I Saw The Devil

Khalid’s Notes

Darkness swells around me as I walk in the narrow street to the retail shop situated at the back of the hospital. The stench of gutter water flares my nostrils, and the mice pop their heads out of their damp cozy shelters, sizes so big that would make cats question their existence. I once saw a documentary where they explained what would happen if humans got wiped out because of running after their desires. The quest for money, resources, and power would only end in war and deaths, blood spilled across continents, blasts brightening up the night sky and children watching in amazement at the spectacle unaware of their impending deaths. And as humanity gets wiped out the things that disgust us the most will emerge out of the earth, feeding on the bodies and wastes, mutating and enlarging in size, crawling, and running where we once stomped feet.

I was tired from the 24-hour emergency duty and giving treatment to at least a dozen patients every hour. I came to get a can of chilled cocoa from the vending machine at the store. The shop has been closed for 4 hours now and the clock is ticking 3 am. I put a hundred rupee note in the insert money slot and waited for the machine to work. The numerous gears start turning and a strange whirring noise starts to ring in my ears. I still remember the day when I first used the machine. I had fantasized about the machine a lot in my college years but even though it got installed during my second year of medical school I didn’t use it.

I still can’t figure out why I got into medicine in the first place. I never had any intention of it. But back in the day, it was a popular thing. The parents used to select professions for their children, their lives laid out before them, and the only choice was to take the test and pass it or fail it after being convinced and boosted up to work hard and be disciplined. That was the norm in our days, the schools we went to were brimming with teachers who would discipline us, but there were those too who would share with you tales from long lost lives.

No one knows the reason why children are so eager to grow up when all they must do is to learn and enjoy with their peers. But one thing is poignant, children want to grow stronger and be able to do something but what they did in the past they seldom do in their adulthoods. They lose all passion, creativity, the ability to stand up against wrong, their thinking crippled and all they then do I follow the notion. Money and Power become the motivators for many, and others are convinced that they are nothing if they don’t attain degrees. Character is lost in the past, and puppets are born with age. A profession becomes a means to earn rather than a way to deliver and what’s good a profession if you are doing it for the sole purpose of earning with your will crushed, your passions lost in some dark sea, and your emotions dulled, your faculties degenerated and controlled by a certain system.

I still remember the days of my college life vividly. They have haunted me all these years. You never forget the most beautiful and the haunting, soul-crushing, and psychologically enriching experiences. Life is full of incidents and accidents, enmeshed into a beautiful tapestry allowing you to choose one of the paths; to do what’s right no matter the cost or to deceive yourself and others. It is only through interacting with people and understanding them that one realizes themselves better.

My class was full of beautiful, intelligent, hardworking, rich, poor, confident, shy, arrogant, humble, narcissistic, empathetic, leading, following, superficial, deep, creative, logical, daydreamers, and realistic individuals. I remember sitting with random students in my first few weeks to find out about them and just for the sake of sitting but I rarely talked as I had nothing to talk about and at other times, I was too conserved. Most of the time it felt like I was the alien in the whole room, so I just kept to myself. I would usually dig myself into the books that I carried along with me. Our Anatomy demonstrator liked to ask us questions and have us give explanation to the topics we had to study in the demonstration. It was the same case with the lectures that we were delivered in the lecture theaters, all the 220+ students together. Some of us would take notes while others would dig themselves in conversations, mobiles, or songs. They appeared as ghosts to me, and I had nothing to do with those infidels. But the ones sitting at the front were quite a few and when you are busy writing up notes from lecture or trying to make sense of what the teacher is saying was never helpful in making friends.

People got together so rapidly that I didn’t notice. I think the reason being I never paid attention to my classmates at that time and was only absorbed in myself. Being absorbed in yourself is quite a tragedy, you lose a lot of the goodness in the world. The world remains black and white unless you go and explore it with others. But the reason is, most of us have convinced ourselves of the thing that we alone are in the right and the whole world is against us. We forget that others are humans like us, and we human like them. To acknowledge this, we must fight our own selves and to accept that we are not so godly as think we are and that is where most people fall, and all is lost in the pursuit of egotism and self-righteousness.

Hamid’s Tale

It was almost 8 am when Hamid had done his breakfast at the station café. He had eaten a paratha with some fried egg and a cup of tea. He had been continuously adrift for some time now in search of a job. The past three months have been a lot for him after the government issued the notice of not entertaining any doctors who were on adhock and fired them without providing an alternative way. His train was going to departure in five minutes, so he had to make haste. He got up from the bench paid the kid working on the café Rs.200 and flinging the bag on his shoulder raced towards the platform.

The guard had waved the flag and the train had started moving. He increased his pace and shouted at the people standing at the back of the carriage, hoping that someone might help him. No one seemed to budge and the train had gained more speed, he was almost running now close enough to jump on the carriage but he needed an insurance that if he might fail he would be saved, but none of the persons seemed interested to help him. He had no time to think, if it wasn’t for this train he would miss the interview for Medical Officer at Basic Health Unit, Oonga Hayat and all the money would go to waste. He needed the job, so he jumped despite all the odds. His foot landed on the metal stair of the carriage, he felt relieved for a second, but he forgot to hold out his other hand to grab the train, he lost his balance and was in midair when a strong muscular hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in. The two men fell on the train floor and for a minute Hamid was unable to make sense of what had happened but then he took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He looked at the man now sitting in front of him. He was wearing a brown dress pant and shirt, a chocolate overcoat and a brown top hat matching the shirt. He had a well maintained, rich beard but the density at the chin and the lightness at the sides gave the impression that it wasn’t so always, and he might have had a time when he enjoyed French.

“Are you fine, Sir?” he said while holding his hand out to him.

“Yeah, I am fine, thanks to you,” he said shaking his hand, “By the way I am Hamid.”

“That’s a lovely name. A friend of mine also had it. Now let’s get you seated, dear Sir. I think this is your bag. Am I right?”

“Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

“What’s your cabin and seat number?”

“It’s cabin 6 and seat no 31.”

“Then that makes us berth mates I presume. I am so glad that I made it in time otherwise I would have to go the whole way looking at these uninteresting ruffians. I mean plebians, they always remain to themselves and can’t seem to find any other topic except discussing other people. Shall we go then?”

“I am following you, dear sir. If you don’t mind what’s your name?”

“It’s Zubair. Oh! Is that book yours?” he said pointing towards the notebook lying on the floor.

“No. It belongs to a friend. A dear one, I got it one day through a parcel and hadn’t let go off it since. Thanks for the help, I would have lost the only thing that connects the two of us.”

“I am interested in this friend of yours. Care to tell me what kind of a person he used to be?”