The Fifth Horseman

God, it's good to be King

The first time Ram ever had an actual one on one conversation with Mr Jamal was during his Surgery Rotations at the end of his 4 months. It was almost a year ago long before the Sheila's untimely demise. He was due for his final assessment; a nerve-wracking sit-down viva voce with the Head of Department himself. Ram had only prepared as much as time allowed him to, apart from all the parties, the stoning, and the sleeping- all essential parts of course. He beat himself over the head repeatedly as he did before every exam since school. 'Mr Eleventh Hour' his father used to tease him, and though it had been 10 long years since his father had uttered those words to him, the very thought of the word sent shrills down his spine, as though the man was really standing there tormenting him.

He tried sitting quietly on his side of the desk, but his mind was erratic, his eyes moving all over the place, unfocused. He chose to stare at the wall clock- sharp 0830H, when the man should have been there. Ram tried holding his fidgeting leg down with one hand while he used the other hand to wipe his neck with the end of his tie. He was stunned to see the AC dial turned all the way down to 19 and yet the room felt like a furnace.

The door barged open catching Ram by surprise. 'There you are,' said a tall, slightly pot-bellied middle-aged figure.

Ram adjusted his posture, both forearms on the table, ready to face whatever was coming.

'Well, you have come to the end of the road. So, shall we begin?'

'Yes,'

'Ok,' Mr Jamal smiled. He loved these little sessions that forced young impressionable interns to prostrate themselves before him. He was the king, and it was time for the court jester to frolic before him.

'So, tell me a little about the colon anatomy, from its embryology until adulthood, why it has different blood supply and how would that help a surgeon in understanding the risks and treatment options in oncology.'

Ram gulped a hefty amount of saliva. 'Erm,' he started. There's the foregut, midgut, and hindgut... and..' his flow was interrupted.

'and when does that happen in the fetus?'

'yes?'

'Let me rephrase that. How many months pregnant does she have to be in order for us to know when the different "guts" come about?'

He never remembered what he said that day, just that he failed, and that he had to do the whole thing again, after 3 months of extended training in the posting. Those were the worst words any house officer ever wanted to be associated with, and it was a first for Ram. He was initially devastated of course, and then did a whole lot of self-reflection. He took 2 days sick leave just to wallow in self-pity and drown himself in alcohol and pot.

'I think I'm moving out,' he remembered staring at Daniel at the doorstep of his room. Daniel was struggling to remove his socks from his aching sore ankles. He stared back at him half-asleep, irritated, and exhausted after a long night. 'What?' he asked back perplexed.

'Look, my entire life needs re-organizing,'

'Yes,' Daniel agreed, 'you sit and stew in there the whole day. I hardly see you come out to the living room even. And you smell man. Like really,'

Ram glared back at him, eyes locked, ready for a fight but Daniel knew his friend better than to get intimidated. 'I'm serious man. Take a shower, stop drinking, and maybe just talk to somebody about this. You clearly don't want to talk to me.'

Ram sneered. 'Maybe it's because you're happy. And you're entitled,'

'Bullshit, don't make this a race thing. You just want...'