INTERNSHIP BLUES

“Ring.. ring” my desk phone rang. As I picked up the instrument, mildly annoyed at the interruption of my short nap, the anxious voice of Dr Sireesha, the internee medical officer, crackled over the phone..”Sir, It’s the threat of Corona Virus pandemic in the city! We are being forced to vacate our hostels as our internship period has been curtailed by a week. We will be leaving pretty soon & there will be no time even to have a proper farewell!“ 

I am a Professor of Gen Medicine at a reputed private medical college in Hyderabad (India), where a batch of Internee Medical Officers was due to complete their mandatory 12 month training over the next few days, till the lockdown mandated by Corona virus threw a spanner in the works!

I was amused at the anxiety and the excitement in the young doctor’s voice given the fact that the internship period at the hospital was being curtailed by only a few days (I knew from my experience that it does not matter if the period of training is extended by a week or shortened by week). But young minds do get worried a lot when original plans are changed.

But why did this simple intrusion into my afternoon siesta, bring back a déjà vu phenomenon as if I had experienced the same feelings of anxiety sometime back, a long time back...?

The year was 1971 and I was doing my internship at a small military Hospital called Base Hospital Barrackpore. To a newly commissioned officer in the Indian Army, the myriad ways the military functions, were difficult to comprehend but we were soon able to make out the typical army routine & quickly settled down to an orderly sequence of work, games and social life at the Military Hospital (MH).

But unknown to me & other internees (Lieutenants), already a major military campaign was in the offing and the mighty wheels of the Indian Army were in silent motion, escalating towards a full scale confrontation with our neighbour, East Pakistan. Our scheduled internship period of 12 months (prescribed for all doctors by the Medical council of India) was supposed to be ending in April 1972 but we were rapidly heading to a premature end to our internship and would soon be thrust into the war scenario with a curtailed training. We had been watching the ceremonious farewells which other doctors get, when they leave one unit to proceed on posting to another unit. But little did we know that when our turn comes for posting, everything gets shortened into one or two days and we would be asked to pack and move forthwith, bereft of any formal farewell. 

We were a small batch of junior doctors staying in adjacent rooms in the army mess, who sought solace in each other’s company after working hours & had great fun together. I still remember the shock of finding the rooms of my friends getting vacated one by one as they had moved out in the night to scattered secret locations as per instructions of the Military HQ. Very soon it was our turn to go and one day in Nov 71, I was told that it was my turn to leave as I was posted to the frontline in the north eastern sector of India bordering East Pakistan to a cryptic location (160 GH c/o 99 APO). I was thrilled with the new address (made me feel like James Bond going on one of his operations against a secret enemy). But I was soon warned that one can not disclose these details to friends or family by post (being confidential matters). I was sure my civilian doctor friends would’ve been impressed!

After a brief good bye to Barrackpore, I found myself standing with my bags on the railway platform of Sealdah (a suburban terminus of Kolkatta for trains heading further east, Assam, Tripura and beyond). I noted with interest that the platform of Sealdah station was in a big turmoil, with crowds thronging every little space and there were a lot of poor families literally cooking, eating and living on the platform. I learnt that these platform squatters were all Bengali speaking refugees from East Pakistan, who were fleeing from a genocide in that country. 

The train I was to board, had more troops and army officers than civilian passengers but I was lucky that 3 more lieutenants (fellow doctors) were travelling with me to the same destination as me.

As the long train slowly pulled out of the platform to pick up speed in to the night, a few people on the platform were wiping tears but the mood in our 1st class compartment was one of excitement rather than of anxiety or fear! We were suddenly full fledged doctors and heading to a real war!

(Watch this space for further updates)..to be continued!