Al Ngullie
Test-tube babies remain a mind-souping fascination. Forgive my inadvertent ignorance but I’d thought test-tube babies are produced with just a firm shake of a glass tube filled with the …er… contributions of two loving couples, mixed with a spoonful of some colorfully fishy chemicals. Thank god that Dimapur’s Faith Hospital erased my bizarre notion by introducing the people to In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) “or Test-Tube Baby” technology last week.
Of course, when I attended the press conference on July 14 preceding the formal inauguration, I was skeptical. Then Dr Pramod Bajaj took the trouble of explaining the concept at the press conference to make sure that the babies-are-manufactured-in-bottles-or tea-cups idea is completely erased. However, the one hour discourse didn’t help any matter by virtue that the highly-technical medical terms denoting the procedures and processes involved in IVF, only heightened chances of completely erasing the brains of the journalists instead. What’s more the Latin-and-Greek medical terms coupled with even more lethal names for IVF’s respective equipments, had us wondering if it were a crash-course in long-forgotten Greek language that somehow happened to have an audience comprising of Bastenga, Anishi, Axone and Khalo personalities. (And of course, Dimapur’s summer heat didn’t help any matter as I sweated buckets and began smelling like raw bamboo-shoot; my fellow journalists began sniffing the air wondering if Faith Hospital had introduced Bastenga curries for its patients). Anyway, Dr Bajaj explained his best, on IVF. Finally, I gradually realized that IVF babies are not produced from test-tubes. I learnt that test-tube babies are in fact manufactured in computerized machines with a Yahoo connection. Or so I am given to understand if I’d understood the doctor’s Greek explanation correctly.
Anyway, the formal inauguration of the IVF centre was held the next day itself by Nagaland Health Minister Dr TM Lotha, as the Chief Guest. The Chief Guest strutted into the function canopy in a chic cream Kurta while his elegant lady wife, Mhalo Lotha, floated alongside him in a traditional Lotha get-up. I assure you, reader, the two makes a lovely couple. The function proceeded smoothly. Then half an hour into the programme our notorious Indian monsoon gate-crashed the party with a heavy shower of drenching, blessings I mean, to say hello. Initially, no worries went a-waste since the downpour indicated that the God of rains is smiling down upon His people. But as the downpour gathered momentum, slow but gradual murmurings increased if the God of rains would stop smiling for the reason that the compound had begun to gather sizeable ponds. Their sizes could make the Fishery Department happy swimming on Cloud no.9. One mother was overheard muttering something that sounded something like “I hope they don’t have sharks. I am afraid of sharks.”
Sharks in Faith Hospital notwithstanding, another cause for complaints were that the overhead canopy looked ready to give away under the weight of collected water to give the dignitaries and attendees of the function a free bath. Of course, many of us agreed happily that the canopy should break to drench those beneath to wash away the stink and sweat of Dimapur summer. (Thanks to the hot afternoon, many of us at the function wore the honorable mark of summer – the stink of onions). The rain held up the proceedings that the PA system was switched off while the participants sat back quietly for the Rain God to stop smiling. Rather than ceasing, indications were that it would continue for another half an hour. And we the onion-friendly guys kept hoping for the free bath.
Meanwhile on the podium, ushers scampered to and fro with apparently no particular purpose in mind just that showers mean an opportunity to appreciate umbrellas. Finally a monstrous black umbrella was brought for the Chief Guest. Dimapur Deputy Commissioner KN Ngullie received the monstrosity and graciously held it up for both Dr TM Lotha and his wife. However, the shower got heavier and the umbrella gradually came to have only two beneficiaries – the Minister and the DC himself – while poor Mrs Lotha was left out. (Let’s hope the Minister didn’t face his wife’s music back home for leaving her out of the umbrella’s jurisdiction).
Meanwhile, the gathering waited patiently for the free bath from the overhead canopy’s breakage. Conversely, those who smelled fresh chose to inch towards the centre in an attempt to avoid a free bath being given from one side courtesy of raging winds. Finally, unable to withstand the windy showers the gathering also opted to shove, push and slide toward the center, rearranging the function’s seating arrangements into a warm but chaotic cluster of bodies and chairs. A-ha! Stink is a great leveler – the affluent rubbed shoulders with the slim-pockets without feeling guilty for spreading body odor. Not so for the sensitive noses however. Many could be seen turning a deeper shade of blue while one looked like he’d just choked on a heavy-duty pork slab.
Then in the midst of the chaotic cluster, spicy body odors and exotic-smelling armpits, one of the bamboo poles holding up the canopy, cracked under the weight of collected water, with a loud crack sending most of the people diving for cover (In a state like Nagaland you have to be ready for factional flare-ups, you know). Thankfully, this time it was only a bamboo, falling prey to any sound resembling a gunshot. Sooner than the gathering heaved a sigh of relief, the canopy overhead burst sending the section seated just underneath the breakage, scuttling for their dear lives. The free bath at last! But seconds later, smiles turned into scowls, as it was to be the first and the last breakage till the next function. No free bath for the rest. That left only one nagging question in the minds of all the attendees: “When is Faith Hospital going to served us dinner?”
