human nature at work

During my student days, I used a bicycle to commute to college and move around the city. The back wheel hub of my bicycle developed a crack and had to be replaced. It was a costly affair –considering my economy at that time- and a friend of mine suggested a “cycle repair” man who may be able to repair it. The mechanic was a devout old muslim, who lived in a small lane close to my college and ran a “cycle shop” assisted by his pretty daughter. A major portion of the lane in front of his house was his work place and he did a very good job on my cycle. The daughter was pretty all right, but what impressed me more was his work. There is truth in my wife’s observation that I neither have an aesthetic sense nor feelings. I developed an instant faith in him.

The cycle was being used extensively and did need repairs now and then. He did few more repair jobs competently and noticing that I used a battery operated lamp, suggested that I fit a dynamo to the bicycle and save on batteries. He offered to fit a very good, used dynamo for one fourth the cost of a new one. I readily agreed, dynamo was fitted and I cycled on at nights happily till a police constable stopped me one night for riding without light. I told him that he was mistaken and confidently pointed to the dynamo. He asked me to run the wheel. I put the bicycle on stand and pedalled furiously. The wheel moved, the dynamo whirred but there was no light. I put my confidence in my pocket and begged the policeman to let me go as I was not aware that the dynamo was faulty. May be he had earned his living for the day and was satisfied with it and had stopped me only out of force of habit. He let me go.
I took the cycle to my mechanic. He rubbed the dynamo cap, tugged at the connecting wire, tightened the nuts, changed the bulb and managed to produce a dim light. He assured me that the performance would only improve with time and I accepted his words with out any doubt.
My friend borrowed my cycle one evening and met a similar fate as me. He had tried to be a bit argumentative with the keepers of law and returned home pushing the cycle (as the air from both the wheels had been let out and the valves had been carried away by the policeman) all the way and cursing me.
During my next trip to the mechanic, he blamed the roads, the police, faulty parts and my friend and again tinkered with the dynamo. After half an hour he did manage to produce some light again. He said that the spring which held the dynamo pressed against the wheel was not very good and offered to get an imported one and fit it free of cost. The local springs were useless. I visited his shop every week for nearly six months and always returned after some more tinkering, with firm assurances and a persistently faulty dynamo. But never, with any doubts regarding the old man’s capabilities. Meanwhile, I learnt to keep a continuous check on the flickering light while riding and also learnt to ride holding the handle in one hand and pressing the dynamo to the back wheel by the other. By the end of six months I had realized that the dynamo is never going to function and was so distressed during the later visits to the shop, that I did not even notice if his daughter was present in the shop or not. When I got my first stipend after completing the course of dentistry I had a new dynamo fitted by another mechanic, ending the saga of the second hand dynamo and cursing myself for being stupidly persistent with the mechanic even when I was aware that the things were not going right.

Many of my patients have visited my clinic dozens of times for treatment and many a times for the treatment of the same tooth again and again. As far as they are concerned, they might not even have noticed that I am working on the same tooth on every visit. Most of the people do not even know how many teeth they have in the mouth and many times find it difficult to point out the offending tooth. But, I know there are many who continue to seek my services inspite of being aware that the treatment has not given expected results. I have a bad habit of maintaining accurate records of the treatment carried out and it accusingly points out my deficiencies and failings. It shows the fee collected for treatments that have gone wrong making me feel guilty, and also the unpaid fees due, when a patient has never turned up after successful treatment. It hurts both ways. That’s why I call it a bad habit. I wonder why people continue to come to me even after a treatment has gone wrong and then realize that the same human nature that took me repeatedly to the cycle mechanic is at work here too, and thank god for that.