Madras the Medical Capital?

Every once in a while, on those rare occasions when the Chief lets him off the chain, The Man from Madras Musings allows his mind to wander. And on those days he switches on the television and gives his mind a complete rest. This happens to be invariably late at night and what should MMM see but a plethora of (and this he is sure is NOT what you thought he watched) medical programmes. Most of these have a doctor as the guest of the evening and the episodes are of the calling-in variety where a certain ­percentage of our naïve and medically conscious population, as befits the healthcare capital of India, calls over the phone and discusses its real and (as MMM strongly ­suspects) largely imagined problems.

Leaving that aspect aside, what intrigues MMM is the brazen way in which the ­doctor on call (please pardon the dreadful pun) does his best to advertise his clinic, his area of specialisation and, when possible, costs involved in various treatments, often ­stating that the same procedure could cost a lot more ­elsewhere. And all this from a man who must have taken a hypo­crite’s, sorry, Hippo­crates oath. A typical sample would be like this and, for the sake of convenience, let us assume that the doctor in question is an expert on glandular botts.

Compere (all bright and lively): And who do we have here? Hello? Hello?

Ghostly Female Voice: Hello! I am XYZ. I got married a year ago and for the past nine months my stomach is ­expanding. What should I do?

Doc: Hmmm… I suggest you meet a gynaec. But before that I suggest you come over and have a check-up to ensure that it is not a case of glandular botts.

(At this point, an ad for the clinic specialising in debotting glands surfaces on screen.)

Old Man’s Voice (rasping cough): Doc, I have this case of recurring pneumonia…

Doc: Definitely triggered by glandular botts. All you need to do is to come over to our clinic and we will set you right in no time.

And so it goes on. An ingrowing toe-nail? Blame it on glandular botts. A case of double vision? Botts (glandular) it is. At the end of it, you would not be far wrong in assuming that glandular botts is an epidemic of sorts that is raging all around the city, giving dengue and malaria a run for their money.

In a not unrelated incident, MMM recently espied an advertisement for an exhibition on diabetes, released by a private hospital. The ad ran as follows:

 Are you diabetic? Then this exhibition is for you.

 Are your parents diabetic? Then this exhibition is for you.

 Are you over fifty and overweight? Then this exhibition is for you.

 Are you not diabetic? Then this exhibition is for you.

The all-encompassing ca­tho­licity really impressed MMM. He wishes that such a principle is followed in all walks of life.

Chatting policemen

There was a time not so very long ago when policemen went about on foot covering an area they were assigned to. Now, The Man from Madras Musings notices, thanks to a car manufacturer in the city, they go around in swank sedans in airconditioned comfort. And why should they not? MMM is all for improvement in their working environment. But when the cars begin adding to, and not mitigating, our traffic woes, the sleeping tiger in MMM is awakened.

Last week, MMM was driving along peacefully with a police vehicle ahead of him. Traffic was not all that heavy, but that was no excuse for what the policeman in the car did. His microphone suddenly cackled to life at a junction and the whole neighbourhood could hear him summoning the policeman on duty at the signal. That functionary immediately walked across and the two, the one in the car and the one on the road, began having a rather animated conversation, all the while holding up a whole line of vehicles behind.

The same exchange of views could have been held after the police car drew up to a side but that did not clearly appeal to whoever was in the car. After a couple of minutes and especially when the microphone picked up words indicating that the conversation was neither urgent nor pertaining to the profession of policing, MMM decided that he had had enough. He risked life and limb in getting out of his car, walked over to the two cross-talk act specialists and suggested that they took their custom elsewhere. The policeman in the vehicle was none too pleased, but realised that he had been in the wrong. The car moved on and so did the traffic.

P3P

That, The Man from Ma-dras Musings learns, is the latest terminology to describe the Page 3 types who regularly make their appearance on the page bearing that number in some newspapers. The term remains unchanged even if other newspapers regularly use different pages to feature the same types. This may not be a new term (short, MMM understands, for Page 3 People) and perhaps MMM is one of the last to hear of it, which is quite understandable for someone who writes for Madras Musings, but it is the people in it who intrigue MMM. They are forever flitting from party to party, always wearing peculiar clothes and most often are seen clutching a glass of some stuff that hopefully cheers. And they appear to be eternally happy.

P3P, to MMM, is the grown-up’s version of Peter Pan’s Never Never Land. One look at these characters would convince anyone that they don’t have homes with power failures, teen-troubles, servant issues, waterlogging at gates, cash-flow problems and back-trouble. And so they carry on, hurrying from place to place, ever smiling and ever posing for photographs. And two days later, they appear on P3, with an inane set of captions under their names, ranging from ‘strawberry stripes’ for someone who is in those colours to ‘yin and yang’ for a duo that is in contrasting shades. MMM remembers with amusement the picture of a historian that had a caption reading “voice from the past”. MMM wonders if the person featured in it and his family members found it even in the least bit amusing.

There was a time when most of Chennai woke up with a cheery read of the obituary column in the newspaper. That was to make sure that, in case a friend or a close relative had been called away, the mandatory condolence visit could be made before the morning bath and shave. Now Chennai has gone mod and opens its eyes with a long and lingering look at P3! Times have changed. Perhaps Madras Musings ought to have a P3 too. But what of? Old buildings?

– MMM