The Unkept Promise

As it was the post OP day,the ward was apparently crowded.A little kid ran by my side holding an aeroplane.The sight of the toy reminded me of what I've been procrastinating for the last two weeks.I still hadn't bought the toy that all students should carry to supposedly establish a rapport with the child and make them stop crying while taking the case.All my batch mates already had balls ,rattles,or squeaking teddy bears to amuse the kids.Each time I saw them take the toy from their coat pockets,I would be sickly reminded of my forgetfulness and I would promise myself to get the toy the same day itself.As they smartly used their colorful toys to allure the child,I would use primitive means like snapping the fingers which invariably never pleased the kids at all.

The third week of my paediatric posting had just begun and still my pockets were not adequately equipped.
A voice inside taunted me with a string of accusals."Today,definitely today!"I promised myself for the umpteenth time.Suppressing the pricks of conscience,I tried to hold the attention of the boy with the aeroplane with a friendly gesture."Monte perenthaa?"I asked him bending down to hold his hands.Hr gave me a 'not so friendly' stare and ran off making a "whooooo" sound while flying the aeroplane.Hmm..Stranger anxiety' a normal milestone in the development,I remembered the professor saying in the morning lecture.When does it disappear though,I wondered as I entered the ward.The beds that were empty the previous day were now filled.All my batch mates had already started to take the cases.Not wanting to lose anymore time on vacant thoughts,I approached ten year old boy who was sitting on the bed and busily colouring a picture with crayons...


I was fondling a three month old baby when Neena tapped on my shoulder and asked"Natasha,see that boy over there,how old do you think he is?"When I looked to where she was pointing I saw a little boy dressed in a yellow shirt and black trouser.I was never good at guessing the age of anyone looking at the faces.A month before my paediatric posting began one of my first cousins visited us with his little girl.In between the conversation,I casually asked"So,how old is she now,Roychetta,three..?".Only when I saw his deeply offended face with 'does she look that old?"expression did I realize my mistake."One year and four months"he answered.I scolded myself for opining on something I had no idea.I sheepishly muttered something like"I always go wrong while guessing the age" and hastily walked to the kitchen.
Now the little boy Neena pointed at seemed to be four years of age to me.Knowing that my guesses were always a bit ahead of the normal value,
I answered "three"
"Even I guessed the same.But he is seven years old.He has rickets"Neena said
My jaw dropped at her answer.Seven years??!!I looked at the boy in disbelief,half shocked.
Rickets meant Vitamin D deficiency,that was all I could brush up about the disease.Even an upper primary student would be knowing that,I thought.I felt like a warrior who has come to the battlefield with an empty quiver.Dozen questions popped up inside my head-what are the features? how does it occur?is it curable?...my rusted grey cells groaned at the set of questions.Chiding myself for my ignorance,I walked to the kid.A lady dressed in a blue nightie and a headscarf was standing beside him,maybe his mother,I thought.With a cheerful smile,I asked him for his name.He didn't reply, instead he gave me a shy smile.
"Kunjaali,peru paranju kodukku"the lady prodded
"Aaaha!Kunjaali,nalla peranallo" I told.
"Are you his mother?"I asked the lady while tickling Kunjaali on his chest.
The lady seemed a bit uncomfortable at my question.
"No,She is there,outside" she said pointing to a middle aged lady.
"So,you are...?I asked.
"Both of us are married to Kunjaali's father" the lady replied with a blush.
Her answer surprised me.It reminded me of the Arabian Knights stories that I read as a child where many kings had more than fifty wives at the same time.I didn't want to embarrass her with more questions,so I left the topic,but I wondered how they managed to leave in harmony.
Kunjaali was very thin,almost to the point of emaciation,had a brown complexion and innocent black eyes.But what always drew my attention was the beautiful smile on his face which never disappeared.Even though he did not respond to any of my questions the smile was still maintained,undiminished in intensity.
He has not yet walked,has not yet started his studies,he has not yet done a million things that kids of his age could do.His parents carried him around like a one year old kid.He had eight siblings,all of them were normal.He was not admitted with anything to do with rickets,but with complaints of fever and cough which aroused the suspicion of pneumonia.
The next day a PG was taking his case,he never sulked or cried while being examined.He posed for all the photos(he was not a commonly seen sort of case)without any complaints.I saw his father the same day,a man dressed in full sleeve white shirt,a mundu with a belt across his waist,a cap over his head,and a long beard.I did not talk to him much,my mind was prejudiced against him for marrying twice,a concept I couldn't accept.
Over the days that followed I developed a strong feeling of love and affection for Kunjaali.Everyday I would pay him a visit before studying the other cases.Unfortunately,I still couldn't break the ice,he remained quiet despite all my attempts."Kunjali veetil ingane onnumalla,paatu padum,kalikum"his mother told me.
As a final venture to make him talk I decided to implement the Godfather concept-give an offer that he couldn't refuse.
"Kunjaali,which one do you like-a bus or a car?"I asked.
As usual,he did not reply.
"If you answer my question smartly,I'll get you that tomorrow"I bargained
"Bus"he replied meekly.
I was happy that finally I could make him talk something ,even if it was as a simple three lettered word.
"Tomorrow,I'll get you the bus."I promised him.He smiled.That day,I helped him write his name in my book Holding his hands gently,we wrote 'MuhammedMustafa' in capital letters.His smile broadened as we finished writing.Did he understand what was written,I wondered while giving him a shake hand for writing the name.
The next day I didn't attend my posting ,all the lazy,inert genes were switched on.Anyway,the cases would be the same the next day,I told myself.I did remember my promise,but it could wait for one more day,I thought.
On the second day,as soon as the morning lecture was over,I ran outside to the street vendor to get the toy.I bought a yellow bus and a blue motor van,double treat for having made him wait for one day,I told myself.I happily walked in to the ward.I was shocked to see that Kunjaali's bed was empty.Maybe he went to take some tests,I thought.I went to the bystander in the neighboring bed and enquired about Kunjali."He was discharged yesterday evening" she told me.
My heart sank.Only if I had attended the posting yesterday...,I told myself bitterly.I could picture Kunjali leaving the place,sitting on his father's shoulders,waiting eagerly until the last minute for the bus that I had promised.
"You gave the little boy hope"my conscience tortured me.My laziness ended up in hurting the feelings of a little boy.
I did not feel like giving the toys to any one else.I took them home..maybe I could present it to someone during my next paediatric posting which was going to be after one year ,I thought.I kept the two toys in the big open wooden shelf(used to keep books)in my room.
Even now the toys are there,and each time I see them I'm bitterly reminded of Kunjali and the promise unkept