THE OINTMENT

THE OINTMENT

Just outside his office building, a middle-aged man, in clean white clothes and shoes without socks, sold herbs, oils and creams with medicinal properties. Curious passers-bye stopped to hear him deliver in a singsong voice the remedial benefits of what he sold and how chronic, incurable ailments could be treated successfully. He presented himself as the last ray of hope for those who had tried every branch of medicine including unani and ayurveda but did not get satisfactory results even after spending thousands of rupees.

He distributed leaflets to offer his potential customers some idea of what ailments he could cure. He quoted a paltry sum of twenty rupees for every medicine that he sold. When established names in the field of medicine have no compunctions in fleecing their patients, spending just a little sum on the vendor’s prescription was a minor risk they could surely afford. His affordability and herbal cure attracted many people on this busy stretch.

He specialized in pains that had persisted for really long and those that had no permanent cure. He asked the interested folks to have it applied on the affected portion and see the miraculous result before buying any of his products. Many men, old and young, queued up to have a trial application, with trousers rolled up to the knee or the shirt lifted up to bare the painful back. He sought brief details of the history of pain and then proceeded to pick up the gel cream or oil and apply it for a minute while the patient waited for the effectiveness to be felt.

Kishore Nath, the bachelor clerk in the export firm stood attentively and heard it all. He surged past the crowd and in an eager voice said, “I have a very old pain in my finger.” The vendor gave him priority. He held his finger and gave it several twists and turns to see if he contorted his face in pain. He pressed hard at various points to locate where exactly the pain resided. Kishore was fine with these pulls and bends, as if nothing had happened. An ointment from the sample pack was applied all over his third finger. He was asked to wait and see the result. Kishore leaned against the trunk of the gulmohar tree and kept looking at his left hand.

Some minutes later, the vendor asked him, “How is it now?”

“Don’t know. Maybe, I’ll need to apply it for some days.”

He picked up a small pack and handed it to Kishore. “Apply this for a week before going to sleep and then report to me around this time. I have many areas to cover during the week. Behala, Dum Dum, Garia, Barrackpur...”

Kishore dropped it in his shirt pocket and gave him a fresh, crispy note he had preserved for several days. He walked happily to the bus stop, having found a solution to the pain that had troubled him for almost seven years.

After having dinner, Kishore sat down to watch a reality show. Lost interest in it and surfed channels. Finally chose to watch a lingerie show. After watching svelte bodies in sexy inner-wear for some time, he switched off the tv and proceeded to lock the doors and windows of his flat. He returned to his bedroom and picked up the cream and gently massaged it on his finger. As he closed his eyes, his mind began to wander. Some minutes later, he felt the cooling sensation course through his body. He lay on the bed and tried to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fight the demon of memories.

After applying it regularly for a week, he was ready to report what improvement was made. He came out of the office a little early to avoid the surging crowd so that he could properly explain himself without being heard by others. The ‘physician’ had just arrived in his spotless dress. He was arranging the medicines according to size. Kishore went close to him and said softly, “Applied this balm as per your direction but it does not seem effective.”

Kishore parted with details of his pain, “It is sudden, sharp, not persistent.”

He took a break from his activity and proceeded to examine the finger. He squeezed it hard, pressed the knuckles and asked, “Does it pain here? Slightly? And here? Little?”

“No,” he said cheerfully.

The vendor was surprised. He pressed the reverse side of Kishore’s finger to see his reaction. He ran his hand through the middle of his finger, still Kishore did not squeal or wince in pain, no ouch either. His wisdom was under grave threat. Folding it, pressing it near the nail, he asked, “How old this is?”

“Seven years.”

“Did not apply any medicine then.”

“Yes, consulted doctors, did x-ray, swallowed pills, what not.”

“Was it always like this?”

“Earlier, it pained more. Now less. Gradually reduced. But for the last two years, it is just the same.”

“How did you get it?” he asked with a forehead scrunched up, as if the answer was crucial for an accurate diagnosis.

Since Kishore was being asked for complete details, he said, looking at the troubled spot, “When Nirupama slammed the door of the taxi and walked off in a huff, never to look back to see what she had done and left behind. How badly it was pressed in the door, and it pained a lot. But no blood oozed out. Just a dark circle was formed within seconds.”

The vendor listened attentively to the vivid recollection of the accident, as Kishore had not held himself back or tried to hide any part of it.

The vendor examined the finger and then dropped his hand carelessly. “The pain is actually not here,” he declared confidently.

“But I remember well. It was here. I cannot forget so easily.”

“I know you remember it clearly. And will continue to do so. This pain will never go fully. So let it remain and enjoy it,” he said with a smile.

Having said all that he had to say, he did not insist that his customer should buy another pack. Kishore was still unable to gather the meaning of his advice.

The vendor returned to arranging his bottles and his smile refused to go. It grew wider and wider as he was reminded of the experience his customer had been through.

“Should I not try another pack and wait for better result?” Kishore asked.

“No need. The actual pain is elsewhere. Let it remain. It is good,” he said, “so just ignore it.”

A crowd was gathering. The sky was getting darker. Kishore did not ask further questions though he was puzzled by what he had heard. He stepped back to make way for others. He kept pinching and pressing his finger to feel any sort of pain, trying to forget where he had sustained injury.

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