Forsaken and forlorn, Amit contemplates suicide. Dr. Priyamita weaves a saga of his life’s journey, exclusively for Different Truths.
The dogs outside the emergency gate barked. Care-worn patients filled up the beds in the ward. And their family members loitered around listlessly all over the medical college campus. It was just like any other day.
It was 3 am. Amit double-checked the syringe in his hand. He had taken six vials of morphine in it. He had nicked these vials from the nurses’ station over two weeks, whenever he had night duty (if he had taken them at one go, he might’ve aroused suspicion).
Administering Injection
Now comes the tricky part, he thought. He had to administer this injection intravenously (i.v.) into his arm so that the effect was almost immediate. Administering the injection intramuscularly (i.m.) would’ve been much easier but he did not want a long and arduous process. He had contemplated writing a suicide note but at the last minute decided against it. No, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
It was 3 am. Amit double-checked the syringe in his hand.
The MD/MS PG (post-graduation) entrance exams’ results were out two weeks ago and just like last time, he didn’t qualify. He knew what his father would say, “You kids have it so easy nowadays. I was the first doctor in our family. It was so difficult for me, yet I studied further after MBBS. I was working during the day and studying at night. I aced all the exams, did my MD while working in a rural setup. I could never dream of wasting my time writing poetry like you. If you would’ve just studied a little harder….”
It’s not like he did not study. He had slogged every day and burned the midnight oil preparing for these wretched exams but yes, ever since Ayesha had left him, he could not concentrate on his studies like before.
Ayesha Agarwal. The name itself made him wince like a cold dagger was being twisted in his insides. How he wished he would have never met her. She hailed from a wealthy Marwari family – beautiful, smart, ambitious, and a straight-A medical student (class topper). Almost all the boys in his class were infatuated with her.
The name itself made him wince like a cold dagger was being twisted in his insides.
He never thought that he, a middle-class Bengali boy, bespectacled, awkward, goofy, lanky, and average in studies, would ever have a chance with her. She was way out of his league! He remembered the butterflies he had in his stomach the first time she had appreciated his poems in the college magazine.
First Poem
The floodgates opened. And the memories came rushing back. The first poem that he had written for her was titled, “Give me Back my Heart”. He had handed her the poem silently after class.
The next day, after the Anatomy class, Ayesha had taken the jar containing the human heart from the shelf containing all the organs and marched up to him. Looking at him straight in the eye, she had asked him with an impish grin, “Is this yours?” amidst much hooting and cheering.
He remembered spending the whole night standing under the banyan tree near the girl’s hostel on her birthday, while she peered out from her dorm window and waved at him. He recalled that one time in the college fest. when she had taken alcohol for the very first time in her life. She ended up vomiting several times, while he held her hair over the washbasin.
He recalled walking together at the crack of dawn, both exhausted after their night-duty in the emergency ward and sipping tea in the tea stall just outside the emergency gate. That day when she had told him how much she was missing homemade Marwari food and he had tried to prepare Dal-bati churma in his hostel room. It had turned out to be a gooey mess. And how she had burst into peals of laughter!
Last month, when she told him that her family was coaxing her to get married … he wasn’t surprised.
Last month, when she told him that her family was coaxing her to get married and had found a prospective groom for her, he wasn’t surprised. The chap was some big-shot Marwari doctor settled in the USA. He always knew that it was going to be a rocky road for both, and they would have to do a lot of cajoling to convince their respective families.
Averted her Eyes
What shocked him, though, was the way she averted her eyes while telling him this, the way she said, with a note of finality in her voice, that she couldn’t let her family down and her father would never approve of their match…
Amit couldn’t recall the exact things she had said. He felt that his world came crashing down. He didn’t even try to convince her or make her see reason. He had always thought that if push comes to shove, they’d elope.
He was shaken out of his deep reverie by the shrill bell of the emergency. He checked his watch. It was 4 am. He was technically still on night duty, but he had come to his room (junior resident doctor’s room) only after checking on all the patients. This must be a new case in the emergency, he thought. He hastily shoved the morphine syringe in his top drawer and rushed out.
A young lady, 22-years-old, was lying in front of him. She was heavily bruised. He was told by the nurse that she had sustained multiple injuries after being beaten black and blue by her husband. Such scenes were common in a government hospital and the doctors didn’t even bat an eyelid while examining such patients.
To his surprise, the patient’s name was Amrita which was incidentally his mother’s name. As he bent over her, she whispered hoarsely, “I want to live. Please don’t let me die…”
After an hour, Amit returned to his room. On a whim, he called up his mother.
“Ma, ki koro?”
“Ma, ki koro?” (What are you doing, Ma?)
“It’s 4:30 in the morning. What happened? Are you okay?” his mother sounded flustered.
“I’m okay, Ma. The results were declared. This time also I didn’t qualify in the MD/MS,” he replied in a broken voice.
Study Again
“But that’s okay, you can study again. One more year. Or you can practice, somewhere closer home. Are you worried about what baba will say? Don’t be. He doesn’t understand what the competition is like. You are so busy studying these days, you hardly ever have time for anything. You don’t even write poetry like you used to. I’m always worried about you. You sound so stressed nowadays. Why don’t you take a break? Do you want that? What do you want?”
Amit’s voice choked with tears, “I want to live, Ma. I just want to live!”
“Come home to me, Amit. Just come home. Don’t worry about anything.”
Amit carefully disposed-off the morphine syringe… and packed his bags.
Amit carefully disposed-off the morphine syringe, went to his hostel, and packed his bags. For the first time in almost two years, he returned home.
The dogs outside the emergency gate barked. Several care-worn patients filled up the beds in the ward. And their family members loitered around listlessly all over the medical college campus. It was just like any other day…
Visuals by Different Truths
By
By
By
By