The Big BAN Theory

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Brush With Sex Change - a Hair raising personal experience

Submitted: November 20, 2007

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Submitted: November 20, 2007

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A few weeks ago, I had a great fall.

Well, not in love but in the bathroom during the unholy time of doing the regular chores we humans do after waking up. The incident left me with a swollen left arm and with an acute pain which kept on increasing exponentially with passing hours. Finally, when the pain became unbearable, I decided to visit the doctor. I was new to the city, so the only source of getting info on orthopedic help was my over enthusiastic and ‘always ready to help’ neighbour.

“Go to this doctor’s (let me call him Dr. P) clinic. He is the best in the city”, informed my dear neighbor.

“Even if you need a surgery, don’t worry. Haath kaatke minto mein laga denge(he will cut your hand and fix it in minutes)”, consoled his wife.

I looked at myself. It was hard to imagine myself as some assembled body where one can just cut my arm and fix it, perhaps with some screw or glue. However the very next spasm of acute pain took me out of my thinking mode and forced me out of my house and on the road towards the clinic. After an anguishing fifteen minutes bumpy ride in a great Indian Auto Rickshaw and many recurring thoughts of myself being treated as one of those assembled toys we used to play in our childhood (we even used to take out their hands and fix it in the leg sockets), I finally reached my destination – Dr.P’s Specialty Orthopedic Clinic.

After searching for some assurance that it’s a clinic and not a workshop of some maniac with a latent zeal to turn humans into a cyborg, I finally entered the clinic with lots of anxiety. But the first sight inside the clinic removed all of it. There were no assembly lines, no despotic person with a whip in hand, no fancy gadgets to turn Humans into Cyborgs. Before my eyes was a simple clinic with well furnished interiors and neatly arranged chairs for the patients to sit. There was even a friendly looking skeleton pasted on the right hand wall with a chart showing the names of its different parts. Looking further, I found the receptionist. Lodged behind a huge desktop computer, she

was looking at me with an equally huge grin on her face.

“Good Morning, Sir. Have you come to see the doctor?”

I showed her my left arm. “Ah! It looks serious. How it happened?”

It was a very tough question. My male ego found it very hard to tell her the truth.

“Well, I slipped while playing basketball. You see, the court was wet”.

“Ah, okay! What is your name sir?”

“Anirban, Anirban Chatterjee”

“Sorry, Sir”

“Anir-Ban Chatterjee”

Suddenly the smile on her face disappeared. She looked at me with some kind of facial expression which I believe was a perfect cocktail of disbelief, awe, disgust and perhaps a few more types whose name I even don’t know.

“Please be seated. Someone will call you for doing an X-Ray of your arm and then you will see the doctor”

‘Thanks”.

I took a seat while she passed on some chit to a peon, who took it, gave a glance at it and then looked at me with the same cocktail expression.

The anxiety of getting turned into a Cyborg resurfaced. Are they giving this reaction in pity or there is something more cynical. I looked around. There were a few other patients around. All looked very relaxed. They were either chatting with their companions or reading some magazines. I also decided to pick up one and started reading. But the image of the receptionist’s reaction was too overwhelming. I tried to look at the receptionist again. There she was behind the desktop, typing something. But the expression on her face was still there. She lifted her head and looked at me. A nervous smile spread across her face for a second and then again she turned and started working on the computer.

“Chatterjee”, someone called my name. Looking at the direction of the voice, I found the peon who had taken the chit standing in front of a door and looking at me.

“It is your turn now”.

I tried to give a smile but failed. While passing him on my way through that door which I assumed was the entrance to the X-Ray room, I looked at him. There was a glint of that cocktail emotion still lingering on his face. Inside the room there were a huge X-Ray machine and a person in a white coat looking at some X-Ray negatives. On hearing my footsteps, he turned back and gave me a broad smile. Finally, someone gave me a friendly smile, but wait, who is he? Is he the doctor or some assistant who is smiling because I will be his next victim?

"Are you the doctor”

“No Sir, I am his assistant, he will be seeing you after your X-Ray is done” Okay, so he is not the doctor.

“Do you have a ring or bracelet on you?”

“No”.

“Please sit here and keep your arm on this place”

I have gone through this procedure a few times in my life before. And it all seemed normal. The X-Ray machine, the plates, the protective cover, the assistant – everything seemed to me as it should be. Well I can be wrong. Maybe this is not a Cyborg production house but a real clinic.

“Thanks, Sir. Please, wait outside. The doctor will see you in some time”.

Relieved that I am still a human, I got up and started walking towards the door. "

You are Chatterjee, right” I turned back.

The assistant was standing near a table with that particular chit in his hand. And his face has that same expression – a cocktail of disgust, awe etc.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, please wait outside”. He replied and hurried back to his work.

This was too much for me. What is going on here? Is it the first time they have heard this Chatterjee surname? Not possible as it is one of the common surnames in this part of the world. Then, what is wrong. I went back to my seat in the waiting room and sat there. The walk seemed too long. Did I make a mistake coming here? Maybe my neighbor’s wife was not getting verbose. Maybe….

“Chatterjee!”

The same peon with the same expression standing in front of a different door with an envelope which looked like my X-Ray - Or was it?

“The doctor will see you now”

Ah! The bell has finally tolled. This is the finale, the moment of reckoning. The moment, these people were waiting for. This is the moment when they will turn me into a Cyborg. With heavy legs I walked inside the doctor’s chamber. On entering my eyes were desperately looking for something that will give me the proof which will support my thoughts. Something - like a chair with electric wires or a chamber with big machines.

But there was nothing. In side the room was an elderly person sitting on a non descriptive chair and with an old world charm which instantly soothed my nerves. But hey! No time to relax. Most of these despots are very charming. They charm their way to their misdeeds. Don’t give in to their charms.

“Morning, Son. You seem to have a strange name”

Strange name! Now what was this? Some kind of a psychological game they were playing to numb my brain, before they can carry on with their cynical motives.

“Sorry Doctor, I didn’t get you”

He outstretched his arm, an act that almost made me jump out in fear that he may be trying to shoot me or something. But instead of some fancy gadgets there was that chit which the receptionist gave to the peon when I had registered. Written on it was

Name: Anira Ben Chatterjee (loosely translated Miss Anira Chatterjee)

Gender:???

Age: 28yrs

On my way back home with a plaster on my left arm and a bag full of medicines in the other, I was still thinking which would have been better - Getting turned into a Cyborg or getting turned into a creature with the name of a girl but body of a man.

Photixel’s P.O.V: Shakespeare was wrong; everything is there in a name


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