Doctor Aunty: (English); Short Story; Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat.

Doctor Aunty: Deepak Budki

Translator: J L Bhat

I came across Doctor Aunty by sheer chance. My friend's sister, Lalita, was in Srinagar undergoing B.Ed. training, and I was her local guardian. Kamla Devi and her daughter had come from Delhi about a week ago and were staying with Lalita to escape the scorching heat of the plains. They were keen to visit famous tourist spots in and around Srinagar.

Aunty, a simple, medium-sized, affable lady, dressed in an ordinary cotton saree, looked like an embodiment of love, kindness, and compassion. On seeing her, nobody could imagine that she was a very successful Gynaecologist in Delhi.

During my very first meeting with her, I was mesmerised by her personality and felt as if my mother, who had left me long ago when I was just twelve years old, had been reincarnated in her form. My emotional bond with the mother unwittingly brought me close to her daughter as well. I left all my personal engagements and, as a professional guide, accompanied them to many easily accessible tourist places in the valley, and helped them purchase some local handicrafts. After a few days, I reached Lalita's residence to see them off as they were leaving for Delhi early the next morning.

As soon as Kamla Devi saw me, she couldn't help but express her gratitude: "Son, you have made us so grateful that I find no words to express my thanks to you."

"Aunty, there is no need to express your thankfulness. You are like my mother, and as a dutiful son, it was my duty." I replied with great humility.

Her daughter Sarita was looking askance at me as if saying, "Mama, why should you be thankful to him? He has charmed your daughter and, with his cunning smile, stolen her heart forever. How does it matter if he looked after us for a few days?"

I paid little heed to Sarita, except to exchange a few smiles once in a while. Meanwhile, Lalita came into the room with hot tea poured into glass tumblers and some snacks, which she set on the table, then sat in one of the chairs. Aunty again addressed me, "Son, tomorrow morning we are proceeding to Katra directly from this place. We intend to have a darshan of Mata Vaishno Devi on our way back. Have you ever been to Mata's durbar?"

"No, Aunty, I have not ventured out of the valley more than twice. Once, I visited Jammu with my parents at the age of seven and spent the whole winter there. The second time visited Ooty down south while on a botanical tour with my department at Kashmir University."

"Then I suggest you also accompany us to Mata Vaishno Devi to have her darshan. It will do a lot of good for you."

For a few moments, I pondered over it and hesitated because I am a non-believer and do not frequent temples and other places of worship. However, I was tempted to have their company for a few more days and therefore agreed without further thought.

Aunty had earlier obliged me by visiting our house without any invitation. She had stayed at our place for several hours and gelled with everyone, young and old. All my family members were in praise of her. There she chanced to examine my ailing aunt, my father's sister to be exact, who was suffering from gastroenteritis for a long. After thoroughly examining her, she gave some instructions and prescribed a few medicines.

The next day before sunrise I hung my backpack on my shoulders and accompanied them to Katra. During the journey, a lot of informality had grown between us, and I had almost become a member of their family.

On my return to Srinagar, I realised that Aunty had cast a spell on me, though my love for her daughter had already taken root and grown very strong. We exchanged letters and sometimes talked on the telephone, yet most of the time, Aunty dominated my thoughts more than her daughter did.

After some time, I started thinking seriously about my relationship with Sarita and did not find myself at all suitable for her. She was the only daughter of her adoptive parents, a medical student at a reputed college in Delhi, while I was earning just two hundred rupees per month, though well qualified and holding the designation of Assistant Manager in a retail chain of handicrafts.

I had been seriously considering leaving my current job because it didn't fulfil my aspirations, not only for financial reasons but also for emotional stability. Ultimately, after a few months, I took the unpleasant decision to resign from my present job and seek better prospects in Delhi.

After reaching Delhi, I started searching for Aunty's residence. As a newcomer to the metropolis, I had a lot of trouble finding her address, but I finally succeeded. Her clinic was right on the roadside near the Moti Nagar bus stand in Delhi. Outside the clinic hung a signboard –'Dr Kamla Devi, Gynaecologist'. Behind the clinic and adjacent to it was her house, rather a continuation of the building that sheltered the clinic, and Aunty lived there with her sister and brother, both younger than her. All of them were unmarried. Sarita was, in fact, the daughter of Kamla Devi's elder brother, and she had adopted her as a child.

I gently knocked at the door, and a voice answered from inside, "Who is it?"

"It is me, Aunty", I responded. The door flung open, and I got in. Kamla Aunty was examining a patient and, upon seeing me, she felt ecstatic and said, "Son, when have you come?"

"Aunty, I reached Delhi yesterday. Actually, I found myself maladjusted to my job there; it wasn't to my taste at all, so I left. I have decided to seek a job here in Delhi."

"You sit inside; I'll join you within a few minutes."

I went into the adjoining drawing room and sat on the sofa. Sarita probably heard my voice, came running out of her bedroom, and sat in front of me. She was excited to see me and began asking me about my welfare. Meanwhile, Kamla Aunty's brother and sister also entered the room, and Sarita introduced them to me.

"Surrinder, she is Sharda Aunty, younger sister of Mom, a dental surgeon by profession, while he is the younger brother of Mama, Amarnath uncle."

I stood up and offered a folded hand Namaskar to both. They soon walked away after exchanging pleasantries; one went to the market for some snacks, and the other went to the kitchen, perhaps leaving us free to talk again. We got so busy conversing with each other that we did not notice when Aunty came out of her clinic and walked straight into the kitchen. She laid out the dining table with tea and snacks and turned to me with love and affection, "Surrinder, did I hear it right that you have left your job? Why did you take such a hasty decision? You could have come here on leave, looked for a desirable job, and then resigned."

"Aunty, I was fed up with my job. There was nothing except deceit, plunder and corruption in our dealings. I felt deeply anguished and always looked for an opportunity to resign."

"All right, what is done is done. I wish some good comes out of it. Maybe there's a bright future waiting for you!" After a brief pause, she enquired again, "Have you any arrangements for your stay here?"

"Yes, Aunty, that's no problem. I'm staying with my friend in his flat."

While in Delhi, I would meet Sarita regularly after college hours. It was she who revealed that she was not Doctor Kamla Devi's real daughter. She was actually the daughter of her elder brother, who owned a cotton mill in Coimbatore. Kamla Devi adopted her at age 5 after migrating to India. She had brought her up with great care and affection. After facing the nightmare of partition, Kamla Devi, Amarnath, and their younger sister, Sharda Devi, decided to remain unmarried and live together in Delhi. Sarita was a darling of them all. As a child, they would swing her in their arms for hours on end. After Sarita moved into her college hostel, the house looked desolate and cheerless, though she never failed to come home on weekends to be with them.

One day, Doctor Aunty related the full story of her miseries during the partition. They had lived in Lahore, and when conditions worsened, their elder brother left with his family at the first available opportunity and took refuge in Coimbatore, but Kamla Devi, Amarnath, and Sharda Devi insisted on staying behind. No sooner had they realised their lives were at risk than they, too, packed up their bags and baggage. Eventually, they were rescued by an army Major who drove them across the border in his army jeep and left them in a refugee camp in Delhi. Subsequently, they were allotted a small house nearby, which had been vacated by an emigrant family. Kamla Devi converted part of the house into her clinic, where she started practising as a doctor. As days passed, she gained a good reputation as a doctor and succeeded in restoring the lost glory of her past; nevertheless, she was unable to forget the bruises inflicted on her and her family during those dark days of partition. She handled the household affairs all by herself. Strangely, Doctor Aunty did not run into any emotional hiccups or shed any tears while relating the sordid events of her past. She maintained her calm, as was visible on the outside, but I could easily dive into the inner turbulence she was passing through. Who knows how many choicest dreams of hers may have been shattered and how many castles she may have built must have crashed during those days? She could not speak of them. It was not even expected of her. Her failed loves, her unaccomplished ambitions and her aborted dreams!

Probably as a consequence of the human misery they had witnessed, all three decided not to get married, but in order to fill the vacuum in their lives, Kamla Devi adopted little Sarita as her daughter and brought her up with great care and affection. It was apparent that Dr Kamla Devi was the main active earning member of the family. Besides earning enough from her profession to support the entire family, she used to work in the kitchen and handle all other household chores single-handedly. Her sister was excessively bulky and easily fatigued by a little work. Brother Amarnath was crafty and clever. He lived off his sister like a parasite. Amarnath did not contribute in any way to the household but had a glib tongue and gave the impression that everything was handled by him.

Looking at her simplicity, sincerity, sacrifice and self-restraint, I once casually asked her while drinking coffee in the dining room, "Aunty, you have reached a stage of life where you own almost everything that one aspires for---wealth, reputation and other comforts of life. Sarita is also going to become a doctor in a year or so. Your responsibility towards her is as good as over. Then why do you charge fees to poor patients? You could at least give free consultations to the poor! 

Dr Kamla Devi smiled lightheartedly and answered, "You are right, son! I've got everything I wanted and now don't look for anything more, but the world has changed a lot since then. In the olden days, people would not care for minor ailments such as coughs, colds, and fevers due to weather changes, but now affluence has changed people's attitudes. They seek a doctor's advice even for an ordinary sneeze and are ready to pay any amount of fee. People go to specialists even when it may not be necessary. It is my goodwill and reputation that stand by me; otherwise, there are many highly qualified gynaecologists in this area. If I don't charge for consultation, people with minor ailments will throng to my clinic day and night. Thus, in order to keep such patients at bay, I charge fees. Secondly, nowadays, the amount of the fee charged determines the doctor's standard. So I have to balance out between philanthropy and personal tag. Still, my fee remains by far the lowest compared to the market rate in this field. Even then, patients sometimes knock at my door at midnight. Some I avoid, but in emergency cases, I am compelled to examine patients at their homes at odd hours. If I offer free consultations, I'll have to run around nonstop and be away from home all the time. A reasonable fee prevents ordinary patients, and only serious ones come seeking my advice at night." 

The uncle, sitting on the other side of the dining table and spreading butter on his slice of bread, interjected sullenly, "Surrinder, you do not know how much we doctors have to suffer in life; we neither enjoy a proper sleep at night nor feel comfortable during the day."

Sarita glanced at me with a mischievous smile as if asking, "Since when has Uncle become a doctor?" He always lived on the earnings of his elder sister, never ever earned a rupee himself, yet talked authoritatively. I understood the language of her eyes, what she wanted to convey and reciprocated with a satirical smile, but chose to be silent.

After many days, I witnessed another interesting event. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I reached their house at about 4 pm. Sat as usual in the drawing room. Amarnath uncle and Sharda Aunty were not at home, so there was a saturnine silence in the house. Sarita also had not yet turned up on her weekend visit. Dr Kamla Devi was examining a young spinster in the adjoining clinic. The conversation between the two was quite audible in the drawing room where I was sitting alone.

"Doctor, I am facing a big fall in my life. I am pregnant, and it is probably the second month. My boyfriend took advantage of my progressive outlook in life. I was free with him and never stopped him at any point, but then he ditched me once he heard about the pregnancy. Now I have no alternative but to terminate the pregnancy. Doctor, I shall be ever obliged if you kindly abort my unwanted pregnancy. I am ready to pay as much as you demand."

"Sorry, I am extremely sorry for not accepting your request. I don't carry out abortions. You have knocked at the wrong door."

"Aunty, my mother is a very big fan of yours. I have always heard her singing paeans to you. She says you are a divine incarnate. I know I have committed a big blunder before my marriage. Only you can save me from this calamity. I've not even disclosed it at home. In that case, I won't be able to show my face to anyone. I am sure that boy is going to disown me now," the girl kept crying while speaking.

"My daughter, I do not undertake medical termination of pregnancy. As repentance, you have accepted your misdeed, which is more than enough under the circumstances. But I've some personal principles and limitations which I shall not alter under any circumstances. I haven't done this job all my life, not even during those days when hundreds of helpless abducted girls used to make a beeline outside my clinic with their protruding bellies. I'm sorry, you must go now."

The girl got up and left with a very heavy heart. Sad about what had happened, Dr Kamla Devi entered the drawing room and threw herself on the sofa. She expressed mixed feelings of sorrow and anger. For the first time, I observed such a severe strain on her face.

"See this little girl, she is not yet out of school and is carrying a baby in her womb. Shocking isn't it! Look at her audacity! She is offering me money as if everything can be purchased with it!"

It was the first time Doctor Aunty was giving vent to her professional conflict at home, and that too in my presence. I was watching the ups and downs of her face closely. In her consternation that she was going through, she even forgot to ask me whether I wanted something to drink or eat after having travelled so long. Still, I mustered enough courage and asked her, "Aunty, I think she deserved sympathy. There should have been no hitch in solving her problem. To err is human! Everybody commits mistakes. Who would she approach except a doctor? And then she was ready to pay the requisite fees."

I was apprehensive that Kamla Devi would flare up upon hearing my suggestions, and maybe I would earn some abuse as well, but nothing of the sort happened. In a while, her usual soft mood was restored, and she said to me, "Son, money is not everything in life. If I had wished, I would have earned lakhs of rupees from such nefarious activities. Plenty of opportunities came my way, but my inner conscience never allowed me to indulge in such things. As per my understanding, I have come to this life - Manushya Janma - to save human lives and not to kill them in cold blood. Only the Almighty Lord has the right to take any life, none else. To me, terminating pregnancy unless warranted for health reasons of the mother or foetus is the biggest crime, and no other crime is worse than that."

"But, Aunty, the majority of doctors do it. Why doesn't s their conscience prick them? Will they all go to hell?"     

"That is their personal thinking. Whether they will go to Swarga or Naraka, only God knows. I cannot be their conscience keeper. In my opinion, abortion should be done only when the life of the mother or the child is in danger and also within the prescribed time period when the woman has just conceived, and the foetus has not taken the shape of a baby; otherwise, I consider it nothing less than a murder."

"I fully agree with you, Aunty. I am sorry if I offended you. Actually, I was trying to put forward the compulsions of that abused girl. Okay, let us leave the topic and talk about something pleasant."

"Son, I have been practising as a doctor for the last thirty years. Let me share with you the moment when I got the utmost joy of my life in this profession. One day, long ago, a couple, around 35 years of age, came to my clinic for a consultation. They had been married for almost ten years, but had not had the joy of a child. They had knocked on the doors of many well-known doctors, but to no avail. They also visited several saints and sadhus to seek their blessings. Nothing worked. At last, they came to me by chance, hoping I might be able to help them. I examined the woman thoroughly and suggested douching once more. I performed the D&C and told her to come every third day for ongoing monitoring. Those very days, as luck would have it, I had received a few ring-shaped vaginal dilators from Japan as samples, which helped in preventing any constrictions in the vagina that could impede the flow of seminal fluid. I inserted them and prayed to God to help the childless lady. God did listen to my prayers. Exactly 20 days later, I gave them the good news that she had conceived and that she needed to take the utmost care now. She felt on top of the world and after nine months delivered a pretty baby. I, too, felt highly jubilant and satisfied. That was really the happiest day of my life as I had performed a miracle almost with the blessings of my Lord. I felt the presence of God everywhere around to guide and help me."

On hearing the story of her achievement and success, I admired her sincerity, hard work and veracity. Meanwhile, Sarita had also come from her college and joined us, and we all gleamed with joy.

Many years passed by. The circumstances took such a turn that Sarita could not become my life partner. She married a doctor, and my contact with the family snapped.

After about a decade, I was posted to Delhi again and had a chance to talk with Sarita on the phone. She informed me that Dr Kamla Devi had passed away a few years back. I was shocked and severely dismayed. Without wasting much time, I reached their Moti Nagar residence to express my condolences. The clinic was closed and enveloped in a strange air of grief.

I knocked on the door several times without any response. At last, someone called from inside, "Who is there?" I recognised the voice and replied, "Uncle, I am Surrinder, please open the door."

He opened the door with a lot of difficulty and spoke out immediately, "Surrinder, it is not the same Delhi now. Everything has changed. It has become a city of crime and rape. Old people who are found alone are targeted day in and day out." He ushered me into the adjoining drawing room, sat on the sofa, held his breath for a while and then continued, "Your Aunty has left us long ago. Sarita also does not visit us after her death. Both of us are scared to allow strangers into the house. Only our maidservant comes in from the back door. The clinic's shutters remain closed permanently. Thank God, I recognised your voice and opened the gate; otherwise, you would have had to wait for a long time. Life has changed full circle since our sister left."

I followed Uncle through the clinic and sat on the sofa opposite him. The total atmosphere was gloomy. It appeared that this house had not been cleaned for ages. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. In the meantime, Sharda Aunty walked in, with the help of crutches, writhing in pain and sat on the sofa next to her brother.

Both began to relate their woes in detail. Tears flowed down their cheeks and choked their voices time and again. This was the same house where I had learned lessons about love, empathy, virtue and the art of living. Today, the same house was enveloped in darkness, gloom and helplessness. It appeared the soul of the house had evaporated, leaving behind complete desolation and suffering.

*****