When Monkey’s Paw came to rescue

My stint as a lecturer in English at a Hisar college during the early 1970s was quite enjoyable, but at times, the imbecilic responses of some students would dampen my spirits. I remember the day I opened The Monkey’s Paw in front of second-year students. The appeal of WW Jacobs’ short story lies in its macabre atmosphere and gripping suspense. I had made notes and planned to create an air of supernatural horror. Within minutes, I was able to transport the creepy mood of the story to the classroom. Everyone was listening to the tale in silence when there came a creaking sound of a chair being dragged from the rear of the room, followed by a dramatic whisper, ‘Aur kabristan ka darwaza apne aap khul gaya!’ The whole class broke into a thunderous laughter and the atmosphere I had built with great effort was shattered. I lost my temper, perhaps for the first and last time in my brief teaching career. I shouted at the boy responsible for the mischief and ordered him out of the class. When he dithered, I went to his desk, picked up his books and flung them out of the door. He sheepishly got up and walked out. He came to see me in the staffroom after the class and apologised for his prank. I also apologised for my overreaction.

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This long-forgotten episode resurfaced serendipitously last year. We were at the end of our winter sojourn in Panchkula when the second Covid wave struck. My wife was severely infected. As her blood oxygen was dipping to alarming levels, I frantically visited hospitals in the Tricity for a vacant bed, but without success. I got a ray of hope at a leading hospital where the receptionist told me that the doctor in charge of the Covid section had a ‘discretionary’ quota. I barged into his cabin without an appointment. The middle-aged doctor regarded me with obvious irritation. I thought he was going to ask me to leave the room at once. But inexplicably, his facial expression changed all of a sudden. The grimace of displeasure melted into an affable smile and he asked me to take a chair. He listened to my tale of woe with patience and told me that though there was no vacant bed, he would do what he could, and that I should enquire at the reception after half an hour.

My wife was finally admitted and she recovered after six days of hospitalisation. I went to the doctor to express my gratitude. This time he welcomed me with a pleasant laugh and said, ‘You don’t seem to have recognised me, Sir! You can’t imagine how many times I have narrated The Monkey’s Paw to my children. I’ve also told them how the gentle professor, who seldom raised his voice, shouted at me and threw me out of his class!’