Cocktails and Dreams

The Impact of Reality

I was at the Lahore General Hospital. A classic example of the worst two combinations of disease and poverty. Standing outside the entrance to the emergency ward, I noticed an old man being put on a stretcher from a rickshaw. They brought up the stretcher to the entrance. It needed no introduction or explanation. There was a man. And his wife. And the rickshaw driver. And lying on the stretcher was the man's elderly father. There was no need for a narration. No one had to tell me the relationships. It was plain and simple. The old man was'nt breathing. The hurried him inside. I followed them. He registered the patient and paid a small fees at the reception. The woman had tears in her eyes. The rickshaw driver looked concerned but helpless. The two men pushed the stretcher into the DMO's office. The old man was very, very still. His mouth was open and his eyes were closed. The DMO checked his pulse. I kept looking at a reaction. He asked them to take him into the ward. They wheeled him away to a small hall further down. I felt my heartbeat quickening. I did'nt know these people. But I was hoping and praying for a miracle. After a couple of minutes, I slowly walked into the ward. There was a small crowd around the body and little plugs were being stuck onto the man's body for his ECG. The machine spurted out a small printout. The medical student next to it examined it and gave it to the DMO. I tilted myself on a foot to get a look at the paper. It had a solid straight horizontal line on it. I came out of the ward. For some reason, my heart was beating much faster. I suddenly felt a sting in my chest. And then I felt my eyes feeling moist. I held back the tear. Five minutes later, I went in again. The medical student was trying CPR. I knew there was no chance of the old man coming back to life. Yet still I was hoping for a recovery. I could not bear to look at his son. He had a pained expression on his face. I cannot put that expression into words. About ten minutes after that, I went to check again. There was a man writing something on a pad. A nurse was tying a small thread around the mans face. He lay there. DEAD. Before the tear would roll down my eye, I left the ward. I've probably seen a similar situation scores of time on the telly. But when it happens in front of you, it just strikes you infinitely times harder.

posted by h@mMy! @ 7:40 PM 2 comments

On Basant

On saturday , there was a programme on The Musik called " The History of Basant". These people are so stupid. You do NOT mention history when it comes to Basant. Historically, its a pagan Hindu celebration and thats what we're doing now. It makes me sick, how the government can remove the ban for two days in the whole year. People get their necks cut off, get electrocuted and fall off the roofs of their houses. And yet there are celebrations galore. Sickening.

posted by h@mMy! @ 9:37 AM 0 comments