The evangelist

My friend said, “You don’t come to church regularly. I haven’t seen you since Good Friday.”

I moaned, “My leg is injured. I can’t stand for a long time.”

She looked disbelieving. “ You manage your work and exercise very well. Anyway, I will have a prayer meeting in your house,” she announced. “It will do your soul some good. I will set it up.”

(I think her family had refused.)

My  protests fell on deaf ears. The meeting was fixed and a visiting foreign gora (white) evangelist was to preside. I had to provide coffee and snacks. In addition,  the crowd swelled as word spread. Not about my cooking (very mediocre at the best of times) but the fact that he was an excellent speaker . His words were reputed to be a stairway to heaven.

On the fateful day, after a few mandatory hymns and introductions, the evangelist took off in full force. As far as I could tell he was a misogynist, convinced that women were responsible for all the ills of the world and the down fall of mankind. He worked his way backwards in time.

“Look at Paul, he said all women should cover their heads and be submissive and silent. Now,” he said angrily, ”we have world leaders who are women. Even England has had female prime ministers.”

I began to wish Margaret Thatcher had attended the meeting.

“Look at Samson, a great judge, Delilah with her wiles reduced him to a blind weak object of ridicule.”

He was just getting started.

“Look at King David, the rot in his kingdom started because of  his obsession with Bathsheba and his obedience to her words.”

The women at the meeting started lowering their eyes and heads , ashamed of what their sex had done. The men sat up a little straighter.

“Adam was  happy in the garden of Eden until Eve persuaded him to eat from the tree of life and knowledge. “

The women slunk into their chairs.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, unable to bear theses insults to my sex and race a minute longer, “ they could have said NO!”

There was a stunned silence.

“Who could have said no?” asked the evangelist puzzled.

“All the men you mentioned”, I said, “If they are so superior and we women have to listen, surely when we say something like eat from the fruit God has forbidden or where do you get your strength from? They can say no.”

The convener had the presence of mind to stand up and burst out loudly into a hymn. The others joined and the meeting wound up.

As the evangelist left he politely thanked me, “ I didn’t think Indian women were like this. I will never forget you.”

Dr. Gita Mathai

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/

the little krishna

The little Krishna

The woman had married her maternal uncle, her mother and grandmother had done the same. This repeated consanguinity over three generations had resulted in a lot of miscarriages and abortions until  finally, glory  halleluiah after 15 years they had a son.

He was brought to the paediatric OPD , very sick, with methhaemoglobinaemia in a crisis. The infant was very sick and the professor told me to admit him immediately and give intravenous methylene blue. The calculation was really complicated. The child weighed 6.2 kg. The dose was Xmg/kg. The solution supplied was X% of methylene blue.

After starting the IV line (this was before the era of cell phones and Google) I sat down and calculated the dose. It was very complicated. Maths was not my strong point. I had given it up in 9^th std  in favour of English Literature. I administered the dose intravenously.

The effect was immediate. Before my horrified eyes the light skinned baby turned a dusky blue. For good measure, he pissed out urine that could be filled in my pen as a substitute for the ususal “Quink Royal Blue”.

This was a really precious baby and I thought the relatives would attack me.

All of a sudden the lady from the next bed said

“The child will live, Lord Krishna has returned in a new avatar.”

I slipped a way to the phone to find out what to do.

“Don’t worry”, said my professor after yelling at me for 5 minutes, “the methylene blue will be excreted by the kidneys.”

By the time I returned to the bed, someone had tied a peacock feather on the baby’s forehead.

He recovered and was discharged two days later after the urine was not “ink” any longer.

He apparently was “cured” and funnily enough did not have another episode.

Perhaps the “overdose” was correct?

His blue colour gradually faded over the next week.

“Lord Krishna left after saving my son,” said the mother when she brought the child to the OPD for a check up.

I nodded my head and said ,”Yes, yes,” just relieved that “alls well that ends well.”

http://velloretimes.blogspot.in/