Aes Triplex - 1

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My Father was born at the start of the First World War and begot me towards the end of the Second.

Then on for half a century I had watched him with great curiosity like any other only son does.

He had very few worldly goods except a Waterman pen and a Favre-Leuba watch which he cherished (most probably they were part of his dowry).

But he had three boxes which he never renounced (they may still be there in our Gudur household).

These three boxes, together with their contents, were left untouched by the three profound revolutions that overtook the rest of us: 1. Antibiotics, 2. Plastics and 3. Stainless Steel.

Let us first examine the first box:

1. Medicine Box:

This was a medium size Britannia Biscuit Box (another great survivor of Marxist Calcutta...I just bought 10 packets of Britannia Milkbiki Biscuits @ Rs 100 for my wife who devours them).

I recall its contents and their disposition in the box as if it were yesterday.

The overarching motto of 'medicine' was that it should be revolting to kids in order to be effective...sugar-coating came much later but bypassed Father.

There was this bottle of nasty-looking Tincture of Iodine right in the center to be easily accessible.

I was always an outdoors kid and, by definition, it meant that there was no day when either one or both of the knee-caps and elbows (4 in all) had bleeding bruises (Raghu, the city-slicker gentleman-kid was looked down upon as a sissy...he was the Doctor's son).

So, when I returned home from play, Father insisted I display my limbs so that prompt treatment could be given to avoid Tetanus (tetvac was unheard of...my medico wife used to insist much later that her son should get a tetvac shot every time he had a bruise...poor chump!).

When he discovered the default bruise on the right elbow, with enormous glee Father would open his 'medicine box', ask me to wash the wound, and would pour a couple of ccs (no mls then) of the damn thing on my fresh wound...the whole mohalla would hear my howls.

I really can't say if it worked...none of my playmates who had more wounds but no 'medicine box' in their houses are still alive and kicking...tetanus be blowed!

Father was not exactly a sadist but looked close enough then.

After my cries subsided he would attach a wisp of cotton (from the roll that was to the left of the damned box) to the wound and seal it with his palm so firmly that no germ can enter...but there will be hell when the thing is peeled off later on.

On top of that would be wrapped what he called 'gauze' (that was towards the right)...it looked like what certain brands of bra are made of...only thinner.

And, on top of it would go the cotton roll (towards the middle left of the box)...it would be expertly spliced (if that is the good word) by dexterously slitting and knotting.

At the end of it all, blood would be sneaking out (my 'bleeding time' and 'clotting time' are way on the higher side).

Then there were these packets of Potassium Permanganate (KMnO4) crystals (behind the cotton roll). When dissolved in water they give a frighteningly purple color. Father would douse the whole bandage with sprinklings of this concoction saying it is an oxidizer (not an 'antioxidant' like nowadays)...he was also teaching Science in addition to English.

That would frighten tetanus germs forever, he used to say, and let me off...looking forward to my next wound on the left kneecap...

Then there was this bottle of glycerine (at the back, out of reach for kids).

That was the only sweet thing in his 'medicine box'...but to get to use it, I would have to cook up a sore on the tongue or the inside of the lips...something I never could achieve, but he was constantly afflicted with these lovely blisters...they are due to amoebiasis as known now.

He would curl up his lower lip or the upper as the case may be and display his beauties to everyone and open his 'medicine box', take out a neatly cut broom stick of about six inches (in the front), split its top by half an inch, roll a piece of cotton tightly over it, calling it a 'swab', dip it in his glycerine bottle and apply the stick over his sore till all its sweetness is lost (I know!).

Why is it that only adults used to get good-looking ailments?

This question always troubled me...

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