The Scalpel notes

The Scalpel Notes

Prologue- The sentence

“The guilty, Dr Shyam Pandey, is hereby charged guilty for the murder of Jagdish Tyagi. The court orders imprisonment for fourteen years,” the judge read out the statement in a monotonous drone, much unlike the events that led to the statement being read out.

“Dr Shyam, how did a doctor become a killer?” one microphone was thrusted in his face as he was being taken by the police from the court. He stopped, smiledand replied, “Get your vocabulary right.”

“What do you mean Doctor?”

“Not the right time to explain. Good bye!” Shyam waved heartily as he walked into the police van, chained from head to toe.

“Doctor sa’ab, tell me. Why did you do it?” a police constable couldn’t resist the temptation.

“Listen boy, some people kill because they want to. Others kill because they have to. I killed because everybody wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

“A murderer kills for fun or money. A desperate man kills because he has no choice. A vigilante, however, kills because the society needs it.”

“A vigilante? Who is that?”

“Well, how long have we got from here to the jail?” Shyam asked.

“About an hour and half.”

“Well then, get ready to be a part of my journey. But beware, it is a bumpy ride ahead!”

Chapter 1 - And it began…

Dr Shyam paced up and down in his chamber. It was just half past midnight and his hospital’s emergency centre had received its sixth gunshot injury. It was almost a daily routine. He was used to seeing stabbings, bullet injuries and other attempts at homicide since his residency days, but the rate at which the sufferers of violence had increased in recent times, was alarming. As a doctor, he always felt that he was meant to do much more than just treat a disease. He felt he was meant to cure the society. And societies are not cured by treating gunshot injuries. Societies are cured by preventing a gunshot injury from occurring. Expectedly, his phone rang.

“Shyam sir?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Sir, one more. This time, it’s on the abdomen. No exit wound seen.”

This was an emergency. Somebody had been shot, and the bullet was probably lodged in the intestines, causing fatal hemorrhage or intestinal perforation, or both. Probability was, the patient might not survive till he climbed down two flights of stairs.

In the end, he never did.

“What the HELL is going on in this godforsaken place?” Shyam pounded his wrist on the table after returning to his room. There was no one to reply. It was then, that a voice spoke, “If no one can do anything about it, why don’t you try?” Shyam stood up and walked towards the mirror in his room. His reflection revealed all the years he had spent struggling with obscure pieces of information, hoping to clear the medical entrance exams, the years of his medical college, the struggle of post graduate training and the insane amount of hours put in practice after his post graduation, which ensured that his marriage ended in two years. “What did you gain, my friend? The reflection asked. For once, Shyam was silent. Did he save lives? Yes. But, did he improve lives? No. Did he save people coming with stab and bullet wounds? Yes, sometimes. Did he even try to prevent them from occurring? Never. It was always supposed to be the job of the police, the government, the municipality. Apparently, somebody was not doing their job well. It was something he had learnt the hard way in his housemanship.

“But sir, I ordered the ward boy to collect the lab reports. What can I do if he didn’t go on time?” an innocent Shyam pleaded.

“You lazy ass! If he doesn’t go, then you have to go!” his senior shouted.

“But sir, that’s not my job!” Shyam, the epitome of gullible, protested.

“Idiot! If somebody doesn’t do their job, it becomes yours! YOU are the one responsible for the patients of the ward. Not the ward boy, not the sister.”

The episode was burnt on his mind. If nobody is willing to do a job, it becomes the job of the one who cares. It was time, Shyam decided, that a surgeon cuts out more than just a rotten organ.

“Connect me to the nearest police station,” Shyam asked the telephone operator, who duly obliged.

“Hello, this is Dr Shyam, from Krishna TraumaCare. Can I speak to the PSI there?”

“Sir PSI sa’ab is in a meeting…” the constable answered the routine line, but Shyam cut him short, “Then tell him to stop the meeting now. Its regarding a bomb threat which will destroy this city in half hour if he doesn’t do something!” The response was immediate and adequate.

“This is Police Sub Inspector Maharshi speaking,” a gruff voice answered, “and listen, this better not be a hoax call or I will rip your insides out!”

“That sir, is kinda my job,” Shyam replied coolly, “and let me ask you one thing. How many serial bomb explosions this city has seen?”

“Wait… what?”

“Answer me sir. How many serial bombings has this city seen? How many deaths recorded?”

“One incident, yes. Five years ago. Fifty people died, almost double were injured.’

“And I have seen almost fifty deaths due to gun shot and stab injuries in the last one year. And I run just one hospital. Don’t you think something should be done about it?”

“Don’t you bloody lecture me on what to do. Our team is already…”

“To hell with your team!” Shyam thundered, “Meet me in half hour if you seriously want to do something about it. I am not telling you what to do. I am telling you how to do it.”

“Hello sir, am I speaking to Dr Shyam?” a pleasant voice greeted Shyam from the other end of the phone call.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Sir we are from Jeevandaayi Orphanage. It is a charitable organization under the patron of Mr Jagdish Tyagi. We are organizing a medical camp for the orphans. Too many of them are appearing weak nowadays. Can you be a part of the medical team?”

“Of course, it will be a pleasure!”

Chapter 2 – A foolish thing to do

“Okay, now roll your eyes upwards,” Shyam examined the inner side of lower eyelid, the palpebral conjunctiva, for anemia. It was pale. To his surprise, it was seen in most of the children he had examined that day. He checked the diet they were given. It was adequate for the children of that age.

“It can’t be a coincidence,” he muttered. It was too much for chance. He went to the kitchens and enquired about the diet. No problems there. The children were being provided a specially designed diet to ensure adequate delivery of nutrients. Puzzled at the strange finding, he prescribed iron tablets to all the kids before leaving the premises. It was the best he could have done. It seemed like the world had gone to dogs. Nobody wanted to do their work, and wanted to pass it on to the one who cared. In this case, it was Shyam. And he already had a bloody hospital to manage. He was still disturbed at the reply given by the inspector the other day.

“Hello Inspector!” Shyam extended a warm hand of friendship. Maharshi did not reciprocate.

“Sit down, doctor,” he replied. Shyam sat down on the chair of the coffee shop where they had agreed to meet.

“So, you were saying you have a plan to make this city crime free?” Maharshi asked.

“Yes, inspector. And not just that, I think I know how these criminals think. I know what they fear. I know their weaknesses.”

“Let me tell you one thing, doctor. While you were busy reading all sorts of books in your youth, I spent the time in the streets, with the goons. I have fought them, beaten them, received injuries, shed blood. What have you done? Read a few detective novels and watched some movie like Dabanng? It doesn’t work like that, sir.”

“But atleast listen to what…” Shyam was cut midway by a raised hand. Maharshi continued, “I came here only because of an ongoing investigation nearby. Don’t you think that I was least interested in your silly theories. You do your job, let us do ours. I don’t tell you which surgery is to be done in whom. You stay out of it.”

Never, ever had Shyam been so insulted in his life, perhaps barring his junior residency days. It was time, he decided, to take matters in his own hands.  It was then that he remembered forgetting something at the orphanage- his stethoscope. He turned the car around and rushed to the orphanage. A strange sight greeted him there. There were no children in the building. From being bursting to the seams, the place was practically barren.

“Where are all the children?” he asked the man at the counter.

“Off to school sir. We made them stay here for your visit. We had taken special permission from the school for that.”

Well, atleast someone was doing their job properly; he ruminated, as he picked up his stethoscope from where he had kept it, and left.

That was when he heard the gunshot.

He ran towards the source of the noise, crossing the corridors, the activity rooms and the children play area. He kept on running, searching for a gun, and a body. He reached the other end of the orphanage, but didn’t find what he was looking for. Not willing to give up, Shyam walked slowly, panting as he was from the previous exertion. That was when he noticed a slight irregularity in the pattern of the grass in the lawn. He walked towards it slowly, and bent to examine it. Before he could do anything else, he felt an excruciating pain over the back of his head. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was that the irregularity of the grass was actually a door to an underground cellar.

Chapter 3 – The unraveling

A cold splash of water greeted Shyam as he woke up groggily. His vision was all blurred, yet he could note he was in a hideout of some kind, much like he had seen in movies. His hands were tied behind his back on a chair, and so were his legs. He tried to move, in vain. That was when a man entered the room; his footsteps seemed to silence the commotion of the room. Everyone turned towards the One who had walked in.

“Sir…” someone muttered. He was kept shut by a raised hand, and an order, “Silence!”. It seemed to stun everyone into silence.

“Who the fuck kidnapped him?” he shouted.

Nobody had the voice in their throats to reply. All of them looked at one man. The One walked towards him. His footsteps created an eerie echo. He grabbed the man by his throat and pressed it hard. The man began to cough and choke but could not free himself from the iron grip. His struggle was short-lived, much like his life. Throwing the dead body away, the One turned around and shouted, “Nobody, nobody will do anything without my order!  Nobody moves even a toe without Jagdish Tyagi’s order! Who the hell was this idiot to kidnap a random doctor and keep him in my hideout, alive?”

“Sir, actually…” someone stammered.

“What?”

“Sir, actually he was your cousin. You recruited him for training last month.”

“I don’t give a shit. Our line has no relatives!” Shyam had seen a lot in his life, but was yet to see a man as cold blooded as him. Outwardly, he shuddered. Inwardly he was shaking violently.

“And now, over to you mister,” Jagdish turned towards Shyam, “what shall we do with Dr Sherlock, eh?” Looking over to his henchmen, he boomed, “Its simple. We kill the doctor!” Everyone started laughing at the cue.  Suddenly, Shyam was laughing too.

“What the hell are you laughing at, eh? The joke’s on you!” one of the henchmen shouted.

“Mr Tyagi, before I die, I would like to diagnose the illness of your orphanage’s children. Please, its an academic interest,” Shyam spoke softly.

“Well go on. You are gonna die, so you have the right to bore us for some time.”

“So, this is my theory. You use these children to make country guns and revolvers for your gang and the other gangs. These require extensive amounts of lead. Obviously you have zero regards for industrial safety, so all this lead goes into the children’s body. Over the years, the lead accumulates and gives the picture of generalized weakness, tiredness and anemia. So, if I am not mistaken, you sir, are responsible for most of the city’s gunfire crimes?”

“You are a brilliant doctor, sir. I must say that. Yes, most of it is right. Except one. I am not responsible for most of the guns of the city. I am responsible for all of them. When I came in the market, it was crowded and confusing. By force or by talk, I took all the goons under me. And I have the monopoly on illegal firearms, not only in the city, but in the state. The last I checked, there are over fifty Jeevandaayi orphanages in the state, providing care for orphans,” Jagdish replied, with a wink.

“Now, now, you are right in all points except one,” Shyam said with a mysterious smile.

“What?”

“That I am gonna be dead,” Shyam replied with an even more mischievous wink.

One hour ago

Shyam examined the irregularity of the lawn. It seemed like a doorway to an underground lair. And he was sure it would be locked to outsiders. The only way, he decided, was to get kidnapped. He might die, but it was a risk he was willing to take. However, there is a thin line between bravery and foolishness, and Shyam would be the last person to cross it. He sent an SOS to his team. It was a group of men he had hired from top security services in the country, because he knew such a day would come, given the path he had chosen to tread. Just as the message was delivered to the last person, he saw three men walking towards him with a bamboo stick. He bent over the door to examine it, fully knowing what was to come. And then, it did…

Back to present

“You know one thing, Mr Jagdish? There exists one sub-type of human species which spends their childhood and youth buried in books. They are often smarter, sharper and faster than most average people. They have the physical and mental strength to remain awake for 48 hours and yet tend to any critical patient that comes. They are often described as benign, silent people whose opinion matters little outside the field of their expertise. What nobody knows is, that behind that calm demeanor, lies a badass who can out-think any stupid goon like you. That sub-species is called the Doctor. And I am the most badass of them all,” Shyam spoke calmly, his voice betraying his emotions. He slowly looked around the room and shouted, “Now!” Jagdish could only look around in shock as some men of his gang took the others’ neck in their hands. In a short, but violent scuffle, all of Jagdish’s men were overpowered, lying on ground in a n unconscious state. Shyam freed his hands, and gestured one of his henchmen to hold Jagdish. His footsteps created an echo of power and strength. He walked up to Jagdish and whispered in his ear, “You have seen doctors save lives. Now see him taking one!”

“But…but… I gave life to so many orphans out there! Without me, they would be still begging on streets. Think of their lives. Were they not worth saving?” Jagdish argued.

“Yes, they were. But tell me one thing, was yours worth saving?” Shyam replied, with ice in his voice.

Jagdish was silent.

It was all over within minutes. Shyam was handed a 50 ml syringe loaded with Potassium chloride. Given in that amount, it would stop the heart in a minute.

 

Chapter 4 – The scalpel notes

Shyam walked out of the lair with his team. In one day, he had effectively beheaded the illeal arms syndicate of his city. However, he was sure the police will try him as a  murderer. It was best, he decided, to give the cops a miss. However, not all plans are destined to succeed in entirety.

“Hello doctor!” Inspector Maharshi appeared out of nowhere.

“What, you? Here?” Shyam fumbled. He hated being caught off guard.

“Yes, me. Here. While you were away, I decided to pay you a visit to apologize for the previous meeting and discuss what you had in mind. But your secretary directed me here. So, here I am!”

“Well, that’s interesting, but I have no interest in talking to you right now,” Shyam said, trying to walk away.

“Not so soon, my friend,” Maharshi said, catching hold of Shyam’s shoulder, “turns out one of Jagdish’s henchmen was my own constable. I had planted him in his gang to get proof of Jagdish’s crimes. And before your men took him out, he managed to inform me.” Shyam was stunned. He was beaten, not by the criminal, but by the police he often considered powerless.

“The problem with you smart men is that you think you are the only ones who are smart,” Maharshi spoke with a laugh and his constables handcuffed Shyam and his men.

Epilogue- Means or ends?

“So, that is my story, friends,” Shyam concluded. The constable around him were stunned at the audacity of the man. They had seen cold blooded killers, rapists and al sorts of vermin, but had never seen a murderer with so much conviction in his eyes.

“But sir, did the ends justify the means? I mean, the Jeevandayi orphanages have been closed down and the children are back on streets, with nobody to care for them. What if some of them become the gangster you just killed?” Shyam had no answer for that. He just lowered his eyes and gazed away.

“So, we have near the jail. It was fun talking to you sir. If you behave well, they might let you out earlier.”

“How early?” Shyam asked.

“Dunno. Maybe after five years,” the constable replied.

“I have a better idea,” Shyam said.

“What?”

“More on it later! Tell me one thing, did you notice that the two constables in the corner have not spoken a word?” Shyam said with a now-familiar glint.

The next day’s headlines made Maharshi sweat with cold fear- Dr Shyam, sentenced to prison for murder, escapes from the police van!”