"The Perfect Injury, That Disappeared Overnight"

It was a calm, easy start to the day. Around 10 in the morning, OPD had just opened and everything felt unhurried. Even now, almost twenty years later, that day still makes me smile.

A trainee walked in, limping like a man who had just returned from war. He was one of my favorites. In those days, the gap between us wasn’t much. I was young, they were young, and the relationship often felt more like friendship than authority.

He looked genuinely troubled. He said he had twisted his ankle during a commando drill. I examined him. There was some swelling, but the way he reacted to even gentle touch felt a little too dramatic to be completely convincing.

I prescribed the usual medicines and advice.

But that was not what he had come for.

He wanted medical rest.

And he wanted it badly.

“Sir, I can’t even walk,” he said, demonstrating a limp worthy of a film award.

I refused.

He insisted again.

I refused again.

This went on for a while. Finally, partly amused and partly giving in to his persistence, I referred him for an X ray and orthopedic opinion at a nearby government setup.

By 2 in the afternoon, while checking the status of referred trainees, I saw his update.

X ray done

Plaster applied

Seven days bed rest advised

Leave sanctioned

I remember thinking maybe I had misjudged him.

The next evening, while heading home, I stopped at a local market for some routine shopping and coffee.

And there he was.

Walking perfectly fine.

No plaster. No limp. No pain. Not even a hint of yesterday’s tragedy.

He was with a lady, completely relaxed, as if life had no orthopedic concerns at all.

I noticed him quietly and made sure he didn’t notice me. I simply watched, smiled, and walked away.

Time passed. The batch moved on.

A couple of years later, he came to meet me. During our conversation, I mentioned that evening in the market.

Before I could finish, he burst out laughing.

“Sir, I know. I saw you that day too.”

That made it even better.

Then came the confession, with complete honesty.

“There was no injury, Sir. But you never give medical rest without a proper reason. I needed those days badly. Someone special was coming to meet me.”

He smiled and added,

“I had to act everywhere. Here, at the hospital, full performance. And the plaster, I removed it the moment I crossed the academy gate.”

At that point, there was nothing left to do except laugh.

And we did.

Even today, whenever we meet, this story comes back on its own.

Some memories don’t fade.

They just become funnier.