by Anirban Bose
‘I have to meet Dr Gomke! It’s extremely urgent. Please!’
‘Thamba! Thamba! Everyone has urgent matter to discuss with madam,’ he admonished, motioning Adi to wait outside. Then, turning around, he disappeared into the room to check on her availability. He reappeared to inform Adi that ‘madam’ would be free in half an hour.
It was two thirty in the afternoon. Adi debated whether to use the half hour to get a Biochemistry book from the hostel. However, concerned that Dr Gomke might leave during his absence, he decided against it. Half an hour, he reasoned, only half an hour…
Adi should have known better. In keeping with the rest of that morning, the hands of the clock moved to 3:30 p.m. without any sign of Dr Gomke materializing. People popped in and out of the room at regular intervals, raising his hopes every time the door opened. But none of the emerging faces looked anything like the one he so desperately wanted to see. Adi waited, venting his frustration by wringing his hands and marching back and forth along the corridor with angry, impatient strides.
In sharp contrast to his fruitless, frustrated pacing, the peon yawned and stretched lazily, barely throwing Adi a glance. He scratched his beard, massaged his feet, cracked his knuckles, poked the crevices between his beetlejuice-stained teeth with a makeshift toothpick, and intermittently vented long bored sighs. Occasionally, he peered at the clock, awaiting the end of his shift.
Adi stared at him helplessly, jealous of the man’s luxury of time, jealous that the same minutes and seconds flitting by left them on polar ends of an emotional scale.
Finally, at quarter to five Dr Gomke called for Adi. By the time he had finished explaining the situation, it was 5 p.m.… fourteen hours to go.
Dr Gomke’s painted eyebrows frowned with concern. ‘Has he been admitted to the hospital?’ she asked.
‘Yes, ma’am. Ward 6B.’
She reached into one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out a few thick manuals. Flipping through the pages she finally settled on one section and spent the next twenty minutes reading it with interest. The peon arrived with a hot cup of tea and placed it next to her on the desk. She ignored it and continued to underline a few passages from the manual and making brief notes for herself. Adi watched with helpless frustration as time evaporated in front of his eyes like steam from the teacup.
Finally, she said, ‘Can you take me to his ward?’
It was more of a command than a request. Although Adi had initially planned to go to the hostel, he had no choice in the matter. It didn’t help that Dr Gomke hobbled all the way to the ward whereas he would have preferred to jog.
Toshi was awake and sat propped up against a few pillows on his bed. The hydration and defervescence had done him some good in the few hours Adi had been gone. In front of him lay Chaurasia; Human Anatomy: Head and Neck.
‘How are you feeling, Dr Lotha?’ asked Dr Gomke.
‘Okay,’ replied Toshi, his voice still weak. ‘I feel very tired… But I don’t want to lose a year. Please help me, Dr Gomke.’
Visibly moved by his plight, she ruffled his hair sympathetically and said, ‘The problem is that the external examiner has left and I cannot make a decision about conducting one single student’s exam later without consulting him. Those are the university rules. Even if I agree, the external may not…’
Adi felt his heart sink. Toshi’s stared blankly at her, unable to react to the discouraging news.
‘Look,’ she continued. ‘I will talk to the external and try and arrange something, but if he doesn’t agree then he may still want to conduct the exam tomorrow. So, try to prepare as much as you can, hmm? I’ll do whatever I can.’
She smiled at him hoping to inspire some confidence. Then she turned and ambled out of the ward.
It was 6 p.m. Adi sighed: thirteen hours to catch up on a sixteen-month Biochemistry curriculum.
He turned towards Toshi. ‘Who got you those books?’ he asked.
‘I asked Sam to get them.’
‘Where is Sam?’
‘I sent him back to study. He has his Biochem practs tomorrow…you do too, right?’
‘Yeah, we’re in the same batch,’ replied Adi, pausing to think for a few minutes. ‘How will you study? Gomke asked you to be prepared too.’
‘I…I’ll manage,’ replied Toshi, his nervous eyes betraying his phony bravado. ‘You go now, man. I think Gomke will get the exam postponed by a few days for me… I’ll be fine. I know Anatomy pretty well.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, man… I’m sure. Carry on, Adi. Thanks for all your help.’
Adi sighed with relief. Thirteen hours to revise Biochemistry was too little, but certainly better than no time at all.
Adi waited for a few minutes, feeling curiously uneasy. Suddenly, his anxiety to return to his books didn’t seem so urgent anymore and even though he wanted to step out, a curious deficiency, as though he had left something incomplete, nagged him. Finally, he sighed, smiled benevolently at Toshi and made his way towards the door.
He had walked a few paces when, on an impulse, he turned around, pointed at his shoulder and asked, ‘Toshi, what is the primary and secondary movement of this muscle?’
The question was simple, by design; one that Adi hoped would boost Toshi’s confidence and, at the same time, reassure Adi. Toshi, unprepared for a question, looked confused at first. He stared at Adi and squinted in an attempt to focus.
Trying to give him a hint, Adi moved his shoulder, expecting him to spew out the simple answer any second.
When Toshi didn’t reply, Adi’s grin disappeared. He suddenly started to feel a hollow emptiness in his stomach. He tried again, making the questions simpler this time.
‘Where is its origin? Where is its insertion?’
Toshi stared at him blankly, his face suddenly rendered expressionless with fear. Sweat began to shimmer on his forehead.
A few other simple questions later, Toshi’s inability to recall a single answer left Adi close to panic. He cried out, ‘At least tell me the name of this fucking muscle, Toshi!’
Rattled into a blackout, Toshi stared at him with the same vacuous look, unable to come up with the answer that could have been expected of a hardworking high-school biology student
Toshi shut his eyes and let his head flop back. Tears rolled down his face. He clenched his book tightly, the grip turning his knuckles white. His doom was imminent: even if the examiners were overflowing with sympathy, they wouldn’t pass somebody who couldn’t remember the word ‘deltoid’.
Adi slumped into a chair next to the bed. He grimaced, unable to look at Toshi and yet unable to look away. He clutched his head and pulled at his hair, unsure of what hurt more: his scalp or the realization that not only was Toshi physically broken, he had broken his spirit.
Adi looked at the wall clock. It was 6.30 in the evening. Twelve and a half hours to go.
There was only one way out. Adi sighed, opened the Anatomy book and said, ‘I’ll teach you, Toshi.’
This time Toshi did not protest.
Fresh from his own Anatomy exams, Adi was well versed in the subject. They began their journey through the human body together: one figure, one page, one chapter at a time, familiarizing Toshi slowly with the origin of muscles, the distribution of arteries, the course of nerves, the location of organs and the movement of bones. Intermittently, he would flop back with defeat. Then, fighting fear, frustration and fatigue, he would begin again.
The nurses in the ward made them tea and cucumber sandwiches. The resident doctor paid them another visit, happy with Toshi’s progress but still unconvinced about the usefulness of their effort. Nobody disturbed them, as Adi worked with Toshi through the stillness of the night.
The sky had begun to acquire a lighter shade in the east when they closed the last of the three books.
As Adi got up to leave, Toshi reached out and hugged him. ‘Thanks, Adi. Thanks so much man,’ he said, breaking into tears.
‘Good luck, To
shi,’ said Adi, fighting back his own.
Adi finally got to return to his room. The Biochemistry books lay on the table exactly as he had left them. He stared at them longingly, overcome by a sudden sadness – as though he had betrayed a good friend.
He decided to shower before heading off to the examination.
The cold water stung his skin like a whip, startling him, and waking him up from the trance-like state he was in. Suddenly, the enormity of his actions confronted him as he stared failure in the face. He hadn’t revised at all: he would fail Biochemistry…fail! Far from his hope of getting a ‘D’, he would lose this year.
A sudden fear tore through him when he realized that this was the moment he had always dreaded. His mediocrity, his well-camouflaged secret, would be finally exposed. He had no way of hiding his unworthiness. He had cheated the system thus far, only for it to catch up with him at a time when he least expected it.
He clutched his head and stood motionless in the cold water, shivering, punishing himself for something he did not understand. He pinched himself, pulled at his hair, and squeezed his head in a vice like grip, hoping for something …anything, to ease his pain. He cried silently, staring at the rising sun with hopelessness. A voice in his head wondered whether he should bother to show up for the exam: the outcome, after all, was predestined.
Adi dried himself and changed into a fresh set of clothes, performing the motions without thought or interest. He looked at himself while combing his hair, and studied his bloodshot eyes for a while. He took one long look at his room, feeling his tears return when his eyes fell on the books lying lonely and forsaken. Fifteen minutes to cover an eighteen-month curriculum – what were the odds? On his way out, he closed the door with a deliberate firmness, letting his hands linger on the latch for a few extra seconds. He wondered why the sun felt so warm as he trudged towards the Biochemistry building.
Adi spotted Sam outside the building. Sam’s back was towards him, while his faithful book of Medical Mnemonics held his undivided attention. Adi heard him recite ‘To-Taste-Ladies-Vaginas-My-Head-Pushes-A-SLIT: Tyrosine, Tryptophan, Leucine, Valine…’
Adi juggled the familiar words in his mind, the obscenity in the mnemonic failing to get his attention. Essential amino acids: that was what Sam was trying to remember.
‘Oh! Hi Adi!’ said Sam upon seeing him. ‘I met Toshi in the morning. The resident let him go to the Anatomy hall in a wheelchair with an IV hanging from his arm.’
‘So Gomke couldn’t postpone the exam?’
‘No, no, man. I think Toshi insisted on taking them today. He joked that he was better prepared than he ever would be. Also, he thinks that the examiners are going to be sympathetic to him, with his IV and all…’ Then, in a more serious tone, Sam added, ‘He told me what you did for him, Adi. He didn’t want your efforts to be in vain. You really helped him, man.’
Adi nodded weakly and made his way to the room where his batch had gathered prior to being called in for the viva. He sat at the back, resigned to his fate, just waiting to get the ordeal over with. His head ached from having stayed awake the whole night, and his throat hurt from constantly fighting back tears.
His batch mates were discussing Dr Singhal’s methods of torture.
‘…He asked what vitamin is associated with the 3 “Ds”…’
‘…Niacin–dermatitis, diarrhoea and dementia…’
Adi recoiled in agony. He hadn’t revised a single vitamin.
‘…there is also a fourth “D”: Death.’
Death. Adi liked the sound of that word.
Death: the final solution to all problems. No exams to pass, no expectations to meet, no more desires and no more sadness – just the tranquillity of a conclusion. Soon it would all be over.
Adi’s heart wept as he fought back the tears that threatened to break loose.
Then he heard his name announced. This was it, he thought. Lamb to the slaughter.
Adi walked inside slowly and took a seat across from the desk where Dr Singhal and Dr Bala (the internal examiner) were busy filling in some numbers while talking in hushed voices. They nodded their heads in final agreement and then turned their attention towards Adi.
Dr Singhal studied Adi through his thick spectacles. His smooth, bald head, framed by an unruly crop of long hair, shone brightly beneath the fluorescent lights. His round face sported a faint stubble which, along with the slightly crumpled shirt and a mismatched tweed jacket, completed the mad-scientist look. His knobby fingers twirled a pencil as he studied Adi.
‘So, have you prepared well for this exam?’ he asked.
Adi smiled nervously and gave a weak nod, wondering if Dr Singhal expected an honest reply.
‘Really? Good. Then you should get 3 Ds!’ said Dr Singhal.
Adi grimaced. This was clearly a harbinger of trouble.
When Adi didn’t respond, Dr Singhal said, ‘Well then, if you are going to get 3 Ds, why don’t you tell me which vitamin is associated with the 3 Ds?’
Adi thought he hadn’t heard him right. His mind raced to recall what he had heard outside just a few minutes earlier. His knees felt weak and his palms turned clammy.
‘Niacin,’ he blurted.
Dr Singhal nodded and asked, ‘So what are the 3 Ds?’
Adi felt nervous with happiness. Careful, do not panic…
‘Dermatitis, diarrhoea and…dementia!’
Dr Singhal looked at him with some interest. ‘Good,’ he said, surprised at Adi’s pat reply.
Adi’s spirits were starting to rise with cautious optimism. Maybe…just maybe, he had a chance…
‘Do you know…there is a fourth D?’ Dr Singhal asked, smiling.
‘Death,’ Adi replied calmly.
‘Good!’ said Dr Singhal. ‘I see you know your vitamins. You must be one of the better ones. How about protein metabolism? Name the essential amino acids.’
Adi couldn’t believe his luck. Silently thanking Sam and his book Medical Mnemonics Adi blurted, ‘To-Taste-Ladies-Vaginas-My-Head-Pushes-A-SLIT.’
Before he had a chance to realize his faux pas, Dr Singhal broke into peals of laughter. Dr Bala joined in, enjoying Dr Singhal’s uncharacteristic mirth. They laughed until Dr. Singhal’s eyes began to water. Then, removing his spectacles and wiping his face with his handkerchief, Dr Singhal said, ‘I have to write down this mnemonic, it is too funny. Tell me once again what you said.’
Adi repeated it somewhat hesitantly. Dr Singhal wrote it down on a piece of paper and read it to himself a few more times, each time finding something else to laugh about.
Then, turning to Dr Bala, he said, ‘He has obviously prepared well and I have not laughed like this in a long, long time! You can go…your viva is over.’ On his way out, as he was closing the door behind himself, Adi heard Dr Singhal tell Dr Bala, ‘He was easily the best one today.’
THIRTEEN
Adi could never have dreamed of such a sweet end to the month-long vacation. The heady results of his exams – distinction in all three subjects and the second rank in class – immediately catapulted him to the prominence associated with such achievement. Sam and Toshi’s description of his ‘heroics’ on the day of Toshi’s illness and his silent suffering after the betrayal of Renuka’s white rose consecrated his accomplishment leaving him a halo short of being beatified by the rest of the class. Slowly but surely, the outpouring of admiration and sympathy started adding up to a constant chatter in the background that Adi would make the natural choice for the next class representative.
He was on top of the world. The power and prestige of the class representative’s position enticed him with unfailing seductiveness. In public, he dismissed the suggestion with an ambiguous nod, neither denying nor confirming his interest. He had six more months to make up his mind, a period that presented a number of other interesting possibilities.
Thirty-three students had not passed, and one of them was Sam. Adi was surprised to learn that it was not Anatomy but Biochemistry
that had turned out to be his Achilles heel. Sam had fallen victim to Dr Singhal’s verbal assault, and had made matters worse by laughing at the taunts Dr Singhal threw at him. Sam couldn’t help laughing at any joke he heard, even if he was the intended target, and his humiliation the intended outcome. This had denied Dr Singhal the sadistic satisfaction of seeing the student sitting across the table squirm at his jibes, and the end result was that Sam was not in Adi’s batch any more.
Toshi managed to squeeze through. He had a particularly nasty attack of malaria that relapsed and ended up leaving him hospitalized for five straight weeks. Upon his discharge, he felt so weak that he was mostly confined to his bed in the hostel during the vacation. He cancelled his trip home, making up some excuse about doing extra clinical work, which his gullible parents, ignorant of his illness and 3000 kms away, accepted with a heavy heart. While this was consistent with the pattern of not informing parents of anything unless it involved money, it left Toshi very depressed. Pheru moved into Toshi’s room during his convalescence – a coincidental juxtaposition of individual conveniences. Toshi needed the company while Pheru, having been thrown out of his room for failing yet again, simply needed a space to stay. Pheru promised to move out once he passed Pharmacology – an event, judging by his efforts, didn’t seem destined to occur any time in the near future. Toshi, on the other hand, began to enjoy Pheru’s company so much that he looked forward to Pheru staying on indefinitely. What had begun as a six- or seven-week trial to tide them over their problems, unfolded into a symbiotic arrangement that wasn’t constrained by time any more.
Rajeev’s lukewarm performance distorted his image as the golden boy of the class. The heightened expectations from the combination of good looks and ostensible brilliance were surreal, and predicated his downfall with a fair degree of certainty. His dwindling glory left him even more reticent, leading him into a world of denial where he continued to believe in his inherent greatness and blame everything on some grand conspiracy in the campus. He restricted himself to his most loyal admirer, Harsha, and his circle of friends was limited to Toshi, Pheru, Sam and Adi.
