ABERDEEN AND THE AFTERMATH

My friend Dr. James Dodgson, and I were travelling in a Rajdhani Express from New Delhi to Calcutta. He was on his way to a medical seminar in Bangkok and was breaking his journey to spend a few days with my family. We could not get a flight because of fog in Delhi and other technical snags. Early next morning the train stopped somewhere in Bihar. Looking out I saw scores of people defecating on and near the tracks unmindful of their proximity to one another and also to the train.  I did not want Dodgson to see that and I hastily drew the curtains. But he drew them aside and asked, “Som, what are these people doing?” I said, “They are answering a call to nature”, as is euphemistically described in India. “Ah, Nature worshippers”, he said to which I had to reply, “No, they are just crapping.” He was much surprised. Well, this is a blot on India, but we can’t do much about it till the common people are provided with toilets.

Dodgson was my classmate in the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh. He is a Scot from Glasgow, about 6’ 4” and weighing around 100 kg. He was always called Simpkins; how the name came up we don’t know. There were five of us, my childhood friend Ashish Bannerji (now my brother-in-law) and two others who always stuck together. Everyone would have been ready to lay down his life for the other four. We used to go to Aberdeen, a sea port on the east coast for our holidays. In Aberdeen we could get the most awesome dark ale and affordable fish and chips. On one of our trips, Simpkins got into conversation with the bar maid and drank an enormous amount of ale. These bar maids are given incentive to make the customers drink as much as possible without them getting drunk and abusive. There were a couple of bouncers who could throw even Simpkins head over heels if he misbehaved. When we realized that Simpkins was breaching the limit we left the bar. Then there was a problem. He wanted to empty his bladder and could not find a toilet. In Aberdeen there are underground toilets which can be accessed by a flight of stairs at the edge of pavements. These are marked for “Men” and “Ladies”. Simpkins dived down one such toilet and we were horrified to find that he had gone down a “Ladies”. In a couple of minutes, two ladies came running up crying, “Help, help”. Soon Simpkins himself came up holding his trousers half-way up. The cries of the ladies attracted the attention of two cops who had just turned the corner. They ran up and caught Simpkins who tripped himself with his pants. Crying, “Hey, we caught you feller, didn’t we! Now come with us to the station and if you make trouble we will knock you down.” They marched him along to the police station. The four of us marched behind them. At the station there was a sergeant (something like our sub-inspector) and to him the cops said, “We caught this feller misbehaving in a “Ladies” and two ladies were crying aloud that they were attacked by him.” Just then the sergeant got a phone call. Making sit in a corner guarded by the two cops, he rushed off saying he would be back in a few minutes.

This was a serious matter for us. Attacking ladies in a “Ladies” was a serious crime and attracted prison sentences and heavy fines. Any one reading Wodehouse books must have found how a few members of the Drones Club were hauled up before the Beak for stealing policemen’s helmets and so on. Perhaps, because there was no evidence about the ladies were physically assaulted, he would be charged with ‘misbehaviour’ and ‘misdemeanour’ and not violent crime. That would attract only heavy fine. I thought of the scenario next morning when Dodgy would be produced before the magistrate, known as the Beak in common parlance in Britain. There would be a few cases and then Simpkins would appear with the two cops. One of the cops would report, “M’lord, last evening Thomas here and I hearing the cries for help from two respectable ladies at the “Ladies” at the corner of South Main Street rushed to their help and caught this man Dodgson red-handed. He was fully drunk up to his gills.” (That would be a lie; they didn’t catch him, he tripped up getting mixed up with his pants). The Beak would look down at Simpkins and ask him,”Dodgson, you had a hilarious evening yesterday, disturbing the peace in the city and attacking respectable ladies. How do you feel now; have you regained your senses?” Simpkins would reply, “Fine, M’lord, thank you” .The Beak would say, “Exactly what I have in my mind; Ten Pounds. Next case.”

This was the scenario we expected. But we did not have 10 Pounds, only about three pounds and ten shillings in cash. We had our five watches, but no Scottish pawnbroker would give more than a pound each for them. How could we extricate Simpkins from this mess we did not know. Should we go to our regular bar and ask for a loan stating that we lost our money to a pickpocket and we would return it as soon as we reach Edinburgh. That was a highly unlikely possibility. Then a sudden idea struck me. The sergeant had returned and was writing down the details of Simpkins’ case. I told him, “Officer, this fellow Simpkins, sorry, Dodgson is a cancer patient. He has bladder cancer and that was why he could not control himself and had to rush down a toilet before he noticed it was a “Ladies”.  He needs special medication that is available only in Edinburgh. If you keep him in a cell tonight, you may find him a dead man in the morning.” The sergeant asked, “Who says so?” I showed him my ID card of the RCS, Edinburgh with my photo and name of Dr. Soumya Roi, M.S. The sergeant examined it for a few minutes and took his time before saying, “You can take him away. But if he makes any more trouble we will arrest all of you.”

Thus were we released from the clutches of the Law. On the way to the station, Simpkins said, “Let us celebrate this with a drink”. We held on to him tightly, two on each side and marched him off to the station, found our train and safely reached Edinburgh. By a strange twist of irony, Simpkins is now an eminent urologist and has his consulting rooms in Harley Street, London. He is also “By Appointment to Her Majesty’s Service, Consultant Physician to the Royal Household”. He has been given O.B.E and is expecting a Knighthood in the near future, he will be Sir James Dodgson, O.B.E.

In the Rajdhani Express, Simpkins said, “Som, old boy, I will always be grateful to you for rescuing me from those cops in Aberdeen.” I asked, “Simpkins, do you really treat the Queen?” Simpkins replied, “Not the old hag, but old Phil. He has as much difficulty in emptying his bladder as I had in retaining it in Aberdeen. We laughed.