A Tattered Destiny

It was getting dark. Waiting for her last patient, Dr. Akriti hoped to finish off quickly so that she could wind up the most hectic day in past few months at the Health Centre. The patient, a lady, came in with muffled steps. Her face was laden with embarrassment. Dr. Akriti, as an intern of Community Medicine was used to with such patients who came to diagnose problems ranging from children’s vaccination to their personal physical problems. Clearly gauging the lady’s difficulty, Dr. Akriti made her sit and feel comfortable.

                Frail, fragile and drained out, her looks spoke more for her. ‘A patient of gynaec problem, it seems’, Dr. Akriti made a mental diagnosis of the patient. As she began her actual check-up, her eyes fell on the lady’s ornaments from which a Tabiz flashed. It not only demonstrated her religion but also had something to do with her health problem; a probable victim of disease due to polygamous marriage system prevalent in their sect. Seeing the doctor’s mild mannerisms, the lady spoke up, “I am Fatima. I stay in the adjacent slum area,” her first interaction since she had entered the clinic. “What problem do you have, Fatima?”, Dr. Akriti asked. Before she could say anything, Fatima burst into a bout of tears.

                She commenced her story gradually. “I was hardly 11 when I got married. At the raw age of 12, I had a child. Then again at 13, the next one; and by the time, I was 16, I was a mother of four. My husband was a drunkard. He hardly earned anything and whatever little he earned was spent in his drinking. He used to come home late at night and beat me. One day he left for work and didn’t come back for about 4-5 months. When he came back, he was married for the second time. I was shattered. He had been staying with her for all these days.” She stuttered before speaking further. Dr. Akriti calmed her down, “Take your time and tell me slowly.”

“We again had physical relations”, she continued. In our society, what a woman wants hardly matters. It is only about the husband’s will.” The affable doctor at once understood the lady’s problem, motioned further towards her and advised, “You are suffering from an infection that has been transmitted by your husband, which he could have got because of his second wife. We need to do your husband’s check up too, to ensure your own safety.” Fatima agreed and left with a relaxed countenance and a promise to come the next day with her husband.

Fatima didn’t come the next day, nor the day after that. ‘She might be unwell’, thought Dr. Akriti to herself. Whole week passed but there was no news of Fatima. Dr. Akriti could not forego the memory of that flimsy lady and so she decided to find out her whereabouts. She went to the slum near the Health Centre. After a lot of enquiries she located Fatima’s hutment. She entered with some frantic paranoia. As she entered the hut, she found, to her utter dismay that Fatima was lying inertly in a small bed at corner. She was all bruised, swollen and bleeding. The doctor, in her ever concerning tone, asked Fatima as to what happened. Fatima, writhing in pain, shuddered, “Madam, I am fine with this infection. I am ready to suffer. But please do not ask me to bring my husband for the check-up. He felt that I am pointing out a weakness in him and so he bet me badly. Even if I die because of this, it is alright. But please…..”; and she went into a state of unconsciousness.