It is quite understandable that all human beings are not saints, and they will have their own dislikes. But decency expects that one does not reveal one’s dislikes openly, especially when there is no provocation. It pains me that such decency is sometimes not found even in the sacred temples of education (I mean in medical colleges). There was that meeting with one of the previous Deans, where one more head of a department was present besides me. The issue had to do with a matter concerning our departments independently and the medical council. It so happened that I had three band-aids on my right hand knuckles. No, I had not been boxing anyone’s ears. I am mild person. I had been cleaning our wheat grinder, and the knuckles had got abraded by the rough lining of the grinding chamber. The Dean politely asked me what happened to my hand. I told her it was a grinder injury. At that moment the other head of department said “Grinder? Your tendons were cut?” I noticed that there was a happy grin on her face and wishful expectancy in her voice. It was obvious there were no tendon injuries, or my hand would have been in a plaster cast and I would have been home recuperation, rather than in a meeting. I told her (regrettably) there was no tendon injury, and she barely hid her disappointment. I knew she did not like me for reasons best known to her. But she need not have shown her glee at the prospect of me having had my hand tendons cut. This attitude of hers also reminded me of another professor in my own department, who disliked me too, for reasons known to me too. I had superseded this one in seniority on merit though younger, and was scheduled to become her head of department when the current head retired. I had been suffering from repeated attacks of malaria then. I would be well for a few days and then there would be another episode. I was fed up. My morale was down, because the hospital physicians could not make a diagnosis. This professor chose to hit me when I was down. She stopped me in the corridor and asked how I was. I told her I had another attack of malaria. Then she said in the same manner as the previous professor “Perhaps you should have your HIV test done.” She had the same gleeful facial expression, the same wishful expectancy in the voice and no shadow of real concern. I told her my HIV test was negative. My fever turned out to be resistant malaria, and I was cured with Mefloquin and Artisunate. It bothers me that such learned professors wished a colleague hand tendon injuries or HIV, and disclosed it quite openly. God did not give me any of those illnesses. I do not know if God gave them anything for wishing me ill, though I know God does not punish, but only forgives. I owe it to these two professors to have shown me this form of attitude and taught me to be wary of people like them.
