THE MIDNIGHT VISITOR Just about everything in and around Sayyajiganj - a sleepy suburb of Baroda - hints of a royal past. The well-planned streets, the sprawling Kamati Baag zoo and gardens, Kalaghoda – the magnificent bronze statue of Maharaja Sayyajirao Gaekwad, the fabulous Gaekwad Museum where one gets a whiff of the of the Maharaja’s awesome wealth and fine taste. As you move from the busy railway station towards the city’s center, you pass the science, and arts faculties of the Maharaja Sayyajirao University. These, along with the Faculty of Commerce are housed in palaces generously donated by the Maharaja. A little further, you get a glimpse of Kirti Mandir, a beautifully crafted temple built by Maharaja Sayyajirao III as a memorial to his ancestors. Across the street lies the huge Shri Sayyajirao General Hospital Campus - once a part of the Maharaja’s sprawling estate. Several other structures stand testimony to the city’s brush with royalty – none better than the breath-takingly beautiful Laxmi Vilas Palace – a splendid example of Indo-Gothic architecture. Four times the size of Buckingham, Laxmi Vilas is reputed to be the largest private dwelling built till date. Motibaug, a full-fledged cricket stadium occupies a corner of the palace grounds. Our story however took place somewhere in between Kirti Mandir and the magnificent Laxmi Vilas – at the Shri Sayyajirao Gaekwad General Hospital. This hospital was one busy place. On any given day, its Out-Patient Department attended to the needs of over 3000 patients. There were always an equal number of in-patients needing medical attention. The hospital was served by a huge pathology laboratory. A part of this - the Biochemistry Lab - was housed in an extension of the Medical college building and occupied the first floor of that annex. The ground floor was occupied by a blood bank which ran 24 x 7. A single technician managed the blood bank between 10pm and 6 am. With the rush for blood easing off by midnight, he had ample time to catch up with his sleep on most nights. The door to the Blood Bank was always bolted from the inside after about 11 and opened only when ward boys knocked on its wooden frame with a request for some life-saving fluid. In-patients were housed in several wards spread across the huge hospital premises. Immediately behind the blood bank was the general ward. Behind that was the complex which housed men and women whose minds required various degrees of repair. Great care was taken to keep this complex securely locked. Trained staff ensured that patients remained indoors – especially at night. One night, someone was a little careless and left one of the gates unlocked. A female inmate grabbed the opportunity to sneak out. Away she ran, thrilled with her new-found freedom. She wandered the length and breadth of the hospital in careless abandon, with no real agenda. This lady must have been a direct descendant of the fabled Rupantzel. She had long, dark wavy hair that was probably braided or rolled into a bun at most times. Not that night. That night the hair was left lose. Back at the blood bank, the technician completed the tasks left unfinished by his predecessor. Not expecting another call for a while, he locked the door and settled in for a ‘well-deserved’ rest. A little later, he heard a knock on the door. Muttering under his breath, he walked sleepily to the door and flung it open – only to come face to face with Lady Rupantzel! At some point in her wanderings, she seemed to have run out of steam or ideas or both, and decided to return ‘home’. Why she selected this closed door we will never know or understand. She was dressed – like all her fellow-sufferers - in a white cotton sari that fluttered busily in the stiff breeze. Her wheatish face, her long dark tresses that flirted with the breeze, the huge red bindi on her broad forehead and her wide, unblinking eyes with a blank, faraway look were reminiscent of a character straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock thriller! The technician’s sleep vanished in a flash. Letting out a stifled scream, he ran back into the room. Rupantzel followed. By now her smile had grown to a chuckle and the chuckle into laughter –the kind that makes your blood curdle and hair stand on end. The technician looked back in terror – only to see Rupantzel right behind him. He ran to his table, putting it between him and his pursuer who seemed to be enjoying the little game. Round and round the table ran the technician. Round and round ran Rupantzel, right on his heels, thrilled with the diversion. Her laughter bounced off the walls of the lab, adding to its eeriness! He was screaming for help, and the louder he screamed, the more it seemed to please the lady who laughed even louder. This was so much fun, she thought – much better than being cooped up with those crazy people she was forced to live with! The drama dragged on for quite a while. The technician was out of breath but Rupantzel showed no signs of fatigue! Eventually, the ward boys (who’d been searching high and low for the lady) heard the commotion and came to the poor technician’s rescue. They escorted the reluctant lady to her room – not without a fight. (Why did these people have to come and spoil my fun?) The technician’s BP had shot through the ceiling and his heart rate set a world record. It was fortunate that he had a strong heart. That was the last night that any technician worked alone in the blood bank. The management assigned two of them to work the night shift thereafter. In my final year of M.Sc., I often worked through the night in the biochemistry department just above the blood bank and could easily have been the victim had Rupantzel walked up the stairs instead of stopping where she did. I wonder how my heart would have taken that!
Posted on: Sun, 27 Apr 2014 09:03:08 +0000
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