Kathmandu:

The sheer ratio of people to doctors has always been such that an intimediary first-aid giver has been needed. The British Empire invented the ‘compounder’, a person who literally made medicines in vast glass vats and dispensed them to the ailing.

This wasn’t about rocket science. It was common cold cures in which various minerals and herbs were compou-nded and dispensed from a place called a Dispensary. So too a brilliant red mixture that soothed the sto-mach called Carman itive while the cold cure was called Coriza.

The compounder was sent into districts administered by the British where he was considered ‘The Doctor Saheb’. If you had a cold or a tummy problem, powders in little packets were dispensed.

It’s all gone now replaced by a far more efficient system of pharmacists.Being a practising hypochondriac, I have always made it a point to live near a pharmacy. Aside from the promise of cures in different colours, there has been the lure of the pharmacists who inevitably assured you ‘It’, whatever you had was curable and there was no need for doctors who were much too busy.

My first pharmacist was Birendra who dispensed cheer and medicine and high blood pressure readings in Gyaneshwor. Once when a friend’s blood pressure shot through the ceiling, he popped a blue pill under the patient’s tongue, fixed an appointment at the Bir Hospital, Emergency Room and sent us on our way. Birendra was so good I was loathe to move to Jawalakhel 10 years ago. But near my new home was a tiny pharmacy run by a serious energetic gentleman called Kumar, helped by his wife and two assistants Shyam Lama and Ezzekial Lama. Between them and hard work and horrendous working hours, they started a ‘The Alka Pharmacy’. You could cure anything from warts to worms with Alka, who suddenly boasted a roster of fabulous physicians who when Kumar, Mrs Kumar, Shyam and Ezzekial failed, rescued you with professional ease.

Shyam and Ezzekial started their own pharmacies — they have the requisite government degree in pharmacy and were replaced by Bijaya and Balram. There is also Chaudhary from the Terai who attacks boils with extraordinary vigour. When Bijaya and Balram are in doubt, they pull out a tome of every known medicine and help you to go through it advising you to ask the doctors about your findings.

Both Birendra and Kumar had a dream. They wanted to start a hospital. Birendra not only started one, he also became involved in one of the Maoist Peace Processes. He was probably helpful in curing rebellious ailments.

I haven’t been invited to Kumar’s hospital in the Terai and to the opening of the brand new one in Jawalakhel. But Bijaya has promised that when the official honours are done, I will head the list since I practically pushed for the place.

Two pharmacists, two dreams realised. Not to mention Shyam, Ezzekial, Bijaya, Balram and Chaudhary who will undoubtedly start Nursing Homes one day or PolyClinics.

The point of this is all these ‘Compounders’ started by observing what doctors dispensed, tried their hands a couple of times and became experts. One more secret, Kumar is busy running his hospitals but the younger ones from Shyam to Balram, Bijaya, Ezzekial, Chaudhary are studying to be doctors.

And I shall have to look for a new set of compounders who to begin with will practice on me with the help of the ubiquitous Medical Representative (who also deserve doctor status) and practice having made perfect, will once again start me on a hunt for new pharmacists.