An Ode to the Setting Sun

Yellow ball of fire! Don’t go yet, Tarry, stall a bit more
For your egress ends this chapter in the book of life
Grant me more time with you and with today
I see the flock of birds fly back to their nests
The boats returning from a hard days’ work at the sea
I see you, and I can see you don’t want to go away too,
For you linger, just above the horizon, orange and pure
As you slowly descend to sink into the blue tranquility
You set, to banish all the light you bought in your wake
Purging all the mistakes that have been and was today
The hate, the anger, the disappointment, the misery
To leave behind the sweet after taste of satisfaction

But I hope, you’d be back soon, to bring back the
Lost light of the day that was for the day that will be
It seems like you give me a fresh sheet everyday
To write on, to draw on, and to make my own life
In colour, or in grey, however I wish to portray it
For tomorrow is but another day, a clean sheet and
I will see you again, as a young bashful wave of crimson
Far far in the east, moving up, as you age into
The brilliant golden fireball of the midnoon
That surpasses everything with its resplendent form
Your rays reach out to embrace us with heavenly
Love and warmth that is beyond description

And then like all life comes to an end, so does yours
As a distinguished visitor to our planet
As you begin your descent into the infinite lacuna of space
Like a man enveloping his old age tentatively
Slowly losing your strength, but still retaining the
Same amount of respect and command as before
Smiling a varied hue of orange, red and purple
Still lighting up the sky in your fading glory
As you sink deeper and deeper to usher in the darkness
I begin my long dark vigil through the night
For I cannot wait for tomorrow, to see you again
Far far in the distant east, I shall wait for you

The loose morals obsession

People are obsessed about character. Its one thing that everyone, irrespective of age, gender or size love to talk about. Everyone wants to give their opinion. Valuable or not. Talk about unity. It’s the only binding emotion in the world. Forget all that you have learnt about love and happiness being the universal language. Its gossip I tell you. And if you’ve heard that women gossip more than men, I’m sorry to say you’ve been misguided. It’s a rumour. Men gossip even more. Shamelessly, ruthlessly, and quite happily, in fact. I’ve heard it and seen it. Anyway back to character assassination, its ubiquitous. It’s a commonplace trait, which goes hand in hand with breathing. Some people even have dreams about mindless senseless gossip. You see a girl smile a wee bit too widely, she has loose morals, I say! Its funny, though how men and women are so blatantly judged by their sleeping patterns. And you don’t even have to be sleeping with someone either randomly or regularly to have people talking about it. It might have just been a single dinner, or a walk, or just about anything. And don’t even get me started on women who drink. Oh my, what is she thinking? Women who drink automatically fall one step closer to women with loose morals. Whether they are any better is still debated widely and is a matter of public concern, somehow. The way they make it sound, one feels that the moment you touch alcohol, its akin to losing your virginity, and if it becomes a habit, then you’re a slut. She’s corrupted, they like to say. Every other infallible nature that she has fades into oblivion. Forget that she maybe a skilled surgeon, or a brilliant lawyer, or an excellent teacher, she is still the slut and the whore she is. What sort of a world do we live in? Its beyond contempt. Archaic , misguided, misanthropic logic.
Someone told me once that he believed that a person with loose morals would be born as a tree in the next life. I was confused. First of all, whats wrong in being a tree? I thought it was wonderful. A tall evergreen shade loking up into the sun and the sky. Ablove everyone and everything else. Secondly do you mean to degrade all the current trees living in the world? Those lovely green creatures that give us food, flower, fruits, wood, shade and many other things. Where would we be without their scenic and asthetic presence in this otherwise dull drab and judgemental world? Atleast coconut trees don’t judge palm trees and vice versa. And lastly, imagine the ego, the colossal hubris that this person would have had while saying such a thing. What is he proud of? What are his accomplishments? Does it compare anywhere with the tree’s? Believing that our life is guided by the actions of a previous one, over which we have no control, how is that any better than wanting to enjoy the current life with as much energy, joy, and abandonment as possible? If that’s the way she wants to live her life, who are you to judge? Loose morals, my ass. Right or wrong, its all relative anyway. There’s nothing absolute about it. Even a murderer gets his defence lawyer. There is only one life that we get to live, only one that we can remember about, why spend that life walking tiptoe on a tight rope, paranoid that our actions now will reflect on later lives? We wouldn’t know, would we? Atleast there is some comfort in not knowing. We need to grow up, start thinking outside what happens inside someone else’s pants and start looking at what other things they may be good at. Its not always all about sex, you know. Or alcohol, for that matter.

On the other side of the OR

There are two ways of thinking of this now. One that a surgeon needs to be extremely multi talented. Another is the point of this blog.
I am posted in surgery right now. And today was OT day. Well the day started as usual, with me ‘reporting’ for work at exactly 8 30 am. In the surgery wards. Where my post graduates were missing as usual. Rounds were a blitzkrieg. And then I decided to show my face in the OT. Its funny. You have to get dressed to operate. So the multi talents of the surgeon start right here. There’s a huge protocol for washing hands. Its called scrubbing in and that’s the best part.They wash hands for 10 minutes. Lol. Wiping every miniscule germ and virus and whatever it is they think is being wiped away. Its actually the best profession if you have the traits of obsession and compulsion. I agree, though, there is a sense of extreme elation and satisfaction that one gets seeing all the microscopic inhabitants of your hand being kicked out. Sigh. If I ever become a surgeon, you know why. Well anyway, they were doing a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. So I settled myself in the corner and finished off the previous blog. Then they realized they needed someone to hold the limb up. So my expertise was requested for. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. So I scrubbed in. I had to hold the limb up for almost 45 min, while they painted it with iodine, and et al. Then they split the skin. It looks like the skin of potatoes. And they tried fitting it into the ulcer. Basically playing jigsaw with potato peels. That’s split skin grafting. That’s what they like to call it. Man, it took 2 hours. All this while I was still holding the hand up so they could jigsaw. And then they stitched the potato peels to the skins. So far, they have played the following roles- washerman, gym training, playing jigsaw, peeling potatoes, and a little bit of tailoring. Then it was time to pack. Rolls and rolls of gauze and cotton. I would love to see a surgeon’s suitcase packed. It must be brilliant. And then they plastered it. So a little bit of masonry as well. Its like watching a kamal Hassan movie. Dasavatharam. And so I stood there, holding up the arm, watching in pure awe, and amazement the multiple roles the surgeon had to keep switching between. Lol. And the best part is that they get ‘dressed’ up for it  Oh well after I exercised my biceps and triceps, there was another procedure. Where I had to hold nothing. Surprise surprise. Role changed. I had to mop. That means clean the blood away from the field. Glorified maid work. Lol. Oh well, all in a day’s work. Or so I thought. Just as I was leaving the hospital, I got a call. Come to OR 10. Emergency. I ran. I thought there would be some exploratory laparatomy blah blah. Guess what. I was called to hold the toe. They were amputating it. Damn. And there ended of my beautiful and totally eventful day of holding arms, feet and toes. Oh I almost forgot. At the end of the day, you smell like dettol, spirit and glove powder. And the glove powder will refuse to go off your hands.

PS: I have nothing against surgeons. Just making a few funny observations. All in jest. 

Looking through the scope of horror

And there comes the day that every girl dreads. The horror of the horror-scopes. It is so commonplace and banal and absolutely unimaginative, that I feel like throwing up. Every guy wants the same thing. A fair bride. What does that mean? Think they watch too many advertisements. Either that or they are endorsing fair and lovely. Whatever. It’s a turn off. The next adjective that they use is ‘homely’. What in the freaking world does that mean? Should she look like a home? Or does it mean she should sit at home all day, so that there is no difference between her and the wall after a few years? Oh my. Imagine the life. And of course, she should respect elders. Whatever that means. How can anyone use such a language at this day and age? I mean even if they said she should know to cook well, that would make some sense. As one of my friends rightly pointed out, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But why respect elders for that? Or why be homely for that? I’m not saying no girl should respect elders. But the fact that they mention it, and emphasize so much on it is funny. Like hilarious. Actually I don’t think I quite get the idea of an arranged marriage. Well adjusted. Wtf? They should issue dictionaries and define all these words. For I don’t think I can ever understand the meaning of that. Maybe it’s a literal translation of some tamil or hindi word. Whatever. Well adjusted my ass. A fair, well adjusted, homely, respecting elders bride. And the worst part is, those guys aren’t fair or well adjusted, or homely for that matter. They would be fat, obese, balding, and dark. I have nothing against bald fat men. Its just to point out the stark reality. And the size of a man’s ego. Anyway, I seem to have forgotten another important point. Non alcoholic and non smoker. Oh come on! That guy would be sloshed every Saturday, he would be partying till freaking 5 am in the morning, smoking weed and all such shit. But he would still call himself a non alcoholic and non smoker. I know a guy like that. Oh man, what do they think? Girls aren’t that naïve these days, you know. In what world, I ask, in what world does he consider himself a non alcoholic? For some weird reason, the bride to be with all the above mentioned attributes is the stereotypical bride that everyone wants. And that again makes me want to puke. Its actually fun reading matrimonial ads. We used to read them out loud on Sundays and roll in laughter at the sheer audacity that goes into voicing out ‘their’ needs. Its purely cheese and corn. Smart and intelligent. Then what do all the un-fair and un homely girls do in life? Who, who I say will marry them? Lol. Anyway, like it is said, Draupadi wanted a guy who was honest, strong, skilled, wise, and handsome. And god said its not possible to have all that qualities in a single man. That’s why she had five husbands. If we go by the same logic, wouldn’t all the guys in the world be on cloud nine?

Back to School- Down the memory lane- contd.

I was in the OT today. Didn’t have anything to do. Other than holding hands, I mean. So I realized that I had missed out a lot of things. So here we go with the continuation.
26. Apology letters. Was a funny concept. Don’t know what they were trying to get at. I think Subbi wrote an apology letter for not writing an apology letter!

27. Yeah as KV said, we had labs for everything. Math lab? English lab? We listened to someone talking in an American accent. Lol. Might have as well made us watch friends :P he he. Funny, but we didn’t have Sanskrit lab. It would have been hilarious.

28. Mohan sir ranting about Vedas, stopping for a few moments only to tell Dj and Subhashini to meet him after class. Lol.

29. Our English classes were absolute fun. Every year, we had a funny English teacher. 6th standard, it was ‘shree’ and then fill in the blanks Chitra Pandey. And Vikram Seth’s crocodile and the monkey poem. She read out one elephant poem with so much emo. Was hilarious. Then 7th std was Sybil. Can anyone forget her? She cut subbi’s hair in class one day. or was it vekram? Lol. She used to measure the hair length. She was always threatening us about internals. Like we care. But the funny thing is we did. We cared hard. And then it was 8th std with miss AVC and her lady bird. She spent a whole class defining the difference between a tragedy and a misfortune. And then there was Geeta Rajendran. Ogden Nash and the anorexic poem. Mazaaaaaaa was next. Lol… English classes were the best at PSBB. It wouldn’t be complete without mention Mrs Rani Chandran. Hats off to her. Shakespeare never sounded better. Merchant of Venice is still etched in my mind.

30. Another funny concept was volunteering. Much like what I am still doing, sadly. Running around for odds and ends. But it was fun then. Now it sucks. Maybe I’ve become old. Grey haired and toothless. Sigh.

31. Fancy dress competetions. I for one, wouldn’t mind doing that again. I remember A Rohit dressed up as the ariel patti. And I was some sort of a chef, I think, with a mousche and all, and an egg in my hand. Lol.

32. How could I have forgotten the TM classes? Lol! Lol! They told us the ‘mantra’ in secret . whispered it in our ears. And then we transcended. Up into heaven. Lol. They could have just distributed free weed if it was the detached loose feeling they wanted us to experience. Lol. Psbb would have been way more popular then :P

33. One of our hindi teachers was very unhappy with the way we used to rock the chairs. She said she would tie us up if we continued the habit. We were instructed to bring a rope and keep it in the class cupboard. Some freaking person actually got the freaking rope. I know. Because I was the one tied up the next day.

34. Salwars and canvas shoes. What a fashion statement. Correction- pink salwars and white canvas shoes. We were THE thing back then.

35. And then they decided to take the whole fashion thing to a new level. Changed it to the ones that resemble the onyx uniforms. Flouroscent and grey. Only they don’t glow. But thankfully I had moved on by then.

36. There was a time when we were referred to as ‘patani sundal bajji bonda suda suda sambhar’. Aka psbbsss.

37. And yes, like kv said, we always went to snake park. If not snake park, then the plan-ate-arium opposite it.

38. There was a weird rule that we couldn’t talk in tamil. Or rather I thought it was a rule. I and a few others followed it as if our lives depended on it. And the rest tried their level best to make us break it.

39. Our vice principal used to swallow the mike and spit it out everyday. I promise. Ask anyone. They will all concur.

40. Oh another one… if you knew a few bad words, you were ‘corrupted’. Lol.

41. We had to do a Radio show once. I remember meeting up in Vekram's place on a sunday and recording it. There was an interview with Dunston. I was the interviewer. And vekram was dunston. I had no idea what the script was. As I started asking questions, all Vekram said was Brr brr brrr. I laughed so hard for so long, that they had to threaten giving the part to someone else before I controlled myself. You can still hear the quiver in my voice though. That was mindblowing awesome. It came out so well.

42. There was this thing about writing the thought for the day on the board. And I was assigned the task of writing it. So each person in roll call order had to tell me each day what to write. I am short, and I cant reach the top of the board. When it was subbi's turn, he gave me the longest thought ever.On purpose. :(

43. Our school was all about flowers. Like some others are about rivers and world leaders. We were divided into red rose, bluebells, sunflower and lotus. Could have been a bit more innovative :P

44.And there was this other time when we used to go singing in the streets in december. Margazhi month.

45.Fights between boys and girls used to be hilarious. Freaking out of the world. Apart from just saying 'shut up ok' or jumpokotax or snubbed, the fighter and the fightee would have an extremely encouraging audience.

46. Although this has nothing to do with Psbb, would like to add this- After the tenth board exams, I went to school to meet all the teachers, and malathi sampathkumar maam looked at me, and asked - yenna ma un kannam ellam veengi poyiduthu? What the F****? Lol... :P

47. Computer science classes. Another huge big ass mess.They tried teaching us everything. All that I used to do was dab on paint brush :)

48. Post diwali used to be 'colour dress' day. Which basically meant we could come in our diwali clothes. That would be one sunny day :)

49. There were so many many sections in psbb. From A till M, and then they added N and another letter. But sadly there was no Q. I would have loved to be from Q.

50. In 2nd standard, I dont know how many will recall this. But we had seniors from 7th standard, coming and sit by us during the lunch break, to make sure we eat properly. They taught us how to use the napkin, the spoon, and how not to leave anything behind. I thought that was simply adorable.

Ah I miss psbb!! :( I want to go back to school!!!!!

Down the memory lane- Back to school

The best days of my life were spent in the classrooms and grounds of PSBB, KK Nagar. I would give anything to go back to that simple, uncomplicated and heavenly life. Still, looking back, there were times when I wouldn’t want to go to school, for silly reasons. I was always in a hurry to grow up. Looking back on some of the funny things that made our lives more interesting, funny and memorable.
This post is dedicated to all of us who went to school, and in particular to all psbbians, for they can relate to my post better! Cheers !!

1. Having to walk around with the constant fear that someone might say ‘kaa’ to you for some weird f?!@!&*ng reason and then you’d have to sit quietly waiting for the person to say ‘pazham’ again. Am so glad adults don’t behave that way.
2. Get excited about having similar, wait almost the same swim suit as your buddy, and everyone asking if you were sisters.
3. Getting teased with EVERY guy in the class. Wait, I think it was EVERY guy.
4. ‘Minding’ the class, and writing down the names of those kids who talked. What crap. And having to report it to the teacher.
5. Mindless gossip, that for some freaking weird reason always got to the teachers, and then having to hear them advise us on it.
6. Silly, mindless, useless and absolutely worthless project work.
7. Anniversary- that heartless bitch that used to visit us every year. They used to make us join the ‘celebrations’ by force. Threatening that we wont get internals. They made me say ‘govinda govinda’ one year. I was a crocodile one year, and a deer the other. The horror. The absolute horror.
8. Post anniversary- writing a freaking test on it! Come on! How absolutely ridiculous was that!
9. When there were people around you who used o get 99% in every other subject in every other exam, and still complain about how they didn’t do well. :P
10. Cycle tests. I never understood why it was called so. It wasn’t like we were sitting on cycles and writing them. Nor was it cyclical. It was at regular intervals. It didn’t make a circle, did it?
11. Oh they used to give us circulars, and ask parents to sign it. Nothing great. Asking for 5 rs for some thing. So we had to get 5 rs and get the freakin paper signed. And the class leader would collect it.
12. Assemblies. I think the entire veda was recited. No kidding. Prayers went on for 1 hour.
13. Guys wouldn’t talk to us. Funny right. Standing in a line, its pretty obvious that some guy has to stand behind some girl or vice versa. The girl wouldn’t usually have a problem, but the guys would leave a metre gap before standing behind the girl, any girl.
14. They suddenly got an idea akin to cycle tests- was called slip tests. We wrote on slips of paper. That’s it. Very unimaginative, wouldn’t you say?
15. Raksha bandhan days. The horror. If you were teased with a guy, and you didn’t like him, you were expected to tie it. Sadly that concept continues. A girl and boy cannot be friends. They have to be girl friend boy friend or they have to be brother sister. Never got the logic.
16. There was a time when saying ‘ok snubbed’ was a rage. I didn’t have any other vocabulary then.
17. He he. There was even something called line leaders. Lol. They had leaders for everything.
18. Sanskrit classes- I am so glad I don’t have to wish Fridays don’t exist. We had to ‘converse’ in Sanskrit those days. Partha sir, mohan sir! Hats off! They always made our classes hilarious, for different reasons of course!
19. Waiting for the school bus at freaking 7 30 am in the morning. And carrying millions of bags. The book bag, the lunch bag, then some plastic cover for the exam pad, the swimming suit. Felt like some porter.
20. They made everyone dance. Even completely ungraceful and butter fingery clumsy people like me. That too, that dance with the pot on the head. Forget what its called. They made us bring pots with mud in it. And my parents used to think it was a big deal. There was this time I had left it at home on purpose, but my dad chased the school bus all the way down till duraisamy subway to give it to me. Never felt so embarrassed in my life. Ever.
21. They had competitions for everything. It doesn’t feel too great to go over some of the books that say- ‘awarded to Miss Indu R for being first in yoga’. Lol. No one would believe it now. And look at me now. No, don’t hope even for a second that I will use this as a platform to tell you how much I weigh. No way in freaking hell.
22. But the best part was the vetti days, 3 days for anniversary, 3 days for project, science day, sports day, this day, that day. lol everything was a big deal. That’s why as I have already mentioned earlier, we wrote post tests on everything. He he.
23. Western music classes were fun though, sitting under the trees in the field and singing ‘kookoburrah sits on a old gum tree’ :P Samuel sir, if I remember right. Lovely days.
24. Oh I almost forgot the best part. Sharing a bench with the ‘partner’. Inevitably it used to be a person of the opposite sex. And he would draw a line exactly at the centre and say this half is mine and the other half yours. So my pencil cannot touch that side. If it does, there would be a blown up argument, with whatever word was in fashion then.
25. Losing pens , pencils and erasers everyday. Getting the protractor scratched.  it used to bother me to no end. My friends would be amused seeing me despair over a lost eraser.

An Entropic Rant

We, as ordinary people haven’t seen an atom decay. We may not have even seen a building collapse. You and I were born in the 1980’s.We haven’t seen much of anarchy as well. We might have been used to the topsy turvy mess of a place that most of us live in. the kind of place where we would look for the tooth brush under the bed, or a book under the pillow, or fresh clothes in the laundry basket. The death of a relationship. The pandemonium that follows when you wake up late for the exam. Curly unruly hair that has taken an oath to disobey you. When you suddenly realize you have started talking to yourself. Yes, I am going through that phase now. If you see me talking to myself, turn the other way and pretend I am on the invisible phone. When you know not, where you are supposed to be, and what you have to do. When everything is directionless, aimless, and with no goal in sight. That’s sadly how most of us live our days.

Chaos is the end result of many emotions. Sadness, the death of a relationship when every cell in your body feels the pain of separation. It could be ecstacy, the kind you see on the last day of an exam, when students usually burn history text books. Or the other ecstacy, the smoking weed kind. It could be because of confusion, searching for a tissue in the garbage can, because that’s where you think you stored his number. The guy from the previous night. Or not knowing how you landed up in someone else’s bed. Fear. Fear of unreal things, fear of chaos itself. Fear of feeling chaos. Fear of experiencing moments of decay, and disorder. Letting something else other than rules rule you. Hatred. when even the perfect bouquet of roses that he sent irritates you so much that you hate everything that has any form or order to it. Love. Love can be chaotic. Love is meaningless. But chaos has meaning. Chaos is the order of the universe. Everything decays, everything deteriorates. Everyone dies. Nothing lasts forever. People who say that are lying. Hope- the anti thesis of chaos. We hope for everything to make sense. To have a meaning. If I wanted, I could think of why I am writing this. But sometimes there is no meaning. Maybe what I’m writing has no content. Longing. Longing to see a dead loved one again. Can never happen, but still the feeling persists. Why? Why would you want to do something that you know is not possible? I’ve always wanted to go to the centre of the earth. Even the tiniest atom in me wont survive the journey to the centre of the earth. Its irrational, and obviously not the order of the universe, otherwise all of us would be making night trips there. Anger. Do any of us actually need a reason to be angry? I can be angry because the sun happens to set in the west everyday. I can be angry for letting darkness set in for half the day.

Each emotion usually leads to an action. Unless you are a sanyasi. In which case you wouldn’t be reading my blog. In which case you wouldn’t know me. Emotion and action. They don’t have to be related. An anger outburst could just be the opening of the lacrimal tap. Ecstacy could be a dance- a tribal type one, or a ballet. Who cares. No one does. Another rule of life. No one cares. Believe me. No one does. No one cares what dress you’re wearing.They just want to know if you are making them feel ill dressed or gorgeous. No one cares if you didn’t sleep last night or eat. No one cares if you’re not interested. Liars usually unknowingly sometimes tell the truth. I believe them more than truthers. People who die to know the truth, will accept any form of it. They don’t care. It should just be meaningful. And any sentence can be full of meaning. Just need a few prepositions, a noun and a verb. See I just wrote a whole blog. And if you are a soul searching fanatic like me this would make a lot of meaning.

ATMs,pins and me

Oh man after that perfectly cheesy poem I think I should lighten the mood, and my head. What was I thinking?
There is no algorithm for life, is there? You plan one, and another happens. Those who believe in god would say- man proposes and god disposes. Its chaos and entropy all over. The domino effect- everything falls when one does. Life is anarchy. Life is chaos. Chaos is life. Chaos as the order of the universe.
Yes, I am slightly absent minded. Scatter brained, and a bit of miss butter fingers as well. Makes for a lot of entertainment, I suppose. But everyone has their flaws, don’t they? And in this universe of entropy, a single atom such as me adding more chaos wont make too much of a difference to the laws of energy, I hope. Of course, most of it is circumstantial, or so I would like to believe. It always happens to me. There was this time, when I forgot my atm password. Not my fault, really. To my defence, 9th semester sessionals were on, and I had also sprained my talo fibulars. Loser ligaments. They always tear. Never trust them. Don’t make any plans with them. Hopeless weak ligaments. Anyway, someone else had used my pin, so I had to change it, or so I was told. So I did. Again bad idea. Never disrespect your own mind. And I do remember withdrawing money after that once. Then a flood of exams drowned me, so it was almost a week after that I had the need and desire to spend some money. And so there I went, confidently to the atm. And guess what? Incorrect password. Now I remember it had 4 digits that were placed together on the board. And so I tried all possible combinations. But I got locked out. Damn. So I scratched my head, and came up with the same password I had typed in the first time. Obviously it had no effect. Then I decided to go to the bank. Told the guy there. He said sorry maam you will have to remember it. Dude. I just said I forgot. No maam he said, you will have to remember. Somehow. Sorry. What the #$$%? Where in the world is this guy from? I was so amused with his logic, I forgot to be angry. I laughed and walked away. Anyway when I went back after a week, after trying to remember the stupid pin, despite medicine surgery and obg, and of course orthopaedics, they said it would take a month for them to issue a new one. Okay! He could have saved me a week! Anyway, I thought in the meantime I’d use my other account. So I strode in to the ICICI atm, but I had no hopes. I knew I wouldn’t have it. Hoped against hope. No way I’d remember. But I tried. I promise. But I guess you know what the verdict was. Incorrect pin. Damn. That was quick. Two pin mishaps in less than two weeks. I must be a pro. I am. I know. Anyway, that reminds me, has anyone ever felt that even though the sbi atms have a touch screen, you have to literally bang the screen ? they should rename it. Bang screen. The latest bang technology. Awesome. And there ended my adventure. Now my mother knows my pin. To be on the safer side. And no one need to look in my phone. Am not that moronic to save it in there. Although I said that, we know I am perfectly capable of an absurd act such as that. Its my topsy turvy world. Mind, I mean. And no, you’re not going to be my pin’s keeper. Lol.

A letter to Happiness

Its you, its you I dream of all day
For it has been too long, too long
Since you blessed me with your presence
My memories of you are receeding
Like the faint shadow of the sun
Tarrying its descent into the sea
Or the lingering smell of the scorched earth
That has been kissed by the virgin monsoon

I bask in the glory of that which was
That which should’nt have been
That which swept me off my feet
And carried me far far away
Where I knew nothing but you
Take me again, take me back there
For its you, and only you
Who knows the way back to Elysium

The way back to our moment
The way back to my past and future
The way back to the same place
That I long to revisit
Where there is a rainbow in the sky
Where the birds are forever singing
Where the sun will never go down
Where we will never lose each other

Where the only tears we would see
Are the drops of dew glistening
In the first rays of the morning sun
Or the river weeping quietly as she
Leaves her home to join the sea
Where the lions know not ferocity
Where the peacocks know not pride
Where I know nothing but you

Where you are my only truth
Where its just you and me
For now and for ever
Come. Come, take me away
To that distant place
Where no one else can find us
Ah, to be lost in your caress forever
Make my dream come true.

A day as a Medicine Intern

A day typically begins by rushing to the hospital sans breakfast, sans tea/coffee, ie on an empty stomach. There usually is no time for ‘getting ready’. One just grabs the steth, the knee hammer, the inch tape, and the file. The file to be noted here, is the most important part of an intern’s life. There maybe some modifications to the file. Some people prefer a book that serves the same purpose. But really it doesn’t matter. For it is the contents of the file or any modified version of the same that is the most important. It should ideally contain no less than 30 biochemistry requisition forms, 30 hematology forms. That is the basic necessity. The other contents depend on the type of intern that you are. If you are the enthusiastic, hard working breed, then you would burden yourself with 30 of all forms, of all possible colours available, and be ready to jump when your professor asks for the same. Now, there is another variety, the I’m least bothered kind. They usually walk in cooly and calmly and fetch the forms whenever they have been asked from the sister’s station. Both fulfill their duties, but for some reason, the perky ones who carry everything are generally preferred by the post graduates. Anyway, carrying a knee hammer and inch tape is also optional, usually no one cares. But sometimes it makes me feel like I have an alternative vocation, so I generally carry them. You know, can always become a tailor or a carpenter, I guess. And so, well prepared or not, one reaches the hospital. On the way, one would usually receive calls from the post graduates asking where in the world you are. And then further instructions would ensue, usually to record the blood pressure of one patient on the 3rd floor, and another on the ground floor of another block. And so you go to begin the day. In the meantime, there is another job to be done. Collecting reports. Half the time the server would be down. The other half, the computer will be occupied by another fellow species. With a lot of dark looks, and angry stares, you finally manage to get rid of the other intern so you can do your work. And the long tedious process of collecting reports start. You think you’ve got them all, but you will be disappointed later. And then the rounds start. That is usually the time you find out that your co-intern has not showed up for work that day. And that is how you go back to collecting reports again. Its basically akin to a dog. Throw something, and say fetch, the dog will fetch. It’s the fetch game. Anyway back to rounds, its really something. You have to be in it to believe it. The casualty usually resembles a railway station or a fish market, if you may in the morning. It’s the starting point for all units and hence its pure, unadulterated chaos. And after that is basically running around in the unit train, stopping where it stops, and playing fetch with the occupants. Of course, you will have to remember, you also have to double in the role of a typist as and when required. Its non optional. By this time however, your stomach is rolling and growling in pure agony, your legs ache, there is complete mind body disassociation. And yet you lug along, wondering why you even took up medicine. You feel like you are swimming in a sea of urea, creatinine and haemoglobin. Yuck. Anyway, depending on a multitude of variables, you do get to go for lunch. The funny thing is on most days, by the time morning rounds are over, its time for evening rounds. And then its handwriting practice time! Go around the entire hospital one more time to write orders! Combines physical exercise as well. C’s usually resemble e’s and t’s resemble I’s, and even though you know for sure, you’re writing exactly the opposite, you still go on writing. And just when you think you are done for the day, contemplating some alcohol to steady the nerves, you get another call. You are required to accompany a patient to the CT/MRI room. If you are wondering what exactly your role there is, my advise is not to get too excited, because all you will be asked to do probably is make the patient drink 3 l of water. I swear this happened once. Another painful and highly exasperating task is taking the sick patient to the dialysis room. You can be called at any time of the day. And again the funny thing is you have acquired no skills to manage the patient if anything happens. And you keep praying for the next 3 hours-‘please don’t die, please don’t die’. And that is how you manage to get the patient out alive. And you’re self.
PS: any relation to any person living or dead is purely intentional. But it has all been mentioned in jest, so no hard feelings anyone!