Mornings, for me, are an assembly line.  

Nothing seems to change .. well, most of the time. With the most important event of the morning - packing my son off to school behind me, I turn my attention to the more mundane things in life and generally look forward to the day at work. And even as I climb down the three stairs of the AD Bungalow and take a long walk lasting all of  three minutes to reach the department, I spend a few brief seconds trying to organize the six things that I would have to do - first thing - on reaching the department (I have long since forgotten how to remember any list longer than six - that was always the limit of my DD – now, even that is becoming difficult!) 

The number one thing is - check my mail – without this, my engine refuses to start. Even as I do this, once in a while, often, on a Monday, - I hear a hesitant voice behind me –

“Sir, can I speak to you for a minute?” 

That does it - I tell myself - even as I turn my head grudgingly at the poor resident  -  because, from years of being a head of a department (I have long since stopped counting how many), I  know what these words mean. They mean TROUBLE. That resident of mine has had a tough time the last night - got into an argument with a surgical resident about an ‘unindicated’ sonogram. His voice is anguished, when he says that the surgical resident used expletives in the course of their ‘fight’. Expletives? Against my resident.. My passion is aroused. A war cry goes out. The surgical resident is summoned and summarily fired. The radiology general has resurrected his loyal man in war!! I feel good; my resident feels good.

This event repeats itself with the same results. Each time, my morning is made; I am hero amongst my residents!

Then, some five years ago there was a twist to the tale. Even as I was about to blast off an OBGYN resident, she hesitatingly said:

 “Sir, can I say something?”

Lost for words at this unexpected response, I plodded her to go on. What followed was a narration of events exactly the opposite what my resident had told me. According to her, my resident was at fault. My resident had been rude. Drops of saline cascaded down her cheek I had learnt my lesson in life –not once , but several times thereafter, that  the versions from two people are always different- often very different – wherefrom follows what I like to call the -

“Ravi’s Law” (I would like to think that this is my original, though very few agree!) which states:

“The Truth is always somewhere in between” - with more experience, I now have a rider on this -

“Never make up your mind without hearing both the sides” - because in matters such as these, no one is really lying – they are often telling what they think is the truth!

Having learnt my lesson from a resident 20 odd years my junior, I often pondered over the whole issue of my resident Vs the other resident and in an amazing flash of rare inspiration, I realised how foolish I have been all these years.

After all, who are all these residents?  

They are bright, young and enthusiastic people in their mid twenties who lead difficult lives during the three years of their residency. They are with us in our departments for longer periods than they are at home – some far away from home. They look up to us; they treat us with respect; they help us make our dreams into reality - they are always there when we need them the most. 

In turn, we owe them a lot – not just education in medicine, but a lot that they need to know about life and getting along in life. We are their guardians – molding them in their impressionable and formative twenties - teaching them not just to be competent physicians but good human beings as well – teaching them how not to make the mistakes that we have made. Teaching them that the three most important words in the English language are: 

“Please”, “Thank you” and “Sorry” 

If we can do this, we have achieved a lot.