Dhaka Diary

A Medical Treat

This happened a while ago during my SSC examinations. My mother suddenly began to have a severe stomachache. We took her to one of the renowned medical care centres in Dhanmondi that has got a first-rate label for its high-quality service. But it did not live up to our expectations. There was hardly any space left for a new patient in 'Momota', the female ward, which was very narrow itself. The environment was extremely suffocating for a healthy person to endure let alone feeble patients. The entire ward contained only four beds and at the same time, the number of ailing people coming and getting admitted were outnumbering the beds. There were only three doctors in charge to look after this huge number of patients. Moreover there wasn't even a desk to maintain the official paperwork. The nurses were sitting on the floor. In a nutshell, the atmosphere of the ward was terrible. To make matters worse, we could not get any space to sit or wait while the treatment was going on and had to place my sick mother on the staircases of the ward. Eventually, my mother lost her temper in the midst of all the pain and asked to speak to the doctors or the ones in charge. Immediately, my mother's college friend, head female surgeon of the ward, came in to see what was going on. After listening to her, she said to the staff, "Don't you know that she's a lawyer? Behave decently otherwise she will be sending us all to the jail." My mother was eventually sent to the post-operative room. I would like to draw the attention of the concerned authority to these unjust mismanagements of all the so-called distinguished hospitals in the country.

Zihad Azad
Govt. Laboratory High School

Recently, a friend of mine, who has the knack for pranks, decided to view the world from the roof of a bookstore in Dhanmondi. Surprisingly enough, everything down on the streets seemed to run at a very fast pace from the roof up above, he said. Everyone and everything around seemed to be on the run at all times. A young man was shooing off a beggar while busy purchasing a packet of cigarette for Tk 88 and using the other hand to shout out instructions on the cell phone. Groups and individuals walking swiftly on the footpath carrying books and briefcases, while the balloon man stands unnoticed on one side trying to make some money for a living. What really hit me was how he described the fact that everybody was always in a hurry to get somewhere, either to meet someone, or to get a task done or maybe even to go home to watch television. While we develop ways and techniques to connect with the outside world, I wonder if we are somehow losing out on connecting with ourselves.

Asma Khan
Dhanmondi, Dhaka

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