Lessons From a Ghost
We had the stage of upper limb two days ago and everyone knows that nobody is in the mood to study the new region just two days after a stage. Studies get postponed until the doomsday of substage arrives. So, being perfectly obedient students, we entered the dissection hall and pretended to examine the specimen of lower limb lying in front us, demanding our attention. I really tried hard to focus on what my intelligent friend was telling about the iliac tract but my attention was further disturbed by the ring of my phone, signalling a free WiFi network there.
The forever loving and reliable Punjab WiFi appeared on the open WiFi network list and I clicked it to connect without even having a thought that the iliac tract might do me any good in the future. What's better than a free WiFi network when you have seven songs and a movie to download? And so, I engaged myself with my phone.
Just then, our beloved B.R appeared with the most charming message ever, "Dr. Aamra is asking all students of our batch to dissect the cadaver's right leg turn by turn and the first two roll numbers will remove the skin." After saying this she went away to her friends. No one was ever serious about the dissection anyways. I huffed and continued to scroll down my Instagram.
Everyone chatted merrily of their own accord. Just then, I heard a very ancient cough right beside me. Thinking that Uncle Tehseen might have a cold, I went back to liking posts. But it seemed to be a quite persistent cough. Irritated by the disturbance, I looked up and went nearly into a cardiac arrest, for there stood a bleary white figure of a really old man looking at me with sad eyes. He had a really long beard and his face looked eerily familiar. What horrified me the most was that I could see right through him. The dissection table far away was visible through his abdomen and I'm sure I had learnt enough science to know that we can't look through solid objects. So, that only meant one thing, this translucent man could be a ghost. As soon as I thought this, I screamed my lungs out, but everyone seemed to be quite deaf to my ugly screeching. They were all busy with their tasks and no one spared me a glance. I closed my eyes tightly and reopened but the sad old man was still standing near me. Gathering great courage I finally asked him," May I help you, sir?"
He seemed to be observing me with a great deal of sorrow. At last, after three minutes of thinking, he was capable of answering me. It was the complete opposite of what I had expected. Instead of asking for the directions of pathology lab like I had hoped for, he plunged into his life story which was quite sad. I had no choice but to sit there and listen to him. He told me that he was a labourer and carried bricks daily. I was quite astonished to hear this as he appeared very old. He told me that he had 6 sons but all of them had their own families to support. All of his sons abandoned him, his wife and his mentally retarded daughter as they were a liability to carry. So with no money and place to stay, the old man was forced to work to feed his wife and daughter. He cried a great deal after telling me this. I sat there awkwardly thinking what to do next but his story was not over yet. He told me that when he was young he was vain. He never respected anyone, not even his parents and that is why he was suffering now. He never did anything for anyone. He told me that there was a time he had enough money, but he never thought of spending it on any other soul other than his family. He told that he even taught his sons to not help anyone because it is of no use.
I sat there awed at how someone could be so cruel. But my thoughts were interrupted when he continued his tale.
"When I became old dear, I was very sad because I did not possess any power I used to have when I was young and my sons did not care for me as I had not cared for my parents. They left me to fend for myself and the remaining family. One day, I was lifting the bricks under the scorching hot sun and I got a heat stroke thing as the doctor described it.
I died there and then.
My soul saw them lift my body onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. I saw when the doctor announced that I had died. I cried a great deal that day, worried about my wife and daughter. Nobody had my contact or address and so my body was not given to my family. I had been denied a burial too! I was very angry at that but when I heard the next words, I stopped.
The doctor was saying that I had healthy organs and that I would be donated to a medical college for dissection purposes. I did not understand what the doctor was saying but I had no choice but to go with the flow," he stopped to take a breath and I was still struggling to process all this information and how it concerned me.
"And then", he continued, "I was brought there in that room", he pointed to the back room of the dissection hall.
"My hair and beard were removed and my clothes were taken off. I was preserved in a weird chemical for two months. My skin became brown, cold and stiff. I asked a fellow soul that what was my purpose here." He said to me, 'This is a place where young children become doctors. They learn about the body parts and their functioning on our bodies, by cutting us!' I was revolted at this thought. On seeing my expression, he hastened to explain that it was the noblest job in the world, that he was able to help young doctors to understand human anatomy and then to save people's lives."
He further added, "I stopped and thought that I had not helped anyone while I was living. How great would it be if I were to help after I died! I was very happy. Ecstatic is the right word. I had been waiting for my turn for dissection since a year. Finally, this year it was my turn. I was really excited to watch you youngsters experiment on me. But I was sad to see that no one did it with interest. They did it only because of the fear of the teachers and the loss of attendance. The teachers did half of the dissection. But my friend told me that children are scared at first and that the dissection of legs is always better than of the arms. I was hopeful again but now it is my leg's turn and still, no one is showing interest," and on saying this he bowed his head down sadly.
I was deeply ashamed of myself by his words. I did not know what to tell him.He began to speak again," Dear, there are many people extremely sick in the world waiting for doctors like you to cure them. There are many vain people like me waiting to become useful in the life after death and it all depends on you. You come here, talk and chat, use your phones and go home. You hastily cram some things before your test and become satisfied. But what about us, dear? Why are you not honest with your studies and profession? Why do you think that you will learn everything through shortcuts? How are you so confident that you don't need to dissect us to know the course of nerves, veins and arteries? Is it your job to dissect us or your teachers'? Are we here for your benefit or for theirs? Please, dear, come out of this trance. Understand your responsibilities and be honest with them!"
I was in tears at the end of his speech. I had never felt so ashamed of myself. I looked here and there to prove him wrong but true to his word, everyone was busy with themselves. Not a single soul lurked near the dissection table where the cadaver of that old man was lying, "I am sorry sir, I am really--"
I woke up with a gasp as cold water was splashed on my face. My roommate scolding me for getting up late again. Getting up, getting ready for college, eating breakfast, walking to college, attending the tutorial and lectures, I was still thinking of the old man's words. They had left a great impact on me and unlike every other dream, I was not able to forget this one.
Soon, it was time for dissection hall. I entered the DH in a trance and looked at the dissection table where the same cadaver of the old man laid. My friend tugged me in the direction of the stools. We connected to Punjab WiFi. All these scenes were really familiar to me as I had seen them just the night before. "Batch A, Dr. Aamra is saying to dissect the right leg of the cadaver", my B.R announced.
"Oho!, we don't need to do dissection, we will just learn everything from B.D," My friend said nonchalantly.
"Yeah", I laughed weakly.
I was just turning back to my phone when a pair of sad eyes reflected in my mind's eye. "No", I thought,"I cannot do this to myself, to all the patients in the world, to that old man! What shall I tell Allah when He will question me? What excuse shall I give, even though he sent guidance for me? I must become sincere to my profession. I must correct the mistakes I have made." I stood up with renewed vigour and walked towards the dissection table with gloves and scalpel.
That day was a beginning of a new and bright journey and I thanked the ghosts of the dissection hall for guiding me through the darkness to a bright future.
All is well that ends well.
- Komal Sehar
(Class of 2021)
The forever loving and reliable Punjab WiFi appeared on the open WiFi network list and I clicked it to connect without even having a thought that the iliac tract might do me any good in the future. What's better than a free WiFi network when you have seven songs and a movie to download? And so, I engaged myself with my phone.
Just then, our beloved B.R appeared with the most charming message ever, "Dr. Aamra is asking all students of our batch to dissect the cadaver's right leg turn by turn and the first two roll numbers will remove the skin." After saying this she went away to her friends. No one was ever serious about the dissection anyways. I huffed and continued to scroll down my Instagram.
Everyone chatted merrily of their own accord. Just then, I heard a very ancient cough right beside me. Thinking that Uncle Tehseen might have a cold, I went back to liking posts. But it seemed to be a quite persistent cough. Irritated by the disturbance, I looked up and went nearly into a cardiac arrest, for there stood a bleary white figure of a really old man looking at me with sad eyes. He had a really long beard and his face looked eerily familiar. What horrified me the most was that I could see right through him. The dissection table far away was visible through his abdomen and I'm sure I had learnt enough science to know that we can't look through solid objects. So, that only meant one thing, this translucent man could be a ghost. As soon as I thought this, I screamed my lungs out, but everyone seemed to be quite deaf to my ugly screeching. They were all busy with their tasks and no one spared me a glance. I closed my eyes tightly and reopened but the sad old man was still standing near me. Gathering great courage I finally asked him," May I help you, sir?"
He seemed to be observing me with a great deal of sorrow. At last, after three minutes of thinking, he was capable of answering me. It was the complete opposite of what I had expected. Instead of asking for the directions of pathology lab like I had hoped for, he plunged into his life story which was quite sad. I had no choice but to sit there and listen to him. He told me that he was a labourer and carried bricks daily. I was quite astonished to hear this as he appeared very old. He told me that he had 6 sons but all of them had their own families to support. All of his sons abandoned him, his wife and his mentally retarded daughter as they were a liability to carry. So with no money and place to stay, the old man was forced to work to feed his wife and daughter. He cried a great deal after telling me this. I sat there awkwardly thinking what to do next but his story was not over yet. He told me that when he was young he was vain. He never respected anyone, not even his parents and that is why he was suffering now. He never did anything for anyone. He told me that there was a time he had enough money, but he never thought of spending it on any other soul other than his family. He told that he even taught his sons to not help anyone because it is of no use.
I sat there awed at how someone could be so cruel. But my thoughts were interrupted when he continued his tale.
"When I became old dear, I was very sad because I did not possess any power I used to have when I was young and my sons did not care for me as I had not cared for my parents. They left me to fend for myself and the remaining family. One day, I was lifting the bricks under the scorching hot sun and I got a heat stroke thing as the doctor described it.
I died there and then.
My soul saw them lift my body onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. I saw when the doctor announced that I had died. I cried a great deal that day, worried about my wife and daughter. Nobody had my contact or address and so my body was not given to my family. I had been denied a burial too! I was very angry at that but when I heard the next words, I stopped.
The doctor was saying that I had healthy organs and that I would be donated to a medical college for dissection purposes. I did not understand what the doctor was saying but I had no choice but to go with the flow," he stopped to take a breath and I was still struggling to process all this information and how it concerned me.
"And then", he continued, "I was brought there in that room", he pointed to the back room of the dissection hall.
"My hair and beard were removed and my clothes were taken off. I was preserved in a weird chemical for two months. My skin became brown, cold and stiff. I asked a fellow soul that what was my purpose here." He said to me, 'This is a place where young children become doctors. They learn about the body parts and their functioning on our bodies, by cutting us!' I was revolted at this thought. On seeing my expression, he hastened to explain that it was the noblest job in the world, that he was able to help young doctors to understand human anatomy and then to save people's lives."
He further added, "I stopped and thought that I had not helped anyone while I was living. How great would it be if I were to help after I died! I was very happy. Ecstatic is the right word. I had been waiting for my turn for dissection since a year. Finally, this year it was my turn. I was really excited to watch you youngsters experiment on me. But I was sad to see that no one did it with interest. They did it only because of the fear of the teachers and the loss of attendance. The teachers did half of the dissection. But my friend told me that children are scared at first and that the dissection of legs is always better than of the arms. I was hopeful again but now it is my leg's turn and still, no one is showing interest," and on saying this he bowed his head down sadly.
I was deeply ashamed of myself by his words. I did not know what to tell him.He began to speak again," Dear, there are many people extremely sick in the world waiting for doctors like you to cure them. There are many vain people like me waiting to become useful in the life after death and it all depends on you. You come here, talk and chat, use your phones and go home. You hastily cram some things before your test and become satisfied. But what about us, dear? Why are you not honest with your studies and profession? Why do you think that you will learn everything through shortcuts? How are you so confident that you don't need to dissect us to know the course of nerves, veins and arteries? Is it your job to dissect us or your teachers'? Are we here for your benefit or for theirs? Please, dear, come out of this trance. Understand your responsibilities and be honest with them!"
I was in tears at the end of his speech. I had never felt so ashamed of myself. I looked here and there to prove him wrong but true to his word, everyone was busy with themselves. Not a single soul lurked near the dissection table where the cadaver of that old man was lying, "I am sorry sir, I am really--"
I woke up with a gasp as cold water was splashed on my face. My roommate scolding me for getting up late again. Getting up, getting ready for college, eating breakfast, walking to college, attending the tutorial and lectures, I was still thinking of the old man's words. They had left a great impact on me and unlike every other dream, I was not able to forget this one.
Soon, it was time for dissection hall. I entered the DH in a trance and looked at the dissection table where the same cadaver of the old man laid. My friend tugged me in the direction of the stools. We connected to Punjab WiFi. All these scenes were really familiar to me as I had seen them just the night before. "Batch A, Dr. Aamra is saying to dissect the right leg of the cadaver", my B.R announced.
"Oho!, we don't need to do dissection, we will just learn everything from B.D," My friend said nonchalantly.
"Yeah", I laughed weakly.
I was just turning back to my phone when a pair of sad eyes reflected in my mind's eye. "No", I thought,"I cannot do this to myself, to all the patients in the world, to that old man! What shall I tell Allah when He will question me? What excuse shall I give, even though he sent guidance for me? I must become sincere to my profession. I must correct the mistakes I have made." I stood up with renewed vigour and walked towards the dissection table with gloves and scalpel.
That day was a beginning of a new and bright journey and I thanked the ghosts of the dissection hall for guiding me through the darkness to a bright future.
All is well that ends well.
(Class of 2021)
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