Though I have enjoyed a robust constitution all my life, I once fell seriously ill. This was decades ago when I was a college student in Kolkata and out of the blue, I began to vomit blood. Naturally, my parents and family doctor panicked. I was rushed to the hospital at once. It was touch and go in the beginning, but I pulled through with timely administration of saline and blood transfusions.
I have been hospitalised a couple of times since then for minor things but this first experience of hospitalisation has remained etched in my memory for various reasons. For one, the first experience of anything is memorable. Further, the doctors had practically no idea what was wrong with me as all the tests performed for stomach ulcers came back negative.
I was a “rare case” and medical students came to examine me with much interest, each trying to diagnose the mystery ailment. But by far, the most important reason for remembering my hospital stay were the mashis who looked after me.
I don’t know if the system is still followed in Kolkata but in those days, hospital patients could engage personal attendants called mashis to look after them. Mashi in Bengali means aunt (mother’s sister).
The mashis were not trained nurses and were usually illiterate women hailing from poor families. They performed all the “dirty” jobs of nursing like giving the patient a bath or sponge bath, attending to their toilet needs and other such duties. They were at the patient’s side at all times and at their beck and call. They would massage away aches and pains, provide company by chatting and simply be there.
My father organised for me to have two mashis, one for the day and the other for the night. They were two gentle ladies, willing to do anything to ease my pain and keep me comfortable. I regret that though I still remember the names of the doctors who treated me, I have completely forgotten my mashis’ names. However, I can recall their faces distinctly; I often think of them and include them in my prayers. It is doubtful if I could have survived my ordeal without their gentle ministrations and loving care. They were angels.
Pragati Nayak
Email: pragati.16017@gmail.com