Hospital Diary

Truth be told, I worry a lot about "where the money will
come from" for this and that, these days. Blame it on being
bypassed in the employment scheme of things by phone-obsessed,
assumption happy recruiters, blame it on the increasing
realization that I will always be penny wise and pound shy,
blame it on the rising costs of living -- of things even as
plain as Idlis (that cost Rs. 15 for four!) and this and that.

And oh, yes blame it on the fact that writing poetry is not a
profession at all, unless one is looking at a payout very late
in life, when a "matured" poet like Tomas Tranströmer. Whatever
it be, the worry has ridden me hard. And as is bound to happen
when you are family, I am sure much of this has been generously
borrowed by my father, who at 67 is a retiree and has a wealth
of own monetary and other worries.

Stress and worry are the most major triggers for a heart
condition, so in all those lengthy vigils at the hospital,
I was mentally flogging myself for being a bad son, in
addition to feeling old and poor by turns.

Oh, the pain!

#######

The hospital concerned was a corporate hospital with a
who's who of empaneled and consultant specialists. While I am
no stranger to hospitals (being the chosen one to accompany
my father on his weekly visits to a sprawling PSU run hospital
in Rourkela and being the chosen one, the attendant who is
allowed to stay with the patient when my parents were
hospitalized at the afore-mentioned hospital and being
admitted myself for a minor surgery) this one was
overwhelming in its concrete, steel and glass glitter.
As also in its level of image consciousness and
presentation (from a marketing viewpoint). My father
(as a retiree from a PSU) was entitled to insurance
reimbursement, but I still wondered all through, how much
less expensive this hospital's services would be, without
all that glitter -- of the reception and front office staff
(on every floor), the men among them dressed in suits,
the women draped in designer sarees and fancy high backed
blouses, the lift attendants and so on...
But then again, when you are at a hospital that is taking
good care of your father, you count your blessings.

####

This hospital is a stone's throw from Secunderabad
Railway Station and has come up behind what used to
be the legendary Sangeet Cinema Hall and is now an
under construction behemoth of concrete, all of 6
floors high with a big crane / hoist towering over it
all, on which most of the time, I could see at least one
Black Kite. Which meant that whenever I felt like feeling
like a bird, I would walk to the window of father's room
and look out. To see either a dogfight among the kites
in the skies, or a fight for the most favoured perch
(the weighed end) of the crane / hoist or (at least thrice)
the peculiarly carnival sight of a black kite sitting
on the crane / hoist totally unconcerned (and in all
probability enjoying) while the crane / hoist did
a complete swivel of 180 degrees and then back again.
Almost like a merry go round. One more reason to respect
these majestic creatures -- the Black Kites; they don't
seem to have queasy guts unlike me, when it comes to merry
go rounds.