Hijab

by Guruprasad Kaginele

  NBC had interviewed Radhika. She had not shared any information about this with me. Srikantha and I watched the recorded interview at home on Friday evening.

  She had started the interview by briefly describing the objective of this live Cesarean section, its safety, the beliefs associated with this surgery in the Sanghaali culture and opinions of cultural scholars about them and the relevance of doing this C-section at our hospital. We couldn’t help but get a sense of déjà vu listening to Radhika saying the same things that Dr Mohammad Mohammad had spoken about in our hospital on the Sanghaali culture. The interview went like this.

  Interviewer: Do you think that you will address whatever problem that you think there is by this live Cesarean? Aren’t there more effective methods? For example, community education or raising awareness at the grassroots level. Isn’t this really a public health project to be done by deploying local resources like social workers, volunteers and effective interpreters? Shouldn’t this be the responsibility of the whole community? Don’t you think what you are doing is a bit too dramatic, like in the movies?

  Radhika: Our making of this video live will, at the very least, shoot up your channel’s ratings, wouldn’t it? (Both laughed loudly.) Don’t you have the confidence in your channel’s reach? (Laughter again.) No, your question is a serious one. Not a laughing matter. We have tried everything that you mentioned. This is one more approach.

  Interviewer: Dr Radhika, don’t the Sanghaali women know that the Cesarean section is safe? Have you not done Cesareans on any of them till now?

  Radhika: Yes, I have. But after quite a bit of a struggle. I have had to explain every little step and implore them to get the Cesarean sections done. Despite that, many women have flat out refused.

  Interviewer: What happened to them eventually?

  Radhika: Delayed labour, fetal distress, uterus contracting to the point of rupture. Some of these women who declined to get the procedure done have never returned to the hospital.

  I have no clue what happened to them, where and how did they deliver? What befell them? It’s almost as if they showed up and faded away into a black hole.

  Interviewer: About fifteen days back, a Sanghaali woman in Peoria, Illinois had declined to get a Cesarean section done that her doctor had recommended but came back and got herself admitted to the same hospital yesterday and delivered a stillborn baby.

  Radhika: I was about to mention this case. Isn’t this foolishness? I can say with one hundred per cent confidence that had she had a Cesarean section, the baby would have lived. We believe that our program could change the minds of such people.

  Interviewer: Ok. I will cut to the chase. Sanghaali women who have had their Cesarean sections done have killed themselves. Does your program help stop that too?

  Radhika: That is beyond my expertise.

  Interviewer: You can’t duck this question. In fact, the very women on whom you have performed the Cesarean sections have committed suicides. Haven’t they? Did they do so on their own volition or were they provoked?

  Radhika: I don’t know. You must ask this to the police officials handling this issue.

  Interviewer: On your hospital’s Facebook page, there have been constant updates on your ‘Cesarean section Live’ program. Have you seen them?

  Radhika: No.

  Interviewer: Have you at least seen the comments?

  Radhika: No, I have not.

  Interviewer: Let me read out a few comments for you. Most of these are from anonymous troll accounts. Yet, let me read them out.

  This comment is from a group called, Protect Sanghaalis, and says: ‘One C-section birth now. Ten deaths soon.’

  Next one is from someone called, Jihadi Mom: ‘C-section is for pussies not for Pussies with a capital “P”.’

  Radhika: Yes, I got it. This is a network channel, not HBO or Showtime. Can you show such comments here?

  Interviewer: Let us worry about it. We will handle it. Is this ‘Jihadi Mom’, a Sanghaali mother?

  Radhika: I don’t know.

  Interviewer: Is the only agenda of this live Cesarean section to educate the Sanghaali mothers about the safety of the Cesarean section? Who is this Jihadi Mom?

  Radhika: Please ask this question to whoever has posted it. This is the hospital’s Facebook page, not mine.

  Interviewer: These suicides started about eight months ago in this small town. None of these women has given any indication about their reason for these acts. There was not a single note, there was not even a whisper of disapproval from their community. Honestly, to tell you the truth, this was not even a piece of big news till last month. In this situation you have set out to perform not one, but two Cesarean sections on national television. Have these women consented to these surgeries?

  Radhika: Is it possible to perform a surgery like Cesarean section without a consent?

  Interviewer: In my opinion, you are not being truthful about your intention to our viewers. I believe these mothers have been brainwashed and threatened to commit suicides. You are doing the live Cesarean sections on these Sanghaali women as a veiled challenge to the women and their community—you almost seem to be daring them for future suicides or those in the community who seek to threaten them.

  Radhika: Who would I ever challenge?

  Interviewer: Those who are trying to lure these women into committing suicides.

  Radhika: Your fantasy is quite compelling. This is our hospital’s initiative. I’m participating in the project merely as its employee.

  Interviewer: Can you guarantee the safety of these women?

  Radhika: You are asking the same question again. I’m only trying to demonstrate to these women that Cesarean sections are safe.

  Interviewer: Will these women be under police protection after the surgeries?

  Radhika: I don’t know.

  Interviewer: The Pakistani doctor, Razak, who was working with you, apparently returned to Karachi. Did he resign or was he fired?

  Radhika: His mother was sick and Razak is her only son. Hence, he had to go back.

  I felt that Radhika handled the interview well. The interviewer had come well prepared too. The hypothesis that she alluded to—that this live Cesarean section could possibly be a classified government intelligence operation that used these Sanghaali women as bait to catch a bigger fish, made it an anxious albeit a thrilling thought.

  23. Gulab Gang

  The day of the Live Broadcast was soon upon us, faster than we realized. Both the women were hospitalized under Radhika’s care two days prior to their scheduled surgery. The name of the other woman that we had seen at Caleb’s caught my attention—Asha Scott. Asha was undoubtedly a Sanghaali name, but Scott? I had never heard of such a name in their community. I wondered if Radhika had not disclosed her name to me on purpose.

  A tent was pitched outside the hospital. The resistance that was so far confined to social media had now come out in the open. There were more than four hundred men, women and children of the Sanghaali community gathered there. A middle-aged Sanghaali woman was shouting at the top of her voice. The channels had brought along interpreters. The interpreters were shouting too. ‘Please do not operate on these women. Who told you that these women need C-sections? Let these women go.’

  Even as that woman was shouting, someone else thrust his face to the TV camera and screamed, ‘Everything that this hospital is telling us is a lie. They are not operating on any Sanghaalis. They are doing this on some other women after making them wear hijabs. No Sanghaali woman would consent to such an operation. Would they?’

  ‘No,’ the crowd roared. The vocal power of the response didn’t leave any doubt about the Sanghaali community’s thoughts on the planned event.

  I sat inside and was witnessing all the shenanigans. I remarked to Radhika who was right next to me: ‘The television folks don’t hesitate to cover any news if it shoots up their ratings. I hope you have not misdirected them for your fifteen minutes of fame. If there is even an io
ta of truth to what he is yelling about, every one of us will be in big trouble.’

  ‘Guru, I know whatever I’m doing, I have done under the board’s supervision. I’ve not jumped any hoops here.’

  ‘Have you spoken to those women?’

  ‘Haven’t you seen me do that? At Caleb’s, the other day?’

  ‘Her name is listed as Asha Scott. Who is this Scott? She is a Sanghaali, right?’

  ‘Of course, she is. You saw her yourself. Scott is her maiden name.’

  ‘That is not a Sanghaali name’

  ‘Her father’s name is Henry Scott.’

  ‘What about her husband?’

  ‘She is not married.’

  ‘Is she a minor?’

  ‘Guru, would you like to talk to her? As the chief of medical staff, you have the right to do so.’

  ‘Ah, is there any other right that I still have?’

  ‘Guru, please! We had no intention to keep you out of any of these. After Razak left, Rick and Jack may have thought that it is easier to get things done through me rather than getting you involved in something which is not your domain. They started communicating with me directly. I went along with them.’

  ‘I have no issues with that, Radhika. If you are convinced that what you are doing is the right thing, please go ahead. Who has done the preoperative evaluation on those women? Before the surgery, don’t we need a doctor to clear them medically?’

  ‘This is a Cesarean section, Guru. Many women get this done. It does not need clearance or any of that stuff. If you are curious about Asha Scott, go and talk to her. Feel free to evaluate both and write your medical opinion. They are all yours. It’s always safe to have as many physicians’ names on the chart as possible, in case of a lawsuit. They are in adjacent rooms on the first floor. It shouldn’t be hard for you to find them.’

  I went looking for them. A festive spirit permeated across the hospital. There was excitement all around. The busy sounds of shoes and sandals rubbing against the floor invested a sense of urgency everywhere. It was not tough for me to locate Asha Scott.

  There were six or seven Sanghaali girls sitting with Asha. None of them looked more than twenty to twenty-two years of age. Each one had a phone in hand. They all had well made-up faces, groomed eyebrows, dark mascaraed eyes and wore a hijab on their heads. When I stepped inside the room, they looked at me inquisitively. I asked the girl on the bed, ‘Are you Asha Scott?’

  She said, ‘Yes, I am.’ She was the girl that I had seen at Caleb’s. There was no doubt about it.

  One of the girls in the group asked, ‘Are you from the press? Do you want to interview her?’

  ‘I am Dr Guru. I have to examine her and certify that she is medically fit for this surgery.’

  ‘Fuck, I thought you were from the press!’ The girl exclaimed.

  I was a bit shaken.

  Another girl asked, ‘I would like to ask a question. May I?’

  ‘Certainly. I’m here only to examine her. If you ask me about the live Cesarean section or anything else, I may not have the answers.’

  ‘Hey, I know you. I have seen your pictures on the hospital Facebook page and your picture was on TV too. Aren’t you like the boss dude?’

  ‘Not really a boss, but somewhat like a supervisor to all the doctors.’

  Then another girl remarked, ‘Fuck man! You guys have come to this town and made this hospital famous. Aren’t you all from India? I like India. I love Shah Rukh Khan. You guys rock. Keep the fuck up.’

  I wondered for a moment if I’m in a high school girls’ locker room.

  Asha said, ‘Farida, watch your language. This is a hospital. I’m sorry, doctor.’

  ‘Screw it girl. You are going to be on TV. You are going to be famous. Let us have some fun. Doc, the other doctor who was interviewed by NBC, is she your friend? She is from India too, right? There’s not a single picture of Asha shown on TV. The press has come nowhere near her. We were the ones who found Habiba for you. She is the mother of our friend Labaan. Who do you think we are? We are the Young Sanghaali American Women’s Association. Do you have any idea of how much time and effort it took us to convince Habiba? They have told Asha that they can’t show her on TV to protect patient privacy. Asha should get credit in some way.’

  I had never heard about or seen this ‘Sanghaali America’ before. Let alone seeing them, I did not have even the wildest imagination that they could have the temperament and the swagger of typical high school cheerleaders with a generous smattering of words like ‘fuck’, ‘dude’, ‘screw’ in their speech.

  I asked them, ‘Are you all locals?’

  ‘Fuck, no! Who will live in this dump? We are from Minneapolis,’ came the answer.

  Asha said, ‘Doc, may I ask you a question? Dr Radhika has already said that I cannot have a normal delivery. What if we run into complications from this surgery?’

  ‘Yes doc, what other choices does she have?’ The girl Asha addressed as Farida, asked.

  ‘That’s not my specialty. I’m here only to examine you. I’m guessing Dr Radhika has already gone over the details like the kind of surgery you are having and the type of anesthesia you will be given and so on,’ I said looking at Asha.

  ‘Ok. Let us talk some serious shit. What if Asha does not agree to get a Cesarean section done? Asha, you know what, let us go fucking nuclear on them. You refuse the surgery, girl. Doc, would you guys then do a normal delivery and show it live on TV? Then you will have to show it on HBO. With a “For Mature Audiences Only” rating.’ The two girls high-fived each other rather pleased with their act.

  Do these girls even know why this live Cesarean section is being done and the effort and the struggle that has gone behind making this happen? It was not clear whether it was childishness, ignorance or sheer stupidity.

  Or was this what we wanted? This total high-school-girl-like nonchalance towards everything. They were bound by no ideology or religion or jihad. Indeed, if all of them were pregnant and if all had to go through Cesarean sections, none of them would even remotely think about committing suicide. If anything, they might have a good laugh at the doctor’s expense for little things that weren’t planned well during the procedure. They were the other extreme of the Sanghaali rainbow.

  They were not Sanghaalis nor Sanghaali Americans. They were Americans, pure and simple.

  I didn’t know if I must be relieved at this free-spirited fresh blood or worried about the chutzpah, they brought with them. I decided to finish up my work and leave. I told them, ‘I need to examine Asha a bit, could we have some privacy?’

  ‘We are Asha’s best friends. If need be, we can die for her. If she commits suicide after this surgery, we will kill those mother-fuckers. If she dies from a complication during the surgery, we will bomb the hospital.’ She looked at my face.

  She started guffawing loudly at my confused foolish stare. ‘I was kidding, doc. were you scared? No one will die. Look at Asha. Does she seem like someone who will commit suicide? Ask her. If she wants to stay alone in the room, we have no issues with that. We will leave now.’ She turned towards Asha.

  Asha asked, ‘Can Farida stay with me?’

  Not having much choice, I agreed.

  ‘We will not come in the way of your live Cesarean program and wish you all success. Peace, come what may, let there be peace.’ They made the peace sign holding their index and middle fingers across, in front of their right eye and left the room.

  I did not speak for about five minutes. It was nothing but my naiveté’ that I had painted all Sanghaali women with a broad brush as one group of the likes of Rukhiya and Fadhuma. Asha and her group had debunked my perception in no time. Saanvi and Radhika were somehow able to reach out to this demographic. Or was this also the handiwork of the higher-ups?

  Radhika and I lived in the same house for a long time. Only a wall separated us. I was the one who had suggested Saanvi as the ideal person for this job and got her here. That these two had kept every
thing away from me till now made me feel very insulted.

  I messaged Srikantha to meet me in ten minutes and read through Asha’s records quickly.

  Seeing me quiet for some time, Asha enquired, ‘Dr Radhika has already examined me and said that there is no problem?’

  ‘Maybe so. This is a simple but an essential checkup. I’ll ask you a few questions. Your answers will help us determine your individual risk for this surgery and measures that we can take to reduce them, like for example: will there be any complications when we administer the anesthesia or how you would react to some of those medicines.’

  ‘I have no health problems whatsoever.’

  ‘Yes, but this is only a protocol.’

  I read Asha’s records. She had no physical problems of any kind. She had not had a circumcision either.

  I asked her, ‘Have you experienced problems related to stress, excessive anger or anxiety in large open spaces?’ I was making up questions for this faux checkup. It was apparent that none of what I was asking was remotely related to the surgery.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘For instance, when you are on the operating table, you will be naked, there will be a camera zoomed in on you, and you will be under anesthesia. The whole world will be witnessing your surgery. Are you nervous about it?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘I’ll ask you a few questions from this questionnaire. All I need is a “Yes” or “No” answers to them.’

  She looked at me in apparent agreement.

  ‘Do you smoke? Do you drink alcohol or do drugs?’

  ‘No, no and no.’

  ‘Does anyone in your family suffer from heart-related diseases or have had side effects to anesthesia or related drugs?’

  ‘Not that I know of. I don’t know much about my parents. I’m adopted.’ She smiled mischievously.