But there are days when I cannot help agree with those who propound the "doing good" theory. Last week, as we were sipping our first cup of tea, Bhuban babu, an elderly man with multiple skills (he helps us paint our house or fashion bamboo screens or sleep over when we are not in Santiniketan) came by to tell me that as he was cycling by, a low-lying branch hit his eye. Although he was hit in the left eye, he couldn't see well even with his right. I asked him whether he had seen a doctor. He said he had, some general physician in his mohalla. He had had medicines but things hadn't improved. I sent him off to see an eye specialist; he was given spectacles and is now a happier man.
Strangely the same day I went to my workshop/studio and was called by Chhaya, one of the girls who does embroidery, to say that she had fallen into a drain and hurt her shin bone. She had been to the hospital and got the large cut stitched but needed to see an orthopaedic surgeon to figure out how to fix her shin. Many phone calls later, I managed to fix up a doctor near her house.
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An hour into my work and Meherunissa, our batik specialist came to me to say that her right thumb had been paining for a while (only six months) but was really bad that day. I thought it might be because of holding the waxing brush for long hours but yelled at her for sitting on it for so long. I sent her off to an orthopaedic specialist, who got her X-rayed and later told her that she had a growth in her thumb bone, which would need an operation. And if she didn't get it done fast she might lose her thumb.
Shattered, Meherunissa called me and said she had been referred to another senior doctor. Also the doctor apparently wanted to talk to her "guardian". Knowing that her poor parents would understand little and stress a lot, she had called me. I rushed to the specialist, who confirmed that she indeed had a growth. He suggested I took her to some "corporate hospital" in Kolkata for the operation. The poor girl was shaking by then.
I took Meherunissa to a doctor friend, who explained to her in more humane terms what was wrong and whether at all there was any great need to hurry and, most importantly, whether the "corporate hospital" in Kolkata was a necessity.
The next day Munmun, who works as a salesperson in our shop fell from a stool and twisted her ankle. But the general physician we sent her to said it didn't seem like a fracture. Hassled Munmun called me and asked, "Didi should I go to a bone specialist?" obviously not satisfied with something minor. This left me wondering whether it was only the doctors, who were not being sensitive to the poor or whether the poor were becoming suckers for medical attention as part of their increasing aspirations.