When T-square Bows Down to Stethoscope!

Back in college, I honestly believed engineers were the smartest people on the planet. Even riding the college bus felt like traveling with mini-Einsteins on wheels! We carried our T-squares like trophies, showing them off proudly as we walked to and from the bus stop.

We wrestled with problems in calculus, differential equations, linear algebra, and many more as if they were child’s play, though behind the scenes, we were burning the midnight oil.

We also struggled through countless assignments on shear force and bending moments of poor beams and columns. Little did I know that choosing “Prestressed Concrete” as an elective would make the condition “prestressed” tag along with me for the rest of my life!

Ironically, I went on to do my post-graduation in Traffic and Transportation Planning, the very subject that used to put me to sleep in undergrad! We rehearsed endlessly for seminars and vivas, as if we were auditioning for an engineering stand-up comedy show.

To be honest, by then, I had already started questioning all my life choices. But it was too late to turn back; the ship had sailed!

I still remember a group of medical students once spotting us with our shiny T-squares and saying with a grin, “Our stethoscopes are way more glamorous than your T-squares.” That gave our egos a gentle slap.

Back then, we didn’t like their arrogance. So naturally, we took our revenge, with jokes usually reserved for Sardarji memes! (We meant no harm—we were just young, clueless, and thought it was harmless fun.)

These are a few of my (not so) favourite things:

Why did the doctor fail math? Because he thought “sine” was a medical symptom!

Why couldn’t the doctor do addition? Because every time he saw a “+“, he thought it was a blood group!

We always thought medical students didn’t have to struggle much. They just needed a good memory and the strength to carry those giant textbooks. No real thinking, just memorizing 206 bones, over 600 muscles, and a million diseases (most of which are treated with “rest and paracetamol” anyway).

We engineers, on the other hand, had to think: to crack codes, fix real-world problems, and write logic from scratch. While medical students memorized bones, we were out there designing bridges that wouldn’t collapse and buildings that could withstand earthquakes.

We used to joke that somewhere during their five-year course, doctors simply forgot how to write like normal humans. Decoding their prescriptions felt like deciphering ancient cave art and required a degree in cryptography!

But everything changed the day God decided to shake up my world and all the overconfident beliefs that came with it. I had a fall and ended up fracturing my right knee. Until recently, I’d never been seriously sick unless you count two “normal” deliveries (though the pain was anything but normal).

I soon discovered that Orthopaedic surgeons aren’t just doctors, they’re full-fledged carpenters! They fix bones using drills, screws, wires, and even hammers. We tap on keyboards. They twist bones, fix joints, and wire things back together.

The very next day after surgery, the doctor walked in and, with his unblinking stare and firm voice, told me to sit up on the cot. It was the last thing I expected! But I had no choice. I had to try. So I did, hesitantly. The pain was worse than the fall that had landed me there in the first place. I screamed louder than I ever thought I could.

At that very moment, I attained enlightenment, just like Buddha! The only difference was that Buddha was under the Bodhi tree; I was under the strict supervision of the man behind the mask!

I realized then that my daily mindfulness mantra, “I am not the body, I am not even the mind,” was a big, fat lie! Because right then, both body and mind screamed in perfect harmony. I had to admit: I was very much the sum of both!

My body wasn’t ready for that kind of pain, and my mind didn’t have any anesthesia for the emotional storm either. My poor, clueless brain, still recovering from the shock of the past two days, consoled me with a thought: “Relax. This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy. It’s just carpentry on your knee!”

And now, seven weeks later, I discovered the surgery didn’t just get me back on my feet; it reminded me to stay grounded, literally and otherwise!

So now, this humbled engineer bows down a bit (partly out of respect, and partly because that’s the only range of motion my knees allow right now) to the true fixers of the human machine.

I now silently agree with that group of medical students who once told us stethoscopes are more glamorous than T-squares. With a post-surgery knee and deep gratitude in my heart, I have to admit, they had a point. After all, the T-squares can pull off style only if your knees are in the right place!

A big thank you to all the doctors out there: orthopaedic, paediatric, gynaecologist, and every other -ic and -ist. You may not solve complex mathematical equations, but the way you handle stethoscopes and scalpels earns you a standing ovation!

Happy Doctor’s Day (belated, advanced, and everything in between) to all the doctors out there—from a newly enlightened (and slightly limping) engineer.

P.S. A (Not-So-Medical) Family History:

When I was of ‘marriageable age,’ I told my parents that I didn’t want to marry a doctor. Back then, 99% of marriages were arranged, and I, being a proud engineer, thought that was a perfectly reasonable demand.

When I had kids of my own, I secretly hoped at least one of them would become a doctor. But both turned out to be “only-Maths-please” types.

So I changed my plan and told myself that I would get them married to a doctor instead. But no luck there either. Their marriages weren’t arranged… and their spouses were nowhere near the medical field!

And now, I find myself praying that at least one of my future grandkids becomes a doctor. (Of course, my kids haven’t even decided when—or whether—they want to have kids!)

Still, I firmly believe that if God ever grants me just one wish, then if I’m lucky, one of my grandkids won’t just be a doctor, but an orthopaedic surgeon.

Who knows, maybe one day they’ll get to treat their grandma… assuming I’m not just a “Left the group” notification by then! 😉
Until then, my only prayer is: Please don’t make me Google “best ortho surgeon near me” ever again!