But the OPD’s similarities with other government hospitals end here. This jam-packed zone may be the last place one expects a patient hearing from the doctors, let alone any detailed diagnosis. What makes this department different are the attending doctors—they are incredibly calm in the face of a restless crowd. Consider this: a young man, in his late 20s, is lying outside the hospital ward under a tree. He was admitted after a multiple fracture, but couldn’t be accommodated in the ward because of an acute shortage of beds. Undeterred, the hospital staff smuggles a few essentials everyday for him to recoup. He isn’t on the hospital’s rolls yet, but a house doctor looks him up regularly, sometimes twice a day.
Cut to the third floor ward. It’s 8 in the evening, time for the dinner trolley to make its rounds. There’s a sudden buzz in the area—relatives and attendants to patients, who till now were hanging around in the stairway or the adjoining park, have all come to the party. But the nurses, who otherwise have a reputation for being unceremonious (if not rude), dispel the qualification here and make sure that the patients get their food first. Surprisingly, the entire business is conducted with a polite firmness seldom seen elsewhere. The head nurse, whose freckled face reveals her years in the ward, credits this work culture to Dr Singh.
The 57-year-old doctor says he’s happy that he chose a government hospital over a private one because of the "academic acumen and research facilities a government hospital can offer". He adds: "The sheer number of patients I get to treat here can never be matched anywhere else."
Dr Singh is due for his last round of the day anytime now. There are two men in particular who are waiting for the doctor. One of them is Bachchan Singh, a CRPF jawan who broke his hip bone after a fall from a cliff in Dras. Dr Singh replaced his left hip a week back and is due to operate him again—this time his right hip. Bachchan Singh is nervous and in extreme agony, but Dr Singh’s words have given him a new hope—he knows he won’t be combat-fit again, but is sure the CRPF will take him back again in some other role. His dignity and self-reliance now depend on Dr Singh’s surgical skills. Like Bachchan Singh, there is another patient who waits for Dr Singh’s rounds everyday—a beggar who was brought to the hospital by the Delhi Police. Thanks to Dr Singh, he says, he’s ready to go back and find some work.
Bachchan Singh is today back in his parent unit, but waits for the day of his monthly check-up on Saturdays. He doesn’t mind the thousands other waiting to see Dr Singh—he knows his wait won’t be in vain. Dr Singh’s Maruti 800 will soon arrive, and with it, hope for a thousand. Dr Singh can be contacted at the Orthopaedics Department, Safdarjung Hospital, New Delhi; Phone: 011-26165060
