Mindo— The unforgettable ‘chachi’
“Please call me chachi” said my potbellied, effervescent and rather abrupt helper. I had just joined as a veterinary doctor and she was employed as a helper by me. So it was just me and Mindo in the nascent set-up — the civil veterinary hospital. It was a small hospital in a village to provide the essential veterinary services to nearby hamlets.
Me, the novice veterinary doctor and she the “headmistress” of the people, were locked in a battle of dominion. She was opinionated and someone with firm, imposing ideas who wanted to be listened to and followed all the time.
There was quite an age difference between us. I was in my 20s and she far beyond the middle age —a virtue which gave her the “advantage of wisdom” and an unfathomed experience of life. No doubt, she was wise but she constantly made me realise that I was the one with only a quarter of the bookish knowledge. Mindo also had the habit of giving unsolicited advice. While I relied on the five-year knowledge I imbibed from the textbooks, she would bank on ageold ‘totkas’ and ‘nuskhas’.
One day while I was discussing the line of treatment being planned for a sick animal with a farmer, Mindo just hijacked the discussion after reciting her version of the disease and the cure.
She always carried that matronly air with her. She was like a doting hen who would watch over her chicks all the times with an effusing love. Whenever I found time, I would study books pertaining to complicated medicine and surgery. But Mindo would never let my reverie last for a long time. I would be engaged in talks of the villagers who did not support her politically correct statements and those who were involved in the illicit liquor trade. There was never a dull moment in Mindo s life and she made sure I was supplied with an equal dose of thrill.
Once we were on our way to examine an animal when my vehicle skidded off the road and landed in a ditch. We both were bruised, but Mindo got up and ran towards me. “Doctor saab, are you okay? Can you walk?” she said.
She was hurt herself but was more concerned about my wellbeing. That day, I realised how unfailing her devotion was towards me.
I got transferred after some years, but not before sharing many unforgettable moments. And yes, I started calling her ‘chachi’..
MINDO ALSO HAD THE HABIT OF GIVING UNSOLICITED ADVICE. WHILE I RELIED ON THE FIVEYEAR KNOWLEDGE I IMBIBED FROM THE TEXTBOOKS, SHE WOULD BANK ON AGEOLD ‘TOTKAS’ AND ‘NUSKHAS’.