The Asian Student Medical Journal
©Asian Student Medical
Journal 2002-2005 All Rights Reserved
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DEAD MAN TALKING!!
diary notes of a cadaver......
Deepak Bose |
2 Oct.
After 3 days of impertubable slumber in my A/c lounge
(mortuary being too blasphemous, a word), I was escorted to
another of the suites by two hefty men - one was so endearing
as he lacked a tooth. I was one of the fortunate few whom the
old dilapidated elevator doors received with open arms. I was
given a thorough wash and some exotic "drink" which
permeated into every tissue of mine! What service! And an even
more "lively" neighbourhood awaited me in the tanks!
22 Nov.
I was laid on a table - Table 3 - as they called it. We were
all "stationed" on individual tables after our
afternoon siestas. Soon, the whole place was swarming with
boys and girls all clad in white simulating a miniature Milky
way galaxy. Thirteen fearful faces were ordered to take refuge
beside me. I never knew that those were the faces with which I
had to get accustomed to for the rest of my life (or, my life
after death).
Poor things! many were too bewildered to even peek at me. And
the aroma was too strong that a large number began cursing God
for not blessing them with appropriate "nose-lids"
along with eyelids.
23 Nov.
Today, a few sarees trotted by, pointed to a board which read,”
Let conversation cease...” and declared to the students,
"Take out your Cunninghams and do the dissection
according to your roll numbers". A few untrained and
hesitant scalpels crash-landed on me. ‘Please, only the
fascia, not the muscle.... Oh no! ‘I wished to scream. But,
it was too late.
1 Dec.
They disarticulated both of my arms. 'Disarticulated' - my
vocabulary has considerably improved, thanks to the constant
interaction with these budding docs. I think I'll call them
"Buddies" (What the heck! After all they'll never
come to know)
7 Dec.
I was very sad today. My buddies put up long and queer faces
after their 'teacher' had tormented them with queries (or
'Gundukal' as they were addressed). I could identify with
their feelings and so it didn't pain me much when they poked
me with their scalpels to vent their anger and despair. Poor
lots!
14 Dec.
Not a single one approached me today (sob, sob). The girls
were engrossed in their Cunninghams, trying to make sense out
of the so-called 'nonsense' within me. As for the boys, they
set their imaginations ablaze trying to decipher how I might
have met with my end. I wanted to help all of them out. But
they wouldn't listen to my whispers. They had chosen the hard
way!
19 Dec.
There is love in the air! Maybe, that's an exaggeration. But a
great deal of letters from Christmas friends and secret
admirers flew past me in search of their destinations. The
ensuing peals of laughter and exclamations rang in my ears and
rejuvenated me. I too had loved once - an unreturned love! An
emotion so foolish, yet so sweet.... I didn't want to caution
my buddies to keep their eyes peeled while submerging
themselves in the ecstasy of infatuation and love. Afterall,
it's all part of life....!
23 Dec.
All bid farewell for the Christmas vacations. And for me
(minus my upper limbs), it's back to the tank again! Merry
Christmas and a Happy New.... (what am I saying?)
2 Jan.
Today, I met with the fate of the bygone calenders- I was
flipped over. Being a lean person, I was considered one of the
best specimens for 'Gluteal Region'. The lady on the next
table was being constantly cursed by ‘her buddies’ for the
abode of fat on her rear!
13 Jan.
“Hurray! Behold the ideal Popliteal Fossa!” celebrated my
‘buddies’. Students from neighbouring tables kept pouring
in to have a glimpse of the impeccable 'ditch' behind my right
knee. It required death to make me realise the joy of being
wanted. When I used to breathe, no one cared to see my plight.
And now these kids, who never knew me and who will never know
me, care for me, or at least for a fossa of mine!
15 Jan
"Hey, ya! Could you show us the Common Peroneal,"
cried a few coquettish ladies in chorus. "Right
here", boasted the chivalrous men, who otherwise never
cared to “flock with the birds of their own feather”. The
truth was that my common peroneal had been only a prelude to
the never-ending chit-chat that was to ensue. The frivolous
banters, the jests and gestures-the ‘Panchaarayadi Syndrome’-gave
me the goosebumps. Nevertheless, the voice modulation was
incredible - never too high for the teachers and never too low
for me! The board still read, “Let conversation cease...”
20 Jan.
It seems like a Red Revolution. I'd heard that Cunningham,
although prescribed by the teachers, was too hifi for my
buddies. So, now they have all resorted to a Chaurasia, an
unassuming text all clad in red; a book, never in the good
books of the authorities, but always at the rescue of the
students. There were alternative books which presented Anatomy
in shades of ‘Gray’, meant exclusively for nerds and
zealous aspirants (a new religion of 'Kuththism' had already
been established). The protagonists, after having a morsel of
those enormous books would stare into me with their
expressionless spectacled eyes to replenish their database. If
only I had blood in my vessels and sensations along my nerves
..... to give them the right picture!
1 Feb.
I forfeited my legs too. Melancholy hung in my heart as my
limbs were to be (mis)- used for the viva to be held tomorrow.
I don't know how many gallons of sweat will be shed or how
many imprecations will be muttered. I have only one thing to
say, "Sorry, I didn't mean it!"
14 Feb.
On valentine's day we cadavers in the tank discussed our new
and improved looks sans limbs. Our only female counterpart was
more than just dismayed. She was annoyed at the behaviour of
the students and the unpleasant comments passed at her. Where
were respect, courtesy and stuff like that; after all she was
old enough to be their mother. Whateva! I am having the time
of my "life"! These relations were anew.
22 Feb.
Thorax - I prefer ‘chest’, it reminds of some kind of
treasure within (self.. self!). This time, my buddies were
well-equipped to explore the depths of my rib cage. Being
startled by the mallet and chisel (only a teeny-weeny bit), I
was shaken violently for half an hour at the end of which -
Plop! Eager eyes permeated into my chest.
5 Mar.
They took my lungs and viewed the marks left by my favourite
pastime - smoking (Oops!) Next, they scrutinised my heart. It
was an important 'discussion topic', for them as well as for
me. My whole life, I was portrayed to be selfish and
heartless. And now here I was with a big 'heart', flaccid and
frozen, whom I had deniedthe right to vibrate with life,
months ago. But it was thirsty for life, up to the last moment
till it held onto my body. My mother whom I had never seen and
whom I loved to hate; the drawing teacher at my school who
used to praise my scribbles; my only, love, who failed to see
my heart - did my buddies notice all of them when they tore up
the specimen? Perhaps! I saw tears in many eyes, why? Was it a
tinge of pity or just formalin fumes?
6 Apr.
We were relieved of our heads, or rather, our heads were
deprived of bodies (Oh! I forgot, one of my colleagues hadbeen
headless from day 1). Today, the teachers took a step further,
opened up the skull, scooped out my brain and served it to the
students piping hot. 'Buddies' dug into my face and scraped it
off of the dark skin that I used to loathe once. Now, my face
was in no way inferior to the fair one resting on the
adjoining table.
28 Apr.
They split my head into two, giving me a splitting headache! (“Chali”
is contagious!) and delved into my ENT and Ophthalmology
Departments (please correct me if I'm wrong). I wasn't aware
of the fate of my remainder, which had now been transformed
into a peculiar hexagon of flesh and bones Unofficial sources
in the tank report that it too had been denuded away, organ by
organ.
1 Jul.
I looked like a scattered jigsaw puzzle each piece striving to
be called 'I'. I was confused - which of these was the real
me; a 'me' that itself lacked any meaning. Anyway, my 'parts'
would represent me in the coming examinations. The countdown
has begun.... The lonely dissection hall yearned for the
hustle and bustle during this pre-exam "era".
5 Sep.
Alas! the ordeal is over; my buddies let out a sigh of relief.
I couldn't do so because,
a) no portion of me was intact
b) an inevitable languidity beckoned me
c) I had to cease this life after death.
(Hey, now I've started writing like Medicos - every emotion
tailored down to points).
29 Sep.
They heaped us all up, to formally cremate us. It's my 1st
death anniversary and now I've realised, how short life is,
how eternal death is. I found life only after I lost it! A
life of altruism (living for others) - ‘Hi-fi words are
necessary for Senti dialogues’. Thank God, I didn't create
any 'additionals'. I leased out a new year of life to all my
'buddies' - to produce less of us and more of living breathing
"humans". May my death manure "life"!
(Django dialogues, aren’t they, ‘buddies’
Deepak Bose
is a Medical Student at Calicut
Medical College.
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