Humble Hospital Tale
I am not a storyteller, but I tell you one today. A few years back, I got severely sick and I was rushed to a hospital. It was early morning, almost dawn. Two nurses came running to my friends with all sorts of questions to get data for a complete idea of the situation. They spoke Telugu, the local language. My incompetency at Telugu was costing me time. The sickness made me scream at them, instead, for not speaking English. As I was getting treated, I started reflecting on my behaviour. I felt terrible. I felt ashamed. I felt little. The entire time I remained admitted, surviving on a nasogastric tube I was contemplating about my unacceptable behaviour. The machines beeping at medical rhythm were the only distractions as if they agreed at my bad conduct. On the third day, when I could finally speak a bit with chapped lips, I requested that my friends should be allowed to visit me. One of them had taken note of the doctors and nurses who took care of my arrival at t