THE TRUE CALLING

I stared into the shower and a million droplets that poured from it for the first time as I remembered the airport earlier today teeming with people except for the fact that they don't fall into nothingness like these tiny droplets.

"Sasha hurry up make haste, we've got no time to waste!" I hear my mother screaming at the top of her voice and then I brush aside these thoughts readily put on my most presentable dress to face whatever the day has in store for me.

As we hop into the taxi storming past the big broad roads I pull down the window letting the fresh breeze graze over my face only to be interrupted by a rather long stop signal.Nearly twenty minutes pass by and we're in the same spot, now the breeze more of hot radiator smoke emanating from the adjacent vehicles yet again got me thinking about my insignificance in this huge blizzard of a population. Then I chance upon this king size poster saying "Namma Ooru Bengaluru" and I rethink my choices leaving my small hometown in the state of Tamilnadu.

We arrive at our destination finally - the bold towering building with its imposing construction belittling me. Nevertheless we enter inside and are ushered into a massive hall the so called "admissions office" and I see thirty odd others like me seated all busy arranging their files. I get my token number and wait for my turn rummaging about my documents pretty much like others my palms sweatier than usual.

"Token no 23" announces the big burly intimidating officer with a huge black beard and I rush forward with my file clenched in my hand.

"All documents in order?" He asks.

"Yes." I reply.

"Let me see." He says.

He briefly glances through the sheets and throws them aside barely missing my face.

"Where the hell are your bonds executed? Don't waste my time. Get them ready in order and come another day." He says.

"Since I have come through the All India Quota should I execute these state bonds?" I ask of him.

To which he replys "See the bloody website. Leave now."

Then I explain to him "Sir, We are from a different state. Please explain the procedure to us clearly."

He brutally responds by saying "Not my problem. Find out from somebody yourself and do the needful otherwise forfeit your seat."

And then my day goes haywire, asking my fellow mates the process, running helter-skelter for a notary and getting online eligibility certificate from the university, finally managing to settle the admission formalities within the next two days.

Meanwhile I gather my baggage and go looking for the college's hostel accommodation.I get directed to the warden of the hostel, also a professor and HOD of a department in the college.

"Good morning ma'am. I have come to request you for hostel accommodation" I address her politely.

"Where's the goddamn letter?" She enquires of me.

"I haven't written a letter but I shall write it now" I say apologetically.

"Don't you have the basic sense to get your things in order before you meet me." She yells.

Then I write a letter hurriedly outside her office and move back inside to hand it over to her.

She muses over the written content and then replies expressionlessly " No hostel vacancies for the next three months. Make your own arrangements. You're token no 54."

Shockingly I respond "Kindly consider my predicament. I'm from an outside state and am absolutely in need of a place to stay."

To which she coolly replies "Not my problem. You'll have to figure it out."

My first day and I already find thirty two others around me in groups of four or five all interacting in a dialect foreign to me. I try to be enthusiastic but a chill creeps inside of me reminding me that I'll never be one of them. One and a half months pass, We're all toiling through our post-graduation and I receive a call at midnight from a colleague.

"What the hell do you think shedding off your responsibility?" She angrily questions me.

"What are you talking about?" I question her back.

"I had to do your bloody work that too on a Sunday." She retorts.

"I would've done it myself if you had told me. Chill I'll return the favour." I respond.

"Not my problem. As a token you're doing it next Sunday not a choice." She abruptly cuts the call.

Not my problem! Token! What's the problem with these people? And what's with tokens? Back in my Alma mater where I completed my graduation, Our administrative staff were helpful to every student especially other state people, the professors really concerned for students and the colleagues splitting the work burden with one another. I find myself shrunken, lonely and try my best to keep away from these people.

In four months I see myself coaxing a four year old kid crying fervently, his upper lip completely disfigured rather torn out by a dog bite babbling something inarticulate on the way to the operation theatre. As we know we need our upper lip, lower lip and tongue to produce sounds phonetically. Absence of any of these can impair speech to a great extent.

In the theatre my professor says " Hold the mask Sasha. We've to get him under anaesthesia quickly."

And I do so instinctively "Able to ventilate sir."

My professor says "This is a tough case. They'll operate on the lip so we'll have to intubate him through the nose. Are you ready?"

(Intubation is a process by which you pass a tube through the wind pipe for general anaesthesia.)

"Yes sir. I am ready." I reply.

And then I pass the endotracheal tube in a single attempt successfully.

My professor appreciates saying "Good job!"

And we manage to get through the surgery without further complications.

On my way back to hostel alone by myself in the metro station I see the huge crowd ubiquitous to this city, also I see beautiful graffiti art inscribed on the walls, reading it for the first time "Are you an outsider to the city? Have you come for work or study? Welcome to Bengaluru."

The next day I go and examine my little patient to check how he's doing. He's got a flap to cover for his upper lip, wide awake and playing with his toy version of metro station.

I say "Hi. How are you?"

He looks up and says nothing. Clearly he doesn't remember me. I'm an anaesthetist- essentially a sleep doctor! We put our patients to sleep.

I pause for a moment and say "Bye" and turn back to leave the place.

That's when he says loudly for the whole ward to hear " Namma Ooru Bengaluru." while yesterday he could barely say any discernable word.

I spin my head over my shoulder and smile at him realising my true calling - my devotion to my patients and my change of perception.

P.S - "Namma Ooru Bengaluru" means "Our city Banglore" in a sense of endearment.