by Iram Dana
“Doctor...I need help!” he panted, “please.”
He extended his arm to show the doctor his rapidly swelling hand which was now turning blue at the knuckles.
The doctor led him to a bed, asking him to calm down as he examined his hands gently.
He gave a few instructions to one of the nurses who was hovering nearby and then turned to look at Diego through concerned blue eyes.
“What is your name, young man?” he asked, drawing a chair next to the bed and sitting down on it.
“Diego”
“Okay, Diego. I’m Dr. Hope.” He said, smiling and taking Diego’s hand in order to examine it again. “You seem to have fractured your hand pretty badly. Can you straighten your fingers?”
Diego tried, but pain ripped through his hand again and he stopped, gasping for breath.
“Hmm… looks worse than I thought. Let’s take an X-ray to see the extent of damage, and then we’ll decide if you need to go in for surgery or just a cast will do.” said Dr. Hope, moving out of the way of the two nurses who were closing in on Diego already, leading him to the X-ray room.
Diego paled. Surgery? This meant sharp instruments. This meant … needles! No!
He was as brave as they came, but needles? They scared the life out of him.
“I don’t want surgery.” he said in a panicked voice.
“Relax. Just let me have a look first … then panic.” The doctor smiled warmly, but Diego could not see the joke being made here.
He looked around, wondering at his chances of an escape. The in- house hospital was a very futuristic looking place with machines that Diego had only seen in science fiction movies. There was even a very sophisticated-looking operation theatre.
“Wow, this place is equipped.” Diego said to the nurse preparing the X-ray machine.
“Yes. All thanks to Dr. Hope. He makes sure everything here is in top order and nothing is lacking… I’m Generosity, by the way.” she said, adjusting his hand to take different angles. Diego noticed the wide gold band on her right wrist. The doctor was wearing one, too. It had an emblem of a dragon’s head on it - the image they had all come to associate as the symbol of Mt. Chimpu. Maybe this was some kind of uniform they all had to wear in order to be recognized as staff, surmised Diego.
Nurse Generosity finished taking the X-ray and asked Diego to go lie down outside and wait while she developed the film.
When he walked back into the room, Diego was greeted by the sight of a haggard looking Sierra sprawled over the bed he had vacated only minutes ago.
“It’s not working, doctor…” Sierra was saying weakly, “I need something stronger.”
“Well, well. Look what the wind blew in.” remarked Diego, sitting down on the opposite bed.
Sierra was eyeing him suspiciously.
“What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” Sierra mumbled.
“Yeah, as soon as I changed into my superman costume.” said Diego sarcastically.
“Go away.” said Sierra, motioning with his right hand and then leaving it dangling limply from the edge of the bed.
Diego turned to Dr. Hope. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked.
“Just a bad case of indigestion.” replied the doctor.
He handed Sierra some pills and a bottle filled with electrolyte solution.
“Here, take these twice a day. Keep off of solid food for two days. Just have soup and juices. See me on the third day.” he instructed Sierra, who took the pills and gulped them down with some of the liquid. He heaved his body off the bed, shuffling slowly to the door.
Dr. Hope turned to Diego. “Diego, while we wait for your X-ray reports, why don’t you tell me how you fractured your hand?”
Diego’s eyes flew to the door where Sierra had stopped short and was now turning around, slowly making his way back into the room.
“What the hell are you coming back in, for?” he snapped at Sierra. “You’re done, now go!”
“Not a chance!” smirked Sierra, who seemed to be getting better by the second. He seated himself on the bed again and looked expectantly at Diego.
“Go on, D, tell the doctor how you fractured your hand.” he encouraged.
Giving Sierra a glare, Diego turned reluctantly to face Dr. Hope.
“I… ah … it was… um…fell…and, err…an accident.” he mumbled incoherently.
“I’m sorry? Could you be a little clearer?” Dr. Hope asked. “Did you say you fell?”
“Uh… yeah, it was a fall.” Diego said, looking intently at his injured hand.
“Where did you fall from?”
“Er…the stone…ah, I mean, the bunk…”
“You fell from your bunk onto your fist?! “ Dr. Hope asked, looking skeptically at Diego, who continued to stare at his hand as though determined to hypnotize it.
“It was….somethinglikeanaccidentssgmfff….” he muttered, trailing off into gibberish.
Dr. Hope leaned back in his chair, silently regarding Diego through perceptive eyes. He looked at Diego’s hands and Diego guiltily set them down and shifted his focus to Sierra, glaring at him stonily.
After several moments, Dr. Hope spoke again;
“I think I understand what happened here. I can see that you are wearing the Ring of Gera.”
Diego’s head snapped towards the Doctor.
“Yes, I know what that is and I know what it does. And I also know that you, young man are going to Mrs. Will when I am done here with you.”
“No!” gasped Diego.
“Yes.” said Dr. Hope, firmly.
“But why?!” cried Diego, too agitated at the prospect of having to endure a session with Mrs. Will to bother with hiding his emotions.
“Because today you probably smashed a rock, but tomorrow, it could be one of Master Shengdu’s unfortunate disciples. I have to do what I can in order to prevent that from happening. Sorry.” Dr. Hope replied solemnly.
Mrs. Will was in charge of the Discipline Room. It was in a separate wing of the monastery where sequestors who displayed rash or errant behavior were sent as a punishment. Privately, it was referred to as the ‘torture chambers’ by the sequestors. It was a dark and dreary room, divided into many separate cubicles just like an office. In each cubicle was a chair and a mirror, kept facing each other. This was no ordinary chair; it was called the ‘Chair of Purpose’, because anybody who sat on it could not get up until his purpose for sitting on it was achieved. The mirror facing the chair was no less special. It was called the ‘Mirror of Fear’, because whoever looked into it would see whatever that person feared the most happening to him.
The sequestors were made to sit on these chairs and look into the mirror until they felt truly sorry for their actions. Diego, always fist-happy, had been here several times and would see himself as unbearably ugly guy whenever he looked into the mirror. Sierra, who had been here only once, had been aghast to see himself weak and starving, and made a vow never to visit the Discipline Room again.
As he contemplated the imminent trip to the Discipline Room on top of the prospect of having a needle jabbed into his skin, Diego’s face crumpled into a mask of agony.
“Can I at least have a painkiller, Doc?” he pleaded.
Dr. Hope looked at him sympathetically and handed him one, which Diego gulped down with some water, then sat back glumly as Dr. Hope studied the X-ray reports hand to him by the nurse.
“Well, Diego. There’s good news. You won’t need surgery. Just a cast”
At this, Diego’s face sagged with relief. He watched Dr. Hope put the cast on his hand. Wincing in pain every now and then as the doctor gently turned his arm around, plastering it quickly with expert movements.
Sierra, who had been watching all of this with silent amusement now spoke up, “Doc, this is the Sighing Mountains and we are on Mt. Chimpu …so how come all of your medicines and equipments are so… real? Don’t you have some magic potion that miraculously heals all fractures and stuff like that?” he asked.
D
r. Hope peered at him from beneath bushy eyebrows.
“Good point, Sierra. And the fact is that Master Shengdu could easily heal Diego in a few minutes. He has the knowledge to.” he replied, lifting Diego’s hand in order to examine his finished work.
Sierra and Diego both opened their mouths to speak at the same time but were thwarted by a lift of Dr. Hope’s fingers.
“Wait…I know what you’re going to say. Why am I going through all this trouble then, correct? We want you to know the value of life. If your injuries were healed in minutes and seconds, soon you would all be breaking one another’s bones for no apparent reason. That’s why we heal the normal. So that you have to bear the pain, the scars and the memories these injuries bring. Hopefully these will deter you from repeating mistakes made once. Do you understand?” asked Dr. Hope, looking at both of them.
“Now Diego, that fracture will take a good three months to heal completely, I’m afraid…”
“Three months!” gasped Diego, “What will I …how am I supposed to train…?”
Dr. Hope raised a hand again, stalling him.
“I’m giving you some painkillers, take them only if the pain becomes unbearable. Otherwise, try to brave it out, okay? And take care of that hand or it will take longer to heal. About your training, speak to Master Shengdu. Now run along both of you. I’m sure you have better things to do.” he said, ushering them to the door.
He saw the look on Diego face then.
“Well, at least one of you does…” he amended, watching them make their way out of the room.
Then he got up and started clearing up his workstation, whistling softly to himself.
*****
That night, as Diego finally walked into his room tired and irritated, he found Sierra up on his bed, looking much better and reading a book. Ashitaka was over at the study-table by the corner, busy fixing somebody’s broken watch while Moto-the-pansy, as they called their fourth roommate, was fast asleep, snoring sonorously.
“Oh, man…” groaned Diego, “somebody shut this guy up ‘cause I need some sleep and I need it bad.”
Realizing the imminent danger to Moto, Sierra quickly grabbed one of the pills Dr. Hope had given, pulled out his slingshot and skillfully shot it into Moto’s open and drooling mouth. Moto gave a hack and a wheeze and then took a great big swallow. Mumbling, he turned to his side and fell promptly asleep again. The snoring had stopped - at least temporarily.
He looked at Diego, giving him the thumbs up sign. Diego looked at Sierra skeptically. “Wasn’t that your ….?”
“Yeah …” Sierra nodded happily, “my medicine to stop the loose motion.”
“It’s gonna stop a lot more than his snoring.” snorted Diego.
Just then, Moto gave a wheeze thrashing around restlessly. He kicked his legs a bit and then settled onto his back, beginning to snore again, twice as loud as the first time.
Diego scowled and advanced towards Moto, hand balled into a fist.
“D,wait!” Sierra stopped him, “are you crazy? You’re gonna sock it to him?”
“Your method didn’t work, did it?” retorted Diego.
“Just let me try once more. There are easier ways to handle this.” replied Sierra, climbing down from his bunk. He looked about the room, searching for some way to effectively stop Moto’s snoring. His eye fell on Moto’s foot dangling precariously from one edge of the bed, and he reached over and pulled one of Moto’s smelly green socks off. He winked at Diego, and then stuffed the sock in Moto’s half-open mouth. Moto drew in a few labored breaths through the toxic looking sock, and then there were no more sounds.
“There!” Sierra turned to Diego with a flourish. “How difficult was that?”
“Is he even alive?” Ashitaka asked with concern, looking from one twin to the other.
“I know I asked you to stop his snoring, but I didn’t mean permanently.” said Diego, moving closer to Moto in order to pull the foul smelling sock out of his mouth.
“No, no D. Let him be. He’ll survive this, trust me. It’ll improve his immunity.” said Sierra, climbing onto his bunk again.
Diego looked at Moto again. The guy seemed to be breathing as yet, so he let the sock be. He turned towards his bed only to find Ashitaka staring at him, jaw hanging.
“What?” snapped Diego.
“Your hand…” trailed off Ashitaka.
“Yeah? What about it?” Diego glared, silently warning Ashitaka to shut up or choose his next words carefully.
“It’s broken… why did you go to the doctor? You should have come to me first.”
“Why?” asked Diego, thrown off for a bit.
“Because I would fix it for you!” he guffawed, oblivious to the way Diego’s jaws snapped shut and the muscles in them clenched and relaxed as Diego fought to control his temper unsuccessfully. He started towards Ashitaka menacingly but was stopped by Sierra’s restraining hand on his shoulder. He turned to glower at Sierra, who silently shook his head, mouthing the word ‘No’; directing a meaningful glance at Diego’s fractured hand. Diego remembered his just completed stint at the ‘torture chambers’ and stopped, cursing Ashitaka under his breath.
For his part, Ashitaka had only just finished laughing at his joke and was merrily wiping away the tears from his eyes with one hand, holding his glasses in the other.
Absolutely ignorant of the tension in the air, he turned to face Diego again.
“You know what my mother always said when I was stupid enough to injure myself?” he asked, oblivious to Diego’s tightly clenched fist and the snarl on his face.
“Um Ashitaka…” warned Sierra, “I would shut up now if I were you...”
Ashitaka ploughed ahead;
“She’d say ‘whatever happens, happens for the best’, and so that’s what I would tell you now, my friend, whatever…”
With a low growl Diego’s left fist came crashing into Ashitaka’s jaw, toppling him from his chair and sending him sprawling to the floor. Ashitaka staggered back to his feet, coughing out a clot of blood along with a tooth. He stared in horror at the piece of bone in his palm.
“Oh!” he gasped, and then turned and ran out the door, all the way to the in-house hospital, cupping his cheek and squealing.
Sierra shook his head and sighed;
“You’ve just booked yourself another session at the torture chambers, brother.”
Diego climbed into bed, jerking up the bedcovers.
“He had it coming, and you know that.”
“I guess…” said Sierra thoughtfully, then gave an ironic laugh, “At this rate, he’s going to have no teeth left by the time training here is over!”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Diego, managing a smile despite his irritation, “he’ll understand it happened for the best.”
Sierra laughed.
“It’ll be an improvement on that face for sure!”
“Nothing can improve that face, in my opinion.” Diego said, humorlessly. “Now turn your light off so I can get some sleep.”
Sierra reached for the switch to the night-lamp near his bed and plunged the room into darkness with a click. Then he pulled his quilt over himself and closed his eyes, letting sleep wash away the exhaustion of the day.
*****
CHAPTER 9
Once he had recovered from his bout of indigestion, Sierra had to face a session at the Discipline Room himself, as the cause of his ailment – sneakily pilfering food into his belt and overeating- became known to Master Shengdu. Sierra gave up pilfering goodies from the lunch and dinner tables after that, eating responsibly and moderately. This was, of course, more out of a fear of having to re-visit the Discipline Room than the desire to eat healthy, but it served the purpose nonetheless.
Diego had not fared much better. He had also received another session at the Discipline room because of Ashitaka’s tattling. From then on, though, he was more careful about testing out the prowess of the ring. The ring itself had started to sparkle brilliantly as
the days wore on.
In order to test the ring, Diego would now frequently visit the kitchen, when all cooking and cleaning was over and it was deserted, in order to bend spoons, vessels and anything else bendable but not breakable, that he could lay his hands on.
His favourite object to distort, however, remained Ashitaka’s glasses, which Ashitaka always found bent out of shape if he ever left them unattended even for a moment. As a result, he began to wear his glasses hanging by a cord around his neck. He suspected Diego, of course, but his face was dearer to him than the desire to challenge Diego with his claims.
Sierra tried to stop Diego once or twice, but threw his hands up in surrender each time, as Diego would just smile and say, “don’t worry, he can fix it!” and continue to warp Ashitaka’s glasses.
As the days passed, training progressed at a brisk pace. Both Sierra and Diego, along with the rest of the sequesters, soon realized that though Master Shengdu had a kind and gentle exterior, he was tough as nails on the inside and could be a relentless taskmaster. He allowed nobody to make any excuses, not even making any concessions for the girls, always pushing them to reach for more, to try harder.
“There are no girls or boys here,” he would say, “only sequestors. Who I want to see at the end of three years trained, strong and highly capable.”
Even Diego, with his fractured hand, was not allowed any breaks.
“You have fractured your right hand, am I correct?” he had asked Diego, when the latter had requested permission to be excused from training.
“Yes.” replied Diego, watching Master Shengdu circle him like a hawk.
“Then pray, tell me, what stops you from using your left?”
Diego found that he had no answer to that question.
“I expect you to report for training from tomorrow, and continue everyday thereafter. If you cannot use your right hand, then learn to use your left. But do not come to me with such flimsy excuses in order to stay away from your lessons.” Master Shengdu had thundered.
