Death of a Doctor
Kirpal Singh was a self made physician. Driven by a desire to cure a skin condition for his sister, he started researching into the topic. Once he succeeded at curing her, he set out to cure others. Before long, he was a well known homeopathic physician in Delhi. My parents were ardent patrons, if there's such a thing for doctors.
For some reason, Dr. Singh was consulted as a last resort when I had a severe case of eczema of the scalp at about six years of age. He was as furious as a provider can possibly get with his customers (which is a lot in the medical profession, and a lot more for any profession in India). He cured me nevertheless. Took him three attempts, but it was a helluva shorter time than it took the others, and he did it like an artist. It was this wizardry, which comes only from extreme dedication to one's cause that propelled Dr. Singh from his humble beginnings to a renowned (and I understand, well paid) practitioner in a few years.
One evening, a few years later, my dad made the one hour journey to his clinic with my mom in tow. Being the methodical person that he is, dad had also called-in to the doctor to give a heads up on his arrival, especially since it'd be just pushing the clinic closing time. However, once my dad showed up at the clinic five minutes past the last appointment time, the doctor refused to see him.
Now given the amount of time patients with "appointments" wait for physicians, I'm not much of a fan of a physician who's not ready to cut his patients some slack. However, I'm ready to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt here - maybe it was his son's birthday, or maybe just a new year's resolution to be more considerate to his staff. However, his next remark is what I found most interesting. The doctor, came up with an impromptu analogy of how my dad's employer, the post office, probably wouldn't attend to anybody a minute past closing time either. My dad couldn't let the doc get away with the philosophical faux pas. The Post Office, my dad pointed out with due respect, charges five paise to carry a letter from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, and does so for millions of farmers, soldiers and mothers every day. So Doctor, with all due respect, there's no way in the world that you can ever compare your insignificant practice to the Post Office in any manner whatsoever.
The doc had nothing more to say. My dad never consulted with him again.
For some reason, Dr. Singh was consulted as a last resort when I had a severe case of eczema of the scalp at about six years of age. He was as furious as a provider can possibly get with his customers (which is a lot in the medical profession, and a lot more for any profession in India). He cured me nevertheless. Took him three attempts, but it was a helluva shorter time than it took the others, and he did it like an artist. It was this wizardry, which comes only from extreme dedication to one's cause that propelled Dr. Singh from his humble beginnings to a renowned (and I understand, well paid) practitioner in a few years.
One evening, a few years later, my dad made the one hour journey to his clinic with my mom in tow. Being the methodical person that he is, dad had also called-in to the doctor to give a heads up on his arrival, especially since it'd be just pushing the clinic closing time. However, once my dad showed up at the clinic five minutes past the last appointment time, the doctor refused to see him.
Now given the amount of time patients with "appointments" wait for physicians, I'm not much of a fan of a physician who's not ready to cut his patients some slack. However, I'm ready to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt here - maybe it was his son's birthday, or maybe just a new year's resolution to be more considerate to his staff. However, his next remark is what I found most interesting. The doctor, came up with an impromptu analogy of how my dad's employer, the post office, probably wouldn't attend to anybody a minute past closing time either. My dad couldn't let the doc get away with the philosophical faux pas. The Post Office, my dad pointed out with due respect, charges five paise to carry a letter from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, and does so for millions of farmers, soldiers and mothers every day. So Doctor, with all due respect, there's no way in the world that you can ever compare your insignificant practice to the Post Office in any manner whatsoever.
The doc had nothing more to say. My dad never consulted with him again.
posted by Anurag Batra at 4:23 PM
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