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 Laughing Caregivers

Sunil Sharma

The same ringing laughter!

Bed Number 3---reduction of a patient to a number---pleads: “Please! It hurts!”

They deaf?

“Money paid?’

“Yes, doc.”

“In full?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

The Number 3 gasps: “Doctor, it is terrible! Do not be brutal.”

“Shut up!” The nurse barks. “Questioning the doc?”

Purple spot appears, flows down and merges with other dried-up stains on the smelly sheet. A roomful of narrow steel-beds, hard mattresses and pillows…like a barrack. Stinks.

The Kingdom of Pain.

Sovereign is Death.

Number 3 sobs.

Docs, nurses and ward boys laugh.

“Hurry up! There are others.”

Hyenas attack in a TV programme on for nobody.

Same experience: civic, private and luxury hospitals; stained white uniforms; chilling laughter of care-givers.

Number 3 jerks off and is held viciously; cries baby-like.

The more the low-pitched cries, the more the metallic laughter deafening… but, oddly, unheard outside.

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