Oath of Hippocrates

by Sudarsan S

  “Crooks? Us? What do you mean, Ananta?”

  “It has been weeks since we left home, Rama. Not even once have we told the truth about our whereabouts to our folks. Time and again, you have been speaking about grandfather’s three tenets. Which one does this facade fall under?”

  Ramanujam drew a deep breath and it was not to savour the clean air. Ananta preferred to see things in black and white. There were no shades of grey. Ram looked down and kicked a pebble. He did that when he didn’t have an answer that would convince the other person in the conversation.

  “It doesn’t. I do not have the means to justify it, but this excuse. You know what happened in our flat in Bangalore. As their net reached out to me, my noose is tightening around them. Things could get worse. They have people all over to look for us. In my heart, I am perpetuating a statement which is not the truth, just to stay a step ahead of my pursuers, until such time the roles are reversed. I do not expect you to buy this excuse.”

  “It is fascinating. The way you put it. You believe you have it in you to reverse your role from that of being a hare to a hound?”

  “Yes, as long as I answer to a higher authority. I believe I have the means and the support to bring this change. The powers of evil shall reign, but only for a while”.

  “Such statements sound good in movies. This is reality.”

  “Feels like a dream, Ananta. It seems only yesterday as if I was looking forward to graduate”. Ramanujam’s eyes welled up.

  “You still will. Except that you will be armed with a different kind of experience than your classmates”.

  “True. To me, it feels that while I have gained in knowledge, I have lost something I cannot describe”.

  “Innocence?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Why rue the past? What could have been, could have been. I could have been sitting in our home, pampered by everyone and wishing I was elsewhere. But, here I am, with no one asking me whether I had food to eat and water to drink, wishing I were back home”.

  “Well, this place is the closest to home we will get, Ananta. Look, Alappuzha Ayush Centre, around the bend.”

  The building itself looked like any other local construction, with sloping tile roof, but noticeably larger. It had two levels. One could smell the concoctions before one knew what the building was about.

  The simplicity of the edifice’s exterior continued inside. However, this aura of simplicity was markedly different. It was calculated understatement that spoke grandeur in hushed tones. The decor had been intentionally designed to bring memories of a past era – not the in-your-face rusticism of big city’s village-themed restaurants, but a subtly-stated art form. This place was doing well, nay, very well, thought Ramanujam.

  “Ramanujam and Ananta, for the pharmacy”, Ananta announced his presence to the receptionist.

  “Go right through the courtyard, and out through the back door. Ask for Gopan, he will guide you”.

  Gopan was a quiet, young fellow who took them to their quarters in the back. They were asked to report back at the dispensary in an hour.

  “I can hear the wood-pecker pecking at its tree, Rama”.

  “I am glad you are happy”.

  “It feels like our village except the strong smell that is hanging around in this area”.

  “We are going to the source of the smells. That is our job”.

  It was hard to describe the smell. It was not pleasant by any means, nor foul. The concoction brewing room was about 25 feet long by 12 feet wide. Against each boiling area was a name plate of the concoction being brewed in multiple languages, which was a clear message to Rama that the spa had difficulty retaining employees for the brewery/dispensary and that most of the talent it had attracted were outsiders.

  Gopan directed them to the duties of the day, break time, dietary restrictions and curfew. Ananta wasn’t sure whether the smell hanging around them was a composite of all the cauldrons or each of them smelt the same. In some time, he didn’t care. Their job was to keep stirring the pots and after 3 PM, put out the stoves, cool the contents of the cauldrons and mix them in appropriate proportions for the different medicines.

  By the end of the week, Ananta could recite the ingredients of the mixtures he had handled and Ramanujam had Gopan eating out of his hands. Gopan willingly shared all he knew about the spa. The spa was doing extremely well, thanks to medical tourism and people’s new-found faith in Ayurvedic therapy. The doctors were well-qualified and well taken care of. The medicine brewery, however, had difficulty holding on to people as everyone who worked there leveraged their experience to find a job in the city. The village, they considered, was beneath their standard.

  Poor chaps, thought Ananta. They know not what they get into. Once they flow from the clear stream of the village to the sewage of the city, very few have the gumption to swallow their pride and return to their roots.

  The boys went to town on the weekly day off to catch up on the news, e-mails and the forbidden fruit of spicy meals with onion and garlic. Life was bliss. The fact that no one was sending e-mails also seemed appropriate. Oh, except Ghafur’s nephew.

  No news from that quarter. There was a niggling doubt in the brain.

  CHAPTER 21: In Letter and in Spirit

  No news from that quarter. There was a niggling doubt in the brain. The last communication from that end had been a letter from Ramanujam. The letter still lay in his drawer as a constant reminder of a threat looming. The sins of the past came re-visiting, he thought.

  Dr. Yadav picked it up again for a re-reading between the lines for any hidden messages.

  Dear Sir,

  Further to the Dean’s acknowledgement of my request to take my finals a semester later, I have been able to go around on my tour of duty with a certain peace of mind. I look forward to returning and completing my studies some time soon.

  I have the urge to keep you posted of the happenings. I had intended to go to Mumbai for an informal internship with K.K. Hospital. However, I had change of plans as I had an invite from Bengaluru as well. A chance encounter led me to Hari Heart Hospice where I have been spending the past few weeks fruitfully learning the intricacies of paediatric health.

  In the mean time, I have been continuing my theoretical studies as well. In the light of the current panic about swine flu, I had thought it prudent to check on our reaction to the SARS virus that triggered alarm bells around the world.

  You have taught us well about the differences and I do appreciate the need to do so, but I am looking for similarities – in terms of spread, mode of travel, reaction of the public and the medical fraternity and time to produce cure/vaccine, if any.

  With reference to the last aspect, namely, the vaccine, I understand FADRA had sought our institution’s approval for giving the go ahead and that you had personally given your stamp of approval (in the Dean’s absence) on the drug. The ’recipe’ for the drug is now in public domain and I had a few queries on its alleged efficacy.

  I am hoping to get those doubts and some more clarified when I meet you in person. Until then, thanks to you and the Dean for supporting my flight of fancy.

  Warm Regards,

  Ramanujam

  Dr. Yadav set the letter on the table and nudged a paperweight above it. This letter had the capability to elicit a new emotion every time he read it. This time it was: What is the purpose of this letter? There is absolutely nothing I gain from this letter and the sender expects no response. There is only a prospect of a future meeting.

  Or, is it meant to insinuate that the SARS vaccine may not have been as efficacious as claimed? What does he know about it? More importantly, what does he know about my role in the approval?

  The letter had been stamped with the date of his departure from Bangalore, as reported by Yadav’s men. But, the letter showed no indication of his intended flight from the Garden City. Evidently, the boy had drafted the letter and kept it ready to be sent before leaving town.

  What is un
nerving is that Ramanujam had moved from anonymous articles on generic items like testing on animals and relevance of alternative medical systems to a specific event naming specific people. The specific queries he has referred to may be speculative or investigative – either way, it doesn’t augur well for me, thought the doctor. There is a certain slickness in his approach, a general aura of teflon.

  The letter carried no threat, the language was polite with the words bordering on flattery, yet on the whole, it seemed menacing. The scared man sees a ghost in the shadows, thought Dr. Yadav.

  He wondered how a politician like Pyare Mohan would deal with this. Of course, the new minister had always been harping at closing the case once and for all. A seasoned politician can hire hit-men and have someone murdered in cold-blood and continue without missing a heart-beat, but for someone like himself, it was beyond thought. His own words to his wife echoed back at him: middle-class person with a middle-class mentality. Maybe she had a point about staying grounded and placing trust in one’s own competency.

  Despite the cool weather, Dr. Yadav was sweating. Only Pyare can suggest a way out. Must reach him on his private phone.

  “Yadav. Yes. Just Yadav. He knows. Hmm. Yes. Please do. Thanks”.

  It was a secretary who attended the call. He checked who it was and then said the minister was too busy to take the call. Does that mean that Pyare did not want to talk to him? That accursed boy! Making me double-think every thing. If the secretary said the minister will call back, he will call back. There is nothing much to do.

  It was past 10 PM when the minister called back.

  “My apologies, Yadav”. Dr. Yadav was already relieved. Someone to share his burden with. Who knows, he may have a solution to lighten it. He got up and walked towards the balcony.

  “Where are you...”

  “Shh!”, Dr. Yadav shushed his wife, who couldn’t be told what was happening, nor would understand the import. “Important call”, he said between his teeth as he shut the balcony door behind him.

  “Sorry, that was my wife. Thanks for calling back”.

  “It is always a pleasure to talk to you, Yadav. Tell me, what bothers you now?”

  “The elusive chap has written a letter to me from Bangalore. I assume he dropped it off before he fled”.

  “Why does that bother you?”

  “There is a passing reference to a drug approval that I may have signed. He makes no threats. It is a generic, flowing letter, too sleek for my comfort”.

  “Tell me about this approval, Yadav”.

  “Well, you remember SARS, right? There was a vaccine promoted by a leading pharma company..”

  “I know which one. Go on, Yadav”.

  “FADRA had forwarded it to us for approval. I vaguely remember that the Dean was absent at that time and I might have given my approval in spite of..”

  “...its disputed ability to serve its purpose. Am I right, Yadav?”

  “As always”.

  Pyare Mohan chuckled. “I guess that would be around the time you got a flat screen plasma TV.” Dr. Yadav remained silent. There was no hiding the facts with this politico. He would not be surprised if Pyare Mohan himself had suggested the timing of the approval with the Dean’s absence to the pharma company.

  The politician continued: “Now this student of yours has got wind of this information and has you psyched out”.

  “Yes and no. There is only an oblique reference in his letter and he said he would seek clarification on the vaccine’s efficacy when we meet next”.

  “Why would he write to say that? He may as well ask you when you meet, if he dares to appear in person, considering the message we gave him in Bangalore”.

  “That is what puzzles me”.

  “Yadav, I read it as a threat of exposure. If he has been away from the college for months, but still up to his tricks, he is getting help from inside. That apart, there is only one way to silence him”.

  “But, Pyare...”.

  “Ah, the good old conscience. Would you rather like to see yourself as the head of FADRA or as a fallen, corrupt, former doctor? The blood will not be your hands, Yadav, but on mine. If he is reaching out to your throat, he may not stop there. Everyone has a past and the next could be mine, now that I am Minister of Health. Sleep well, for soon we will set forth on sharpening our knives”.

  CHAPTER 22: Future Tense

  “Sleep well, for soon we will set forth on sharpening our knives”.

  “Rama, are you suggesting that we will continue on our nomadic ways?”

  “I am hoping that our nomadic ways will soon end”.

  “Rama, I have been led wherever you chose to lead me. For once, will you let me know what plans you have for us?”

  “Right now?”

  “No time better than now, as grandfather used to say”.

  “Well, then, Ananta, so be it. In a few days, we will wind up our presence here. We will notify Gopan tomorrow of a pressing personal matter and leave within a week”.

  “And, go where?”

  “Das Capital”.

  “To the capital? I thought that is where your pursuers are based”.

  “That is exactly why they wouldn’t look for me there. As you rightly believe, my pursuers, after their Bangalore message, would expect me to be farthest from their reach”.

  “Why did you leave the place then?”

  “Time. At that time, it was prudent to do so. As grandfather used to say, a hare will not walk willingly in ...”.

  “... the midst of hounds. So what has changed now?”

  “Time. The hare is now a lion. And, the hounds are not expecting one”.

  “Rama, if you would care to elaborate...”

  “My motives of running away were thus: One, I had made my presence on campus a bit difficult to tolerate and at that point, I was told that people were conspiring to have me evicted. My absence pre-empted that. Second, as I have been telling all around, I wanted to see the medical world as an insider, but not as ’one of them’. I have been fairly successful within the time I spent, though I could have applied myself and learnt more. So much to learn, so little time. Third, I had wind of certain malfeasance committed by some senior people. It would have been impossible to have it investigated directly. In my absence, the people dropped their guard, I have the evidence moved remotely and that has transformed the hare to a lion”.

  “Is that all? You have run away from one man and you have the tools to put him in the dock. Is that your accomplishment?”

  Ram sighed. “Yes and no. By putting one man in the dock, if I am able to send a message to three more like him that justice will catch up with them, I am preventing misdemeanours from happening. If, by putting one man in the dock, I am sending a message to other students that they could do something about the wrongs they see around themselves”.

  “And become famous?”

  “No, Ananta. This would not be my route to fame, nor would such fame last. People should know what they need to know. The message should not be overshadowed by the messenger”.

  “Very noble, indeed. What else have you realised?”

  “Money, Ananta, is the root of all evil. From the unscrupulous doctors who accept freebies from the pharma to push unproven medicines on unsuspecting and uninformed patients to the lawmakers of the land. Among this desert of unscrupulousness, I found oases of ethical and humane practitioners who stand isolated from the rot around them.”

  “What can you do about it, Rama?”

  “Next to nothing. But when I am in a position to do something, I will”.

  “Sounds like a workable plan,” Ananta smiled ruefully.

  “What about you, Ananta?”

  “I am tired, Rama”.

  “Go to sleep, then”.

  “No, I am tired of all this running around. I am tired of the smells of hospitals and Ayurvedic aromas. I am tired of townsfolk and their gracelessness. I have seen a lot of the world, all thanks due to you, and there is a lot to
see. But, to me, none of it is going to be the place I call home. Our village is what I am destined for. I am glad to have spent the time outside and I will go back a better man. I have now spent months of living lies and lives that are not mine”.

  “I don’t blame you for your decision and I hope you don’t blame me either. It is your life and if you believe your contentment lies in our village, so be it.”

  “What about you? Where does yours lie?”

  “I know not. I know not if I will find contentment again. Either my nature or my experiences have taught me to find fault in everything I see.”

  “Is it a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know. I have stopped thinking about it. Ananta, it is rather late in the night to ruffle our brains with rhetoric”.

  “The rest is silence?”

  “Sleep well”.

  The next morning, Gopakumar wasn’t too pleased to hear about the boys’ decision.

  “You two are the first set of boys who I thought, rather hoped, would last. You learnt well and learnt fast, didn’t complain about the food or the smell or the quietness and did your job quietly and efficiently. The lure of the town, eh?”

  Ananta cleared his throat. “No, Gopan. We did not come here to learn the trade and go and practise it in town. For the record, while I learnt a lot, I don’t see myself making money out of it. As we told you, we come from a village by the South Yamuna river. This place is so much like our village that I yearn to be back with my family, which I have been missing.”

  Ramanujam continued. “We have to be thankful to you for making us feel at home. I am sorry if our decision disappoints you. We will serve whatever notice period is required, or serve till you find a replacement for us.”

  “Again, this is what makes you guys different. The others simply vanished without a trace. I will check with the chief on when we can relieve you. This has been a bad day. Two blows in the two hours since morning”.

  “Two?”

  “Yes,” continued Gopakumar, “I guess you wouldn’t have heard. Dr. Sreevalsan is moving on. Disagreement with the management, apparently. He was one of those who would stop to talk to people like you and me.”