Aashram.

Palghar is collage of memories… My memories swing between extremely sad professional experiences and exceedingly satisfying personal growth. Ancient Indian culture narrates a lot about ‘Ashram’s. Serenity of woods, peace of spirituality and wisdom of knowledge together construct the concept of ‘Ashram’. And to certain extent, it was my ‘Ashram’ – learning place, in spite of the most disappointing professional experiences!

On the very first day, a tiny village unfolded in front of my eyes as I followed the curved path in a rickshaw. I had a glimpse of it while in train- I’d entered in the world of emerald..!! A narrow path, clean and green took a sharp turn and led me to a small village school and a primary health center. I halted at the doorsteps of my house- a deserted, old fort covered with wild grass and dust caught my attention. That was my backyard!!! And beyond the fort I saw green world extended towards blue of the sea! A jackfruit tree stood tall at my door steps and few hibiscus shrubs painted the front yard red :-). This was my first ‘date’ with my house!

I took no time to fall in love with it of course; though nights were bit scary at times. With no electricity for hours together, the old fort and autopsy room next to it had daunting effect on everyone around. But most of the times, these nights bestowed most peaceful moments of my life. I enjoyed beloved ‘Megh-dootam’ on a chair below jackfruit tree, underneath twinkling stars or clouds at times, when serenity was bordered with distant roar of night sea. That was the perfect time of life, when in spite of unstable career; I was at perfect peace- on my beloved land, amidst my beloved nature and ever drempt simplicity.

Another road always made my morning walks a wonderful experience. It was a narrow road bordered with tall trees enough to remind me of ancient forests. It led to few poor fishermen houses and sea. I always felt as if I was entering another time, when human species was experiencing crucial phases of evolution. When few temporary houses were built at sea shores and river banks and people with half covered bodies wandered along the sea in the search of food with primitive farming… ah, it was amazing gift of time! When I could think on anthropology and that was the time when I actually could relate my knowledge of medical science to anthropology, evolution and arts! It was the time when I found it all interconnected! It was bliss.

And then, with my mind filled with divine pleasure, I would return to my PHC for my beloved work. Lines of patients always made my day! Here, I experienced that smiles do work!! Sweet words do heal to some extent, yes! The chair, on which I sat, had lost all the trust and respect. I, being very ordinary doctor with very limited resources, could gain it back only with my smiles and tongue and palms. A pat on back and love in eyes built respect and trust. It was miraculous!

I remember those tribal patients, who did not have money to travel and eat, who stayed at places where no vehicle could reach, and who were afraid of my PHC for that place always drained their tiny savings!!!! 100Rs/ saline or glucose, 200Rs/ normal delivery, 15Rs/ injection… it was horrible! And they were always offered two injections- everyone!! One usually contained a steroid and another contained painkiller or normal saline or even distilled water!!! Sometimes they would get the same ‘medication’ on each arm- for just 30Rs! And it was a system! Word ‘system’ itself indicates rigidity and involvement of politics. There were few staff nurses and field workers, who protested change! Played filthy politics and troubled by hideous means! And they claimed to be part of a noble profession! Professional descendants of Joan of Arc!

Hmm, while re-reading this now, I feel, I never felt so bitter about it that time. Even now, when I re-think, I realize that it wasn’t that simple really. Faulty too have their stories. Lives were screwed to great extent; screwed due to poverty, deceits, addictions… I remember long talks with those people as well and I remember that those brought tears! They repeated the eternal sufferings of womanhood. They repeated helplessness of poverty. I lived at two extremes. Extreme security at home in city and extreme insecurity about everything here!

There, I’d big hospitals waiting for me at 5 minutes walk even if I sneeze casually. I slept carelessly in my bed, without even a single mosquito bite! And here… here, a 15 yr old girl got bitten by cobra when she was deep asleep in her own bed in her own house. After her death in my PHC, I could not sleep in my bed for several nights at any place! In PHC, I felt insecure and at home I was uncomfortable with comfort and security I had… when another 15 yr old girl could not have it at her house…

Hmmm, It was an experience… golden days in my life!!