The Last Leg Lock

 

 

 

 

 

Morning rounds.

In the fifth floor of the hospital , in the west wing , I know that a man is sitting up in his bed waiting for me.Chavo Gutiriezz is sixty three, and he is diabetic .It is two weeks since I amputated his left leg just below the knee.I walk down the corridor but do not go straight into his room.Instead , I pause in the doorway.He is not yet aware of my presence , but gazes down at the place in the bed where his leg used to be , and now there is the collapsed leg of his pyjamas.He is totally absorbed , like an athlete appraising his own body.What is he thinking , I wonder.Is he dreaming of the outline of his toes ? Does he see , in its absence , his foot's incandescent ghost? Does his phantom limb still ache? Does he feel that I'm responsible for his loss ? Is he still angry with me?

I watch him from the doorway .Its a kind of spying.I know.

Chavo Gutiriezz is bald , totally-Michael Jordan bald.He is naked to the waist, so I can see his man-breasts.They are samoan breasts, something a sumo would proudly carry on him, the inverted triangles of wobbly adipose tissue from which the nipples swing , dark as garnets.

I've seen enough.Step into the light , Dr.Ramasamy , and reveal yourself I command myself.

"How did the night go Chavo ?"

He looks at me for a moment , "Shut the door" he says.I do , and move to the side of the bed.He takes my left hand in both of his gnarly , stubby rough hands , gazes at it , turns it over , then back , fondling , at last holding it up to his cheek .I do not withdraw from  the loving .After a while he relinquishes my hand , and looks up at me.

"How's the pain ?" I ask

He chooses to ignore the question , but continue looking at me.I know at once he has made his decision.

"You know Doc, you look so much like my son...my son who hasn't spoken to me in years"

"We latinos and you Indianos look a lot alike each other, Doc"

He sighs.The time has come .He must unburden himself.

"Ever heard of The Silver Bane?" he asks , now almost whispering , as if he was letting me on to a secret.

"What?"

"The Silver Bane "he says "You've never heard of him?"   

 "No"

"Ach ! , The Silver Bane ? C'mon doc , remember ..."

All at once , there is a recollection .It is dim , distant , but coming near.

"You mean the wrestler?"

Eagerly he nods , and his man-breasts heave sideways.At sixty three , he is grotesquely huge , with disproportionately longish arms.he looks like a Human-ape chimera.

He wants me to remember.

"Well yes ..." I say , still unsure.

"I saw him wrestle in montreal " I say , "a long , long time ago"

"Hah ! " he smiles triumphantly , "That was me " His smile continues to broaden , now almost ear to ear.

In my profession , patients under morphine and a host of other painkillers often confess to me.Sometimes  I meet   Napoleons, Einsteins and occasionally Ganeshas .But this ? Never !

"You ?" I try to smile , trying my best to hide my incredulity.

"You saw me !"

"No " I begin to say , but then Chavo , with  his longish arms , makes a one legged leap on the bed  leans from his bed and gets a large Brown envelope from his nightstand.

"Wait " He says , rummaging through what  I imagine are photos and newspaper clippings , but I slip away  down the memory lane.

It was almost fifteen years ago .I'm ten years old .Its my first time in montreal .The first thing you notice about Montreal is it is as cold as chennai (Madras in those days)  is hot .Canada embraced  an Indian family of four -A biochemistry professor , a housewife , and their two sons. And we in turn embraced Canada as our new home away from home.

We are out with Uncle Luc , our neighbour and his two sons , our best fiends , Ken and Matt.This is the first time we are going out with some one else other than our family.We are at Maple Leaf Arena , we sit high and near the centre .A ring stands alone in the centre.

It begins.

            The wrestlers circle.They grapple , they  apply choke holds and arm bars .A submission move ends the match.The wrestlers are replaced by another pair.At last it is the main event.The Silver Bane v/s The Spike.

On the cover of the program notes , there is a picture of spike training himself by sleeping on a bed of nails daily.The Spike feels no pain, it is explained , due to his practice taught by an ancient Indian Fakir.The Silver Bane's trademark is a Silver Luchador mask with rectangular slits for eyes and mouth.He is never seen without it , state the program .No one knows who the Silver Bane really is !

"Good " says Uncle Luc "Now you'll see something "

They come down separate aisles , both waving and hi-fiving the cheering crowds.

The Spike shows off his freshly inflicted wounds on his back , the one that he got from sleeping on beds of nails.The crowd booes.He is clearly a heel.

The Silver Bane is a lot smaller .He is short , has ape-ish arms , and pendulous man-breasts that move on their own accord , demonstrating inertia and its effects.He jumps on to the top rope and waves.The crowd roars .

The match begins before the bell is rung.Immediately Silver Bane is held in a vicious headlock but The Silver Bane throws The Spike onto the ropes .Spike is quick .Bouncing off the ropes , he delivers a bone crunching drop kick.The Silver Bane falls with a crack.Was it the sound of the breaking of a bone or was it the cracking of a board ? The Spike quickly lifts Silver Bane and gives him a german Suplex.Silver Bane is down , and The Spike pummels him on the ground.

The Spike goes for a tendon twisting ankle lock and then proceeds with a knee breaking leg lock ..It is visually apparent that it is painful.The Silver Bane does not hide his agony , instead pounds and slaps the floor with his hand , but does not submit .

"Thats not fair " I say "Hurting him like that "

"It's a submission move " Uncle Luc says "its fair"

"But its not fair " I say again .The man is in obvious agony .I can feel the pain.I begin to tremble.

And now , The Spike does something unspeakable.While holding onto the leg lock , he maneuvers himself near The Silver Bane's face , and with one hand , he bends and grasps the mask where it clings to The Silver Bane's head.

And he pulls.

He is going to strip it off ! Lay bare an ultimate carnal mystery ! Suddenly it is beyond mere physical violence.Now I am on my feet , shouting into the Maple Leaf Arena.

"Watch out " I yell "Stop him , please somebody stop him "

Uncle Luc simply chuckles.

Yet The Silver Bane hears me , I know it .And rallies from his bed of pain .He drags himself to the ropes and breaks off the submission hold.The crowd roars.

A quick huricanarana and the The Spike is down.Dazed and confused.A small package by the Silver Bane , and "One ! " Two !"Three !"

The crowd erupts.And I'm stunned to silence by the sudden turn of events .All this I remember as I stand at the bedside of Chavo Gutiriezz.

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Once again , I'm in the operating room.Its been two years since I amputated the left leg.Now Chavo' s right leg has become gangrenous.

I have already scrubbed .I stand to one side wearing my gown and my gloves.And...I'm masked.

Upon the table lies Chavo Gutiriezz , pinned in a bright fierce light .Spinal anesthesia has been administered.He is hooked on to a multitude of sensors that give constant feedback of his condition.He sleeps, his mouth stuck to a grimace.It seems to me that I have never seen such misery.

An orderly holds Chavo's leg up so that the intern  can paint it with antiseptic.

I still remember , fifteen years ago , he had miraculously escaped from a painful leg lock from the Spike.

"Its not fair" I say out aloud , but no one seems to hear me over  Beethoven playing in the operating room.And I step forward , to make sure that no one will ever put The Silver Bane in a leg lock submission, Forever.