Fans of the American TV series ER or Greys Anatomy, or of Robin Cook’s medical thrillers, will enjoy Tripti Sharan’s tales from the gynaecology ward. She keeps the focus on the patients and her emotions, particularly her exasperation at the plight of women who are not empowered like herself — this is an enduring thread running through the stories. Her powers of expression prevent the mundane or the distasteful from becoming abhorrent.

But there is enough blood and gore to satisfy those partial to medical thrillers. Doctors see so much of human misery but can only guess at the precipitating factors that bring people for treatment.

The author relates to us as much as she knows of her female patients’ stories, changing our own perception of doctors, who seem so clinical and brusque in the few minutes they spare for each case. As per the blurb, this book “written by a celebrated doctor and inspired from real life experiences, explores issues ranging from the largely preventable complications experienced during pregnancies, myths and superstitions surrounding them, to emotionally wrenching situations like postpartum depression.

These compelling stories also touch upon topics that society tries to hide under the carpet, such as domestic violence, perversions, altered sexual orientation, rape and incest.”

What will no doubt strike the sensitive reader is the implacability of the women who come for treatment, battered into fatalistic acceptance of their lot by a patriarchal society. Their silence is deafening, as most of them do not reveal their entire predicaments despite prodding, disregarding the fact that without full disclosure, the line of treatment cannot be planned properly. But then Indian women are conditioned to neglecting their health in the larger interests of the joint family.

The description of one such woman could apply to so many others, “She went numb with shame and grief. She lived in a dumb stupor…” Among the more macabre stories, here’s a glimpse of those that stand out, a rape victim from a village does not utter a word when subjected to medico-legal examination; she later dies of ill health and the crime against her is dismissed because her hymen is still intact.

The pregnant woman with a haemoglobin count of three, “which meant years of poor nutrition and neglect,” who has an enormous load of housework, leading the doctor to think, “Even livestock in the villages are better looked after.” Her husband is unwilling to donate blood on the “grounds” that is a duty of her brothers, reminding us why Indian society regards the girl child as a life-long burden.

He takes her away without treatment, only to return a week later when she is in labour. The poor woman dies during childbirth. The author gives us the shocking statistic that anaemia is a leading cause of maternal death in our country — a condition that can easily be treated with proper diet and medical care. Then there is an unmarried girl with an injury that remains unexplained until it turns out she has hurt herself; if the truth had come out, it would have been a stain on her character.

A village girl wearing her school uniform has a full-term pregnancy but has never gone to a doctor. The author concludes the description of this shocking case with the words, “A little girl in her crumpled school uniform and red ribbons would keep knocking at my conscience for a long time.” A widow with a septic abortion, who faces the possibility of being shamed for life if her family comes to know the exact nature of her ailment. An HIV positive girl, whose father sold her as soon as she turned 15, is now happily married and wants a baby.

The author’s own reactions and normative statements come through the narrative clear and strong — without that, each chapter would read like a newspaper crime report without back stories. As she puts it in one episode, “In a fraction of a second, the ‘concerned’ relatives were gone and in their place, sneered the moral brigade.”

Among the patients who completely baffle urbanites like us is “a tribal woman with a captivating smile” whose uterus had been pierced by an arrow, killing her unborn child, after she was accused by her own community of practising witchcraft. In the same category falls the woman from Jharkhand married into a Haryana family, who is too exhausted by the load of housework to conceive a baby. The string of horror stories should not give the impression that life in a gynaecology ward is a pool of misery.

There are moments of joy, of course, when a brand new human emerges from the chaos of joint families and uncertainties of arranged marriages. “For most women, labour was a celebration, preceded by nine months of indulgence by their families… On this day, it was not a baby, but a mother, who was born,” writes the author.

What were the motivations that prompted a busy doctor to write about her patients in the middle of a busy career? She explains, “Through stories I have tried to decipher the conundrum of women’s lives at every step and alongside gives a much broader perspective of the factors that interplay in the professional career of a dedicated doctor”.

Every story raises a curtain and promises to be a revelation. “I, a young ambitious doctor, early in my post-graduate days, dreamt of changing society. I nursed notions that the bad would one day be exposed and punished, and truth shall finally triumph. However, as they say, time is the biggest teacher.

Something inside me had rebelled at this blatant abuse of a woman.” Not all women who populate the book are victims. Among the stream of patients, some are more intriguing than others, especially if the story behind their predicament remains a mystery. Truly memorable is the case of a nurse who fakes being pregnant in order to steal a baby from a woman who delivers in the hospital.

Fortunately, she miscalculated that the diffident couple from the village would accept the loss of their baby without a fuss and the parents get back their bundle of joy. The unfortunate fallout of her daring deception is that members of the staff who unwittingly helped her also come under a cloud in the courtroom drama that follows. To end on a positive note, “Finally, the tension of the labour room broke with the shrill cry of a healthy baby girl.

The sight of the wailing baby made her suddenly quiet, and a tender smile lit her face. Soon, all grievances were forgotten and the whole family was united in celebrations. “I marvelled at the strange psyche that plagues Indian families. Too many people, too much drama. But yes, things were never boring in our great Indian joint family.”

(The reviewer is a senior editor, The Statesman, New Delhi)