PEOPLE came to him when the patient was on his last legs. Dr. Raman often burst
out, " Why couldn't you have come a day earlier ? " The reason was obvious visiting
fee twenty-five rupees, and more than that people liked to shirk the fact that the time
had come to call in Dr. Raman ; for them there was something ominous in the very
association. As a result when the big man came on the scene it was always a quick
decision one way or another. There was no scope or time for any kind of wavering or
whitewashing.
Long years of practice of this kind had bred in the doctor a certain curt truthfulness ; for
that very reason his opinion was valued ; he was not a mere doctor expressing an
opinion but a judge pronouncing a verdict. The patient's life hung on his words. This
never unduly worried Dr. Raman. He never believed that agreeable words ever saved
lives. He did not think it was any of his business to provide unnecessary dope when as
a matter of course Nature would tell them the truth in a few hours. However, when he
glimpsed the faintest sign of hope, he rolled up his sleeve and stepped into the arena :
it might be hours or days, but he never withdrew till he wrested the prize from Tama's
hands.
Today, standing over a bed, the doctor felt that he himself needed someone to tell him
soothing lies. He mopped his brow with his kerchief and sat down in the chair beside
the bed. On the bed lay his dearest friend in the world : Gopal. They had known each
other for forty years now, starting with their Kinder- garten days. They could not, of
course, meet as much as they wanted, each being wrapped in his own family and
profession. Occasionally, on a Sunday, Gopal would walk into the consulting room, and
wait patiently in a corner till the doctor was free. And then they would dine together,
see a picture, and talk of each other's life and activities. It was a classic friendship
standing over, untouched by changing times, circumstances, and activities.
In his busy round of work, Dr. Raman had not noticed that Gopal had not called in for
over three months now. He just remembered it when he saw GopaPs son sitting on a
bench in the consulting hall, one crowded morning. Dr. Raman could not talk to him for
over an hour. When he got up and was about to pass on to the operation room, he
called up the young man and asked, " What brings you here, sir ? "
The youth was nervous and shy. " Mother sent me here."
" What can I do for you ? "
" Father is ill ..."
It was an operation day and he was not free till three in the afternoon. He rushed off
straight from the clinic to his friend's house, in Lawley Extension.
Gopal lay in bed as if in sleep. The doctor stood over him and asked Gopal's wife, "
How long has he been in bed ? "
" A month and a half, doctor."
" Who is attending him ? "
" A doctor in the next street. He comes down once in three days and gives him
medicine."
" What is his name ? " He had never heard of him. " Someone I don't know, but I wish
he had had the goodness to tell me about it. Why, why, couldn't you have sent me
word earlier ? "
" We thought you would be busy and did not wish to trouble you unnecessarily." They
were apologetic and miserable. There was hardly any time to be lost. He took off his
coat and opened his bag. He took out an injection tube, the needle sizzled over the
stove. The sick man's wife whimpered in a corner and essayed to ask questions.
" Please don't ask questions," snapped the doctor. He looked at the children who were
watching the sterilizer, and said, " Send them all away somewhere, except the eldest."
He shot in the drug, sat back in his chair, and gazed on the patient's face for over an
hour. The patient still remained motionless. The doctor's face gleamed with
perspiration, and his eyelids drooped with fatigue. The sick man's wife stood in a
corner and watched silently.
She asked timidly, " Doctor, shall I make some coffee for you ? " " No," he replied,
although he felt famished, having missed his midday meal. He got up and said, " I will
be back in a few minutes. Don't disturb him on any account." He picked up his bag and
went to his car. In a quarter of an hour he was back, followed by an assistant and a
nurse. The doctor told the lady of the house, " I have to perform an operation."
" Why, why ? Why ? " she asked faintly.
" I will tell you all that soon. Will you leave your son here to help us, and go over to the
next house and stay there till I call you ? "
The lady felt giddy and sank down on the floor, unable to bear the strain. The nurse
attended to her and led her out.
At about eight in the evening the patient opened his eyes and stirred slightly in bed.
The assistant was overjoyed. He exclaimed enthusiastically, " Sir, he will pull through."
The doctor looked at him coldly and whispered : " I would give anything to see him
through but, but the heart . . ."
" The pulse has improved, Sir."
" Well, well," replied the doctor. " Don't trust it. It is only a false flash-up, very common
in these cases." He ruminated for a while and added, " If the pulse will keep up till eight
in the morning, it will go on for the next forty years, but I doubt very much if we shall
see anything of it at all after two tonight."
He sent away the assistant and sat beside the patient. At about eleven the patient
opened his eyes and smiled at his friend. He showed a slight improvement, he was
able to take in a little food. A great feeling of relief and joy went through the household.
They swarmed around the doctor and poured out their gratitude. He sat in his seat
beside the bed, gazing sternly at the patient's face, hardly showing any signs of
hearing what they were saying to him.
The sick man's wife asked, " Is he now out of danger ? "
Without turning his head the doctor said, " Give glucose and brandy every forty
minutes ; just a couple of spoons will do." The lady went away to the kitchen. She felt
restless. She felt she must know the truth whatever it was. Why was the great man so
evasive ?
The suspense was unbearable. Perhaps he could not speak so near the patient's bed.
She beckoned to him from the kitchen doorway. The doctor rose and went over. She
asked, " What about him now ? How is he ? " The doctor bit his lips and replied,
looking at the floor, " Don't get excited. Unless you must know about it, don't ask now."
Her eyes opened wide in terror. She clasped her hands together and implored : " Tell
me the truth." The doctor replied, " I would rather not talk to you now." He turned round
and went back to his chair. A terrible wailing shot through the still house ; the patient
stirred and looked about in bewilderment. The doctor got up again, went over to the
kitchen door, drew it in securely and shut off the wail.
When the doctor resumed his seat the patient asked in the faintest whisper possible, "
Is that someone crying ? " The doctor advised, " Don't exert your self. You mustn't
talk." He felt the pulse. It was already agitated by the exertion.
The patient asked, " Am I going ? Don't hide it from me."
The doctor made a deprecating noise and sat back in his chair. He had never faced a
situation like this. It was not in his nature to whitewash. People attached great
value to his word because of that. He stole a look at the other. The patient motioned a
finger to draw him nearer and whispered, " I must know how long I am going to last. I
must sign the will. It is all ready. Ask my wife for the despatch box. You must sign as
a witness."
" Oh ! " the doctor exclaimed. " You are exerting yourself too much. You must be
quieter." He felt idiotic to be repeating it. " How fine it would be," he reflected, " to drop
the whole business and run away somewhere without answering any question ! "
The patient clutched the doctor's wrist with his weak fingers and said, " Ramu, it is my
good fortune that you are here at this moment. I can trust your word. I can't leave my
property unsettled. That will mean endless misery for my wife and children. You know
all about Subbiah and his gang. Let me sign before it is too late. Tell me. . . ."
" Yes, presently," replied the doctor. He walked off to his car, sat in the back seat and
reflected. He looked at his watch. Midnight. If the will was to be signed, it must be done
within the next two hours, or never. He could not be responsible for a mess there ; he
knew too well the family affairs and about those wolves, Subbiah and his gang . . . But
what could he do ? If he asked him to sign the Will, it would virtually mean a death
sentence and destroy the thousandth part of a chance that the patient had of survival.
He got down from the car and went in. He resumed his seat in the chair. The patient
was staring at him appealingly. The doctor said to him- self, " If my word can save his
life, he shall not die. The will be damned." He called, " Gopal, listen." This was the first
time he was going to do a piece of acting before a patient, simulate a feeling, and
conceal his judgment. He stooped over the patient and said with deliberate emphasis, "
Don't worry about the will now. You are going to live. Your heart is absolutely sound." A
new glow suffused the patient's face as he heard it. He asked in a tone of relief, " Do
you say so ? If it comes from your lips it must be true . . ."
The doctor said, " Qjuite right. You are improving every second. Sleep in peace. You
must not exert yourself on any account. You must sleep very soundly. I will sec you in
the morning." The patient looked at him gratefully for a moment and then dosed his
eyes. The doctor picked up his bag and went out shutting the door softly behind him.
On his way home he stopped for a moment at his hospital, called out his assistant, and
said, " That Lawley Extension case. You might expect the collapse any second now.
Go there with a tube of ... in hand, and give it in case the struggle is too hard at the
end. Hurry up”.
Next morning he was back at Lawley Extension at ten. From his car he made a dash
for the sick bed.
The patient was awake and looked very well. The assistant reported satisfactory pulse.
The doctor put his tube at his heart, listened for a while, and told the sick man's wife, "
Don't look so unhappy, lady. Your husband will live to be ninety." When they were
going back to the hospital, the assistant sitting beside him in the car asked, " Is he
going to live, sir ? "
" I will bet on it. He will live to be ninety. He has turned the corner. How he has
survived this attack will be a puzzle to me all my life," replied the doctor.
