their days among friends over cards,carrom and the like. Domestic violence is strife,and whats really sad is that even literate,working married women find the idea of standing up to their husbands unthinkable.Society as a whole is orthodox,with religious and caste prejudices very strictly adhered to. The village has a huge pond with trees bowing over it and I found sitting by the pond on summer afternoons enjoying the cool breeze very peaceful. On remarking about the beauty of the place,the receptionist of the hospital,a young girl from the village,told me wistfully she never had the experience since the area around the pond was out of bounds for "her people".
Winter mornings were one of my favorites. Patient load reduced drastically and with nothing better to do,the hospital staff would make arrangements for a bonfire and over cups of tea and the warmth of the fire, they would exchange stories and keep me updated with the latest village gossip. And my,was there gossip to be had! Young couples eloping, girls running away to supposed "lovers" waiting for them in the city, familiar faces spotted walking hand in hand at some Puja pandal,nightly visits and escapades..each bit of information was divulged to me as if I was being bequeathed a rare treasure.
Winters are ideal for picnics and cook-outs and we planned accordingly for the same. The menu was decided after much discussion,money was pooled, a cook was hired and plans were finalised. Looking back, I dont remember what exactly the food was like,but the delight of people laughing and working together and enjoying the camaraderie was what will stay with me for sure.
As my tenure at Nahira State Dispensary draws to a close, I have much to look forward to professionally. I know I am finally free of the compulsion of rural posting and now I can take the time off and use it to prepare for my Post Graduation. Maybe someday,I will come back here...and sit by the pond or the river embankment,enjoy some tea with the staff,catch up on some gossip..someday,when the noise and rush of the city gets too much for me,I now know I can always come back to the tranquility of Nahira.
Nahira can hardly be called a small village. The population exceeds 19000 people approximately,and its the second largest village in the district. My first thought about Nahira as my car swerved to leave the highway and enter this huge village was of just how clean it was. Typical rustic images flashed by me...farmers looking tiny as they worked in large fields, lazy village school bells signalling the end of classes followed by barefooted children scampering about, youths lounging by the pond with their fishing rods n nets in place, women weaving in their courtyards...and as the noise and traffic of the highway fell away,it was all tranquil somehow. And right in the heart of this sleepy village was the hospital which was to be my workplace for the next one year.
It took me quite sometime to convince people that I was a doctor (being a female is quite a handicap in these parts)...and even longer to assure them that it was perfectly by my own choice that I wasnt married..the latter being more of a concern with the old dames,some of whom gave me a sorry look once informed of my unmarried status. But slowly and gradually, hesitation gave way to familiarity..and inturn,provided me with many memorable experiences during my time there.The population is an almost equal mixture of Hindus and Muslims,although their pockets of habitation are strictly exclusive within the village. Superstition and prejudice are quite commonly encountered and these simple people choose to cling on to them rather than believe otherwise. I had patients who insisted on tying charms around their arms and wrists so tight that they would cut into the skin,or even compromise circulation,but to persuade them to loosen the holy thread was quite an uphill task. Some were visited by Gods in their dreams and one even came to me asking for eyedrops so that he could see the Goddess more clearly as the vision in his sleep was hazy,although he had no such problem of hazy vision during the day.
Rural hospitals are not equipped to handle extremely serious patients or terminal illnesses etc,as a result of which,once these cases are diagnosed,we refer them to a higher centre for treatment after properly counselling them. I came across patients fighting cancer,couples coping with infertility, patients for whom dialysis is as unthinkable because of the expense as much as it is possibly life-saving...treating these patients was beyond me,and talking to them was the only way I could somehow help. Some would take the news stony faced,while some would break down...and this was the most difficult of all my duties.Counselling,or talking to patients has its own quirky side effects. The middle aged and elderly female patients loved to share their family tales,curse their husbands,daughter-in-laws,fate,fortune and pretty much everything else. Cutting them short in the midst of their earnest storytelling would be rude,and on the days I didnt have a long queue of patients waiting, I enjoyed listening to these women. Some attributed their vague arm pain to a fall four years ago,some lamented that a lazy daughter in law had given her a backache. The men weren't very far behind either. Aches and pains were the usual complaint,and more than medicines,all they wanted was a Medical Certificate so they could have off days from work.
Womens liberation hasnt reached the confines of this village yet. What was really ironical that almost all girls were literate,and families made sure their daughters completed school,a few of them even managed to complete graduation. But education is usually a certificate for eligibility for marriage,as educated girls are more in demand in the matrimonial prospects. I met a few girls who were graduates and even working before marriage,but were forced to quit after they got married,usually to a boy who would be a school or college dropout. Some continue working as a compulsion as their husbands chose to stay at home at will. Sons are treasured,valued and hero-worshipped and these young men seem to enjoy the luxuries of unemployment and the benefits of having a working wife,mother,or sister. Housework being beyond them since they are men,they chose to spend their days among friends over cards,carrom and the like. Domestic violence is strife,and whats really sad is that even literate,working married women find the idea of standing up to their husbands unthinkable.Society as a whole is orthodox,with religious and caste prejudices very strictly adhered to. The village has a huge pond with trees bowing over it and I found sitting by the pond on summer afternoons enjoying the cool breeze very peaceful. On remarking about the beauty of the place,the receptionist of the hospital,a young girl from the village,told me wistfully she never had the experience since the area around the pond was out of bounds for "her people".
Winter mornings were one of my favorites. Patient load reduced drastically and with nothing better to do,the hospital staff would make arrangements for a bonfire and over cups of tea and the warmth of the fire, they would exchange stories and keep me updated with the latest village gossip. And my,was there gossip to be had! Young couples eloping, girls running away to supposed "lovers" waiting for them in the city, familiar faces spotted walking hand in hand at some Puja pandal,nightly visits and escapades..each bit of information was divulged to me as if I was being bequeathed a rare treasure.
Winters are ideal for picnics and cook-outs and we planned accordingly for the same. The menu was decided after much discussion,money was pooled, a cook was hired and plans were finalised. Looking back, I dont remember what exactly the food was like,but the delight of people laughing and working together and enjoying the camaraderie was what will stay with me for sure.
As my tenure at Nahira State Dispensary draws to a close, I have much to look forward to professionally. I know I am finally free of the compulsion of rural posting and now I can take the time off and use it to prepare for my Post Graduation. Maybe someday,I will come back here...and sit by the pond or the river embankment,enjoy some tea with the staff,catch up on some gossip..someday,when the noise and rush of the city gets too much for me,I now know I can always come back to the tranquility of Nahira.
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