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It was a rainy day when he decided to go for the test.

The Siddharth Hospital is located in Siddharth Nagar, Goregaon west. The building is quite easy to spot from a distance, thanks to its distinctive look and having a large compound for parking vehicles. The building was also featured in a Sunny deol movie back in 2000.

Although as far as he knew, he had no cause to worry. It was a routine blood test that was asked to be done by the trichologist as part of the surgery prep. He walked towards the entrance which was a gangway, with railings on both sides and a triangular ceiling. For a second, he wondered what the railings were for.

A large, golden inscription of Gautam Buddha was attached to the opposite wall with words mentioned in the black inscription below it. Next to it was a painting of Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar and an altar erected in front. He assumed that it was built to hold something, but at the moment, there was nothing at the top. He looked around.

The hospital’s lobby was covered in marble flooring, with cream coloured walls and white washed ceiling, which were covered with brown cobwebs. Even the cream colour had faded giving it an overall dull look. The lobby branched in both directions, where he saw people jostling around with papers, while others walked around with people (patients, he presumed). A couple of ward boys walked past him towards the other side, where there were counters, not yet open  but already crowded with people in queues. He wondered what those counters where for as there was nothing written in English but in Marathi. However, the giant government posters advocating precautions about Tuberculosis answered his doubts.

There was a flight of stairs in the front end, next to which were two lifts, their sliders filled with scratches and peeling paint. One of the lift’s doors opened with a rattling sound that echoed all around the lobby. A ward boy emerged pushing an old man in a wheelchair. He stared at the old man. His eyes were closed and his body was covered in a shawl, draped across his torso. The man’s left hand was clutched around a metal pipe holding up a glucose bottle. Thin transparent pipes made their way into his skin, which thankfully he was not able to see.

In all this, he had almost forgotten why he came for. A moment of realization dawned on him and he approached the enquiry counter. There was no one there. Unsurprised, he approached the ward girl passing by and asked her, “Excuse me, can you tell me where can I go for a blood test?”

The ward girl gave him a stony look for pausing her in her activity and simply mouthed two words, “First floor.”

He turned and started walking towards the stairs. Even these were covered in marble while the area below the banisters was covered in tiles. As soon as he reached the landing, he was met with an unpleasant slight.

The first floor was crowded with people, who were standing in a queue that snaked around and was about to spill on to the stairs. He followed the line and realized, it was even longer inside the ward. He walked towards the ward and saw various tables, where doctors were talking to people while writing down something on papers in front of them. Not sure whether he was to join the queue, he turned his head and observed the other room.

This was the room he was supposed to go to. There were large posters with pictures of blood droplets as well as government boards warning about HIV/AIDS. The door leading to this room was ajar and a group of people were sitting on the bench outside. He approached the lady sitting on the bench,

“Excuse me; is this the place for HIV testing?”

The lady turned her head and to his surprise, it was a transgender woman.

“Yes,” she replied.

He sat down next to her. There were five people before him. A couple (most probably married) were waiting anxiously as they were next to go in. They had grim expression on their faces and were not talking to each other. Next to them sat a young girl holding her handbag. She too appeared tensed and was constantly fidgeting with her wrist watch. The other two people before him were transgender women, who were chatting in Tamil with each other.

A lady came out of the room and addressed the people on the bench.
“The doctor will take time as he is busy with this patient inside. Please co-operate,” she said in a dry tone, before vanishing inside, not pausing for a reaction from the others.

He had no option but to wait. It would have been better if I had done this from a private lab, he thought ruefully, lamenting the loss of his time. He stared absent-mindedly at the people standing in the line in front of him. He wondered what kind of tests must be going on in the next room.

“Excuse me,” he tapped the nearest person, standing, “Can you tell me what is going on in there?”

The man gave an alarmed expression and immediately backed away from him. He felt odd at this response. It was a simple question which required a simple answer. Maybe the man was too sick to speak perhaps?

He turned and approached the lady behind him. Even before he spoke, she hastily drew away from him, pulling her bag away as well. He frowned at this reaction from her.

Suddenly, the transgender woman yelled out, “He is trying to ask you something, not poison you with HIV!!”

Horrified, he realized what those people were thinking. He stepped back and sat on the bench in disgust. He looked at the people behind them and realized they too were giving the bench a wide berth, trying to avoid standing close to the people seated on the bench.

The woman with the handbag felt mortified at being called out like this loudly in front of everyone and answered back, “Who is talking to you? Mind your business!”

The transgender woman laughed at this and spoke something to her friend in Tamil. They both started laughing and turned away.

He was still stunned at what transpired in the last few minutes. He had come for a simple HIV blood test and the people around had already made assumptions and were treating him like an untouchable. They were scared of him, fearing that they would contract the virus just by his touch. He felt ashamed and realized tears welling up in his eyes. Careful for these people not to see them, he bent his head and wiped them away.

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

He turned and saw the transgender woman looking at him with concern.

“This is the first time I have seen people behaving like this,” he replied.

“Oh my sweet!,” she said, “This is nothing new. This is just the beginning. Once word gets out that you are infected, forget outsiders, even your family won’t stand with you. Life is rosy only in the movies, but in reality, the picture is different. That lady there was too polite. I am surprised that she did not call me hijra or chakka.”

“But, is this right?” he asked her, “I came here for a check-up and see the way they are treating us. Is it not the correct thing to do? Get yourself checked once in a while?”

“You and I are aware about this” she said calmly, “Ignorance is the cause of all this. This entire stigma associated with HIV. People treat it as non-existent. They choose to deny it is present around them. Deep down everyone is in denial, until they have no option left but to face it.”

She sighed. It was her turn to go in.
He sat pondering over her words. He had only heard or read stories about the way HIV-positive people are treated, but had never realized the impact of it. Now that he was at the receiving end of it, he thought of the humiliation they must be facing every day. Many people would not be aware about it and if they did, they would wear masks and hid it from the others, to save themselves from the stigma associated with it. Deep down, they knew, just as people are being discriminated on their sexuality, caste, religion, they would be labeled forever…

He walked out of the entrance twenty minutes later. His results would take another twenty-four hours to be confirmed.

The world seemed different from the way it was before he walked in.

THE END