Soumya tells us the plight of a doctor whose non-doctor wife could never understand his plight. A Different Truths exclusive.
The discussion in the bar had shifted to marriages.
The gin-and-tonic was a widower, a senior citizen, and nostalgic about his great marriage. The young beer guzzler was single and apprehensive about changing the status. The newly married small whiskey was very enthusiastic. The middle aged single malt was cynical. The Patiala peg travelling salesman was divorced and relieved. But the rum and coke young doctor told a somber tale with a moral, which I will relate here, in first person as usual.
“Doctors should only marry other doctors, or the marriage won’t last,” was his grave pronouncement.
Piqued, we asked him to elaborate. He did. This is the rum and coke doctor’s story:
My colleagues were cooperative and would often cover for me on my turn for night duty at the emergency ward.
“I had an arranged marriage, with a very pretty girl from a rich family of my hometown, and we were staying in the staff quarters, some distance from the hospital, where I was a house surgeon. As any newly married couple, we were all lovey-dovey, and wanted to spend as much time together as possible, especially the nights. My colleagues were cooperative and would often cover for me on my turn for night duty at the emergency ward. There was a practice among doctors to take on other’s shifts, which had to be reciprocated later. I had been accumulating a lot of such favours to be returned since my marriage.
One day, my wife told me that her brother and family are coming over, and I was to return early if possible, and bring some sweets. I happily agreed, as it was a light workload day.
But, as luck would have it, one of my colleagues, whose turn it was for night duty, and whom I owed a few favours, had an emergency at home and requested me to cover for him.
But, as luck would have it, one of my colleagues, whose turn it was for night duty, 
and whom I owed a few favours, had an emergency at home and requested me to cover for him. There was no way I could deny him. So I explained the situation to my wife, and said that she won’t be alone, and to manage for the day. She grumbled and pouted and accused me of having emergencies to avoid my in-laws, which wasn’t true at all, but I was helpless.
Anyway I stayed back, along with a few new interns, dreading the ire of my young bride when I would face her next morning.
It was a pleasant night, with a slight drizzle, and the interns decided that we should get some ice-cream to tide away the time.
That day was one of the rare days when there were no crises and hardly any patients in the emergency room during the graveyard shift, so we whiled away the time chit chatting. It was a pleasant night, with a slight drizzle, and the interns decided that we should get some ice-cream to tide away the time. The new interns by turn treated the group to snacks when we could spare time. It was the turn of a young lady this time, and she was to get it from India Gate, the nearest outlet for ice-cream past midnight. As I was the only one with a vehicle, I could not turn down the request of this young lady to give her a lift and be her chaperone as it was a late hour and Delhi is an unsafe city.
I, therefore, took out my bike and we went down to the India Gate lawns to pick up the ice cream. The night being so pleasant and there being no work in the hospital, I agreed to her suggestion that we stroll around a bit and have our ice cream there itself.
We were chatting and laughing, when there was a tap on my back.
We were chatting and laughing, when there was a tap on my back. “So, this was your nighttime emergency?” said a familiar sweet voice, sounding rather shrill and terrifying.
I turned around to see that my wife also had the same idea, and had brought her brother’s family to India Gate for a stroll and ice cream.
Four pairs of accusing eyes stared at me, one at the brink of tears. Ignoring my stammering explanations, she turned around and left.
Explanations about colleagues and rare crisis-free days by SMS were unanswered.
The evening spoiled, I returned to the hospital crestfallen. She didn’t take my calls. Explanations about colleagues and rare crisis-free days by SMS were unanswered.
I returned the next morning to find the house locked. Neighbours informed me that she had left for our hometown with her brother.
“That was the last that I saw of her. She has filed for divorce. A doctor would have understood. That is why I say, doctors should only marry other doctors.”
Photos from the Internet
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Soumya- Maybe to some extent it is true that similar profession people may understand each other well, however trust and faith are the major ingredients for any couple above anything else.
But each person is a product of their experiences and this is a view to respect! Thanks