Wednesday afternoon was unlike any other for 12-year-old Vansh, who spent it in the MCD park next to Sir Ganga Ram hospital in New Delhi. As he played with his favourite red Ferrari toy car, resting his head on his grandfather's lap, he realised his throat was dry and his stomach was rumbling.

But the constant hammering he felt in his head stopped him from speaking up. His usually calm grandfather seemed angry - he was grumbling about the government's recent order to ban 500 and 1,000 denomination notes.

"I have spent more than Rs 70,000 in the past four days to get my grandson treated. Today we are stuck. He has a clot in his brain and we don't have money in the bank. The hospital is not taking cash. What do we do?" he lamented.

They both hadn't eaten anything all day. The person at the canteen stall won't accept cards as also the recently banned notes.

The central government's order, even though it exempts government hospitals from accepting old notes, has left private ones in a lurch. It has resulted in a chaotic situation, impacting the rich and poor alike.

Similar scenes are unfolding at chemist shops - there's a lot of confusion and long queues . At one particular chemist that I visited, onlookers were busy trying to comprehend things as pandemonium broke loose, while a young lady haggled with the shopkeeper.

She told me she had only denotified currency and not enough money in her account. When the shopkeeper finally yielded, she yelled: "The government gives orders and we have to face the brunt...", pleading "please just give me medicines for three days".

Back at the MCD Park, Kishen, a small-time farmer from Pilibhit in Uttar Pradesh, flashes a bundle of 1,000 rupee notes in the air. He wants to know whether they are worth anything if they cannot get his daughter proper treatment.

She is suffering from cancer and is critical. He left home last night in the hope that his daughter would be treated but is struggling to get her admitted. He rues the fact that all the cash he arranged after selling off family jewellery and valuables is in the denomination of 500 and 1,000 notes.

I am forced to rethink the government's decision. (Photo credit: India Today)

"What are we suppose to do with these notes? Today they are just worth trash. My only daughter is battling life and death and we have to face this?" he asks, trying to control his tears.

While I was talking to Kishen, the crowd in the park grows thicker. A woman walks in with her indisposed husband whose face is swollen. He seems to be in immense pain and murmurs something incomprehensible.

Sarita has come from Bihar to get him treated. She tells me she has begged and borrowed from friends and relatives for the treatment but today the money she has is worthless. Both wife and husband are waiting for their son to return - he has gone to exchange the 500-rupee notes they carried from Patna but luck and time seem to be running out.

"We beg the government to allow private hospitals to accept 500 and 1,000 rupee notes. We can't take this anymore. We have waited for hours on end, but neither can we conduct tests nor are we able to purchase medicines," she says.

The crowd is massive and angry. A man bursts into tears. "My wife is on her death bed; the doctor has told me to take her home where she can breathe her last. But I can't. I have no money to complete the discharge formalities. If my wife dies, let the government know I will donate her body to them," says Dhuleram, his face ashen.

How words keep ringing in my ears long after he has spoken. I am forced to rethink the government's decision.

The suffering of patients, anxiousness of relatives and the mayhem at the park remind me that decisions made in the corridors of power cannot be opinionated and applauded in air-conditioned rooms without understanding their impact on the man at the end of the social pyramid.

Also read: Letter to Modi from rural India: Scrapping Rs 500/1,000 notes is a bad idea