“JUST FIX ME FOR GOOD,” HE SAID. NO QUESTIONS ASKED ABOUT RISKS OR COMPLICATIONS. HIS WIFE PUT UP A BRAVE FACE THOUGH I COULD MAKE OUT SHE WAS ANXIOUS.
The other day, an elderly man, who looked fit, walked into my clinic. I instinctively knew he was from the armed forces. “Doc, I need to undergo a bypass surgery,” he said in a no-nonsense manner.
I went through his medical records. He had suffered a major heart attack and his angiogram showed critical blocks. His heart functioning was laboured. I learnt he was a retired wing commander from the Indian Air Force (IAF).
“Just fix me for good,” he said. No questions about risks or complications. His wife put up a brave face though I could make out she was anxious.
We took him for an off-pump triple bypass. The surgery went off well. His heart bounced back to normal. He was fast-tracked in the intensive care unit (ICU). Armed forces’ men hate to be tied down. Action and discipline is in their blood. These qualities stay for life.
The day after the surgery, he was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper. On Day 2, he combed his hair and got ready. He had to look smart to the nurses you see!
He returned home on the sixth day. On his first post-surgery visit, he was smartly turned out. “I tied the turban myself,” he said proudly. All parameters were good. In my office, his eyes settled on my father’s photo. “I know this guy,” he said pointing to the third man in the standing row. “I flew him in my Dakota with a bunch of paratroopers in December 1971.”
Men from the services have an unwritten code of mutual respect for each other. I knew he was referring to the war of liberation of Bangladesh. I was in school then. We found it fun though I knew that my dad was in the thick of a battle. There was curfew in Dehradun and we dug trenches in school, had mock drills, and blackouts at night. We prepared for the final school exams in candlelight.
Dad was a paratrooper (the Red Devils because of their maroon berets/turbans) in the then secret and decorated Establishment 22 (Special Frontier Force) and had been parachuted behind the enemy lines in Chittagong with his men.
They were part of the brave effort put up by the Indian Army and the Mukti Bahini in getting the Pakistani forces to surrender. Anyway, the wing commander (then a flight lieutenant) flew the DC3, popularly called Dakota, used in the 1971 war. He recalled that it was a twin prop piston engine aircraft that could seat 28 armed paratroopers. It had a cruising speed of 150 miles per hour and a range of over 1,000 miles. It could fly nonstop from Delhi to Bombay.
He said he remembered the sortie where he dropped dad and his troops! On recalling that day, he looked at his wife, twirled his moustache and smiled.
When I got home I told my dad about the gentleman. Dad squared his shoulders, looked at my mother, twirled his moustache and smiled.
It’s a small world, isn’t it?