They were meeting after some length of time and had much to discuss. It could not be called a doctors’ reunion or alumni meet, but as they waxed eloquent on their preferred topics of discussion, it certainly sounded like a medical conference, given that all of them confined themselves to various branches of health care.

There was the cardiovascular specialist who had just come home on her annual holiday, thankful that she did not have to suffer the immobility of an air journey of more than a couple of hours. “I’m grateful that I do not have to fly to North America. Europe and Asia are good enough for me — for homecomings, holidays and visits.” She went on to give graphic descriptions of medical problems she had encountered in the course of her normal work day — and all the listeners came away enlightened, going to the dinner table wiser, though perhaps a bit subdued. Would they also encounter that moment of ‘Oops! I made the wrong move!’

The endocrinologist decided to lighten the mood. Besides, he was not to be outdone. If the cardiovascular specialist had stories, then so did he! He figured he was always one-up on her anyway since his tales had amusing — if not always happy — endings. So he launched into them — starting with monthly / weekly blood sugar levels and ending with quarterly glycosylated haemoglobin levels. Listening to him was another educative experience, especially as he interspersed his discourse with incidents from his recent travels and the culinary treats that had come his way.

There are, of course, no limits to the levels of learning. It was time for the orthopaedic specialist to step in. Like the others, he had been travelling and he wanted to share his experiences. He had a natural knack for the ridiculous, with intonations, gestures and body movements only he could make — and most often he had his audience shaking with laughter long before he had reached the punch line. Forks and spoons were suspended in mid-air and everyone stopped chewing as he spoke ... no one wanted to choke over their meal or have it splattering the walls if he suddenly did something comic to lighten up the sombre mood.

His son, obviously blessed with some of his genetic make-up and therefore following in his footsteps, however reluctantly, held forth next. He had much to say, he had a formidable amount of research under his belt, he had a more modern way of approaching problems — but he was shouted down by the rest in the crowd, who did not want a young whippersnapper stealing their thunder.

The neurologist, the one most accustomed to adulation, spoke last. She had a pleasing manner and a way with words and everyone listened as she expounded on sciatica and neuralgia.

But did anyone pay real attention? It was hard to judge ...

If you were listening in as an outsider, you would not be blamed if you thought the evening was an informal medical conference or the annual alumni meet of a medical school. But there were no medical professionals present.

For us, it was just another family get together — where everyone revelled in graphic descriptions of their ailments and aches and pains. There were a couple of senior citizens, another couple of not-so-seniors, one in the prime of youth who had obviously overdone the extreme sports or the extra long hours glued to a computer, there was one who was well into serious old age and listened attentively, trying to figure out which fancy name she should affix to her next medical hiccup and there was this hapless in-law, who shared none of those family genes — and was infinitely grateful for that!

— Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.