Bora's Banter Series

 

Series 1, No 5 July1st 2021

Continuing the hilarious series featuring the inimitable Harsha Boralessa, aka “Bora”, who has the knack of recalling humorous incidents “like no other”. 

Half measures do not work

In 1961, when I had just entered university, my mother showed me a story published in a local newspaper. It was authored by a Dr Ponna, who was working in a hospital close to Colombo and this is what I recall. 

Dr P was rushing back to his car after completing his ward round when a patient suddenly stopped him and asked, “Sir, do you know God?” 

“Yes I do”, replied the doctor and carried on, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately no such luck. 

A few days later the same patient stopped Dr P and gave him a letter and requested him to kindly hand it over to God. When Dr P got home, he and his wife opened the letter, the gist of which was as follows:

 Dear Almighty God,

Could you please send me 50 rupees. 

 They were somewhat shocked; for at that time, 50 rupees was a lot of money. 

That amount would allow one to buy two Van Heusen shirts or a pair of smart John White shoes from Apothecary’s (an upmarket shop) in Colombo. He was, however, certain that the patient would stalk him, if he didn’t respond. So Dr P compromised and decided to give him 25 rupees. He put this in an envelope along with a compliment slip from God and handed it over to the patient. 

A month later the same patient appeared suddenly, accosted Dr Ponna, thanked him profusely and asked him whether he could give another letter to God.  The doctor had a premonition of what was in store and told him firmly, “Look here, I am not God’s postman. This is the last time I will do this. Hereafter you will have to post these letters.” 

When Dr P got home he opened the letter. It read: 

“Dear Almighty God,

Thank you very much for the money you sent. It was very kind of you.

Could I have another 50 rupees? But please, do not send it through the doctor because last time he gave me only half the amount I requested and kept the balance for himself.” 

The Witty Doctor Who 

Devaka was a consultant physician with a special interest in Diabetes, practising in Colombo. He had time for patients during consultations, meticulously adhered to protocols and regularly recorded height, weight and girth etc. Patients were used to this routine. 

When Dr D went on long leave, he asked Dr Who, a  very experienced, witty and astute  clinician with a  busy  Private Practice, to look after his patients.    

One of Dr Devaka’s patients arranged to see Dr Who privately.  The consultation was completed in a relatively short time. The surprised patient who was not used to this told Dr Who, “Anney Sir, Deveka mahathmaya num apiwa manninawa, kiranawa”. (Dr D measures and weighs us). 

Dr Who promptly responded.“Devaka  mahathmaya mage golayek, namuth mamma eyawa puhunu kele dosthara keneck wenne, tailor keneck wenna nowaiye.” (Dr D was one of my trainees but I trained him  to be a doctor and not a tailor) 

Át-te  Amaruwak 

An elderly man from the village went to the reception desk of a popular private hospital in Colombo. When he was asked about his problem by the female receptionist, he nervously whispered into her ear, “Àtte  amaruak  thiyaneva”.   

She promptly referred him to Dr Susiri the orthopedic consultant. 

A few days later, our good friend Dr Neville overheard this conversation from the adjoining room where the orthopod was doing his consultation (the partitions dividing the consulting rooms were thin.) 

“Ane lokka, mumma ata katu pariksha kerane doctor kenek  thamai

Namuth oya atte balanna, Dr Neville gavate thammai  yanna thi  yenne”. 

“Even though I treat bone problems, you will have to see Dr Neville regarding your “at -te” (testicle) 

A DRESS DOWN FROM THE TAILOR 

A story popular among GHC medical staff in the early nineteen seventies.

A bright young surgical trainee was successful at the Primary FRCS and was making arrangements to go to the UK to sit the finals. He went to this fashionable tailor at Apothecaries to get a suit made. 

When he was measuring the area around the fork of the trousers, the tailor politely asked the doctor “Sir, do you dress to the left or right? 

Although the surgeon was familiar with surgical dressings, he could not understand how this question was relevant to the measurements of his trousers. Confused & embarrassed he started stuttering. Several repeats of the question  failed to produce a  sensible response. 

 By then the tailor  was at the end of his tether, and yelled  in exasperation:

“On which side do you want your b…. on?.”