Samar stopped to think. If Atharva went to the farm, what would he give him? He knew how to administer the basics.
“Samar!” Atharva yelled. And he stood to attention from his hunch, taking the order. “Make me a kit for an asthmatic patient.”
“Yes, yes,” he immediately filled a bag — pump, epinephrine, syringes, nasal drops. He thrust it at Atharva. “Here.”
“Now take your kit and go up with Vikram…”
“Then who will keep a watch out for you?” Vikram demanded.
“Jagga.”
“But you will take him…”
“No, I will go alone. Jagga will keep watch from here. You go up with Samar. If this case is serious, then Samar might need you to mobilise men and systems to get her moving.”
“I’ll see you.” Samar lifted his bag and gave him one firm look before turning and climbing up the hill. They had done this numerous times. He had done this innumerable times.
Everything fell away, the chill creaking his bones turned warm, and his limbs moved on adrenaline. His senses sharpened, and he heard Vikram running behind him.
“Not there!” Vikram called out. “There are steps on this side.” He ran up in front of him and pointed to their left. Samar followed him, the trek becoming easier as natural steps carved into the stone helped quicken their way.
The temple came into view and the people spilling around it were just too many. How would everyone shelter here if the inside was full already?
“Shailendri ki dadi mar rahi hai![167]” One of the boys yelled, coming down to them. Vikram caught him and ran up with him — “Doctor saab aaye hai, chalo, bhaago.[168]”
Samar followed the boy up the temple steps and through the scores of people on either side. And then he realised that the temple was quite big, but empty now, because the people had spilled out to wait for him. The patient was on a stone slab, lying in the darshan area, the doors to the deity closed. More people surrounded her, murmuring to do this and that; somebody even offered Gangajal.
“Hato, Doctor saab aa gaye![169]”
They made way, and Samar found her conscious, panting, talking.
“Jal raha hai…haaye…” she panted. “Main marne wali hoon… Gangajal pila do…[170]”
“Jal raha hai yaa dukh raha hai?[171]” Samar checked her airways, surprisingly clear. Her eyes were dilated but not worrisomely so. She was talking, and not holding onto her chest or arm.
“Jal raha hai…” she winced, rubbing the centre of her chest. “Yamraj aa gaye.[172]"
He wrapped the BP cuff around her arm and found it at 140/80, normal for her age.
“BP ki bimari hai aapko?[173]”
She shook her head. Samar looked at the couple standing by her head to confirm.
“Nahi, Doctor saab.” The man, her son, he assumed, answered. “Koi bimari nahi hai. Abhi bas chhaati pakad ke gir padi![174]”
“Kuch khaya tha?[175]” Samar took her wrist in his hand.
“Abhi pudi tal rahe hai… ek pudi khaayi.[176]”
He set her wrist down and rubbed her left shoulder — “Yaha dukh raha hai?[177]”
She shook her head.
“Dahini taraf kahi bhi dukh raha hai?[178]”
“Nahi…” she rubbed the centre of her sternum. “Bas yahi jal raha hai. Main jaa rahi hoon, Guddu…[179]”
Samar plugged his stethoscope in and pressed the tab to her chest. “Saans lijiye.[180]”
