Fever

In all his 45 years, Preetam had never fallen so ill that he had to be admitted to a hospital. Mere thought of the hospital rendered him sicker. It was because of this hospital phobia, Preetam tried to look his cheerful best whenever he was ill. This time around destiny had decided otherwise. A relapse of typhoid took away all the Preetam's energy, not
to mention his cheerfulness. He had to be admitted in the hospital.

Now that the inevitable had happened, Preetam started to accept the reality in his own terms. His wife was an obliging person. She fulfilled all the whims and fancies of her ailing husband as she always did: without complaint. The thought of a prolonged stay in the hospital was making Preetam more irritable.

On his third day in the hospital, Preetam experienced something petite and pretty in the hospital that completely changed his frustration and tiredness. A charming lady doctor appeared in the morning rounds in his ward in place of the baldy doctor. Preetam with his going-to-die-very-soon look magically changed into a person 20 years his junior – albeit in his thoughts as the pangs of the fever had stolen the glow from his face. He managed to bring rather a sparkle (looked more like a dying declaration) in his eyes as the lady doctor neared his bed.

The lady doctor looked at the chart, turned toward him, smiled sweetly and said in an attractive voice, “How are you doing this morning, Mr. Preetam?”

His limbs permitting, Preetam would have gotten onto his feet to offer a befitting salutation to that descendent of Cleopatra but in his current state of affairs, he could only acknowledge a feeble presence through an ironic mumble.

The lady doctor checked his pulse, heart beat and eyes and said with a bewitching smile, “You seem to be recovering fast, Sir” and went on to attend to the next patient. For no reason, Preetam blushed.

When Preetam’s wife returned, she found him sitting on his bed. Concerned, she asked if he was alright. Preetam smiled sheepishly, amused that he hadn't felt better in years. He made an innocuous inquiry as to when the doctor would be making her next round. Alarmed, his wife asked if he was feeling uncomfortable, and Preetam blushed for no reason at all.

The lady doctor came again for the evening rounds. Preetam was well prepared for this encounter. He was sitting on his bed with his hair combed and his face wearing almost a permanent smile. As the lady doctor came near him, he started perspiring. Preetam noticed that the lady doctor was wearing slight make-up. “Isn't make-up prohibited in the hospital?” he mused. Then it occurred to him she might be doing it for someone special. The doctor touched his head and commented with her patented smile that the fever seemed to be waning and how courageous Preetam was for sitting up rather than lying like a poodle on the bed.. Preetam gave his routine blush. He was still sensing the doctor’s touch and his imaginations were flying to many directions. He, however, was not oblivious to his wife’s presence as she looked askance at the proceedings. Instinctively, Preetam’s shoulders sagged and he retired into his bed. He murmured to himself, “ Nagging and suspicious wives”.

Next morning witnessed Preetam insisting for an early body sponge with cologne lavishly sprayed in the warm water. He had a change of dress, combed his hair meticulously and waited. His wife, being as the wives are, went through those chores with a disapproving look. And the baldy doctor arrived in the morning rounds. Preetam’s heart sank. Then he spotted the lady doctor behind the baldy doctor and his spirits rose. The baldy doctor introduced the lady doctor as his wife and Preetam slumped on his bed. Kind of momentary giddiness, he complained. The doctors asked him to be brave and moved on. Preetam was left behind with his wife holding his head. Was she wearing a wry smile?

Word count: 677