A COLD WINTER NIGHT.

It was a cold dark night.
In the early 80s, pre global warming era, It used to be real cold in the winters. The slit eyed people would sell their woollen wear on the streets in bright colors. You could actually see people wearing sweaters then.
I used to dread the winters as they used to trigger attacks of Asthma in my younger brother.
My brother Vinay too used to fear the dry cold winds blowing through my bed room window. My town had not yet modernized. There used to be real lonely nights after 10 pm when the streets were empty and deserted.
A silence pervaded our senses. Then the wheezing spells would begin. They would shatter my inner silence. All through the night I would sit besides him and massage his chest with Vicks balm hoping to cure him of his attack.
I felt so helpless then.
If there would be no respite, I would run to our family doctor in the dark of the night. The chasing mongrel dogs would impart a god speed to my feet. My doctor was a bespectacled marwari guy in his 40s with silver hair and a grey moustache. He was a very kind person unlike the doctors today. He would immediately change and come to my house on a scooter with me as a pillion rider carrying his bag. After administering drug shots, he would wait patiently till the asthma attack subsided. My mom would make coffee for him. He would leave after collecting a paltry sum as his visit fees.
At times, my brother would just turn blue and we had to take him to a hospital. There were no rickshaws or taxis in our small town. I used to carry him on my shoulders to the hospital which was about 2 kms away from my place. These attacks of asthma continued till the age of 16 years. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could not bear to see my brother suffer. The seeds of becoming a doctor germinated when I was a young kid.
I could not bear to see the uncertainty, anxiety and fear on the faces of my parents. I had already made up my mind to become a doctor.

Now after so many decades, My shoulders still hurt, I carry the huge burden of expectations of my patients, their relatives and my family. My first job is to reassure them. Treatment then usually works better. A healthy discussion allays all their anxieties and fears.I have to balance my professional and family life. It is like walking a tight rope.

It is 3 am and my cell phone rings, I'm down with viral fever and my body hurts like anything. The patient on the line is having chest pain. My shoulders still aching, I drive down to my hospital, fresh as a daisy. I usually reach before the arrival of the patient.
My nocturnal street dogs, accustomed to my car, do not bother to chase me.

Recently, I had gone to my old town for some work. I saw a familiar face in the crowd. It was my family doctor. He had aged considerably. I thanked him for all the kindness and for the visits he made to my place during our childhood. He had taught me the first lesson of medicine, kindness.

I folded my hands and touched his pious feet. I expressed my gratitude.

Sometimes during cold winter nights, I reminisce about old times and lay on the bed with moist eyes.