Woes of the wounded

When the public health services and the law and order machinery failed to rise to the occasion, community hospitals with limited resources stood as beacons of hope against the unjust system.

- DIVYA TRIVEDI

ON THE THIRD MORNING AFTER THE ANTI-Muslim violence, the main streets of Mustafabad wore a deserted look. Debris from the previous day’s mayhem, including charred vehicles and glass shards, lay strewn across the lanes, and homes and shops stood gutted. In some areas, it appeared as if it had rained bricks. Residual fear and terror were palpable as rumours showed no signs of abating. Everybody was on tenterhooks.

But Al-Hind Hospital in the locality was teeming with activity. Injured people swathed in bandages or with plaster casts sat on the steps wearing tired expressions. Inside the 15-bed community hospital, a small team of doctors hurried from patient to patient. Mats, carpets and plastic sheets had been spread on the floor to accommodate the injured.

The previous night had seen a rush of patients, with an injured person brought in every three minutes. Initially, the hospital did not keep count of the number of patients. The doctors treated the ones who arrived with minor injuries and sent them away. But soon, people with bullet injuries and acid burns began to pour in. On one night alone, 23 people with bullet injuries arrived at Al-Hind. The hospital removed 13 bullets. Some of the wounded people were referred to the nearest government hospital—Guru Teg Bahadur (GTB) hospital—located about 7 km away, said Dr. Naushad Ali. He was treating an injured person and instructing his assistant to obtain medical supplies as the hospital was running out of them. The neighbourhood hospital was clearly overburdened but the staff and the local people pitched in with money and resources. Many of the hospital employees, especially the doctors, had not slept since the violence started.