Hijab

by Guruprasad Kaginele

  He looked so different and weak, I wondered if this was the same Hassan who had threatened us just a few months back that heads would roll if a Cesarean section was done on his wife.

  ‘What about Amina’s family?’ I suddenly remembered and felt somewhat disturbed about the rumours floating in the hospital a few days back whether Amina had a husband at all. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it.

  He started sobbing uncontrollably. ‘I’m Amina’s family. She’s all I got.’

  I felt deeply sorry to have brought this up.

  ‘I’m sorry Hassan. I apologize. I was only trying to be courteous. Trust me, I had no other intentions.’

  He did not say anything and continued crying.

  ‘Doctor, please ensure that this delivery is not a Cesarean section. I beg you.’

  It then occurred to me that neither Razak nor Radhika had told him that Amina did not need a Cesarean section. I looked around and could not find either of them.

  ‘Oh god, Hassan! Hasn’t anyone told you? Amina has already delivered the baby, and it was a normal delivery!’

  ‘Thank you, thank you, doctor.’ He hugged me tightly and sobbed. My sleeves turned wet from his tears.

  By then Razak and Radhika came out of the labour ward. It was not clear what they thought when they saw Hassan hugging me. They stood there, silently. I continued consoling Hassan, ‘It’s not me that you have to thank. You should thank these two doctors.’

  Even as I was ending my sentence, he let go off me. He held Radhika and Razak’s hands and started crying like a baby again. I felt it may well be impossible to console him. I stood there watching him sob. Radhika was somewhat lost. She probably did not expect this reaction from Hassan. None of us did.

  Hassan said, ‘Doctor, I knew that Amina would be alright and everything would be just fine, you know. Yet, somewhere in the corner of my mind there was this apprehension about her needing a Cesarean section. She was however very stubborn. She told me on my way here that she will get a Cesarean section done if she needs one, no matter what happens. She has no idea. She is much younger than me. She came to America much before I did and went to college here. Next year she is starting her job as a Pharmacy Technician in Minneapolis. Once they have some education, our girls develop enough confidence to challenge the world, you know! If she had had that Cesarean section today, I could have lost her too. What would happen to her child? How can I take care of all these children? You are my saviors.’ He sobbed again.

  Radhika said, ‘Hassan, take it easy. She had signed a document giving consent at the time of admission to the hospital. It explicitly stated that in case she cannot have a normal vaginal delivery, we will have to perform a C-section. She signed without the least bit of hesitation. In fact, when I reminded her of what’s happening in the town, she had replied, “Doctor, I’m twenty years old. I became pregnant on my own will and I would like the delivery to go according to my wish too. You do whatever you think is right. If you think that I need to have a C-section, then so be it. Let us see what happens.”’

  Hassan asked in shock, ‘Oh, I hope you did not do a Cesarean section just because she signed the consent. Because as her elder brother, I get to decide what’s right and what’s not right for her.’

  Radhika replied, ‘Hassan, legally you have no right to stop her. Amina is twenty years old. Moreover, she is the mother of a baby. She can make her own choices.’

  I had a hard time believing she is the same Radhika who had holed up inside her house, refusing to come out—like Duryodhana hiding in the Vaisampayana Lake.

  ‘Doctor, now everything is ok, right? I just want to let you know that you have done her a great favor by not doing a Cesarean section. You have saved two lives. I knew that you are all good doctors.’ Then he ran towards Amina’s room. Razak, Radhika and I looked at each other. I didn’t want to even imagine the consequences had Amina had a Cesarean.

  On our way home, Radhika remarked, ‘Guru, what do you think of Amina? Doesn’t she portend a new dawn in their community? There should be more women like her. And this Hassan, who was all noise and thunder earlier, threatening to make heads roll, is a squeaking puppy now. I think this problem in their community is way beyond folks like Amina and Hassan. They have got themselves into some mess and are struggling to get out.’

  ‘Radhika, if Amina had a Cesarean section today and committed suicide, how would Hassan manage the three children?’

  ‘Guru, you should have spoken to her. She didn’t look like she was going to kill herself, no matter what. She is educated and intelligent. Look at how education transforms these girls. I wish she had a C-section today. She would not have killed herself. Certainly not! Now that I think about it, I’m convinced that even Rukhiya and Fadhuma didn’t really commit suicide. Someone has exploited their innocence and helplessness.’

  ‘What’s your point? Did Amina say something to you?’

  ‘Nothing specific. I asked her if any of her friends were pregnant. I handed her my business card and asked her to call if she ever needs me. She was also quite interested. I’ll call Saanvi. We should line up a few Sanghaali women and do Cesarean sections on them. Let us call the police if needed. It will be even better if we can provide these women some security after the C-sections. This is the least that the police can do.’ I was starting to get scared. In fact, I always had this fear that Saanvi would look at these series of events from her perspective and would drag Radhika into it. But I didn’t expect that a weak spark like Amina would start the fire. If Saanvi, so much as gets a hint that Radhika will join her, I’ll not be surprised if she brings a whole brigade of volunteers along with Kristina from New York, pitches a tent in front of the hospital and convinces Radhika to do a C-section in the parking lot!

  I remembered what Kuki said about ‘some people’ manipulating these women into believing that C-sections could be considered ‘haram’, eventually ending in suicides. I have no evidence for any of this. How can anyone take the words of a drug dealer seriously?

  ‘Radhika, didn’t you mention just three hours back that we should not get into this mess but only plan on staying here for three years and then leave?’

  ‘I didn’t know Amina then. I could not even imagine that a Sanghaali woman like Amina exists.’

  ‘Radhika, please. I beg you. Trust me. Let us perform the Cesarean section on Zeba as Rick suggested for the documentary or whatever and wash our hands off this whole mess. If another girl like Amina comes forward, Rick will certainly be happy, but how long can we provide security to these women after their surgeries? What if they kill themselves three months after their live surgeries? Who would be responsible for that?’

  ‘So, the plan is to operate on Zeba, since no matter what happens, she will not kill herself. It’s a kind of a safe bet. Is this right?’

  ‘Yes, that is also a factor.’

  ‘Guru, your interest is not so much as to solve this problem but to put up a show. Please do not say another word. I may start hating you too.’ She turned away.

  20. The Sacrificial Lamb

  A week later, I got an email from Rick Jackson. He had written about his meeting with Razak and Zeba. He had called them to his office and discussed in detail about Zeba’s Cesarean section. Apparently, they were both infuriated and stormed out of his office. Rick mentioned that, Razak’s tone and manner of speaking indicated that if push came to shove, he might leave his job but at no cost would he agree to this C-section. I was not surprised. On the contrary, I would be astonished, if he had readily agreed.

  I felt like we had no option other than to wait with the hope that Razak and Zeba would change their minds. I was clueless about the way forward if they did not agree. All along, I was convinced that performing a Cesarean section on a few willing Sanghaali women and broadcasting it live was the best option. If not, Saanvi’s ‘the next best thing’ was our option. Our failure to make even this happen put me in a quandary. Frankly, I was in a brain freeze.


  Or, will things get back to normalcy, with Amina’s entry and Zeba’s exit, in the last act of this play?

  I saw Razak’s car on the driveway when I reached home. It was not difficult to guess what could have transpired inside. As I had expected, Zeba’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Radhika and Zeba were seated on the living room couch trying to watch TV. The ambience was nothing less than funereal. Razak and Srikantha were standing on the backyard deck holding Heineken bottles in their hands. I sat down with Zeba and Radhika in the living room. I did not have the courage to face Razak. I didn’t even know how to start a conversation. Razak came inside and sat right across from me. He didn’t waste any time and came straight to the point. ‘Guru, if you were married and your wife and the unborn child were asked to participate in this ridiculous drama, this soap opera, would you have agreed? Radhika, if you were pregnant, would you get a Cesarean section done on live TV?’

  I said without hesitation, ‘Definitely.’

  Radhika was quiet for a minute, and then said, ‘I am only doing my job here. Guru is also doing his, but I’m not sure if you have noticed, his job is that of a boss.’

  Razak looked at me with contempt and said, ‘Guru, either you are an inveterate liar, or you are unaware of the limits of a boss’ responsibility. You tend to do everyone’s bidding. You are turning into a pathetic lackey. Rick Jackson has spent all his life in the Midwestern backwaters. He is a hillbilly. He hasn’t seen anything outside Minnesota or read anything other than The King James Bible. He cannot differentiate between a Sanghaali, a Sudanese, or a Pakistani. He thinks that all Muslims are the same. You didn’t even have the courtesy to talk to me before convincing Saanvi? How can you be so insensitive?’

  ‘Razak, do not be hasty. Think for a moment that you are not an employee of this hospital but the boss. Put yourself in Rick’s shoes. What would you do? He is the board president. His priority is to save the hospital—to keep it in business. Sanghaali women are dying everywhere. All cases are registered as suicides. At this time what can Rick do if he gets instructions from the higher authorities to make such an educational video? Even he does not know who these higher-ups are!’

  ‘Why us? What are the other hospitals doing about it?’

  ‘I’m not sure if this is a matter of pride or shame. But these series of events originated here in Amoka. According to the police, ours is the index site which is a fancy word that means we are the source, the epicenter of these troubles. Rick is also a pawn in this game just like you and me. Nobody knows who is spinning the wheels here.’

  ‘Yes, of course. All are pawns. Some are kings, and some are queens.’

  ‘Razak, I know who you are referring to. Rick and I are also pawns. There are no kings and queens here. ’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘Razak, I’m not saying this to scare you. You may lose this job if you and Zeba do not agree to this plan.’

  ‘How? Zeba is pregnant. It is not easy to fire me in this situation. The government has laws against it.’

  ‘Well, the law only says that a pregnant woman is always entitled to have health insurance. It is true that since Zeba does not work, she is dependent on you for her health insurance. Once you lose your job and visa, she will lose her visa too. It is a fact that a one way ticket to Karachi is much cheaper than Zeba having a baby here. If you are lucky to get hold of a competent immigration lawyer, then they will first send you to Pakistan. The government might pay for Zeba to have her baby and then send both to Karachi. Your sole consolation would be that your child will be an American citizen.’

  ‘Did Rick say this or is this whole spiel coming from you?’

  ‘Razak, please believe me. I know how he thinks.’

  ‘Why in the hell would I be fired?’

  ‘Razak, are you really this naïve or are you not trying to understand what’s happening here? There can be many reasons to lose one’s job. For instance, there are a few complaints from patients in your file. Apparently three of the patients that you operated on, were readmitted for surgical wound infections. O’Reilly or Smith can be asked to review these cases and you could be reported to the state. A couple of nurses have whined that you are painfully slow in the operating room. The management can come up with a whole truckload of shit, my friend—the whole enchilada. You know quite well that in our profession, the rights and wrongs are always on a slippery slope.’

  Razak was stunned. ‘Guru, I thought that you were my friend.’

  ‘Razak, I am your friend. Therefore, I’m sharing this with you. What are you going to do in Karachi? You didn’t want to live there in the first place. If you are a little flexible, you can get your green card in less than a year. Then let’s leave this town. I’ll help you get a job.’

  ‘Guru, America is not the only place to make a good living. Yes, it is true that we came to America looking for a good life and pursue the American dream. Yes, it is also true that we were star-struck and looked forward to good things in life. A beach house in California in ten years, travel all over the world and own a new BMW every year. After all this nonsense, I have no interest in Amoka and certainly not in America. You can keep this Dreamland to yourself!!!’ He and Zeba stomped out homeward.

  Radhika glared at me.

  The very next week, Razak resigned ignoring everyone’s advice and went away to Karachi along with Zeba. Since he resigned from his job, his visa was not valid anymore and he had to leave the country. I tried convincing him to reconsider his decision and left no stone unturned in doing so.

  Radhika tried her part in convincing them. She spoke to Zeba and pleaded repeatedly. She told her that there shall be no reason whatsoever to do anything against her will—that she has contacted other Sanghaali women with the help of Amina who are willing to get a Cesarean section done and that this problem will be resolved very soon. Nothing had worked. All our requests were stonewalled. Razak and Zeba had no trust in us, much less in our words. Razak was unwilling to even look me in the eye while talking. Zeba looked like she was crying all week. Her swollen eyes and moist cheeks said more than what she could ever do.

  My words had dried up. There was nothing else to do other than bidding a silent farewell.

  Rick Jackson and Powell had only said a ‘Good luck’ to Razak. I was furious at Rick. I didn’t even know whom to get mad at. To a certain extent, it was plausible that there was guilt nestled in my conscience as someone who may have played a crucial role in this whole act. Whatever that might be, I decided to confront Rick and give him a dressing down. I messaged him saying I have something to discuss and will come over to his office. He replied asking me to come after work, in the evening.

  His office was located about two miles from our hospital. I called him after work to ask if it was too late for him, since it was eight pm. He said that he was still in the office waiting for me. He was done with his supper and asked me to come over.

  There was no one at the reception desk when I reached there. I went inside. There was no one there either. I said, ‘Hello.’ It was certain that he was in the office. There was a bucket of half-eaten Kentucky Fried Chicken on his desk. A big bottle of Pepsi with its cap open stood next to it. The room reeked of half-cooked chicken. His computer was switched on. The old flip phone of his came alive on his table with a green glow for a moment, and turned silent. There was a letter from the Pakistani embassy on his table. I was curious to read it. I heard somebody flushing the bathroom toilet.

  Rick came out. He did not have his dentures in his mouth. When he moved his toothless mouth, it looked as if he was trying to swallow. He had no shirt on him but only a tee. His pants were rolled up to his knees. His swollen feet and the blue veins on his lower legs were conspicuous since he did not have his socks on.

  He said, ‘Sorry.’

  Seeing him speaking without his dentures made me nauseous. He did not even try to look for his dentures. He unzipped his pant, inserted his t-shirt and said while fixing his belt, ‘Guru, I know that you are
angry with me. I am not as bad as you guys think. My hands are tied too. I had no other way out. I had no objection to Razak continuing in his job. In fact, I did not want to lose him.’

  He saw me looking at the Pakistani embassy letter on his desk.

  ‘Look, I had no idea whatsoever about stuff like your visa and green card. It was only ten years back that we came to know that there are government programs meant to invite and encourage foreign doctors to come to towns like ours and serve. We neither had any awareness nor comprehension of the details of any of these programs. Our only involvement was to sign the letters from the government and the immigration department. Our hospital’s lawyers have tried to educate the board members on these matters. No matter how many times I hear them, there’s only one thing that I have understood: The foreign doctors who come here for work cannot quit their jobs for five years. It is unfortunate that we had to take advantage of this law with Razak. Trust me, I could not sleep for four days after Razak left. I sought my hospital’s lawyers for advice on how to get Razak back. They advised me to send a letter to the Pakistani Embassy and ask them. Accordingly, I wrote them a letter. Now I have got their reply, apparently, even they cannot get him back once he reaches Karachi.’

  It was clear he knew next to nothing about immigration. And I was impressed that he had written a letter to the Pakistani embassy to get Razak back. Not bad, I thought. Even this guy has his heart in the right place. For the first time, I felt a little sorry looking at this toothless, half-sleeved man!

  I spotted on his desk a picture of him with a group belonging to the Masai tribe from Africa. On the wall behind his desk was a big framed picture of him and Jimmy Carter.

  I tried easing him up and said, ‘Let go of it. At this point, it may not be the best thing for him to work here and more importantly for Zeba to have her baby at our hospital.’