Some days ago, a friend had posted Marxs well known and oft repeated quote “Religion is the opium of the masses“. Dr Atanu Mukherjee had raised the point that opium, apart from its addictive qualities, was extensively used for medicinal purposes to ease pain and discomfort. The polemic was posited - did Marx actually ascribe some benevolent assuaging side effect of religion for the toiling masses whose fevered brow occasionally needed to be wiped by a gentle hand. Erudite opinions were sought I have been mulling on this interesting hypothesis for sometime now. Being a slow learner, it has taken a little more time to crystallise my own thoughts I am afraid that I have not come up with any resplendently illuminating new insight. No eureka moment. Nothing that could remotely be described as erudite. What I have on offer is an intensely personal view and experience Long years ago, when I was a callow youth at the Medical College, Calcutta of the late 60s and early 70s, our surgical training was shaped and sharpened by many eminent surgical teachers. One of these mastermoshais was a tall, fair complexioned, somewhat tubby man in his early 40s by the name of Syed Abdul Momin. He was of jocular disposition and known to all and sundry as Mominda. This consultant was especially popular with the students and trainees for a gallimaufry of qualities - a delicate and safe pair of hands, khoob bhalo haath as patients and observers would attest, an inspiring teacher who could render the most arid subject interesting with his style and delivery. Most of all, he was easy going and approachable with not the slightest tinge of hauteur (sadly so common amongst many surgeons who have a lofty and often misplaced sense of self worth). Mominda was the quintessential elder brother to whom one could always go for advice and comfort. It was my good fortune to have known him as one of my mentors for many years from medical student days to house surgeon years Now to come to the point of this rambling discourse. As you will have gathered, Mominda was of the Islamic faith. He never made his religious conviction an overt in your face kind of thing. In fact, he was sensitive to the fact, that the overwhelming majority of his charges were Hindu. When we were invited to his house for dinner, no one was allowed any where near the beef preparation tucked away at the back of the fridge. It is only when I claimed to be a distant relative of De Rozio ( those of you who know your history of the Young Bengal Movement will know what I am referring to), was I allowed to share the forbidden fruit(sic) with Mominda! I cannot remember when exactly this next bit was. It was some sweltering summer night when we were both on call for surgical emergencies at the Medical College Hospital. A critical case had been admitted and required urgent surgical intervention to the urinary system. As the junior doctor of the team, I was sent off to rouse the senior surgeon on call, our Mominda. I found him where I expected to find him, coolly sprawled on a sheet laid out on the floor of the operating theatre, the only place with air conditioning, the only haven of refuge in the broiling Caualty Block that oppressive May night in Calcutta. In the tenebrous light, as I gently yet urgently awakened my slumbering mentor, in those moments of half sleep and half consciousness, between repose and alert, Mominda made two insightful observations. “Gautam, always remember, urological surgery is the most hazardous form of surgery“ and “operation shuru korar agey, choto kore ekbar Bismillah bole nibi (before starting an operating, just quietly utter under your breath by the grace of God) Being someone who relishes a challenge, I did indeed specialise in urological surgery. As for the other admonishment, it was not unnatural or contentious to adopt and follow my mentors salutation to God in the language of a faith different to the one that I was born into. I had been fortunate to have received the benefit of an eclectic and inclusive education. My own beloved parents as well as the Jesuit Fathers at St Xaviers had inculcated in us a love and respect for faith, indeed all faiths. Ram and Rahim were equally dear. So what started off as a harmless more, became over the years, of more regular usage. Not quite like the WHO checklist of patient safety at the start of an operating list, nonetheless, a comforting beginning to the days work and related challenges. In fact, the full invocation of Bismillah ir Rehman ir Rahim is even more beautiful. The commonly understood translation of In the name of God, most Gracious, most Compassionate does not do true justice to the rich Arabic words. Moreover, when faced, on the operating table, with a particularly portentous situation such as when that pesky Satinsky clamp had slipped and certainly before securing a ligature across the pedicle of the main renal artery, an extra Bismillah is always offered! I will permit you to draw your own conclusions. Is religion a salve, an anodyne, even a necessary one? I do not know. I am equally unsure whether Marxs likening of deeply held faith to opium is either kind or correct I am certain that many surgeons the world over say a quiet prayer from time to time. If such religious observance were to be condemned it would make life awkward. After all, it is strictly against the service rules of the NHS to partake of any narcotic of whatsoever provenance, prior to starting an operation!
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 11:42:15 +0000