November 1st, 2013: Fighting Fire With Words

We (my peers from the university and I) had now been staying for two nights, at a Hotel in G8-4, Islamabad, and today, we left for the National University of Sciences and Technology (NUST), College of Electrical and Mechanical Engineering (CEME), Rawalpindi, in our university-designated transport, at around 9:30am. It was Friday, the 1^st of November, 2013; the second day of the four day long NUST EME Olympiad: a national, inter-university event featuring a series of competitions organized by the efforts of the students and the administration of NUST CEME.

NUST CEME, Rawalpindi.

I had signed up for four competitions representing the University Of Lahore; three of which were going to take place today. Managing time became quite a bit of a problem as I discovered that a competition I was partaking in titled: ‘Movie Nerds & Dumb Charades’, was about to commence just as we had landed. Quickly, I gathered my team and rushed towards the place the competition was being held. To our surprise, we had made it on time. The only problem here was that another competition I had signed up for was going to begin as I was halfway through Movie Nerds. This (second) one was titled: ‘Dare to Win’. I had advised my other - Dare to Win - team to carry on without me as long as I was busy in my current engagement: Movie Nerds. I was to join them just as I got free.

Having been knocked out from Movie Nerds & Dumb Charades, I made haste joining my Dare to Win team. And because they were standing right in front of the building I was walking out of, I met up with them before I knew it. I noticed that one of my teammates was holding a piece of paper (that I later figured out were two stapled together) that had a list of tasks written on it. It was a scavenger hunt; the first four tasks already accomplished. I took up a few of the remaining tasks and a lot of running around, riddle solving, talking and shouting followed. This resulted in a massive energy drain. But after many a struggle, finally, the moment came! We progressed to the next round.

The second round began with us receiving a form that asked six questions ranging from what you think about Pakistan, what and whom you hate to how adventurous and daring a person you are. Without giving it a second thought, I took it up and filled it on behalf of my team. And as a matter of fact, I really enjoyed writing what I wrote: a brief yet critical insight on the Pakistani society and its general lack of awareness, their shared obliviousness and political apathy, a few sentences openly condemning Zaid Hamid’s warmongering ways, some words on how interested I am in rational debate and how powerful I consider it to be and an ending on a positive note: showing my concern for the good of mankind. The form was to be evaluated by the heads of the event, who were then supposed to call three of the team members, one by one, to a personal interview. Since I had filled out the form, I was up first.

                                                             

Really not fond of your work, sir.

As I entered the room, I found three boys facing the white board, two of whom were in college uniform, sitting behind the front desk situated at the bottom right of a seating arrangement designed in a staircase fashion (quite similar to that of a theatre room). The person in the middle, Taha Safdar, introduced himself and the other two - on his left (Talal Jameel), and right (Sufyan Awan) - as the event heads. And just as I introduced myself, it is safe to say, I was bombarded by mockeries, upon what I had written in the form, from the person on the left as if what I had written had offended him in some way! It wasn’t all that unexpected, though. Neither was it a particularly rare occurrence. But, it was certainly not very hospitable an act. Just moments after the (rather hostile) introduction, they dared me to light my hand on fire for 3 seconds. They were to use an aerosol spray deodorant and a cigarette lighter. I had done quite little for the team up till now in addition to arriving late, so I didn’t give it much thought, gasped and said yes and then one of them sprayed the aerosol deodorant on my palm and lit it up. I regretted making that decision the very instant I said, yes. ‘I could have made a better call’, I thought to myself.

Not being able to bare the intensity of the flames for any longer than 2 seconds, in utter perplexity, I started banging the palm of my hand on the desk in front of me. Apparently, it only made it worse; the flames traveled to the back of my hand and up towards my knuckles and fingers. I now tried to put them out by banging both sides of my hand, alternately, on the flat desk but that effort went in vain… for long enough! The fire did stop but only when it was too late. I now had second-degree burns all over my right hand; my writing hand. I realized that by the intense, sharp, perpetual pain which was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

Apparently, the phrase: 'Safety First' isn't all that common.

The interview concluded just as the fire was put out. I was excused and the next team member in line was called up. I tried to walk it off and continued with the competition but that I could only do so for 5 minutes tops. The pain grew sharper and increasingly tougher to bear. This was when I decided to go and ask the competition heads for first aid/emergency medical attention, as I was sure there must be some kind of arrangement (for that) made. Well, to my surprise, there wasn’t anything of that sort available at all! That means no ambulances on the facility (none that were doing the bidding of the admin or the students of NUST CEME, as they told me later), no doctors on the scene, no first aid kits, nothing! It came as a great shock to me, mostly because I was feeling helpless and didn’t know what to do about the burns which now hurt pretty badly and partially because some part of my mind was still being able to process the horror of the circumstance over the pain. I thought to myself: there’s no saying when things will go wrong especially on such competitions especially when the stunts aren’t well thought out. I tried to ponder on the utterly incautious and carefree attitude of the event management and especially upon the criminal recklessness of the heads of the ‘Dare to Win’ competition and how carelessly they’re dispensing ill-advised dares that can put the participants in grave danger, without making first aid available.

Even though there were three event heads: Talal Jameel, Taha Safdar and Sufyan Awan, not even one of them chose to accompany me in order to neutralize the situation or to try and fix what had happened and only upon my insistence did one of the three competition heads call out another student of the NUST CEME to take me to the Medical Inspection (M.I.) Room that was somewhere on this 124 acres wide facility. This particular young bloke was so busy taking care of his own job (dispensing stunts and dares) that he told me to sit and wait while he finished what he was in the middle of. I sat there for a minute or two and then he escorted me outside of the department building. He paced up and down the asphalt alongside me for a few dozen feet and I discover that he is looking for an even lesser-in-rank event volunteer to dump me on. He was successful. I was now with a freshman - enrolled at the NUST CEME just two months ago - who was working at the event’s information desk.

I, for one, don't find this hard to understand. Do you? Well, they did.

The first question I asked this even younger boy was that ‘how far exactly is this M.I. room?’ ‘Five Kilometers’, he replied. And I thought, five kilometers? Half of the day spent in a brain drain and the rest of it running and sweating, then getting my hand burnt and now this? It totally wasn’t what I had in mind signing up for this competition. I still took the long walk to the M.I. Room though, because I was really out of other options at that moment. When I got there, I entered the main lobby of the area. It was more like a miniature, not very generously maintained, clinic. To my right was a counter where a female nurse sat. Right beside that counter was a store room for drugs. I told the nurse about my hand and wanted her to check it. Upon that request, she left the counter and went looking for the doctor on duty at that time. She returned after two minutes with the doctor. The doctor, a tall man in military uniform, stood a safe 4-5 feet away from me, took an absurdly quick peek at my hand, walked to the drug store room, took out a tube of ointment and advised the nurse to apply it on my hand and left just like that. No questions asked. None entertained. And the nurse, who now knew what ointment to give me, very conveniently placed the tube in my hand, told me to apply it on my hand myself and returned to where she was originally sitting.

I know for a fact that every trained, practicing doctor is bound by the Hippocratic Oath to: 'apply all measures that are required for the benefit of the sick or injured and to know that showing warmth, sympathy and understanding may potentially outweigh the effect of drugs.' I wasn’t even given an analgesic. Let alone the doctor asking me who I was, what happened and how much did it hurt. He practically didn’t even inspect the burn. Is he really a doctor if he violates the Hippocratic Oath, I ask?  And what should I say about the nurse; though she wasn’t clearly trained enough to prescribe or dispense a drug all by herself, she has still committed a huge treason against the moral values of her employment. The way you earn your living is supposed to be held sacred and treated with great respect and performed with professional integrity (especially in the medical profession). What in God’s green earth are they paying you for if you ask an injured, ailing patient to help himself! Aren’t you paid to render that service?

Doctors (to be) taking the Hippocratic Oath.

The way I was treated at the Medical Inspection room/clinic is truly beyond me. It was just as deeply disturbing as the stream of professional negligence, venturing into criminal, by the event heads and the unfocused administration at NUST CEME. I accept taking up the dare not thinking the consequences of it through but does that really justify what followed: such complete failure to empathize, help and cooperate? Being neglected, over and over again, by people who are obligated to make sure you’re safe (at all times) on an event they're hosting, people who are to be sympathizing with your ailment, people who are supposed to be treating you with every ounce of their energy when you’re sick or injured is an issue that seriously needs a firm, no holds barred addressing. What kind of a message is their behavior sending here? Make one mistake and you’ll be left helpless as a turtle on its back! I speak here, of course, about the management committee of the NUST EME Olympiad (both students and admin) and the staff at the NUST CEME’s Medical Inspection Room/Clinic and how they have let me down and rendered me so helpless that I am forced to write this for the good and for the safety of the students and residents of NUST CEME and especially the participants that will take part in any events the institution organizes in the near future.

This clearly goes beyond my own personal being and my injury. The management at the NUST CEME Olympiad was catering to thousands of participants without giving their safety a proper thought or consideration. Thankfully, not many came to realize that as the event progressed but since I did, I think it is crucial to bring this to the notice of every student who was there and to the authorities at the NUST CEME and even to those who were not there.

I eventually visited a hospital nearby, got my wound washed and dressed, and got a strong painkiller injected into my right arm.