I was stuck by Shakespeare who said long back, “and this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything. He went on…………….
In September, preparations started for the harsh winter.I hoarded essential commodities and warm clothes. The chill steeped gradually and finally one fine day in January it started snowing, said Dr Muzaffar my friend , guide and philospher . Snowflakes dropping like soft cotton wool continued from heavens and evenly covered the lumps and bumps on the mother earth. To my surprise, within hours around five feet snow got accumulated. Finally, it stopped near dusk, and the sky started becoming clearer with only a few white clouds fleecing around.
I was in my small wooden villa in the hospital compound , situated on the bank of Kishan Ganga, and at around 9 pm someone knocked at the door.
I came with a lantern, the only light source for the massive snowfall had disconnected all the electricity in the area. There were four persons at the door.
“Doc! The local midwife has failed to conduct the delivery of my daughter, could you please come and oblige us ”, the well-built middle-aged person standing at the door said in a very soft tone. They were from “Churvon,” a village almost 7miles from my place . Their words were touching, and I immediately put on my warm clothes and rushed to the store of the dispensary, next to my villa and packed up all necessary medications and a few available instruments.
“What if I too failed to conduct the delivery of his daughter, what if she developed second stage arrest of labor and needed surgery. Strange thoughts raced through my mind, and finally, I shook myself out of these eddies and reminded myself, let me prepare and think of the bridge when it comes.
Stars were shining coldly in that cloudless sky, and the moon was in her youth shining every inch of the snow blanket. The heavy snowfall seemed to have forced all pedestrians to be indoors, so there was no trace of footmarks on the snow as we five started our footslogging in a single line towards their village.
“Doc! hold this long stick in your hand to steadfast yourself while walking and you know hungry wolves at times come down from the jungle to hunt dogs in winters ”, said one of the companions.
“Wolves!” my heart thumped.
“Doc! There is no worry usually, wolves do not attack humans, but we got to take some precautions”.
“What precautions,” I curiously inquired.
“Well in case we encountered such a bad incidence on our way dear doc ! do not panic, raise your arms high to appear bigger and never look into the eyes of the animal”, he further added.
The clear sky had dropped the mercury and the temp. announced in the news broadcast that day was -10o C. While talking our breath was blowing out like smoke from a chimney in that cold night. After some time we reached the rope bridge over the Kishan Ganga as we had to cross.
“Doc! Let me hold your stick”, said one of the companions. I adjusted my woolen scarf again on my head and carefully held the side handrails of the rope bridge with both hands . Very carefully and slowly all of us started walking, better call it crawling on the bridge. The Kishan Ganga was roaring, and the moonlight reflections were quite mesmerizing which one could see through the holes in the rope bridge. The swinging of the bridge was setting the heart racing as any wrong step, or lousy angle could throw us deep in the mighty river. Finally, we all crossed the bridge safely. We went on walking with long sticks in a straight line for more than five hours.
“Doc! You see that light deep in the village, that is the destination”, said one of the companions. Finally, we reached their home at around 2.30 am. My energy reserves were dwindling. The snow on my shoes had made it more cumbersome, and I knocked the snow off from my shoes near their door and entered their brick house.
To my good luck, the delivery had been conducted by the midwife and the family was happy. I felt a sigh of relief. I carefully held the newborn in my hands. The little angel had tightly closed his eyes and was intermittently crying. His cries were soothing my muscle cramps, and I was feeling happy about his Apgar score of 10. (The Apgar scale is determined by evaluating the newborn baby on five criteria using words chosen to form a backronym (Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, Respiration).
Soon a young boy entered with a large aluminum bowel with warm water and kept it in front of me. The zigzag steam was gently going up from the bowel, and the boy put his hands in it ensuring me the gentleness of the warm water.
“Doc! Kindly put your feet in it as I want to wash your feet”, said the boy. I was initially reluctant, but they did not agree at all. I finally immersed my cold feet in it. I felt relieved and refreshed. The warm water seemed like a potent muscle relaxant. Then they brought fragrant rice, chicken, Beans, and pickles.
Ibrahim, it was one of the most relished foods in my life. There was not an iota of ostentation in their home. Instead, their simplicity was flowing like the tunes of a finely played orchestra.
Later I checked the blood pressure of the new mother. She looked exhausted but relaxed. Some family members were talking in Shina language which I never understood, but their love and care were overwhelming.
Ibrahim remember love has its language, and relations develop with a heart to heart communication and not by tongues.
After dinner, I fell asleep. Ibrahim! You know I am not a heavy sleeper, but that night I slept like a log. I woke up with a yawn in the morning and had breakfast with maize corn bread and tea. I started my journey back along with one of their family members. The January sun was smoothly shining on the white blanket of snow and on my way back I continued walking in a pensive mood. I was stuck by Shakespeare who said long back, “and this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything. Remember Ibrahim Humanity is an ocean and it is good in everything, he concluded.
Excerpt from Bumpy Roads. Authors narration of a real life story as narrated by his mentor Dr Muzaffar Ahmad Masoodi consultant Neurologist at Birmingham UK.
Bumpy Roads can be ordered online on Amazon now
https://www.amazon.in/dp/8193784804?fbclid=IwAR285QYrezvuJTkBNTvyyUOTudS6_7OI7sQx1CNRLNp-e1yBnhqrWqGxAz0
