BOOK REVIEW OF INDIAN AUTHORS discussion

Neetika Raina


Bloodstained Apron

My morning walks had begun to lose their magic. The familiar path no longer offered the same thrill it once did. It felt like the world had lost its charm, the ground beneath me seemed ordinary, and even the air didn’t feel as fresh as it used to be…

So, one day, a thought whispered in my ear… why don’t I try the other side- ‘the forgotten lake?’

And without me realizing it, my feet moved towards there...

But to reach it, I’d have to cross the hospital grounds… shucks, of all places.

I was never really fond of hospitals, but the moment I stepped onto that campus, I couldn’t help but be awestruck by how beautifully the garden was cared for.

It wasn’t just the flowers blooming in brilliant colors or the grass swaying to its own rhythm… it was the care, the quiet devotion poured into every petal and every leaf that made it all come alive. I realized the administration wasn’t merely maintaining a space…they were actually pouring their hearts into it.

“Working here must feel like heaven” ~ I thought.

But then, as if shattering the peaceful harmony of the campus, I spotted a girl, no more than in her mid-twenties, rushing with frantic urgency. Hair disarrayed… eyes swollen, as if she hadn’t slept, or had cried until there was nothing left… or maybe both.

She was clutching a folder full of sheets in one hand, a pulse oximeter in another, while a stethoscope hung loosely around her neck. She was wearing a White Apron with Blood Stains, which she either didn’t realise or didn’t care.

Like a stalker, I followed her, unable to resist the urge to see what was happening…

"How’s MD Medicine going, Doctor Saab?" a fellow doctor mocked on the way.

She nodded and faked a smile as she rushed into the emergency department of the government hospital.

She had barely stepped inside when the urgency hit her. A man sat hunched over, clutching his abdomen, complaining of stomach pain. She started checking his vitals, but before she could get far, a stretcher was wheeled in, and someone screamed, “Doctor! Doctor! Help…my mother isn’t breathing!”

Without a second thought, she turned away from the man and sprang into action, her focus shifting immediately.

“Mam, she has bradycardia and is gasping,” a junior doctor called out in haste.

She quickly checked the vitals and the ECG report, then shouted a few instructions to the nurse. As they injected her with the life-saving chemicals, she sprang into action.

The stretcher stood a little too high for her, yet without a moment’s hesitation, she climbed onto it, her hands already pressing down as she began performing CPR.

I could see her giving everything she had… pushing down with all her strength….

Her focus was so complete that it felt as if the world had ceased to exist for her. I could see her arms trembling with exhaustion, muscles straining with each desperate compression, but she didn’t stop… She just refused to stop... Not until that mother’s heartbeat was back, steady and strong beneath her hands.

She didn’t even have the time to enjoy the victory and rushed back to the patient whom she had left midway. But as soon as she went back, she was lashed by the attendants- “how could you leave like that? How irresponsible of you.”

My blood boiled seeing this, but like a lotus leaf she let the harsh words slide off her, and continued doing her work.

But just as she had finished stabilizing him, the ward erupted into chaos again, as another patient was rushed into the ward, and she sprinted toward him.

The family stood beside the patient, wailing in despair. She started CPR again, pressing down with frantic urgency. She pushed, and pushed, and pushed… to her very limit… until she felt there was no sign of life left.

Finally, she checked the monitor for any trace of electrical activity. Then she slowly looked up at the family, her eyes burdened, and quietly declared him dead…

I wasn’t sure what I had been hoping for… that she might work another miracle perhaps… breathe life into him like she had before… But how could she? She was human, not a god after all.

“Tch tch, the poor guy was still breathing when they brought him in,” an attendant of another patient remarked, casually scratching his crotch as if he were some kind of clinical expert. “There should be senior male doctors around here for emergencies.”- he casually said.

For the first time, I saw her lose her composure, and she lashed out. “You’re the attendant of which bed?” He froze for a moment, startled, then pointed to one. “There are already two attendants with him. Either learn to speak respectfully or get out of this room!” she shouted, her calm completely gone.

She didn’t care about the mobile phones emerging from pockets, conveniently recording only one side of the conversation. But at that moment, the judgment of the media was the last thing she cared about.

“Doctors these days,” I heard an old woman mutter, “are so arrogant.”

But she didn’t have time to process her emotions. She was immediately pulled into another set of urgent cases. She had to face every kind of medical demon…from seizures to strokes to cardiac arrests… and confront them all, relentlessly.

Each case carried its own emotions, its own reactions….

On one hand, she had to give strength to a teenage girl, whose trembling fingers clutched hers as she pleaded, “Am I dying, doctor? Please… save me. I don’t want to die… Please save me…”

And then she had to manage her own emotions as an old lady folded her hands and whispered, “You’ve somehow eased this unbearable pain… you are God sent...”

She worked like a tigress… swift, fierce, and unyielding. She had the skills of an expert and the empathy of a Goddess. After fighting battle after battle, as the chaos of patients finally began to settle, she looked around the room…

I watched her approach a father who sat with his head in his hands, grief carved into every line of his face. He had just lost his three-year-old child in a car accident. I saw her staring blankly in his direction, unsure how to console him, or come to terms with her own feelings. Amid the chaos and outcries, she had handled everything with quiet precision and practiced grace. But now, she had neither the strength nor the words to console the grieving father.

Then for the first time, I saw a flicker of relief on her face as another doctor arrived to take over.

She moved toward the counter and was finally stuffing her bag with her BP apparatus, oximeter, and a few scattered papers when a senior doctor appeared out of nowhere, shouting-

“Where is the case sheet for bed number eleven? How dare you send the patient to the ward without completing the file?”

She tried to explain, yet the senior had only a mouth and no ears. He didn’t care to listen. And before leaving, he threw in one last insult, ordering her to write a two-page explanation for her so-called ‘rude behavior,’ since someone had complained about her to the administration.

I waited patiently as she spent another forty-five minutes finishing the file and writing an explanation… an apology, really, for choosing to stand by her dignity.

I could see the exhaustion in her every step, her head heavy, her body aching, as she slowly made her way toward the canteen.

She asked for some food, but the canteen guy made a face… of course, she was late. It was that time between two meals. Still, she pleaded softly, and after a moment’s hesitation, he agreed to give her some leftovers.
While she waited for her food, she dialed a number and began softly,

“Hello Papa… yes, I’m fine… how are you?” There was a pause. I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I could imagine it from the way her eyes welled up. She blinked hard, forcing a faint smile, lifted her chin, and said quietly, “Yeah, yeah, no problem... all good here.”

She was served two rotis… so hard that one wouldn’t even offer them to a stray dog. She tried to break them, struggling a little, when two other doctors joined her.

Together, they shared the meal, cracking needless jokes, laughing at things that didn’t exist… trying to bury their exhaustion and pain beneath those tired, practiced smiles.

But I couldn’t be deceived any longer… After witnessing the hell she had just endured, how could I?

I wanted to place my hand on her head, pat her back, and simply say ~ “I see it. I feel it.”

God knows I wanted to apologize…

I wanted to apologize on behalf of the heartless attendants who cannot see what you’re going through, blinded by their own grief… or sometimes their arrogance.
I wanted to apologize on behalf of the service staff failing to provide proper food.

I wanted to apologize on behalf of the senior doctor, who may have forgotten the long duties he once endured, or who is perhaps fighting his own battles in the upstairs ward.

And especially on behalf of the management, whose entire focus seems fixed on maintaining the green gardens outside while creating a hell inside, and who doesn’t even care if doctors are risking lives, denying them even basic necessities in the name of cost-cutting. I can’t help but wonder… is tending to flowers and gardens more important than protecting the lives of these doctors? Or is it just a façade, a show to convince the world that everything inside is rosy?

I can only hope and pray that these years of hardship don’t extinguish the warmth in your heart, and that the world never tears away the fragile light of your innocence.

I am praying… truly, from the depths of my heart, I am praying.

P.S. — All characters, events, and incidents in this story are entirely real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is intentional.


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This writeup - 'Bloodstained Apron' is dedicated to the medical professionals, especially MD residents, who endure unimaginable hardships everyday. From lack of basic facilities like clean drinking water, hygienic toilets to shortage of gloves, masks and sanitizers, and yet working stressful 36 hour shifts... It's nothing short of inhuman...

I may not have the power to change the system, but with this post i want to say aloud "We see you... We feel for you."

If you stand with me, please help to spread the word.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DQy5TN7jT...

This is a heartfelt tribute. It highlights the incredible sacrifices of medical professionals and shows we see and support them. Thank you for raising awareness.

Sharmila wrote: "This is a heartfelt tribute. It highlights the incredible sacrifices of medical professionals and shows we see and support them. Thank you for raising awareness."

Thankyou so much for you kind words. Really appreciate it...