Stories behind the statistics…
were all travelling with them, also had fractures and wounds. “With so many family members injured, there was no one left there to look after them,” she said.
At first, even getting simple first aid was difficult. The nearest hospital had no splints and bandages, let alone an X-ray machine. By the time Seema, who was in Delhi, arrived on the scene, her mother was drifting in and out of consciousness and her son had lost a lot of blood. Eventually they were shifted to the government hospital at Barabanki, but the family’s travails were far from over.
“As the only able-bodied adult, I had to take care of them day and night,” said Seema, “even though there were no facilities for patient’s families to use.” However, sleeping in the open was the least of her worries. “The doctors were always too busy to tell me what was happening,” she said. “A sympathetic nurse used to quietly update me about everyone’s condition.” Anxiety and lack of sleep would soon make her sick as well, she realised. Eventually, when they realised that the injured members were likely to spend close to a month recuperating in the hospital, Seema’s family rented a single room for her to stay in, and nurse them all back to health.
“There were hardly any nurses, and dozens of patients,” she said. “Since my family, with all their broken limbs, needed constant help, I got neither sleep nor rest while there.” Doctors and nurses weren’t the only things in short supply—every other day Seema would have to take the bus to go 10 km away to replenish the medicine her family needed.
Having recently undergone treatment in a Delhi hospital, Seema couldn’t help but compare the two experiences. “Even though the doctors in AIIMS were busy, they took time to speak to their patients. Also, unlike in the UP hospital, there were nurses to look after patients,” she said. Not surprisingly, after discharge, when all eight patients needed physical therapy, the nearest physiotherapy centre turned out to be 20 km from home.
Fed up with the daily struggle, Seema convinced them to come to Delhi. Soon, after her two brothers had recuperated, Seema began asking around for jobs for them. “They still aren’t fit enough to till the family land,” said she. “And we can’t afford to hire labourers for the job.” I realised that I was witnessing a migration in progress, one that could perhaps have been avoided had their rural hospital experiences not been so dire. “My mother is especially keen on moving,” said Seema. “She says our home isn’t a place worth living in anymore.” I watched her leave for her tiny room with eight patients, knowing that their story would shortly morph into a prosaic statistic—although listening to it could offer some constructive ways to tackle Delhi’s overflowing migrant population.