There are six weeks left until five years of this journey comes to an end.

10 June 2019

The man looked really, really, really angry. Clad in a plain white shalwar kurta, he held a slip of paper in his hand, waving it around frantically. We had just reached the orthopaedic OPD – a good sixty minutes late because we knew the consultant was never punctual – and were prepared to wait for another hour till the clinic would begin.

“I will report you in the media! What nonsense is this! I’ve been waiting for an hour for this doctor to show up! Why have you written the time 2 PM here when he comes late? Is our time not valuable?? You charge us an exorbitant fee and make us wait for hours at an end! This is ridiculous! I will make a video and circulate this on social media! ”

We quietly crept back into the clinic. Crept back, yeah. Because we knew that man was right. We knew how valuable his time was. Maybe he had taken a leave from his workplace to especially bring his patient here. Maybe he had travelled a great distance to get to this hospital. But maybe none of that was true and he was just tired of waiting. Because time is valuable. Whether it’s his or ours or the very respectable doctors’.

There are six weeks left until five years of this journey comes to an end. I’m not very sure about how I feel. Ecstatic? Relieved? Accomplished? Scared? Apprehensive? Anxious? Maybe a little bit of all or simply none of these. But my heart is only beating to one realization – as we walk on this thin rope of life, we owe every human being we meet the sincerest form of dignity, respect, compassion, and kindness.

Just six weeks left. I will keep praying that all of us – every single person I’ve shared that lecture hall with – graduates with a kind, kind, kind heart. Amen.

 

ortho

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the Madni phase after the trials of Mecca

1 PM | 5 August 2019

When you’re standing in front of the freezing burst of the air conditioner, shivering a little uncomfortably – but not enough to be noticed – all you can think of is how to turn that damned machine off. A few seconds of good luck that reappear after every minute or so, strikes and the direction of that freezing blast of air moves away from you, leaving you in that very welcome warmth of comfort. It makes you very much comfortable. You may even sigh with relief. And then the cold air comes again.

Unfortunate incidents and bumps in the road are like that; they last for a few days before there’s the warmth of happiness again. Then something else happens to give you another sleepless night before there’s a smile of gratitude. So just like the cold air booming out of the air conditioner, happiness and peace also play hide-and-seek with us.

But what I’d like us to remember is the very comfortable warmth of Love that hugs us. The sunrise after a dark, stormy night of thunderstorms. The laugh mixed with tears. Like a dear friend said, the Madni phase after the trials of Mecca.

 

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Artwork: Tooba Masihuddin