From a Fleeting Image

by Madhuri Yelamanchili

[box] A cardiac surgeon who can miraculously see into people’s past catches a fleeting image in front of his eyes when he is about to perform a surgery on a patient. The image takes him on a journey with a purpose. What would that be? Madhuri Yelamanchili’s intriguing story gives the answer. [/box]

Tahir Bhanjee would never know how close his heart had come to being brought to a standstill. A single flashing image was all that had stood between his evil life and death.

That I saved his life should have been on account of my duty. But it came about because of the miracle I possessed, the same miracle that showed me the evilness of his life and in a moment of righteous anger and disgust at such a life, I almost used the scalpel to give him deliverance through death rather than through life.

I can see into people’s past. All I have to do is look at their living, breathing face with a certain focus and I see images flash behind my eyes. I can even catch their emotions. When I stand ready for surgery, these had never disturbed me in the past.

But, today, when I stood over the large, crude body of Tahir Bhanjee with my soaped, rinsed, gloved hands held aloft and entered my zone as I usually do, I froze for long seconds. Image after image of Bhanjee’s treacherous life whipped past my eyes. You couldn’t see the stuff he had done and not have your blood boiling. My grip on the scalpel tightened.

I was sure later that my arm had begun its descent when I saw a split second image of someone I knew, Hridaynath kaka. Standing by him – oh God – was Shruti, his daughter, our neighbours when I had been in the 12th. Suddenly, I knew where I had seen Bhanjee before.

***

A week after they had moved in upstairs, father invited them to dinner.

I have had this miracle insight into the past ever since I can remember. I was reaching a point where all I saw with my miracle was the fear, greed and anger in people. It made me miserable, but what showed on my face was my anger at the world. Deep, my name, seemed a misnomer.

At dinner, kaka must have seen this anger when father discussed a rude neighbour. He responded to father, but was looking at me, “Goodness is in everyone, it is for us to see it.”

I looked at him with mutiny written over my face.

But when kaka invited me to learn the piano in their house, I was happy to. Their house was sparse, but this was their one luxury and it turned out to be my comfort. Along with the piano, kaka taught me how to look at the world without judgment.

A day came when I looked at him and I could see the goodness that shone despite the misery surrounding him in the form of his greedy sisters and brothers-in-law. I looked at Shruti and I saw the same goodness in her. And the life and energy that she cast around. She joined our conversations, teasing kaka. I loved being with them. I loved kaka and yes, I loved Shruti. They turned me around.

One morning, I woke up to find a note slid beneath our door. Kaka’s note, saying goodbye, said that they had to leave in a hurry and since it wasn’t safe, they weren’t leaving their whereabouts behind.

The landlord informed the brothers-in-law who sent some goons, Bhanjee among them. The place was ransacked and with it the piano. I pleaded with dad, he spoke to the landlord and had the piano repaired for me. I have it to this day.

As I grew older, I found that I couldn’t love a woman with any less goodness than I had seen in Shruti. Psychiatrists say we choose our wives by our mothers. I seemed to be gunning for someone the likes of Shruti.

***

Today, in Tahir Bhanjee’s past, I saw a glimpse of kaka with a house and a road behind him. The name that came to me with it was Parasrampuri in Jaipur.

Now, I had a place to begin my search. This was the reason Tahir Bhanjee lived on my operating table. Don’t get me wrong, I am relieved I saved his life – those moments had caught me unawares and it won’t happen again.

I shifted my schedule a bit, took a week off and made it from Bombay to Parasrampuri. The best part about being a cardiac surgeon was that patients’ families are more than ready to help. From the looks of Shruti in that flashing image, she was about the same age when they left our neighbourhood. So I began my search with schools.

I knew a higher-up in the police who gave me access to the local schools. I skipped the Handicrafts Training School, but I checked St.Edmunds, Seedling Public School, and Saraswati Vidya Mandir. There were many more and it seemed an impossible task.

I didn’t have any luck until I stopped at a small restaurant around the corner from Saraswati Vidya Mandir. A man in his 40s walked in, school books in hand and he looked like a teacher. The tables were full. I caught his eye, smiled and indicated the seat opposite mine.

I spoke to this stranger of my search and my frustration. He listened patiently, sipping his tea. I spoke of Shruti and how she topped her class. I recounted how I had barely made the admission cut-off for the Science stream at school. Shruti had said, “I guess I won’t miss the cut off.”

“There you have it,” the man laughed. “Harmless as you look, I shouldn’t be telling you a thing. But I could tell you to try the coaching centres. There’s more than a chance she’s taken science, isn’t it? Could save you time or lead you nowhere.”

I looked up the centres in the vicinity of Parasrampuri on my phone and had a choice of four. I could always expand the search. I zeroed in on a couple. With the address on the phone, I arrived at Akash Institute late afternoon. Lecturers were trickling in, they were easy to identify and I remained in my rented car.

I watched them, my miracle working, sifting through their past. I didn’t find a trace of Shruti but I couldn’t have caught them all. I would try again tomorrow. I decided to try my luck at Dr.Bhatia’s. I had dinner at a McDonald’s and was back late evening to catch the leaving crowd.
I sat up when the lecturers started moving out, but I couldn’t see Shruti or kaka in their past. Then came a lady in her 50s. I thought idly that she was about the right age when, to my dumb luck, Shruti’s image showed up.

I was itching to go after the lady, but she wouldn’t take kindly to questions about a girl in the night. I followed her sputtering kinetic to her house. I wasn’t about to lose her. I was back the next morning and asked her about Shruti and kaka. She looked at me with suspicion until I showed my hospital ID.

She nodded after reading it carefully. “Hridaynath kaka?”
I nodded and my throat closed up.

“She was bright.”

“Did she get in? Did she get into medicine? Was it engineering?” I asked.

Her look of contempt could have withered me if I were a rose. “Of course she did. In medicine.”
“Where? Which college?”

She couldn’t remember. “She had a choice in a few.”

“Anybody who would know?”

“Not anyone here. I had taught her at the Medical Launcher. When it closed, we scattered.”
I thanked her and gave her my card in case, God forbid, she needed my services. On my way back to Bombay, I ran a search for Shruti on the Medical Council of India registry and came up with nothing. But that didn’t mean a thing. I tried each state medical council in turn until I struck pay dirt with Karnataka.

She had done her MD but I came up short after that. I didn’t know her field, her college or where she was.

I saved her registration number and got hold of my friend at the MCI. He took a couple of long days to tell me that she was MD in Psychiatry, Karnataka again. The permanent address was in Bangalore. I had a friend check the place, but there were new tenants who didn’t know her.
I checked the Indian Psychiatry Society, but I needed to be a member. That was when the Head of Cardiology barged in without a knock, followed by a senior nurse.

“You’re scheduled in 20 minutes doc and you need to be out there.”

“Couple of minutes,” I said. “I must speak to Dr.Anju.”

“Psychiatry?” He shook his head. “Whatever that’s for, she’s out at the Psychiatric conference in Delhi. Took the senior team with her. But if you get to the OR now, I promise to have whatever you want from the new doc who’s stepped in this week.”

He saw my hand hover over the phone.

“OR 3,” he said sternly, hands crossed across his chest. “Nurse Ninan will get the answer by the time you are out.”

I had to be satisfied with that.

Once I was out of OR, the nurse walked up to me. “The doc wants to see you. Might have a way to get the info, but wants the detail. Third to right. You know the floor.”
I took the stairs three at a time.

I knocked and entered. The doc, a lady, stood at the window. The eyes! They looked familiar.
I was so sure I would know Shruti when I saw her. But dammit, I didn’t. My miracle deserted me at the moment.

She smiled, coming around the table.

“Shruti?”

“I got to you before you did, didn’t I?”

“You too were following?” I was feeling stupid with the sudden bounty.

She nodded. “To be fair to you, we didn’t leave a trail. But I had yours. First time doctor, 2000. MD 2007. DM Cardiology 2011. Smooth sail.”

“In squally weather,” I said and in long strides I was with her. “All that search for nothing. You were headed this way.”

“Your search makes me feel sure that I did the right thing coming here.”

Madhuri.Y was a reluctant marketer who had wanted to write since her daughter was two years old. Now that her daughter is an adult, Madhuri’s turned to writing full-time with ghost writing non-fiction books. She tries to create a world of fantasy and adventure for children through her children’s stories, hoping to help them navigate the real world. Madhuri’s website is at http://ymadhuri.com. 

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