Getting plastered on Holi

This Holi our ten-year-old son A got plastered. After just one shot he virtually passed out on the cold metal table in the X-ray room. The plaster went onto his left leg – all the way from his toes to his thigh. It was a pain in the tibia.

The evening before holi, he was out swinging – literally – just like any healthy, active, outdoorsy child. The rope of the swing snapped and he came down on his left leg. We did not rush to the ER because the nearest one is over an hour’s drive, and we don’t trust it much. Having heard the horror stories that emanate from most city hospitals, I believe the nearest decent ER is probably a six-hour flight from Delhi. A sleep-deprived intern in an Almora hospital on the night before Holi was not our idea of medical care.

We preferred to trust our neighborhood hospital run by the NGO Aarohi, but it was shut that evening so we planned to go there the next morning. That night was painful on multiple levels. The child endured physical pain and we parents flagellated ourselves for not checking the rope knowing fully well it was an old swing. The next morning –  the morning of Holi – we picked up Pandey ji, the X-ray technician, and reached the Aarohi Hospital. The key was traced out and the hospital unlocked especially for us. The very senior Dr. Sushil – the founder of Aarohi – was waiting for us. A doctor waiting for a patient was a first for me. The X-ray was impossible given the pain A was in, so they anesthetized him and then did the X-ray.

The shin bone a.k.a the tibia was fractured but fortunately still in place so it did not need setting. We were there for over 3 hours while Pandeyji and Dr. Sushil laboured over A’s leg. Finally the cast was spelled. Happy Holi.

The hospital bill was well below the 2000 rupee note I had on me. That included the X-ray, the plaster, the anaesthesia injection and the pain medication. In response to my not having change, a face smiled back and informed me that I could pay later. In the high-end resorts around our house we sometimes meet important people who are on the boards of big hospitals, and they talk about how ethics are important but sales targets for doctors are a reality. I’m not sure when these guys went from Hippocratic to Hypocritical. I hope science soon comes up with some treatment for regenerating a conscience.

It’s been two weeks and our son has learnt to live with the plaster. In these two weeks we again realized what a community really is. Worried neighbours brought food. As word spread in the local community, comic books, movies, and friends have turned up to visit. The principal of A’s school called us full of concern and workbooks and tests have been arranged in the house.

Instead of the world going on its way ignoring the hurt little child, it seems to have changed course just a little to provide him solace and company.  It is beautiful to live amongst a few people who care instead of a few million who don’t.

The Kumaoni Luggage Cart

Kumaon doesn’t have an airport, ergo the Kumaoni Luggage cart doesn’t exist. So how come this topic? Well, Harry Potter doesn’t exist either, so humor me for 380 more words.

In another era as a busy corporate type, I traveled the world a bit. From my travel’s I realized that there is a lot you can learn about a place from its luggage carts. Yes, those boring metal things that float around at airports.

Take Paris – it has the nicest looking luggage carts, except they don’t really work very well. Go to Frankfurt airport – Germany – and you will come across wart-hog ugly carts that look like they were created by battletank designers. But then you see them on an escalator

Typical US Luggage cart

– yes, on an escalator – and you realize why they are a marvel of design. Load up a German cart with luggage and walk right onto an escalator – up or down doesn’t matter – and the cart easily gets onto the escalator without a single piece of luggage falling off. And then rolls off effortlessly at the other end (This video is from Geneva, but you get the idea https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIVvYekG2nQ  .)  Go to the USA and you will find rather basic luggage carts that carry cheerful messages welcoming you – along with advertising panels selling stuff. And you have to pay to use the cart, of course. Credit cards welcome. Amsterdam has probably the most classy looking snub nosed little carts. Back home in India, our carts don’t move when you push them. Then you realize that you have to press down on the bar. Once the pressure is on we – and the carts – work just fine. Although the occasional squeak is par for the course.

This whole thing got me thinking about what a Kumaoni luggage cart would be like. In my mind’s eye I imagine something rather old world – probably made out of dark wood. The Kumaoni cart isn’t fast, but people would hand you the cart with a smile, and chat with you for a bit in a sing-song pahadi lilt. The cart will have a small flower vase built in with some fragrant flowers. Maybe a little bird-house as well. No cupholder, though. In Kumaon we sit and drink our tea. What’s the rush? The Kumaoni Luggage cart moves at a comfortable, relaxed pace. It would still get you there, but would make you wonder about the point of travelling anywhere else from here.

Yup, that is about how I imagine a Kumaoni luggage cart.

P.s. The guy who wrote this post also hosts and organizes the Himalayan Writing Retreats – mostly in Kumaon. You can learn more at www.himalayanwritingretreat.com.