What follows is a description of an event that took
place more than two years ago. Here, I am re-constructing that experience from
the notes I had kept safe in my Desktop.
Today, I had a
new experience. I participated in an ‘outreach programme’, under which a
reputed city hospital organized a health awareness and check-up camp at a
village close to our college.
In the morning
at 8:40am, we started from our college in three cars. The village Sumel is at a
10 minute drive from our college. We reached the village expecting that the
volunteers from the hospital would greet us. But what happened was contrary to
our expectations, for we had reached first. We realized that it - what is commonly
referred to as the Indian Standard Timing – was being followed. The team of doctors
reached the venue at 9:15.
The venue was a Rajkiya Vidyalaya (govt. school). The
event had been planned with the permission of the mukhiya of the village. That was a tough job and required a number
of interactions with the mukhiya, and
was accomplished by some senior members of the hospital.
As we entered the
Rajkiya Vidyalaya, we observed that the
buildings were crude. There were classrooms, which had no chairs for the
students, just one chair for teacher and a blackboard somehow engraved in the
wall of the room. All rooms were similar. On the walls were written some aphorisms.
I cannot recall them, but they were about virtues like patience, perseverance
and hard-work. Also, there was a hand pump nearby, which probably was the only source
of water for the school.
After having a
quick look around, we were instructed to arrange chairs for the doctors in the
classrooms; meanwhile our professor got busy meeting the distinguished doctors
from the hospital. When we were finished with arranging chairs, we came back
and stood near one of the tables thinking what to do next.
At that moment,
a lady doctor came to us and inquired whether we were from LNMIIT. We nodded in
affirmation. Then she told us about all that she expected us to do. We were to
divide ourselves into two teams. One team had to make the health-cards for the villagers, and the other team had to go out in
village to do a survey regarding the cooking habits, sanitation etc.
I wanted to go
out for the survey, but was assigned the task to stay inside the school and
make the health-cards for the
villagers. We were told that when the first group returns back, we would be
allowed to go for a survey.
Hence convinced,
we sat down and started making the cards. The cards were a pre-requisite to get
a free check-up. Thus, every villager first came to us and we wrote their
personal details like name, age, family members and occupation on the card. The
card was also helpful in getting them a discount, in case in future they had to
visit the hospital.
Making cards for
the villagers was an amazing experience. I found myself speaking the local
dialect marwari with them. Most of
the patients were old people, who had come to the camp with great expectations.
While making the
cards for people of all age groups in village I learned a few facts about the
villagers:
- Most of them were unaware of their age. Only some young people
knew their exact age. When I asked them their age, they said, “साहिब, थे देख ल्यो , जत्ती बरस का लागें, उत्ती बरस का लिखद्यो | (sahib, just look at us and estimate our age and write it down)”
- The women did not speak out the names of their husband and blushed whenever we asked them to say it aloud.
- Many people were not interested in coming even for the free check-up. Some people came only after continuous persuasions by the other team.
The doctor had
asked to make one card per family. In most of the families, there were around
6-7 members. The process was going on smoothly, when an old lady came.
We asked her about her family…
She said, “Sons…yes, I have 6
sons.” (Of course, she spoke marwari)
Then my question was, “are
they married?” to which she replied, “Yes.”
“Tell us their names.”
She started reciting the names of his sons and daughters-in-law. I
paused writing down the names for a second and asked, “What about grandsons and granddaughters?”
“Yes, there are many of
them. Shall I tell you their names also??”
I said, “No thank you…I’ll
manage it.”
There was no room left on the form and I stopped.
- There were some who told the names of their sons –“ goliyo, kaliyo, bhuriyo, bantiyo...” The suffix 'iyo' was ever present.
Time went past
quite fast while interacting with the villagers and making the cards. The
entire time, a little boy kept playing around the table and smiled whenever I
saw him. Sometime later we took a break.
A few bottles of soft-drinks were handed over to us. The drinks were energising
and replenished the fluids we had lost in the heat.
An hour after
noon the other team returned from the survey and we came to know about the
actual condition of the villages and villagers. Some of them were not coming to
the health camp, even though they were terribly ill, may be because of the lack
of trust in those “शहरी डॉक्टर (doctors from the city)”. The other team also reported that most of the houses
in the village did not have the basic sanitation facilities like a toilet and the
food was still cooked in the “kachhi rasoi (कच्ची रसोई)", wherein coal and wood was burnt as
a fuel. Some of them knew about the smokeless chulha, and told the team, “आपकी बात तो सही है, लेकिन उस चूल्हे पे बने खाने में स्वाद नहीं आता | (What you say is true, but the food does not taste good on that smokeless chulha.)” Another observation made was that some rich
villagers possessed vehicles like Tata-Sumo which stood gleaming outside their
houses, yet the women folk went out in the open to respond to the call of the
nature.
Now, it was our
turn to go ahead for the survey in the other direction which the first team had
left for us, but we were informed that lunch had been arranged. So we agreed to
go after having some food. Although not sure of what we would get in that
village school, we went to the classroom which was temporarily turned into an
eating place. We were surprised to find that the food looked quite good and
when we tasted it, we found it to be utterly delicious. We were hungry and
gorged on the sumptuous meal. Later, we came to know that it had been brought
from some good place in the city
After satiating
our hunger, we got ready for our endeavour ahead. Surprisingly, we were
informed that the time to go back had come. Some of us protested that it was
just 2pm and the health camp was supposed to be till 4pm. How could the doctors
leave??
But, they were
leaving and so were we. We were disappointed. Someone amongst us said, "these doctors just wanted to show the senior
members of hospital that they are concerned about the villages. Now that the
senior members are gone, they have no reason to stay here till 4pm."
While we were
waiting for the vehicle, which took us back to college, an elderly man walked in
for an eye check-up. The doctors were gone. Whoever remained were some nurses
and other medical staff. The man said “sahib,
I have walked 6 Km. on foot to come here and now you say that there is no one.”
Our professor who was probably of the same age went up to him and offered him a
lift back to his place. With the doctors gone, that was the best he could do.
Somehow the man calmed down.
But soon after an
old woman came and said that she had pain in her knees and needed to see a
doctor. A medical staff from the hospital tried to convince her that the
doctors had gone away and that she should get a health-card made and come to the hospital in the city for her
check-up.
But she was not
calmed. She released her frustration by saying, “मैं डोकरी छु ना, मने इलाज के ताईं कोई सहर न ले जाये |. (I am an old useless woman. Why would anyone take
me to the city doctor?).”
Her words conveyed
more than what she wanted to say.
However, no one
could convince her. She needed a medicine. Finally a nurse came up with a
solution. He handed her some painkillers and asked her to take one tablet each
after lunch and dinner. She calmed down and went back to her home.
Some others may
also have come after that, but we were on our way by then.
Recalling this
experience I think, what if the senior members of the hospital had stayed till
the end? Or, what if the other doctors were also equally concerned about the villagers?
The experience
brings forth to my memory both happiness and sadness. But still, it was a
learning experience. It was an attempt to understand the villages of my nation,
which according to Gandhiji if uplifted would help our nation progress better.
‘Sarvodaya’ is
the dream. I hope that we are soon able to transform that dream into reality.
