An Ode to a Nurse

I was in South Africa to address an international gathering on reforms in rural education. But before the event, I landed up into a hospital in unconscious condition. I lost my sense almost within half an hour of reaching the hotel room from the airport in the noon due to excessive blood vomiting. I understand that I remained in that state till early morning next day; more than 12 hours. Only on regaining consciousness, I realized the time, that I was in a hospital and that too in South Africa, my first and only hospitalization in more than 50 years of my physical existence.

At about 10 in the morning, a black woman nurse in late 30’s or early 40’s in uniform came to my bed with a towel and a container full of warm water. She told me that on doctor’s advise she was going to give a sponge to me and she's going to take off my clothes. I was quite scared. I don’t know in what condition I was brought to the hospital. I was dressed up by the hotel staff in the unconscious condition and brought to the hospital. My weakness was so much that my hands were immobile to even check; equally insensitive was my body to make it out otherwise. With my feeble voice, I resisted her, “Sister, I don't think I'm putting on any undergarments.” The nurse said with a disarming smile, “so what, I'm your sister”.

Without hesitation, she put her hand at my back and softly put me up; she took off my kurta. Then she pulled out the string of my pyjama. With extreme care, she slowly turned me left and right, and pulled off the pyjama. I was without a thread on myself. She started mopping me with utmost care, and softness. By the time she finished my face and mopping my neck, several decades were drained out of my life bringing me back to my sixth year when my real sisters used to give bath in the open in our village home with the same tender care, softness and love. I was nostaligically absorbed in bathing in my sixth year at the hands of my sister. Literally forgot the reality and lived few beautiful moments in the land of dreams. I woke-up only when the nurse started putting on my pyjama back. She dressed me up, combed my hair and put me back into the reclining position since I was already very tired. After a while, she was back with my lunch, some soft soup like thing.

I struggled to reach out to take the lunch. She said, “no-no, just sit up for a few minutes. I'm going to feed you today.” She started feeding me with a spoon reminding me not of my childhood- not the sick days, but my craze for indulgence of my sisters to be fed. It is at this stage, I told her, “I guess, now, I know why people call nurses as Sisters.” She reciprocated with her beautiful smile – bright white teeth at the backdrop of glowing dark skin spread a ray of hope in me.

I was to be relieved next day. When my papers were ready, a hefty young man came with a wheel-chair and helped me getting into it. Before he could lay his hands on the handle, the sister appeared from nowhere. She told him, “don’t bother. I’ll take him to his car”. The attendant persuaded her; it was his duty to take the patients out. She told him, “He is my brother, let me have the pleasure of taking him to the car and see him off.” The ward boy could not make out. ‘May be, he was confused about our relationships because of my own complexion. She pushed the wheel-chair with great care not to give me any jerk, and brought it to the car and helped me inside.

Instead of saying ‘bye’ which is common in this part of the world, she asked me the most difficult question, I have ever faced on this earth, “are you leaving your sister behind? Won’t you take me home with you?”

I had no answer; tears rolled down my cheek. As I looked through my moist eyes, she reciprocated with tear-pearls on her beautiful dark cheeks. The car rolled out.