I came to the office this morning half-hour early and started my routine work. Few minutes later one of my colleagues (mentioned as struggler henceforth) came (apparently languish) and expressed that he was agonized by severe stomach-pain (@lower abdomen). I tried to console him, told him to lie down on the desk and take deep breaths. With a sweaty face he cried that the pain was unbearable and complained that he never experienced such hazardous pain in his life time. I googled about the "pain in stomach" and it showed the horrifying results related to appendicitis. I probed him about few symptoms of so called appendicitis, but his response was negative. Then I catechized whether he had suffered from problems related to kidney stones in the past. “Alien thing to me” was his response still holding the lower abdomen tight. I couldn’t see him suffer more, so went to security guard and took a “Cyclopam” pill as first-aid. He had the pill. After couple of minutes two more colleagues came, doubted the pain might be due to appendicitis carnage inside the stomach. And suggested a visit to Doctor will better the situation.
Within minutes, the struggler, a helper and I were in “G****j Memorial Hospital”. I was in queue at out patient departure (OPD) for fifteen minutes, and then receptionist told me to fill a form as it is being our struggler’s first visit to their hospital. I was completely astonished, and recollected the memories of a famous film dialogue “form bharna jaroori hai kya?” (Is it mandatory to fill the form?). Having no choice, filled the form and paid the registration fee. Meanwhile, magical pill started doing wonders inside struggler’s stomach; he has been relieved greatly by then. We three sat near by door #3, where DR.X -the surgeon, was supposed to attend our struggler. The doctor’s name plate included a minimum of ten alphabets of English language; I remember only the last three letters U.S.A. A few minutes later, a house nurse came and suggested us to head towards casualty. By the time we entered the casualty, our struggler was no more a struggler. The doctor (I better address him as an RMP) in there couldn’t find who the patient among the three was. I helped him showing up the struggler. He did some normal check-ups and few stunts with BP APPARATUS confirmed the impish pain was beyond his limitations and referred us again to the surgeon at door #3. We three waited there for almost one-half hour. Meanwhile I recollected my past memories related to hospitals, Sidney Sheldon’s novel “Nothing Lasts Forever”, George Clooney’s television drama “ER”, and etc.
At around 11:00AM our surgeon at door#3 arrived, checked his patient and suggested to get couple of pathology reports and the magical “Cyclopam” pill again incase of future stomach-ache.
Then we three returned to the office and the rest his history.
P.S. Mr.Chetan Bhagat was inspiration of the title.
