Come quickly, I’m alone in the room with the doctor,” 40-year-old Radha said on the phone to her husband, who happened to visit the washroom just when it was their turn to be seen by me. This was a follow-up appointment to remove sutures after we had extricated a tumour from inside her spinal cord two weeks ago. 

She was a roundish mother of two with long, thick hair plaited in a single braid, not the image of someone who typifies amorous mischief, but I’ve long given up on stereotypes. Her husband of 12 years sat beside her in a bright yellow T-shirt, immune to her disposition, as she leaned forward to tell me a secret. “The first time I saw you was when I decided that you’d do my operation,” she said with a beaming, impish smile. “And why is that?” I asked curiously. “Because you are so handsome!” she whispered with a straight face, while I couldn’t contain my blushing.