The Day the Hospital Saw Clearly but Heard Poorly


Routine medical visits with my 91-year-old uncle are rarely routine. There’s always some unexpected entertainment waiting, usually unplanned, often unintended, but reliably amusing.

Recently, during his half-yearly retina check-up at a leading eye hospital, we were greeted warmly by two receptionists. While one began the usual checklist, appointment details, doctor’s name, previous visits, the other looked at me and asked with great confidence, “Sir, are you the friend who has accompanied him?”

For a fleeting second, I felt secretly flattered. Clearly, my salt-and-salt (there’s no pepper left now) hair and beard were doing their job with quiet dignity and were finally earning their respect. I smiled and told her we were uncle and nephew. Both looked a bit puzzled, so I decided to stretch the moment, sensing a chance for some harmless entertainment, I asked if they could guess who the uncle was.

Before they could get trapped any further, my uncle, having seen me pull this prank before, put an end to it.  “He’s the nephew,” he announced. “I am the uncle.”

One receptionist immediately nodded and said thoughtfully, “Exactly, sir… that’s why sometimes we ask if people like you are 'cousins' instead of 'friends',” perhaps thinking that cousins sound closer to a family relationship, somewhere in the same orbit as uncles and nephews, unlike friends, who sit completely outside the family circle.

My uncle froze for a full second. Then he leaned towards me and whispered, deeply bewildered, his typical sense of humour still intact at the ripe age of 91, “In this eye hospital… are they short of hearing also, along with sight?”

I could barely stop myself from cracking up.

We walked out laughing, both of us a little lighter. In Bangalore, I’ve realised, the comedy isn’t in the theatres, it’s in the reception counters, the queues, and the people who mean well but hear half.

These small, everyday encounters often remind me why I began writing this series in the first place. Bangalore has changed in countless ways, but its gentle humour, accidental quirks, and well-meaning characters remain wonderfully intact. Episodes like this keep the nostalgia alive and the stories flowing.




Stories, not instructions. Experiences, not advice—medical or otherwise. Data, only what the internet quietly gathers anyway. Proceed with equal parts curiosity and common sense.

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