Dawai

Author: Dhruv Vishwasrao

(Outdoor Leadership Course April 2019)

In the warm month of June, I walked a route which took me deeper into the vibrant valleys of Kashmir and a step further away from civilization. With signals of contentment being sent to my brain from what my eyes could grasp all around and a slight huff in my breath, I carried my rucksack, my home for the next few days, at a steady pace along the Aru valley with a goal to view the Tarsar-Marsar lakes at the other end. The warm day had a nice breeze which added a bounce in my step as I made headway into this trip with no companion alongside except dozens of thoughts which present themselves to you at the start of a journey. My first solo trek, and so the jitters were a tad bit more. The training done under protective custody was now going to be tested. 

As the season was still to begin in this beautiful valley for 2019, the trek route was sparse of people, with the occasional local residents making way for the only village from where I had set off. The next stop was Lidderwat and I was halfway there walking with my head on a constant spiral to gobble the majestic views which surrounded me when two Gujjar ladies walking with a rush in their steps from the opposite direction blocked my path with a few violent hand gestures. The only words that come out from their lips are “Dawai” (medicine), and the younger lady from beneath her shawl reveals her less than a year-old baby and repeats the same word again and again but now pointing at the infant. 

The infant had partial-thickness burns which had resulted in innumerable blisters all across the two hands and forearms. One look at the infant and my rucksack down, medical kit out (had learnt to keep it in the most accessible location) and gloves on in a flash. Gone are the surrounding views from my mind as I go through the scene survey which had been drilled into me from the days of training. The infant, a boy of barely 8 months age was now bawling and crying at his maximum capacity and I was struggling to keep his hands steady for a closer inspection. There was a gear that had kicked in through all this screaming and the ABCDEs of primary survey flashed clear as day through my mind and I kept true to what was taught to me.

The mother tried her best to keep her child steady as I worked through the screams, around the tiny fingers. Upon questioning, the senior of the two ladies tried explaining the method of injury; the infant had accidentally fallen into a cooking fire from his mother’s lap. All questions and answers were being done through hand gestures and facial expressions. The surveys done, dressing done; and now came the next part of the challenge… instructing the duo about the steps to take for extended patient care till they reached a doctor roughly three hours away. With all skills now used to impose upon the seriousness of the issue and tools given to the mother to keep providing care, they abruptly stood up and made a move towards proper medical help. Not a look of gratitude or a hand gesture to thank. But then, the help provided was unconditional and I patted myself on my back as this was my first medical scenario post my learning. Would my instructors be proud of me? I do hope so, for their teachings made me crisp in my scenario and emotionless to an extent. I guess a thank-you nod would have felt great though.

Medical kit back inside the rucksack (still in the most accessible place) I made my way through the green meadows now with a different kind of contentment in my heart. 

I owe this to my alma matter, Hanifl Centre and to its instructors who taught me to build this flow and rhythm in a medical scenario. The confidence and efficiency with which I could complete my first solo trip and my first medical scenario came from the days spent in the institute and on-field under the watchful eye of those experts at Hanifl Centre. To them I dedicate this write up. My first medical scenario outside class will always be special because it felt like a positive culmination of all the teaching and scolding passed from teacher to pupil during my Outdoor Leadership Course.

The remainder of the solo trip had its own challenges and had I not been trained in the way I was; the trip wouldn’t have been such a great success!