Doctor, Chef or Archeologist? Bug Off

Road trips were a highlight in my childhood. One of the best things about my dad's job was that we got to go on road trips all the time. The official tours were often several days long and if we had vacations at school we would get to go along. We saw a lot of India and we got to experience it up-close, the diversity of cultures, religions and languages was fascinating. It had a major influence in my life; I think it made me tolerant, inclusive and adaptable. I learnt a few languages along the way and a lot of the regional cuisines became part of our regular cooking at home.

But let's get back to the trips. One trip in particular. We had gone to visit my sister who was in boarding school in Hazaribagh and we were on our way back to Jhumri Tilaiya (see my earlier post on this blog: Where is Jhumri Tilaiya?). It must have been around eight in the evening. I was sitting at the rear in our ambassador car and I had the window seat, a privilege which was available on a strictly first come first served basis amongst us three siblings. On this trip it was just me and my brother, so there was peace, we each had our window seats. My window was rolled down and I was enjoying the passing sights - the cattle, the villages, and the evening breeze. The tranquility was shattered suddenly when something from the outside came and lodged itself into my right ear. I was in pain and in tears. The insect, that turned out to be the size of a beetle, had no way to get out. It was trapped in a human ear and I guess bugs cannot fly backwards; it was a one way street! We were both shaken up and confused and in pain. The more the insect squirmed, the more I did in pain. I was now hysterical. My dad quickly pulled the car into a nearby roadside Dhaba. For a moment, I forgot my pain; the aromas of the Dhaba food over powered my senses. I wish we had stopped at the Dhaba under totally different circumstances.

I was quickly carried out of the car and put onto a charpai in the Dhaba. The flashlight from a trucker came in handy and it was discovered that the foreign object lodged into my ear was a bug, it was alive and kicking (now I know where that phrase comes from)! The Dhaba was just outside a village and thanks to the resourcefulness of the folks at the Dhaba; the local doctor was summoned from his home. In what seemed to be an eternity to me and the bug, but must have about fifteen minutes, the doctor arrived on his bicycle. I think this was not the first time that this doctor had dislodged a bug stuck in the aural chamber of a kid. He quickly assessed the situation and almost immediately had a game plan. He asked his ad-hoc nurse (the Dhaba cook) to heat a spoonful of oil; I screamed louder, the bug squirmed harder! Four people caught me and pinned me down on the charpai, the bug anyway was pinned, and the doctor took the spoon of hot oil and started pouring it drop by drop into my EAR! He had turned into a chef! He deep fried the bug right there in my right ear! A new culinary discovery! If this made it onto the menu of a restaurant, the description would be something like this

"A live bug fried crisply to perfection in the aural cavity of a kid by pouring one drop of hot oil at a time, thus preserving the integrity of each limb of the bug and the hearing of the kid."

The misery of the bug was put away quickly, but how about me? I screamed, kicked and squirmed harder. I had heard of 'from the frying pan into the fire' but this was "from the frying pan into the ear" (it does rhyme).

The doctor turned chef, turned archeologist, opened his bag and pulled out a small pair of forceps and a very dangerous looking long, pointy implement. I could see all this from the corner of my eye, I could not move much, since I was still pinned down, but I could scream, so I did - louder than before. I wonder now, did the bug have it better than me? My ordeal just went on and on. The archeologist went to work; carefully positioning his “cold as steel” implements on my ear lobe and readied himself to go after the treasure. He had a perfectionists desire to extricate his culinary creation in one piece. I must say he achieved it brilliantly, because the minute he put it on the palm of his hand my concerned parents and the curious onlookers quickly completed a visual audit and in unison confirmed that all the limbs were indeed intact! The attention quickly shifted from me to the doctor, no chef, no archeologist; he was a hero that night and I wonder if his children and grand children got to ever hear this story from him.