Chasing Down The Day Dream

Wards are where stories thrive

Dedicated to @muntaqabah because she's a total cutie. 

"The future is a blue sky and a full tank of gas and I saw the future. I did, and in it, I was alive."

                                                                                          -Neil Hilborn, The Future.

There are only a few things Dr. Abdul Ahad is sure of and medicine, thankfully, is one of them. He thinks how far he has come from a non conformist in the Indian education system, to the guy who's up studying till 3 am. He suspects it's his grand father's death that brought him here —all muscle and bone—ready to wrap this whole dysfunctional body crap around his finger and just heal someone and send them away happy.

He suspects it's just his savior complex kicking in like it's his rush of caffeine.

He hates caffeine.

He sips it and cringes out of habit. His mouth can't handle bitter. He is a soft toy carved out of a desperate mother's pleas. He is his father's favorite son. He is his sister's life jacket. Like he suspects, it is definitely  his savior complex.

He feels like he needs to save everyone, mend their smiles and hand them back to them with a satisfied heart. He's read online that it may not be a healthy thing to harbour this rather strange responsibility that thrusts you to be the superman of everyone's life.

But if there is one more thing that Dr. Abdul Ahad is sure of, it's that he is a stubborn man.

Maybe that's why he said yes to baby-sitting this new batch of interns. He clucks his tongue at his colleague as if to say that he hates it. Like he can't stand this group of four young men and women; all brand new Littman stethoscopes dangling around their necks like landline wires like they want to finally be someone's helpline. He acts like he abhors it.

He doesn't.

He will never tell anyone because that'd make him sound stupid. Why would a second year Post Graduate want to add another thing to his already-too-long list of chores? He doesn't understand it either.

Yet, he can't help but smile back at their hesitant attempts at curving their mouths the right away. They are visibly scared, one of them actually muttering under her breath. 

Rania's throat is constricting with the screams she has buried in them. She wants to shout Allahu Akbar or Hallelujah or something  to tell them that she's here, to compensate for every time the nurses, the doctors—heck even the patients—walked past her like she was just an insignificant speck in their white washed universe.

She wants to giggle giddily or laugh boisterously or maybe even scream triumphantly. She is not the undergrad the surgeons would walk past without even a hint of acknowledgment, or even the hesitant student that the patients refused to relay their histories to.  

Not anymore, she thinks. 

She wants them to look at her. At her white coat, her blue scarf (that she might have paid too much money for) her stethoscope, her smile, her confidence, her joy and see that this is real and she is real and like, God, this is really happening.

Dr. Rania Khan is here, folks. And I'm so fancy, you already—

"If you're done praying that I don't eat you up, maybe we can start off with introductions?" Abdul Ahad says with a good natured smile playing at his lips.

All three of her co-interns turn to stare at Rania. She smiles back awkwardly, her monologue lingering behind like an after-thought.

"So okay, I am Dr. Abdul Ahad, second year postgraduate and I hereby welcome you all to our lovely little home—the Male Medical Ward no.5. I will be your mentor till the associate professor takes over after exactly four weeks," He lets it sink into their nerves, "You will report to me at sharp 9 am. Alright?"