Doctor removes appendix instead of hernia
A man in Bengal thought he was getting rid of a hernia when he arranged a hernia operation in a government hospital. Instead, he lost his appendix.
Our man was told that the Swasthya Sathi health scheme would cover the whole thing. But here’s the rub..hernia surgeries aren’t covered. Appendectomies are.
So when the good doctor wheeled him into surgery, the hernia stayed where it was. The appendix, on the other hand, was removed.
The patient was initially told the operation had been a success.
The ailing man was assured that the cost of the surgery would be covered under the Bengal government’s Swasthya Sathi scheme.
Days after the “successful” operation, the pain relapsed. USG confirmed suspicion, the hernia was still in place, but the appendix was gone. And the doctor stopped taking calls….
The patient’s family had alleged that the doctor performed an unwarranted appendix surgery to claim government funds.
"There have been previous complaints against the doctor. If found guilty, strict legal action will be taken," The Times of India quoted North 24 Parganas CMHO Samudra Sengupta as saying.
Tree-lane highway, anyone?
Imagine Mario Kart, but on a government budget. Welcome to Jehanabad, Bihar, where a Rs 100 crore road-widening project turned into India’s newest adventure ride.
Here, the road doesn’t go around the trees. The trees go through the road.
Giant trees now stand proudly right in the middle of the shiny new Patna-Gaya highway.
Apparently, the forest department asked for compensation for 14 hectares of land. The district administration couldn’t cough it up. So, they did what any confused authority would do — they tiptoed around the trees and built the road anyway.
The road has become a real-life obstacle course where every driver turns into a reluctant stunt double — gripping the wheel and dodging trees left, right and center.
Locals have already reported multiple accidents. But officials remain as unmoved as the trees. Who’s responsible if someone dies? That answer, like the logic behind the project, is lost somewhere between a file and a forest clearance.
A Gujarat man’s pothole puja
In Gujarat, a man stood before a pothole and decided it deserved more than just curses. According to him, it deserved reverence. So he offered incense, placed marigolds around its muddy rim. Someone filmed him, probably quietly suppressing laughter.
It was just not a sincere puja. It was theatre. Because how else do you address your concerns about a road that almost resembles a seasonal wetland?
People on X immediately joined in with offerings of their own.
"Not a pothole, bro… it’s our new public swimming pool. Monsoon edition," someone quipped, no doubt imagining floaties and lifeguards.
Another: "Roads so advanced they get more respect than ministers."
And then the killjoy: “Will not be surprised if the police take action against him for hurting religious sentiments.” Because if there’s one thing more predictable than a pothole reappearing after repairs, it’s someone being offended by sarcasm.
A flyover makes headlines, once again
Flyovers are making headlines in India these days. Here’s another one.
Ranchi’s latest four-lane marvel – a sleek, 4.18-km stretch costing Rs 558 crore, complete with state-of-the-art noise barriers that can apparently absorb up to 95% of traffic noise – turned out to be more of a hassle than a solution for commuters.
On Thursday, Union minister Nitin Gadkari went to the city to inaugurate the Ratu Road flyover. Dignitaries beamed. Garlands were exchanged. Speeches were made.
But as the politicians grabbed the limelight by standing proudly on top of the flyover, the public on the road below sweated it out in their cars, suffering in sheer irritation.
One video posted by a local Instagrammer captured the moment perfectly: “The public is eager to board the Ratu Road flyover,” the narrator says, “but everyone is waiting for Nitin Gadkari to leave.”
The flyover was meant to ease congestion in a city where rush hour begins around breakfast and ends in the dead of the night. Instead, on Day One, it delivered a masterclass in symbolism.