How To Take Sting Out of Human Being

Malaria has always been a dreaded disease, and the saga of humans trying to end the fight against it goes on and on, even as the R&D experts among the Culex and Anopheles mosquito tribes promptly find antidotes to any insecticide developed by man.

In my childhood, health department workers made rounds regularly, enquiring at doorsteps if anyone carried malarial symptoms. He would typically ask if anybody had been sensing feverish shivers. Often, the old woman in the house would rebuke, “You’ve muck in your mouth, may you perish for asking if anybody has fever and shivers without discerning there may be some festival or celebration in the house!”

Later I joined the Army, where precautions against malaria are adhered to religiously. An accepted scripture goes thus, “Sundown Sleeves Down”, implying soldiers should cover the body with minimal exposure to guard against mosquitoes. One has to apply dimethyl phthalate—a repellent—on exposed limbs, face and neck. The mosquito nets are also a must for every soldier.

Despite these measures, there always are some cases of malaria in the army. Soldiers contract the disease while on leave or traveling.

My batman, Sepoy Tarsem Singh, once visited the medical inspection room in the battalion as he had symptoms of malaria. The regimental medical officer, who the jawans called Captain Saab, was away with the neighbouring unit for field firing. The nursing assistant, or “Doctor Saab”, was available and he ensured Tarsem Singh swallowed six pills of chloroquine.

Then the senior JCO (junior commissioned officer) of the company reported the symptoms to the subedar-major of the unit (as is the norm). The subedar-major made Tarsem Singh gulp another six tablets of chloroquine. The next day when the commanding officer (CO) was on his rounds, the subedar-major explained to him why Tarsem Singh was resting during duty hours.

The CO asked for chloroquine tablets and gave Tarem Singh a third dose. Whether he had the virus or not, Tarsem Singh was so thoroughly treated for malaria that it killed his appetite, too. No wonder, he went without food for several days but stayed fit enough to perform his duties.

A week later, the senior JCO whetted Tarsem Singh’s appetite by forcing him to drink a litre of milk every day. His comrades started calling Tarsem Singh “Gadder” (corruption of “girder”—the strong bar used as building material)—a moniker that stayed with him till he retired.

There’s a story about a few youngsters betting on streaking. One youngster took the challenge and drove a motorcycle without clothes through a busy marketplace. The stunned onlookers were tongue-tied when enquired about the incident, which was reported by someone covertly.

The youth was led to the head of the institute where he studied. He pleaded guilty and confessed. The blithe head of the institute ruled that the boy be awarded the punishment of “displeasure not to be recorded”. For the “incident after sunset” he faced the mild charge that “the youngster did not observe anti-malaria precautions”.