I was casually scrolling through my Facebook posts, when I came across an article regarding the recent Annual Day held in Dhirubhai Ambani International School. Being one of the most reputed schools in the city of Mumbai, it has a lot of rich kids hailing from the families of the who’s who of Mumbai. Naturally, the show was graced by the presence of many Bollywood actors who came to see their kids perform on stage. Among them were Shah Rukh Khan and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan who were the main attractions for shutterbugs who came to cover the event. Within no time, pictures of the stars and dance performances of their kids went viral. Facebook posts began to flow in.
One particular title which captured my attention was,”Aaradhya Bachchan’s performance at her Annual Day definitely proves that she is a star in the making.” The caption angered me for a second and I thought that it’s alright to respect the actors for who they are, but glorifying their children absolutely over nothing, purely because of the silver spoon in their mouth is just not acceptable. In fact, why are the actors glorified in the first place? And being loyal to my own profession, I felt, isn’t it doctors, who deserve to be the real heroes instead of those people whose profession itself demands them to be something that they are not? Why does an entertainer earn more than someone who restores your health? Why is getting those three hours of emotions flowing through your brain more important than permanently getting rid of any physical pain?
It brought back a memory that was about fifteen years old. I am a five year old kid who barely knows English and yet when I’m asked (of course jokingly) what I would like to be when I grow up, I reply with a babble ‘Anaesthesiologist’, the reason being that my mother is one. Everyone laughs and cheers and praises and goes about with their daily life, forgetting the entire incident.
So, I began to wonder, “what if, in a parallel world, doctors were treated like actors?’ Would we remain commoners then? Would my childhood memory remain just another toddler story or would it be magnified to an unimaginable level? And as my mind began saying ‘what if…’ believe me, the same story was quite different in my parallel world.
“My designers fuss over what I should wear, as a doctor’s kid repeating a dress suggests that the doctor has a failing practice. Of course, my parents wouldn’t have to fuss over the same as they are expected to pose in front of the shutterbugs in their white coats, with stethoscopes as their accessories. And the media loves to splash their pictures on Page 3 as one of the leading doctor couples of the fraternity, because what can be more complementary than a surgeon and an anaesthetist? My eyes are blinded with flashes from the relentless paparazzi, as we step out of our mansion. And much to my horror, one reporter thrusts the mike near me and asks, “So, what would you like to be when you grow up?” And I say the only big word that I know, ‘Anaesthesiologist’, my mother’s profession, because ‘surgeon’ is a smaller word, which I think, may not impress them.
And lo and behold! The next day, Page 3 says in bold letters, “MANASI, THE DAUGHTER OF DR. TUSHAR AND DR. APARNA IS DEFINITELY GOING TO TURN OUT TO BE A FINE DOCTOR FOR OUR NEXT GENERATION. She has her mother’s intelligence and will surely have her father’s healing touch.” And I know, all the godfathers in medicine have made elaborate plans to launch me into practice as soon as I graduate. The public accuses some of them of being ‘flag-bearers of nepotism.’ Designers have already begun to stitch white coats for me and a rich acquaintance has had a high-end Littman stethoscope delivered for me.
My age? Five years.”
So what is it, which makes this possible only in a parallel world? What is that, which Bollywood has to give to masses, that medicine, or any other profession for that matter, doesn’t?
Human life has never been perfect. It is to tide over the inconvenience of these imperfections, that God gave us the power to dream. But some dreams seem unrealistic and we let go of them to accept reality. This is, when the film industry comes along and sells dreams. They show us, how separated lovers can reunite after decades. They show us, how a slum dog can become a millionaire. They show us, how an ugly duckling can become a magnificent swan. Basically, they show us, how to dream again. How to dream again, about a perfect life; a power which God had given us initially.
And this is probably, what has made every Bollywood star, a demigod in his own way. A demigod that is not just highly worshiped but also highly paid. Because they don’t just entertain; they give a ray of hope when reality seems dark.
Vibrant Medico 