I seldom think about the cerebral calisthenics happening outside the operation theatre. The relatives of patients waiting mutely with anxious gazes; seems so contemptible. There can be no pertinent portrayal of what happens in the numb minds in those crucial hours. The leviathan wait just seems a tunnel with no light. Feelings of belonging, affection, care, hope all form a broth; so close to the nectar of life. Divine, pure and subliminal. Everyone prays differently; some chant feverishly, some succumb to silent soliloquy, some let their faith pace ahead of time to conquer the peaceful news for them, some leave it all to their karma and almighty. The prodigal emotions are invoked ardently with no premeditated effort.
People experience some of the biggest soul-stirring moments outside operation theatre, waiting for their loved ones to come out safely and cured. Most of the times the wait just seems cruel, heartless and never-ending; anxious calls are made to staff nurses and doctors to get a pie of the real news. The Operation Theatre has an unyielding heart of rock; it sees the most piteous sentiments; it transforms the bodies (and the souls). Relativity of time can be experienced best while warming the waiting seat with a constant effort to ward away the negative thoughts that loom vehemently. The anticipation seems agonizingly aberrant. Unpleasant incidents often have a heart of gold and they tend to transform the ordinary metal; the ordinary people.