The possession of two visages in a coin proves the existence of perfectly imperfect attributes in every minute creation. In the guise of an intellect critic, a huge population of writers have already exposed and discussed a series of shortcomings residing in those lively frameworks draped in a white coat and hanging a stethoscope around the neck.  This write up is an effort to throw a beam of unbiased light on the concealed soul laden with emotions, which breathes beneath the white coat.

Blaise Pascal’s words, “the heart has reasons that the mind knows not of”, confirms the conflicting debate between one’s heart and brain. Responding to the stimuli, it is quite natural for the patients’ attendants to abuse and curse the physician, as they are forced to witness their near and dear ones taking the last breath.

The physician whom they had placed at the position of a deity and vested all their trust, at last responded with a formal line “We are sorry”! No matter how practical and wise the attendants are, at that moment every virtue is muted.

After all, humans are different from robots for the emotions they are injected with. A lot has been discussed about the lack of emotions in a doctor. Tags like “heartless”, “dacoits” etc must no longer pain the doctor’s ears. I am not going to discuss the authenticity of those statements.

The term “DOCTOR” is weighted with thousands of responsibilities, stress, fears, trauma and other emotions. Considering the cardiologist, surgeon etc as omniscient, patients and their attendants shove them with a chain of queries. They are expected to satisfy all the queries and march forward to the next door where another set of questions from a different attendant is waiting to be answered.

The right to information (RTI) is a legal right, but we often fail to realize that the answer bank may be too tired to reply to all the questions. Moreover, with the easy accessibility of information, if we constantly try to thrust the printout of our Google knowledge and compel him to question his own medical degree, it is not unnatural for him to lose temper. If not all, at least some of them definitely refuse to possess the superior complex of narcissus godliness even when the patients equate them with the almighty. Because they have bagged sufficient evidences about their role in unwillingly proving the bitter truth of life that human are mortal.

While accusing them of different blames, we fail to take a little time to encourage them for the number of lives they have been saving. Are there a limited number of job opportunities to survive with? Then why have some particular daring souls chosen to bear those unpleasant tags even after sacrificing the springtime of their youth, just to treat their fellowmen?  Somewhere a poet must have left a stanza incomplete after receiving an emergency call.

The incomplete verse survives as an evidence of the moment where he rushed to save a dying body. In some corner of a room, tears must be making a spontaneous flow and reminding him of the abuses of the attendant because he has failed to save the life of that kid with whom he had developed an emotional bond. But can he choose to stay in the room and lament the demise? No, he can’t. He has to wear a breastplate of strength and continue his duty.

The kid, who was a victim of trypanophobia, is today seen to inject lives in the dying bodies. The child, who slept with his granny whenever a neighbor expired, is seen to spend dozens and dozens of sleepless nights with the dead bodies in the anatomy department.

Therefore, when the doctors demand a little respect, cooperation and a few words of gratitude from the society, is it too high a reward for us to offer? Doctors are the flicker of hope for the dying body. Let’s try not to kill the enthusiastic and hardworking souls. Coming back to where I have began. Voices should definitely be raised against the darker side of the coin. Simultaneously, tokens of gratitude to the efficient saviour of human lives should never witness a crisis.

Nikita Mitra can be reached at:

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