Читаем Shantaram полностью

‘We’ll take these samples and have them analysed,’ he said, nodding to an assistant who filed blood, sputum, and stool samples in a metal carry case. ‘But I’m sure you’re right, Hamid. There are twelve other cholera outbreaks, between here and Kandivli. They’re small, mostly. But there’s a bad one in Thane-more than a hundred new cases every day. All the local hospitals are overcrowded. But this is not bad, really, for the monsoon. We hope we can keep a cap on it at fifteen or twenty infection sites.’

I waited for one of the others to speak, but they simply nodded their heads gravely.

‘We’ve got to get these people to hospital,’ I said at last.

‘Look,’ he replied, glancing around him and drawing a deep breath, ‘we can take some of the critical cases. I’ll arrange it. But it’s just not possible to take everyone. I’m not going to tell you any lies. It’s the same in ten other hutments. I’ve been to them all, and the message is the same. You have to fight it out here, on your own. You have to get through it.’

‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ I snarled at him, feeling the fear prowl in my gut. ‘We already lost my neighbour Radha this morning. There’s thirty thousand people here. It’s ridiculous to say we have to fight it out ourselves. You’re the health department, for God’s sake!’

Sandeep Jyoti watched his assistant close and secure the sample cases. When he turned back to me, I saw that his bloodshot eyes were angry. He resented the indignant tone, especially coming from a foreigner, and was embarrassed that his department couldn’t do more for the slum-dwellers. If it hadn’t been so obvious to him that I lived and worked in the slum, and that the people liked me as much as they relied on me, he would’ve told me to go to hell. I watched all those thoughts shift across his tired, handsome face and then I saw the patient, resigned, almost affectionate smile that replaced them as he ran a hand through his untidy hair.

‘Look, I really don’t need a lecture from a foreigner, from a rich country, about how badly we look after our own people, or the value of a human life. I know you’re upset, and Hamid tells me you do a good job here, but I deal with this situation every day, all over the state. There are a hundred million people in Maharashtra, and we value them all. We do our best.’

‘Sure you do,’ I sighed in return, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just… I’m way out of my depth here and… I guess I’m scared.’

‘Why do you stay here, when you can leave?’

It was an abrupt question, under the circumstances, and almost rude. I couldn’t answer it.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know. I love… I love this city. Why do you stay?’

He studied my eyes for a moment longer, and then his frown softened again in a gentle smile.

‘What help can you give us?’ Doctor Hamid asked.

‘Not much, I’m sorry to say.’ He looked at the dread in my eyes, and heaved a sigh from the hill of exhaustion in his heart. ‘I’ll arrange for some trained volunteers to come and give you a hand. I wish I could do more. But I’m sure, you know, I’m sure that you all can handle it here-probably a lot better than you think, just at this moment. You’ve already made a good start. Where did you get the salts?’

‘I brought them,’ Hamid answered quickly, because the ORT salts had been supplied illegally by Khaderbhai’s lepers.

‘When I told him I thought we had cholera here, he brought the ORTs, and told me how to use them,’ I added. ‘But it’s not easy. Some of these people are too sick to hold them down.’

ORT, or Oral Rehydration Therapy, had been devised by Jon Rohde, a scientist who worked with local and UNICEF doctors in Bangladesh during the late 1960s and early 1970s. The oral rehydration solution that he developed contained distilled water, sugar, common salt, and other minerals in carefully mixed proportions. Rohde knew that what kills people who are contaminated with the cholera bacterium is dehydration. The ugly fact is that they shit and vomit themselves to death. He discovered that a solution of water, salt, and sugar kept people alive long enough for the bacterium to pass through their systems. Ranjit’s lepers, at Doctor Hamid’s request, had given me boxes of the solution. I had no idea how much more of the stuff we could expect to receive, or how much we would need.

‘We can get you a delivery of salts,’ Sandeep Jyoti said. ‘We’ll get them to you as soon as possible. The city is stretched to its limits, but I’ll make sure you get a team of volunteers here as soon as we can send them. I’ll put a priority on it. Good luck.’

We watched in grim silence as he followed his assistant out of the slum. We were all afraid.