Trigger Warning: Mention of Covid trauma and death
To
He who must not be named,
I am a Doctor, or am I? I am not sure anymore.
What I have addressed you as is reserved for one of the greatest villains in the history of children’s books. You are probably busy writing the second part of your personal trilogy about my great country and your role in it, so you wouldn’t know about him. Don’t worry, he is just a fictional character but just like people in the books were afraid to call him by his name, I am scared too. But you should. Whenever the Dark Lord killed anyone, a part of his soul left him and was preserved as a Horcrux somewhere. You must be wondering (or not) what does all this have to do with you.
In my religion, whatever that is currently, as it is certainly not what you preach, people who die achieve salvation only on burning as their soul escapes. Call it faith, call it belief, and I appreciate it all. In my career, as a medical student, as a doctor, as a surgeon, I have, of course, witnessed plenty of deaths.
Most of them when they die are on ventilators; post-trauma, bomb blasts (yes, seen those), surgery, or even brought dead. Are you aware that when a person dies, the soul is so stubborn that a part of it tries to latch onto whatever it finds closest to it? Again, what does all this have to do with you, or me? I request you to wait, just like people patiently listen to you, when you speak without (rather, with) a mask from the podium for hours.
So generally, when people die, they are on ventilators, so they probably latch onto the ventilator tubing, or the bedpan, or some such inanimate thing. This time, it is different, very very different. I have seen people who are seriously ill but wide awake, left gasping for oxygen. They are walking at one moment and suddenly collapse. Have you ever looked in a person’s eyes when he is taking his last breath? You probably did when a certain western state of India was burning. Of course, I am a big fan and have seen the movie.
I have let down all these people who have died holding my hand as I cannot provide them with anything, helpless. Are you aware of what has happened to their souls? These mothers and fathers and sons and daughters, quarry workers, retired people, businessmen -parts of their souls have now clung onto mine, displacing a part of my soul in the process. It is excruciating!
Each hour, each day; this is happening to millions of doctors, nurses and health care workers across this country. We are losing a part of our soul with each passing moment. See all the funeral pyres and burials! Let me tell you that they won’t attain salvation because parts of their souls now reside in us.
As of now, I am partly (or almost) made up of souls of these people, whose number is increasing as I write this. Each soul has brought with it- anger, agony, hopelessness, and lots of unfulfilled dreams and unkept promises. Please tell me how many are too many, as I have lost count. When will the soul of this doctor get replaced with their souls entirely? We seem to be losing the battle with the virus, the system, and ourselves. Should there be a limit to how many deaths a doctor can witness, he can declare, fill the certificate, inform the relatives?
You won’t care about what happens to those parts of my soul, which are now displaced. I will still tell you. Well, it’s simple. They are now Horcruxes, horrible curses. One I know was found cheering in one of the humongous Bengal rallies, one almost got drowned at Kumbh Mela, and one surely is waiting for the just cancelled Char Dham Yatra.
I am a Doctor, or am I? I am not sure anymore.