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    Oath of Hippocrates
    Oath of Hippocrates
    Oath of Hippocrates
    Ebook144 pages2 hours

    Oath of Hippocrates

    By Sudarsan S

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Medicine – Indispensable profession, inscrutable practices, infinite source of money
    Youth – Unassuming profile, unbending morals, untiring tenacity
    The medical profession is a noble one. Absolutely. Medical professionals? That is a different story.
    Based on real events, Oath of Hippocrates is the story of a medical student who skips his final exams at the risk of rustication, seeking to learn the trade, tricks and treachery incognito. It is the story of every man who seethes and rails at the seeming lack of ethics in the mainstream medical system, the lack of transparency in interactions and the practitioners’ distaste for alternative systems of medicine that may offer succour to a patient. The telling narrative takes the reader through the confrontation of men with collision of values – one of might and one of right, with a cross-country chase culminating in a simmering showdown of wits.
    Flip open... if you are ready to change your perspective on the noblest profession.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNotion Press
    Release dateJun 13, 2012
    ISBN9788192349961
    Oath of Hippocrates
    Author

    Sudarsan S

    Sudarsan is an Information Technology industry veteran, with stints in small, medium and large corporations in India, West Indies and the U.S. Pursuant to quitting IT in 2011, Sudarsan has been dabbling in many things, prime among them being e-learning. Away from e-learning, he has found time to complete his first novel Oath of Hippocrates and is working on a collection of IT short stories based on his experiences with IT life. Among the unusual things to his credit, Sudarsan has seen marine life 150 ft below sea-level (through a sub-marine cruise off Barbados), test-driven a cycle-rickshaw in Singapore and is currently attempting to ride a unicycle. You can connect with Sudarsan and add your voice to the discussion at http://sudarsan.scribe.im

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      Book preview

      Oath of Hippocrates - Sudarsan S

      OATH OF HIPPOCRATES

      By Sudarsan S

      Copyright 2012 Sudarsan S

      Published by Notion Press at Smashwords

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      CHAPTER 1: The Bitter Pill

      This is just the beginning for you.

      You are suggesting that I simply drop a year and probably any dreams of becoming a doctor?

      Yes, if you value your life and place in public as a man of morals.

      Ghafur, ethics is exactly what I am standing for. Morals are what I am finding as lacking in the system here. I would like to stand for the, not run.

      Ram, trust me, I have seen this rot longer than you have and deeper. And, I believe that running away from the wolves to avoid being their meal is not cowardice.

      So, you advise me to run away from the problem?

      Ghafur sighed. Arguing against once own convictions is never easy. In front of him was Ramanujam, an early 20’s final-year medical student from Amrit Medical Mission & College, a premier institution in the capital. There was youth in his looks and fire in his eyes.

      Ramanujam was one of those plain-looking young men in plain-looking clothes. The boy’s average height and build was complemented by his attire that was neither trendy, nor old-fashioned. All-in-all, the in-distinctive appearance of the every man and his quickness of step meant, to Ghafur, an inability to stand out in a crowd, or an ability to dissolve into one. The only thing that stood out was the fire in the boy’s eyes when he held forth passionately on matters close to his heart.

      And now, the boy was speaking Ghafur’s conscience. The argument was thus between Ghafur’s conscience and Ghafur’s pragmatism borne by experience. It was not easy.

      The older man sighed wearily. Ram, have you ever heard about Satish Bobhate? No? Not surprising. An idealist, a champion of right causes, the brightest of his batch. He never made it. No one was sure what happened. He was planning on publication of a paper titled Ethics of Medical Practice with candid references to the system, people and the pharmaceutical industry.

      And?

      A week before the finals, he was found to be a drug addict, supposedly treated for addiction, which made him worse and reduced to a vegetative state, in which he has been for the past 13 years. His crime? His naïvete and a strong belief that right overpowers might at all times. You, Ram, may be smarter, but so are the authorities now.

      I answer to a higher authority, Ghafur, said Ram, pointing to his heart.

      As a man of God, I am glad to hear that, smiled Ghafur. But, until He comes calling, you have your life, sanity and reputation to save.

      Ghafur, let me ask you this direct question: It is apparent that you hate the rot and Dr. Yadav’s lot as well. Why do you, personal assistant to Dr. Prakash Yadav, want to restrain me from speaking up, despite your seeming unhappiness in what you see?

      Ghafur contemplated for a minute. His eyes twinkled for the first time since this conversation began about 10 minutes earlier in a remote corner of the laboratory after sun-down on a Friday, when most of the students had left for trivial pursuits. The smile that broke through the salt-and-pepper beard of the gaunt giant lit his face as he prepared to answer the boy’s question.

      First, thanks for the elevation of status. I started as a lab assistant and have not qualified for anything more, barring my practical learning. I happened to move into the good books and offices of Dr. Prakash Yadav, the next Dean and Director of our esteemed Medical Mission and College, as his handy man. Knowing him too well, I would entreat you to play it safe. I can’t stand to see the drain of another Bobhate. Son, please, your life.

      Half-way through, Ghafur’s face had lost the smile. Were his eyes glistening with tears? Ramanujam didn’t want to know. He looked down and kicked an imaginary pebble.

      So, you want me to run?

      For now, hide. As soon as he returns to town, Dr. Yadav will set actions in motion. If I am not mistaken, misdemeanours and negligences are being committed on your behalf. If I were you, I would find a reason to go away somewhere. Do you have one?

      I have a grandfather with one foot in the grave.

      Good, then. I mean, it is not good that he is dying, but it is good enough an excuse for you to disappear. When was the last time any of your classmates saw you?

      Friday evening.

      Good. Friday evening was the last when anyone saw you. Give me your room-keys and I will have your belongings sent, if you need them. You have money to go home? Good. Keep well and keep in touch.

      Ghafur, my future, my life…

      You will have time to think about them. The earlier you leave, you are more likely to have a future and a life.

      Ram sighed. Ghafur continued, This may be the moment to get sentimental about casting away five years of prime effort, and many more years of dreams of a doctor in the family. Now, scrap the sentiments for a life to live. See the writing on the wall.

      CHAPTER 2: His Truant Highness

      The writing on the wall’s long black-board was a bad scrawl. It was in upper case and evidently by someone trying to mask his or her handwriting. The message was written in white chalk, flaky and irregular. Dr. Prakash Yadav re-read aloud in bewilderment:

      EVERY

      THING

      HAS

      ITS

      CONSEQUENCES

      SURELY

      The tall and athletic-looking professor tapped a chalk-piece on the board repeatedly. Will someone tell me the meaning of this predicate nonsense? he growled. The students looked at each other, discussing their ignorance, but primarily to avoid eye-contact with the professor. He looked angrier than he actually was, on account of dark spots near his temples that were tell-tale evidences of his only attempt at dyeing his prematurely greying hair.

      You won’t. Will someone volunteer the name of the artist who scribbled this? No again? Very well, then. Let us consign the text to where it belongs. Dr. Yadav picked up the duster and made a smooth wiper-like movement with his left hand. All the words were wiped clean with the exception of the first letters of each line spelling out the word: ETHICS.

      It was sheer simplicity. The vandal had dipped the chalk-piece in water before writing the letters now left unerased. The professor seethed in anger. Now we know who wrote this, don’t we? So, what do you want, my friend and busybody? he asked as he scanned the faces.

      Truant! Manohar, do you know where your neighbour is? thundered the doctor, referring to Ramanujam.

      No, sir, not seen him since F.F.Friday, sir, stuttered Manohar.

      Very well, we will find out then, murmured the professor and proceeded with his lecture. The session was listless with the professor’s mind unsettled by the scrawl which was atypical of his students, particularly that one. His mind flashed back to lectures of the past when queries turned into discussions and discussions into arguments.

      Ramanujam was a bright fellow, but a pest right from the second year. One of the early altercations was about clinical trials of products intended for human use. It was the first occasion of seeming disgust with status quo, but was not the last. The running conversation of rejoinders and ripostes was adjourned to a personal tête-à-tête during lunch break.

      Lunch time had not resolved anything. Prof. Yadav learnt that the boy was Ramanujam, he was from out of state, lived in the hostel, is likely to be the first doctor from his family and his village. He was keen to make a difference to everyone and sincerely believed that his calling as a doctor would help him achieve that. He had expressed his discomfort about having a running argument with the professor in class and said it had been his nature to carry an discussion to its resolution. During the course of the discussion, Dr. Yadav gauged that the boy was studying more than what was being taught.

      This and many more lecture-sessions that followed were illustrative of Ramanujam’s steadfast refusal to accept matters as they are said to exist. At times, considering Ram’s militant denouncement of pharmaceutical industry as ‘drug mafia’ and doctors as ‘peddlers’, Dr. Yadav wondered if Ram was part of any political organization. However, in view of his independence of thought, this was ruled out. He had antagonized both the left-wing and the right-wing student organisations by questioning their legitimacy of presence in a place of education. This had thrilled Dr. Yadav to no end, as this irritant had no friends to support him if action were to be taken. What also peeved Dr. Yadav was Ramanujam’s insistence on dissecting decisions of the past, apparently in an attempt, as the boy put it, not to repeat the mistakes of the past. This proposed pursuit had made the distinguished professor, with his own skeletons in the closet, distinctly uncomfortable.

      Dr. Yadav’s mind returned to the present, still in a mood of irritation. Now, on the eve of the finals, this bright boy had gone missing. Had we hear the last of him? Probably not. Is he in danger? It does not matter. His convictions could jeopardize many reputations. If only he would hold his tongue.

      Well, students, I hope all of you are around for the finals, including any who are absent today. Please pass on this message to anyone who is not here today. He tapped his temples a few times. The professor did that when

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