I have been posted at Kathalguri. As part of the National Rural Health Mission's compulsory one year rural posting, as implemented by the Government of Assam with the rider that if I fail to finish my tenure, I won't be entitled to higher education in the state. I wonder how many other disciplines have such compulsions to fullfil before pursuing higher education.
Coming back to my story, the day I got my appointment letter citing a place called Kathalguri in the district of Tinsukia in Assam, i recalled of hearing of such a place near Duliajan, a place where one of my uncles lived. In addition, I also remembered it being the home of one of my classmates. I plodded on with my sorry life awaiting the day I had to go and join the place.
One evening, a few days after the appointment letter distribution, my uncle from Duliajan called up. That day i came to know that there existed another Kathalguri somewhere in the area. It was still near Duliajan, motorable and with good facilities for communication and transportation. I called up my classmate to confirm and he assured me that there existed one such place near his home and it was a 'good' place. However, the seeds of doubt had been sown. One of my uncles (I have a lot of them) who was with me (rather I was with him- a guest at his place) heard the conversation. Being associated with the security forces, he called up some of his contacts and enquired about the place. No one could give concrete information.
The mind was uneasy. If it is anything that I hate most, it probably is uncertainty and anxiety. The battery of my cellphone dried up, as did my account balance. Numerous calls and two days later, I heard of a third Kathalguri.
The information was correct. Kathalguri, in Tinsukia district. A place 26 kilometres from Digboi, 40 from Margherita. Served by a kachcha road, in the process of being metalled.
I followed the trail. Following a journey of around one hour in a crowded Cruiser, jammed between a vegetable vendor and a lady with a crying child in her lap, bumping around with the bumps of the road and covered in a film of dust, I alighted at a desolate village far from civilization. There were electric lines, but no electricity. Mud-walled huts. No concrete buildings. I went to the State Dispensary. A dilapidated three roomed building. A lady cleaning the premises. I waited. Nearby, there was a big hall, reportedly wrangled out of an Oil giant by the student's union in a state of disuse and decay, the purpose of which was unknown. The Doctor's quarters were dilapidated. 'They are being repaired,' I was told. Repair work seemed to have started with a fresh coat of paint followed my months of masterly inactivity.
I felt hot. I looked for the fan switch. The switch, the wirings, the bulb and the fan were all gone. 'Taken by thieves long ago', I was enlightened. There was a bucket of water, for hand washing purposes, I presumed. I peered inside. The sight of a dead cockroach floating on the surface greeted me. It felt great.
The Medical officer came. We got introduced. A senior citizen whiling his time and serving the people, he used to commute from Margherita. He made me feel comfortable, signed on the papers I brought. I needed one more extra copy of my joining report. I asked the chowkidar to get me one. All the office files were searched for a blank sheet of paper. None was found. I sent him with a ten rupee note to buy some for me. He drew a blank. i gave up.
Patients came. Two or three. cough, fever and bodyache. Some villagers to meet the new doctor. Sir, it is good you are here. I smiled, mumbled some polite words. Good, for whom? Me? These villagers? In a shabby state dispensary short of staff, equipment and the basic necessary things.
It was 12 noon. The MO looked up at the patient's register, then at his watch and said to me,"Time to go. Are you coming?" I got up and followed him to his car.
I had another look around, smiled and mumbled to myself, "Welcome to Kathalguri!"
