(A
One-Act Play)
(Rendered
by the Author from his Telugu skit)
(Morning–A
charity hospital–crowds of patients along the corridor of the hospital, waiting
for the arrival of the doctor. An old decrepit woman sitting under a tree with
her young dying son lying in her lap.
At
last arrives the doctor. All the withering faces of the patients brighten. The
old woman’s son also coughs as if to indicate that he can be saved even now.
The
doctor who is a well-preserved middle-aged man with two small eyes, one always
suspecting the other, goes to his room straight and finds some friends waiting
for him. He instructs his the patients
to his junior, shakes hands with his friends, seizes the newspaper lying on his
table, sits down and starts reading it seriously. A looks round his
room, which is decorated with portraits of political leaders, national and
international (there are also some portraits of the trustees of the hospital in
a corner which is conspicuous only in the opinion of the trustees) and a
moment’s reflection on the voracity with which he is
devouring the columns of the newspaper will convince you what a passion
politics are with him. God knows–and unfortunately He doesn’t tell us–where his
politics end and his profession begins).
Doctor: Anything
interesting today?
One of his friends,
Rai saheb:
Yes: the New Year’s Honours’ List is out: Our Lala Junglemal has been
made Rai Sahib.
Another Communist:
He should have been made one long ago, for the invaluable services that
he has been rendering to the crown and the country through his charity
hospitals, orphanages, widows’ homes and pinjrapoles.
A third,
Pacifist: The Pope has declared the 2nd January as the day of
mourning to be observed allover the world, irrespective of caste, colour or
creed in memory of the millions that are dying every day on the battle-front.
Communist: There
is a prediction in the ‘Pravda’ quoted in today’s issue of the ‘People’s War’
that Hitler and Mussolini will finally embrace Bolshevism and find Russia quite
a nice place to live in.
Doctor: You
seem to have missed an important news? The German War Council is now in
session. They are perhaps discussing the prospects of a spring-offensive. Do
you think they will reach a unanimous decision this time?
(He is determined to
start a discussion on the international situation in the midst of groans of the
patients outside, most of whom being destitute cannot be his patrons).
Communist: Go
ahead. The day is not far off, when doctors who kill their patients in their
anxiety to dance to the tune of a pack of social parasites will be simply
stripped naked and whipped in public places.
Rai Sahib: (Ignoring
the fireworks of the Communist) Spring offensive? Against whom German
Civilians? I strongly feel that the war is approaching its climax and close.
Pacifist: Yes:
but what have we got to offer to the Peace Conference?
Rai Sahib: Atlantic
Charter.
Communist: (Fearing
that his convictions are at stake, joins the discussion). Atlantic what! Bosh!
Throw it in the Atlantic Ocean. I know only one charter.
Rai Sahib: (Whispers
in the Doctor’s ear). He means the Communist Manifesto. I wish he were within
the hearing of the police.
Pacifist: But,
Rai Sahib, are you quite sure that your Atlantic Charter can establish peace
and plenty in this weird world of ours? No: there must be universal
disarmament, and an international organisation, some sort of League of Nations,
to enforce it on all the nations.
Communist: Oh!
1919 rot.
Doctor: Supposing
the Allies win the war, as they are destined to–
Communist: (Interrupting)
Why do you look at the Honours list with tearful eyes? Steady, Comrade.
Doctor: (Continuing): –What
do you think is leading them to victory?
Rai Sahib: Mr.
Churchill’s speeches.
Pacifist: No.
America’s dollars.
Communist: Neither,
Comrades, Russia’s bullets, hard bullets.
Pacifist: Who
do you think will preside over the Peace Conference?
Rai Sahib: Some
Aga Khan: that doesn’t matter. (At the top of his voice) But the Atlantic
Charter must be accepted by all nations: it alone can save the world from the
ruthless and competing vanities and egotisms that have produced this terrible
conflagration. Perhaps my Communist friend doesn’t know what this historic
Charter contains. There are eight clauses in it. Let me enumerate them. Number
one is–
Communist: (Enraged):
Bolshevism. Number two is Bolshevism. Number three is Bolshevism–and Number
eight is Bolshevism.
Rai Sahib: What
must then happen to those sacred principles, Liberty, Justice, Civilisation–
Pacifist: (Whispers
in Rai Sahib’s ear). Don’t blurt out ‘status quo’ in your exuberance.
(Enter
the old decrepit woman abruptly).
Old Woman: Which
of you is the doctor, my sons? (The
Communist directs her to the Doctor). God bless you, my son. He has been
coughing and coughing. Save his lungs, my son, he is collapsing.
Doctor: Who?
Old Woman: My only son who is
lying unconscious under that tree over there. So long as he was with me in our
quiet village home, he never coughed at all. He lived in light and shade
provided by our great mother, Nature. He used to look full and fresh. He
had plenty of flesh and blood in him. Now he is his own ghost. Oh! What a
deadly disease! Save him, my son, he is slowly sinking, God will bless
you, my son.
Doctor: What
made him leave his village home?
Old Woman: Food
in return for work. But there never seemed to be any work for him
in this busy world. If he had been literate, perhaps he would
have got at something to live by. He was a simple robust rustic youth whose
only resources were his nerves and muscles. Save him my son, God will
bless you.
Doctor: He
needs good nourishment. Why not ask him to join the Army? I will tell you why
he should join the Army.
Rai Sahib: He
will get free food, free clothing, free accommodation,
and free medical aid: what else does he want?
Doctor: No.
There are stronger reasons. (To the Old Woman) Please take your
seat. Let me explain to you why India should help Great Britain in this
horrible Armageddon, (with his eyes intent on the Honours List) and India is
nothing but strong, simple village folk like you and your son. How old is he?
Old Woman: I
don’t know. But this much I can say: he was born, exactly when his elder
brother died in a French trench during the last War. Those two events
occurred on the same day.
Communist: That
is: was it before or after the Russian Revolution?
Pacifist: It
was before the Armistice.
Rai Sahib: Yes.
It was after the historic Delhi Durbar. Oh! What a great event it was? I
can never forget the vivid memories of those picturesque pageants of the
Princely Order, those grand parades of the Knights, those splendid processions
of the people, in honour of their Majesties’ visit.
Old Woman: Save
him first, my son.
Doctor: Please
let me trace the circumstances that led to this War. Then you’ll clearly
understand what vital issues are at stake.
Pacifist: Yes:
Start from the Treaty of Versailles.
Rai Sahib: No,
from the great Delhi Durbar. Otherwise where is history?
Communist: No.
You should start from the dawn of history, Comrade, right from the birth of
humanity. But, for convenience sake, you may now start from the Birth of Marx,
for the birth of Marx marked the birth of humanity. Now go ahead, Comrade. She
is absolutely unarmed: don’t fear.
(Enter Rai Sahib Lala Junglemal who is one of the trustees of the hospital: all except the Communist stand up and bow to him).
All except the
Communist: Heartiest congratulations on your well-deserved
honour, Sir.
Lala: Thanks.
Please sit down. (They sit down).
Doctor: How
is your puppy, Tiger?
Communist: Poor
creature! But how am I to blame for its stupidity?
Doctor: What’s
the matter?
Communist: It
died this morning, while trying to bite me.
Lala: (Furious):
Yes, I know it. I am suing you for damages.
Communist: Oh!
I don't care: You will get nothing out of it.
Doctor: What’s
the use of suing a communist for damages?
Lala:
(To the doctor): My wife is having some trouble in the stomach.
Communist: Oh!
She will be all right, if she eats less.
Doctor: (Enraged)
Please behave yourself properly. You are not the doctor. (To Lala) I have
already examined her, Sir, I find in her some symptoms of appendicitis.
Lala:
Appendix!! Is it serious?
Doctor: Not
very. But in 1938, it took a heavy toll throughout the world: over 60% of
humanity that died in that year died of this disease.
Lala: God
save her!
Communist: Why?
The whole property is already in your name, isn’t it?
Doctor: I
can save her, Sir, don’t waste your hard-earned money in trying to appease gods
that don’t exist. There is no God greater than drugs and doctors. I have got a
wonderful drug with me which can remove the word appendicitis from the
dictionary.
Communist: Damn
your dictionary. Answer to the point: can it remove the disease from the
patient?
Doctor: Of
course, it can: why not? All my medicines are remedies.
Old Woman: Please
save him, my son, if he is not already dead.
Lala: All
right attend to him first.
Doctor: (To
the old Woman): What is his complaint?
Old Woman: He
coughs and coughs. But it cannot be simple cough.
Doctor: Does
he suffer from fever?
Old Woman: Yes,
only during mornings and evenings.
Doctor: Does
he shiver?
Old Woman: Yes,
when it is too cold.
Doctor: Have
you seen my junior?
Old woman: I don’t know him,
my son. I have heard only of your miraculous powers. I feel confident
that my son will be quite safe under your care.
Doctor: (Rings
the bell: enter a servant): Take this Woman away to Chota
Sahib.
(Enter
Chota Sahib)
(To the
servant): Now you may go away. (To the Chota Sahib): How is that
Sadhu progressing?
Chota Sahib: He
has just expired.
Communist: So
you have at last despatched him to Heaven!
Chota Sahib: We thought that only his
lungs were affected. But finally his liver killed him.
Communist: You
shouldn’t have concentrated on his lungs.
Doctor: (To
Chota Sahib): Please go with her and examine her son. I think it is
a case of Malaria.
Chota Sahib: Most
probably. 90% of the cases that I have examined today so far are those of
Malaria.
Doctor:
Examine him also.
Chota Sahib: At present, my hands
are full. I have to prepare some ointments for Mr. Ram Singh. He
says he wants them immediately.
Doctor:
Who is Ram Singh?
Chota Sahib: Sardar
Sir Gadbad Singh’s chauffeur.
Doctor:
Oh! I See. All right. Ask her to come again at 4 p.m., with the patient.
Meanwhile you may give her three doses of quinine mixture. (To the old
woman): Haven’t you brought any empty bottle with you?
Old Woman: No,
my son. Can’t you spare one?
Doctor: (To
Chota Sahib): Just try, if you can. (To the old
Woman): Please go with him.
Old Woman: God
bless you, my son.
(Exit
with Chota Sahib)
Doctor: (to
Lala) Shall we go now?
Rai Sahib: All
right. We can resume our discussion at 4 p.m.
Lata: What
discussion?
Doctor: We
were considering the measures to be adopted to combat successfully the menace
of malaria.
Lata: Yes,
Yes. We have asked the government to increase the quota of quinine allotted to
our institution. I hope our efforts will be successful. Now let us go. Good
afternoon, gentlemen.
Rai Sahib and
Pacifist: Good afternoon, Sir.
(Exit
with the Communist)
(The doctor and Lala
go out but recoil at the sight of the old woman crying over her son’s body).
Doctor: Sheer
neglect. We shouldn’t crave for children, when we can’t look after them. She
shouldn’t have wasted so much of her precious time in our room, He must have
died of sun-stroke, I am sure.
Lata: (Mutters)
May his soul rest in peace!
Doctor: What
else can we do?