admin The hospital is confined just in one building – a five-storey building with several plastic water tanks at the rooftop, and some tiny dirty toilets at the bottom. The hospital has quite a reputation to treat all kinds of ailments among the city dwellers who make their unwilling visit in their Marutis, Tatas, and Hondas. The largest number of patients come on motorbikes and on city rickshaws, a three-wheeler that doesn’t go faster than 30 km per hour. As I enter the building I find myself in a big hall with a pharmacy in one side and hospital administration office plus canteen on the other. Doctors sit on the third floor and check the patients in their tiny ac cubicles. “We serve people”, says the hospital.
The hospital is in the outskirt of the city. It stands tall, erect and proud next to the dirty looking small tin-houses with a couple of whitewashed one-storey brick-cement houses. Most inhabitants of these hovels work in a nearby factory. The factory is not as tall as the hospital – it spreads out in many hectares of land with tall chimneys which never stops emitting clouds of smoke in the horizon. “We serve the nation”, says the factory.
It’s quite a contrast to find doctors in their spotless white jackets and the workers in their greasy black overalls working so close. There is no greenery to be seen either in the hospital or in the factory premises. Both the hospital and the factory are busy from daybreak to nightfall in serving people and the nation.
next to each other
stand hospital and factory
demand and supply