Last week I felt a little feverish and decided to visit the nearest dispensary run by the State Govt. Normally I visit the private doctors for medical treatment. But this time I wanted to break my own rule and have a different experience.

After collecting my Registration slip, I found a place at the far end of the bench. Some of the co-patients were perching with one leg, and the rest with both their legs on the bench.  Running noses were being wiped on the shirt sleeves. It was a time of viral fever. Almost all of them were wearing a forlorn look.

No sooner did I sit than a strong, middle-aged man approached me holding his slip. The most remarkable thing on his face was his handlebar moustache. I thought he took proper care of it. Howsoever, strong did he look, I noticed something was bothering him very much. A pain may be, I thought, else why would he come to see the doctor. I was right. He came to me and requested me to hold his slip till he came back. I was puzzled. I asked him, why wasn’t he carrying his slip wherever he was going. I would keep his turn reserved after mine. He said he can’t. There was visible desperation on his face. I was still not moved. He touched his stomach and wryly declared that he had to go to relieve himself, as he could not bear that any more. Before I could gather myself, he pushed his slip into my hand and ran to answer the nature’s call.

I detached my mind from the incident, looked around and started reading all the notifications of the diseases which were so carefully worded that they would easily generate equal amount of awareness and fear in the mind of the reader. By the time I finished with Diarrhoea, Cholera and Diphtheria, there was movement in the queue and I also slided on the bench accordingly. A little boy of around 10years, who was standing till then, sat beside me. The more I got drawn towards the doctor’s chamber, there were more new entrants in the queue.

After some time, the handlebar moustache returned smilingly and wiping his wet hands with a handkerchief. He told me sheepishly that at times the pressure was so high that he could not stand that any further. I gave him a compassionate nod and returned his slip. Sensing that he would be pushed down the queue, the boy pressed himself against me without leaving an inch of gap. Fearing that he might jump into my lap to hold onto his turn, I said to him that the person whose slip I was carrying, was right after me in the queue. My  young companion mumbled something, which I could not understand, but from his further closeness to my body, I realized that he was not ready to give up his place. The handlebar generously declared that he was giving up his turn to the young boy. However, the assurance was perhaps not that convincing so, as I moved on the bench, he kept himself glued to me without fail.

When I was second in the queue, and was about to move to the first place, unexpectedly the handlebar sat before me superceding me. Before I could complain, he said in a low tone to me, “Don’t worry sir. I will go after you”. Accordingly, I went in before him. The little boy did not sit in his lap. He disliked him.