I hate going to hospitals. I can never make anyone laugh there and mind you, I’ve made people laugh in hell. I will only go to a hospital if someone takes me forcefully.
Anyway, I had to go to Osmania General Hospital the other day for a legal purpose. I was there for only 15 minutes and this is how I felt.
I got down at the nearest metro and took an auto. I had already told the driver to drop me at Osmania General Hospital. He just stopped at a place where there was no board, no red cross, not even a vague plus sign. I asked if this was the hospital and he said, ‘Yes, just cross that garage pile and you’ll find it.’ I got down wondering why he couldn’t drop me at the entry. When I reached the gate, I realised why.
The garbage dump suddenly felt like Lumbini Park in comparison. My first thought: Ebola must be in the air here. I knew I shouldn’t go inside without a space suit, but I had to settle for a mask.
One generally expects a pharmacy outside a hospital. But this is Old City. I only found utensil shops near the gate. Luckily, one paan shop was selling masks. The masks were hanging in open air, joyfully collecting smoke, dust, and Zika virus. They were marinating in air pollution.
I convinced the guy to take one out from his box, but not before he gave me the most judgemental look and said loudly, ‘If you’re that posh, why are you here at Osmania?’ I could’ve told him, but then I’d have to kill him. So I let him judge me.
When I went inside, I saw the building; it was built in 1919. Back then, it must’ve been the Cares and Apollos of its time. But now it felt like maybe someone might survive cancer here, but they sure won’t survive the ceiling, which was shaking like a guy who drank free booze at a wedding and is ready to collapse any second.
See, I understand it’s a government hospital and like this government, it’s going to be subpar but still, it was a visual shock at every head turn. At one point, I saw a criminal who was cuffed in one hand and had an IV drip in the other. That’s when I knew this would make a good article. So I looked around.
I shouldn’t have.
What I saw can’t be expressed in a humour column but only a horror column. I had to cross a general ward to meet the doctor for my legal formalities. I won’t describe what I saw, but after that, I asked my friend to stand right in front of me. I told him I’ll be staring into his eyes till this ordeal ends, because I couldn’t look anywhere else. It was bromance without a song, a tree, or a choice. He was also scared, so he stared back. The whole situation was so tense that it felt like we were in an Anurag Kashyap courtroom drama shot in Blair Witch style.
Work done. Exodus mode on. I looked down, made no eye contact, walked fast, and reached the gate. Then I sent a message to my father, someone I’ve resented all my life. I texted him, ‘Thanks. You did fine. I mean, none of us ever had to come here. So whatever you did, worked.’
The place was icky, but what stayed with me were the doctors. They’re more qualified than me, studied harder than me, and they come to work here every single day. They even eat lunch here. That’s not just a degree, it’s a spiritual calling.
I wanted to shake their hands. But I felt a salute would be safer, which I did. Then I came home, buried the clothes I was wearing, and washed myself with Harpic.
Very happy to know that this hospital will now be moved. I just hope it happens soon. Before those walls file a resignation letter of their own.
Sandesh
@msgfromsandesh
(This comedian is here to tell funny stories about Hyderabad)
(The writer’s views are his own)