Workshop Wonders

I had this wonderful opportunity to attend a workshop at a government guest house organized by the health university. I reached the venue five minutes before time, only to find the gates closed. “There is probably no meeting today” said the gun-toting security fellow on the other side of the gate. A couple of other people came and went away. Ask the receptionist inside and tell us too.” I went in and met the girl at the reception counter. “We have no word from the university” she said. “But we hear rumors that it is postponed.” I waited for a while and left. Luckily it was in my home town, and all I lost was a half working day. People had come from all over the state and had to go back. Many of them used this break to catch up with old acquaintances in town. It was a boon in disguise. A month went by and the invitation came again. Since it was an advice to our boss to nominate me to attend, I was obliged to have the pleasure to go to the same place again. I went without prior sanction of special leave, thinking I would apply for leave only if the event took place. Otherwise I had to make two efforts, one at obtaining a sanction, and then another at cancelling the leave. “Do you have any identity proof?” the gun-toting security fellow asked me at the gate. I had been let in the previous time without any ID check. But there was no point in telling him so. After all, the previous time may have been a mistake. “No, I said. “The invitation letter does not say I have to carry an ID proof.” He read my invitation letter, or at least glanced at it long enough to appear to have read it. “But it is required” he said. I thought this was a free country. I could go where I wanted except in secure areas. A guest house was hardly a secure or sensitive area. “My work is my identity” I almost said. But I realized in time that he was unlikely to have known about my work in Obstetrics and Gynecology. So I tried another trick. “I shall go away happily if you won’t let me in” I said and almost turned away to go. “Go in” he said hastily. After all, an elderly (and I think scholarly) looking fellow with an accent of an Indian Professor would not blow up the guest house, especially when the only thing he seemed to be carrying was the invitation letter. It was a grand workshop. They had a spread of Punjabi samosas, sandwiches, some exotic sweets and tea right insdie the entrance. I thought of the breakfast I had had at home, the free radicals and cholesterol in that food, and refrained from eating anything. I had a cup of tea. The breakfast lasted for another hour. Then the dignitaries arrived. A beautiful looking girl (at my age, without wearing glasses for distant vision, all girls look beautiful from a distance) invited them on the dais. All were asked to rise for the university song. All did that and the song was duly sung. Thus I learned there was a song of the university. Then she proceeded to invite the dignitaries to speak their minds, and thanked them for their words of wisdom, their inspiring words, their precious time, their enlightening ideas etc. They must have a small book containing such phrases. A huge camera was rolling, capturing all those precious moments. One of the speakers was the elder sister of one of our retired bosses, speaking with the same style and voice. I had believed I had forgotten the trauma inflicted on us by that boss and moved on. Well I had moved on, but the trauma caught up with me. I sat through a half hour of the ghost of that tormenter torturing me vocally. After the talks were over, the dignitaries left. Then the academic function began, an hour behind schedule. The pretty young thing handed over the mic to a middle aged associate professor. They had given us a pad and a pen to write. I had to appear interested, so I jotted down a few sentences. They were as follows. “To conduct whole workshop may not be able to possible.” “It is also very very important…” “The module is very very clear.” “Another important thing we are there is …” “We are supposed to have monitoring should be done.” “There is a chapter full on anemia.” She was not alone in use of such grammatically perfect English. Other speakers also contributed. Read the following lines. “I feel very proud to see you people talking to you people.” “Whatever we have done in the last ten twenty years …” “…………………………………………………..” (The lines I typed got the spelling and grammar checker in convusions. I had no option but to put periods in place of the alphabets.) At the end they gave a post-test which was identical to the pre-test. I noted with interest that they had asked us to state if we were doctor, postgraduate, professor, associate professor, lecturer, administrator in both the per- and post-test. Since I had not changed my designation in the wonderful few hours I had spent there, I selected the same option in the post-test too. I gained the following in this workshop. 1. A bag: I could put my laptop in it. 2. A pad and a pen: I drew a few cartoons in the time between speeches. 3. Lunch: with some heartburn and cholesterol in my vessels. 4. Tea: added to the heartburn, but the fault was mine. I should not have drunk it. 5. New ideas for my cartoons. 6. A sense of wonder: I dared not ask them why they had called me, an obstetrician to attend this workshop, when it was for management of children. All other obstetricians seemed to know why they were there, and I dared not show my confusion in front of such an august audience (the audience was august – either the pretty young girl or some speaker had said so).