Let’s start with a confession; I’ve wanted to join the Armed Forces since I was 13. And my latest stint to give it a shot was about a month before our House Surgeonsy started.
A link in the MCI website mentions a list of non-teaching hospitals where you can do your CRRI. INHS SANJEEVANI stationed at the Southern Naval Command, Kochi has provision for 8 House Surgeons, of which 2 may be Civilians. And that’s where I wanted to Intern for a year before I graduate.
Sept 14, 2009 : Military Hospital, Army Cantonment, Pangode
“Good Morning Sir. My name is Jenyz Mohammedali. I’m a student of Trivandrum Medical College, waiting to join for House Surgeonsy this November. I’d like to know if I could do my internship at a military hospital” (I practiced that 14 times (yes I was counting) before stepping into that room. )
“Why?” (Now why didn’t I see that coming )
“Exposure…sir..” (I knew that was a stupid answer )
“Exposure? My boy you’ll ruin your career here. We barely have as many patients coming a week as you would see per day at a government hospital. Go home.” ( Ok so that was a bad answer )
“Sir, I meant as in exposure to the Military life” (ha )
“And why do you want such an exposure, that too before you are done with your course?” (Because it’s just half the workload, plus I get to walk around people in those awesome uniforms )
“Because I believe House Surgeonsy would a be good time to see if I can fit into the Armed Forces fraternity, and if it works out well, Sir, I may apply to join the forces as an officer.”
“So you want to work in a Military Hospital, see if you like our atmosphere here and then decide whether you want to join the Army?” (I’m not sure if it was just his accent or whether he was actually being sarcastic )
“Yes Sir” (wait… ) “I mean No, Sir” (Ok, you just ruined it )
“Make up your mind. Do you want to join the forces or just do your internship here as a civilian?”
(To be honest, the intense desire to be an Officer of the Forces had kinda worn out. I was just looking for a reason to get out the current atmosphere; plus I get to see what Army life is like, without actually having to go through it entirely. Not something I could confess at this point )
“To join the Army, Sir” (and that’s how you trust your instincts and blurt out the first thing that comes into your head )
“Beta, ghar jaa, complete your course, graduate, then join the army as an officer, you’ll get all the Military exposure you need.” (I did see that coming )
Six years are long enough to get over the fright for Olive Green, or at least that’s what I thought till that day. My first encounter with the Military kind was, well, for my first actual interview ever. Fully aware that I was not the sporty type, with nothing remotely military in me, I decided to give it a shot anyway.
June 7th, 2003 : AFMC Pune
“No. 54375”
“Come in, take your seat”
(I’ve been preparing for this day for over 3 weeks now. But no, I was not ready for 6 military officers, by the look of their stars/stripes on their epaulets definitely of Brigadier Rank or above, and one sweet lady in some coloured sari, in a not so well lit room. )
“SIT DOWN” ( I was still busy ranking them. )
“Your name?”
“Jenyz, SIR.” ( They generally like a loud ‘sir’ )
“Introduce yourself by your full name.” (that’s the first thing I was warned about military interviews. But I was still counting the stars and symbols on their shoulders, this must be a Major General, wow. )
“Jenyz Mohammed Ali, SIR”
“Where are you from?”
“Trivandrum, sir, the capital city of Kerala.”
“Mr. Ali, you are expected to be audible to all seven of us seated here”
And thus began the longest twenty minutes of my life
“YES SIR”
At this point, the senior most official just leaves. I don’t know if it’s my name or where I’m from that offended him. The questioning continues.
“So why did you opt for this course?” (I’ve answered that question, to myself, at least 50 times that morning )
“It’s a matter of great pride to be a part of….” “No, I mean why do you want to be a doctor?” (You, sir, just interrupted my best-prepared answer )
I shot back the same ’to serve the needy’ and being ‘a caring physician’- crap which every single student who just got in admission for an MBBS would give you; too cliché to be written here.
“Yes I’ve heard that, number of times. What makes you think you are good for it?” (forgive my vanity, SIR, but I do have the grades, that’s why I’m sitting in front of you )
“Well, I believe I have the capability to perform well academically, and I think I can learn the art to reach out to the common man to address their problems.” ( I know all medicos get a tinge of nostalgia of their first days as a Medical Student when hear that phrase )
The plain fact is I never wanted to be one. I always wanted to be an architect, that was classy, well paid and yet artistic. And before that was the Astrophysicist who would single handedly work to raise the ISRO above NASA. And before that…. immaterial at this point, so let’s move on..
“So, Mr. Ali, What activities were you involved in your school” (Everything.. Every single event that took place in school, though nothing worth mentioning )
“Basket Ball SIR” (I had nothing to prove it, but I was pretty sure there was no way they could disprove it in that dimly-lit room )
“OK. Anything else?”
“Well, I’ve represented my school for Quizzes quite a few times” (Whereby I was nicknamed ‘PASS’ at school, again not to be elaborated here )
“Ah! A quizzer. Good. Tell me, where is the Niagara Falls located?”
Ah, a trick question I know it’s along the US-Canada border. Let’s go for the continent and make it sound smart.
“North Africa”.. ( and what the hell did u just do now.. )
“Impressive” (Not “Wrong”, not “Bad “, not even “WHAT”. He had to be ‘impressed’. Do you know what it’s like to dig your own grave, voluntarily step into it, and let your worst enemy pull you out, torture you, again. Not good, trust me )
“What’s the currency of Afghanistan?”
“Afghani Rupee”(That’s what Sher Shah Suri called it. But with the Arab influence it must be.. )”No, Afghani Dinar, Sir”
“Are you sure?” “I think so” “Okay” (okay )
An online search later revealed that it was just ‘Afghani’. I wonder if he was sure himself.
Over the following range of questions, I managed to stay ‘less impressive’ by the grace of the Almighty. Fortunately much of the Physics, Chemistry and Biology we’d fed our brains over the previous months had prepared me for that.
Finally it’s the turn of the only lady seated in the panel, also the only one not in olive green, white or sky blue.”So suppose you weren’t to be a doctor, what would you have opted for?”
(OK I’ve pretty much screwed up with every other member of the panel, might as well try to please this pretty mid-40 lady. )
“A psychologist, Ma’am.” ( My random guess is that you are one yourself, and I’m all out to just impress you. )
“Now that’s a different answer” ( Finally, someone is impressed )
At this point, the senior most official who walked out at the very mention of my name returned and took his seat. And I carried on with impressing the lady, trying to that is.
“Well both fields are similar in the aspect of reaching out to people. It’s the art of understanding the person in front of you.” (Note to Self – I am terrible at instant answers, especially when I don’t mean it. Need to improve that to survive through a professional course )
“Hmm, interesting” (I know you are just being nice. But you Ma’am, have absolutely no idea what a relief it is to see a smiling face in this place )
“However I believe...”
“That would be all young man, you may leave” (I resent the fact that you walked out on me, and just walked in to throw me out. But thank you Sir, for saving me from embarrassing myself any further )
And thus I marched out of the longest 20 minutes of my life, till then.
As I stepped out they called in No 54376, and guess who came in next as I stepped out. Our to-be ace drummer, Surej S. I gave him thumbs up as I he got in. Turns out things weren’t very different for him either…
Six years in Medical College has put me through a lot of equally demanding situations if not worse. But to be grilled by a whole panel of Men in Uniform was an experience all too different.
P.S.: True Story…
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