Diwakar Chhetri

Giving advice is the easiest lip service, which any human renders. Being a member of medical fraternity, not a doctor exactly, my neighbours do come to me for medical counselling. I also endeavour my best to reserve the heavenly chair by way of distributing free advice. In fact, I, so- called educated person, do belief on social service rather than going to the temple.

“I am having so and so problem, which would be a best doctor for me?” “I am suffering from so and so disease, which medicine am I suppose to take?”

People do come and ask me different questions on different health matters. I don’t know if all of them have been cured, but they often use the same lip service by giving “thanks” to me. Deeds and corporal involvement for others is wasting my precious energy. So the most expedient way of serving the human mankind, without smouldering any preserved energy, is lip service. All homo-sapiens get flattered with lip service. The lip service of the political leaders, who I go and vote no matter how corrupt they mat be, also propels me. Facts and logic flies from the window once lip service enters through the door. In fact ‘lip service’ is one of the branches of Chamchagiri (buttering) culture in this country.

Whenever my friends ask me to lend some money, I give them good lip service instead of money by way of promoting the bank finance facilities. Being a social animal lip service can be the easiest way of promoting self-socialistic attitude. These days, my office phone is there to help me to become a great well-wisher by way of using lip service for my “near and dear ones.” In sorrow, my lip service helps me to console my loved ones but by not disturbing my twilight cocktail party. After all, I am a social animal. My friends always appreciate my concern during the time of their sorrow.

I am now hospitalised. I keep receiving phone calls from my well-wishers who say they are praying for my speedy recovery. But every day my eyes are glued to the hospital room door in hope of seeing my near and dear ones, but only in vain. No flowers, no cards, no Horlicks or biscuits nor any affectionate hand to hold me — after all, I have received the same that I had given to them during my happy days and their sorrowful hours.