Blood was oozing from the wound like a water pipe with no stopper. The waste bin was half full with blood stained cotton balls which I had used earlier.Anxiety was creeping all over my body and i could feel my palms sweating underneath the sterile gloves. The lady however was still awake and conscious and responding to my questions normally. I took another cotton ball and used it to apply pressure against the wound and raised the lady’s hand to minimise the blood loss. My heart was beating at 120 beats per minute and it suddenly accelerated when I peeped out of the Dressing Room’s half closed doors. There were about 20 men, dressed up in the usual white shirt and white dhothi of the Politicians. Some of them were carrying water bottles and asking the injured lady whether she wanted a sip of water or not. Why don’t they ask me, I thought as my mouth was drying up at a faster rate at that time. Will I be able to repair the wound after controlling the blood loss? Why is she bleeding abnormally? How would the politicians react if I refer her without giving a proper first aid? These questions were making a thick cloud around my mind preventing me from thinking properly. This day was going to be an unforgettable one as I had to repair the wound of the locally respected celebrity, the Panchayath President.