With me,there are no rules to flout...
You bet,i am aware of my clout.
I am there,right from,the moment you sprout,
Pity,isn't it,you don't sense the rout!
I lurk round the corner,
While you play and prance;
I watch you,firmer and sterner,
Till i show you; my merry dance..........
Hey,folks,would you care to listen?
Oops,would you,oh,okay,do you,care,to listen?
I heard this,in careless whispers,
You do not care,
Be it me;or the life you share..
When you were born, I was cursed...
I became the black shadow... instead of the twin ...
We were meant to live two lives..
One from Birth to Death and the other from Death to Birth...
We were to play this game n meet half way on a bridge,
But look what happened to me ...
I walk behind you and can show up only sometimes...
I got trapped in your world space, while I belong to a soul space,
There will be a time when I will set myself free,
Do the merry dance with my 'Soul' mate,
Leave no trace of you,
as I dance away into the light...!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
The sand dune-and the story of Sukhi,Maali and the two dogs......
First the sand dune.
Pristine white mound,carelessly erected by the roadside.I guess it was some time late last night,that the truck came over and spilled out the sand,as it always does.Only this time,the mound assumed a larger proportion and resembled a hillock.
In the early hours of the morning, today,the kids in the neighbourhood woke up,to find a brand new landmark erected,right next to their bed.I was there,i am usually there,while they go through their morning chores-by the roadside.They feel quite safe now,as the authorities,have constructed a curb,a prelude, to a hitherto illusionary ,footpath.It is so therapeutic,in the wee hours of the morning,to witness,a carefree,unrestrained exhibition of-routine life.
With a chronic but regular,though brief interaction, everyday, Maali and Sukhi offer a polite smile,even when they are in the midst of varying stages of defecation or ablution process.The smiles etch stronger and wider lines,if the results of their efforts have been more profitable.So much for the pleasure of evacuation!Today,either they were up,early or i was late.They were through with their chores,or so i deduced,and were merrily perched right at the summit of the dune.Sensory perceptions are best felt on naked skin.This doctrine was already known to these little girls,thanks to their meager resources.The forced austerity provided a terrific opportunity for a direct bodily contact with the cool sand.Sukhi is just about two and hence has not been introduced to the concept of clothes,while Maali,all of three,manages to don oversized shirts,obviating the need for anything underneath.The girls were ecstatic when they noticed me.They cried in unison and invited me to their new play station.They were at the summit and were armed with their toys.Sukhi,a proud possessor of a one and a half litre plastic bottle,frayed at its rim and Maali had a blue, half litre bottle.Both the bottles had residues of -a soft drink and hair oil-respectively,sticking to them.The chronicity of our relationship ensured that both of them ran down the slope,took my hands and invited (dragged) me to their domain.Without a care in the world,Sukhi emptied the content on my shoes and giggled.Maali,with the disadvantage of age,forcing controlled behaviour,offered an apologetic smile.The next few moments were spent in emptying the bottles and refilling them.Such unadulterated joy!The bliss was harshly interrupted.The intruders moved in without any fanfare. They exhibited the cool air of habitual extortionists,who claim rights to any property,while displacing the rightful owners.
These two dogs,pie dogs,share a common habitat with the girls.The girls did not even bother to glance at them,till they started climbing the mound.It made for a compelling viewing,the girls and/versus,the canines.
The dogs had a valid reason to demand their pound of flesh.While the girls were asleep and hence unaware,the dogs,forever awake at night,were the first to scale the peak.The dogs had worked hard at night to make burrows,on the slopes.The coolness of the night air,coupled with the moisture in the sand,had ensured a cool abode.In the canine parlance,the pie dogs had carved out a space akin to their skin colour,in the white sand, a colour,reserved for their brethrens,of higher pedigree.The deep beige of the scooped out area offered a contrast against the white sand,which immediately alerted the girls of,the forced occupation..They quickly slid down and occupied the space,only to find them atop one of the dogs.
This relationship,between a dog and a child is astonishing .The freedom of action and the leeway a dog offers to a child,is really amazing.Dogs offer huge discounts to the kids,even when it comes to being mishandled and suffer a bodily harm.I guess it has more to do with the mutual understanding,arrived at even before the first exposure.It must be the gentleness of the touch,the special canine perception,that,no harm is intended.It must be a feeling of interacting with equals,peers,friends,buddies-yes,playmates.
Sukhi landed right on top of one ,which had occupied the burrow.Not a whimper!Sukhi called for help.Maali had already anticipated the trouble.She descended with two bottlefull of sand and emptied them,right on the face of the unsuspecting dog.It yielded precious little in terms of ground space.The dog shook his head violently from side to side and got rid of the nuisance.Sukhi had already prepared herself of the next plan of action.She caught hold of the dog's tail and dragged him out of the hole.Almost.The dog was now in a playful mode.He yielded a little, to offer a bait and then retreated again.The other dog now rushed with a feigned frenzy,charged to the scene of action and stopped just short of the girls.So much for the rush of adrenaline!The feigned frenzy did not even evoke,a look in,by the girls.They summarily ignored the comrade-in-arm and both of them successfully-extricated-and not so much as, pulled the tolerant and forgiving,friend cum foe out of his place.
What transpired next,was such a joy to watch!Even after being ?manhandled and displaced,both the dogs sat snugly fitting into the left over space of the burrow.The girls had triumphed.They also knew that it was not so much of their prowess but the allowance offered by their,generous mates.
Probably.as a mark of gratitude,Sukhi summoned me close to where she was lying,in her cool cocoon.In her broken,almost incomprehensible stutter,she thundered,pointing to the two,presently unwanted,co-habitants,:"aane tamaare ghare lai jao,jaav."(take these two guys to your place).
Sukhi conveyed so much with that one sentence.The dogs were a nuisance,at present,but she wanted them to go and stay some place else,albeit,a good one and needed the place,all to herself!
Such a gorgeous beginning to the day!Boy,am i lucky!
Pristine white mound,carelessly erected by the roadside.I guess it was some time late last night,that the truck came over and spilled out the sand,as it always does.Only this time,the mound assumed a larger proportion and resembled a hillock.
In the early hours of the morning, today,the kids in the neighbourhood woke up,to find a brand new landmark erected,right next to their bed.I was there,i am usually there,while they go through their morning chores-by the roadside.They feel quite safe now,as the authorities,have constructed a curb,a prelude, to a hitherto illusionary ,footpath.It is so therapeutic,in the wee hours of the morning,to witness,a carefree,unrestrained exhibition of-routine life.
With a chronic but regular,though brief interaction, everyday, Maali and Sukhi offer a polite smile,even when they are in the midst of varying stages of defecation or ablution process.The smiles etch stronger and wider lines,if the results of their efforts have been more profitable.So much for the pleasure of evacuation!Today,either they were up,early or i was late.They were through with their chores,or so i deduced,and were merrily perched right at the summit of the dune.Sensory perceptions are best felt on naked skin.This doctrine was already known to these little girls,thanks to their meager resources.The forced austerity provided a terrific opportunity for a direct bodily contact with the cool sand.Sukhi is just about two and hence has not been introduced to the concept of clothes,while Maali,all of three,manages to don oversized shirts,obviating the need for anything underneath.The girls were ecstatic when they noticed me.They cried in unison and invited me to their new play station.They were at the summit and were armed with their toys.Sukhi,a proud possessor of a one and a half litre plastic bottle,frayed at its rim and Maali had a blue, half litre bottle.Both the bottles had residues of -a soft drink and hair oil-respectively,sticking to them.The chronicity of our relationship ensured that both of them ran down the slope,took my hands and invited (dragged) me to their domain.Without a care in the world,Sukhi emptied the content on my shoes and giggled.Maali,with the disadvantage of age,forcing controlled behaviour,offered an apologetic smile.The next few moments were spent in emptying the bottles and refilling them.Such unadulterated joy!The bliss was harshly interrupted.The intruders moved in without any fanfare. They exhibited the cool air of habitual extortionists,who claim rights to any property,while displacing the rightful owners.
These two dogs,pie dogs,share a common habitat with the girls.The girls did not even bother to glance at them,till they started climbing the mound.It made for a compelling viewing,the girls and/versus,the canines.
The dogs had a valid reason to demand their pound of flesh.While the girls were asleep and hence unaware,the dogs,forever awake at night,were the first to scale the peak.The dogs had worked hard at night to make burrows,on the slopes.The coolness of the night air,coupled with the moisture in the sand,had ensured a cool abode.In the canine parlance,the pie dogs had carved out a space akin to their skin colour,in the white sand, a colour,reserved for their brethrens,of higher pedigree.The deep beige of the scooped out area offered a contrast against the white sand,which immediately alerted the girls of,the forced occupation..They quickly slid down and occupied the space,only to find them atop one of the dogs.
This relationship,between a dog and a child is astonishing .The freedom of action and the leeway a dog offers to a child,is really amazing.Dogs offer huge discounts to the kids,even when it comes to being mishandled and suffer a bodily harm.I guess it has more to do with the mutual understanding,arrived at even before the first exposure.It must be the gentleness of the touch,the special canine perception,that,no harm is intended.It must be a feeling of interacting with equals,peers,friends,buddies-yes,playmates.
Sukhi landed right on top of one ,which had occupied the burrow.Not a whimper!Sukhi called for help.Maali had already anticipated the trouble.She descended with two bottlefull of sand and emptied them,right on the face of the unsuspecting dog.It yielded precious little in terms of ground space.The dog shook his head violently from side to side and got rid of the nuisance.Sukhi had already prepared herself of the next plan of action.She caught hold of the dog's tail and dragged him out of the hole.Almost.The dog was now in a playful mode.He yielded a little, to offer a bait and then retreated again.The other dog now rushed with a feigned frenzy,charged to the scene of action and stopped just short of the girls.So much for the rush of adrenaline!The feigned frenzy did not even evoke,a look in,by the girls.They summarily ignored the comrade-in-arm and both of them successfully-extricated-and not so much as, pulled the tolerant and forgiving,friend cum foe out of his place.
What transpired next,was such a joy to watch!Even after being ?manhandled and displaced,both the dogs sat snugly fitting into the left over space of the burrow.The girls had triumphed.They also knew that it was not so much of their prowess but the allowance offered by their,generous mates.
Probably.as a mark of gratitude,Sukhi summoned me close to where she was lying,in her cool cocoon.In her broken,almost incomprehensible stutter,she thundered,pointing to the two,presently unwanted,co-habitants,:"aane tamaare ghare lai jao,jaav."(take these two guys to your place).
Sukhi conveyed so much with that one sentence.The dogs were a nuisance,at present,but she wanted them to go and stay some place else,albeit,a good one and needed the place,all to herself!
Such a gorgeous beginning to the day!Boy,am i lucky!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Deductions of a detective.
Nature's fury is thought to be preceded by an eerie calm or a lull.This lulls us into a false sense of security.The deceptive calm,though,to the initiated and perceptive individuals,offers invaluable time to ready themselves,for the storms to follow.
Human ailments have an uncanny knack of behaving in a paradoxical manner.
Yes,Mrs.V,yet again.
The furious tsunami or the raging,unforgiving hurricanes,though,are not even a patch on the storms of arrhythmias,she withstood.In a natural calamity,the annihilation is widespread and engulfs everyone, showing no mercy or favours.The completeness of destruction is more welcome,because it leaves very little trace,behind.Specific,individually targeted,faceless ailment maims unsuspecting human being.It usually catches people off guard,and,even for a trained medical personnel,the vulnerability of the afflicted , in the face of a marauder,is very very painful.The paradoxical sequence of events unfolds as the disease process beats a retreat,either after feasting on the patient meticulously,and systematically(excuse the pun) devouring its prey;or,makes a hasty exit as if it had been a case of mistaken identity.There is always an unparalleled ferocity about acute and critical illnesses,which when abate,seem absolutely surreal,because of the calm,that prevails in the tormented body and the scarred minds of the relations.
You bet, we all were (treating doctors and anxious relations), waiting for peace, to descend on the cot no.2,medical I.C.U.Finally, it did.
I would want to believe that the calm after the storm, had more to do with logic and art of reasoning than any science,at all.If science had anything to do with the eventual breakthrough in diagnosis,then it was an embarrassing process of hit and miss,or the infamous trial and error.Hence,i am certain,science was involved very early in her survival,in the casualty room,but beyond that the processes and methods involved,were based on non-acceptance of what did not seem logical and did not arouse conviction.On the flip side,it was following hunch and intuition about the ailment.It has so transpired in my life,that most defining decisions seem to have had no method or design attached to them.Of course,it may not be so simple,as dissected thread bare by Malcolm Gladwell in his brilliant book- "blink".Such narrative goes a long way in reinforcing and augmenting the process of "thinking from the heart"and putting head to it to make it acceptable to the masses.I honestly do not know,how convincing this may sound and this explanation to arrive at any deductions,which may turn out to be life-saving ones,shall find any takers.But then if you care for takers,for the unconventional and the unorthodox,you shall tread some very well defined ,orderly,time tested methods,which lead to unconvincing methods.
Mrs.V had an unpredictable onset,terrifying disease progression and had the trained staff,behave in a very random and haphazard manner.In any case,conventional wisdom had waned and there was a huge danger of autocratic autonomy taking over,and treatment schedules,totally at the mercy of relatively inexperienced,though always well-meaning, medical staff.
A stage had arrived,where, something had to give.My experience with the resilience of the afflicted had already told me that she was not going,anywhere.Hence, the next logical extension was that it had to be then,the ailment,which had to give.The other significant aspect was that the disease presentation,and the behaviour did not gel with explanations offered by the better endowed(with knowledge and exposure) colleagues.The phenomenon of the lack of conviction in what was professed and propagated as the cause and my lack of belief in what was felt unconvincing,formed the backbone of the newer methods that were employed.The retreat in the past history,and the need to search for a more convincing cause,helped us,in looking at the ailment with renewed vigour and the perceptions got totally altered.
The glaring deficiency,commonly plaguing the medical fraternity,of looking a part of the whole as a whole,was abandoned.Anyway,holistic approach,of healing the mind before the body,and not losing the sight of the individual and his/her compulsion and need,forming the basis of the relationship,between the doctor and the patient are never lost on me.Clarity of approach needs confusion to prevail,as its precursor.Once the clarity had dawned,the methods and the path became simple to follow.There was peace in the mind and firmness to follow methods, that would bear conviction and were not open ended in interpretation.Looseness and laxity had to be replaced by firmness and clarity in approach.A very very firm decision was arrived to take the outcome to its logical end point.Believe me,it was then a cakewalk.
Human ailments have an uncanny knack of behaving in a paradoxical manner.
Yes,Mrs.V,yet again.
The furious tsunami or the raging,unforgiving hurricanes,though,are not even a patch on the storms of arrhythmias,she withstood.In a natural calamity,the annihilation is widespread and engulfs everyone, showing no mercy or favours.The completeness of destruction is more welcome,because it leaves very little trace,behind.Specific,individually targeted,faceless ailment maims unsuspecting human being.It usually catches people off guard,and,even for a trained medical personnel,the vulnerability of the afflicted , in the face of a marauder,is very very painful.The paradoxical sequence of events unfolds as the disease process beats a retreat,either after feasting on the patient meticulously,and systematically(excuse the pun) devouring its prey;or,makes a hasty exit as if it had been a case of mistaken identity.There is always an unparalleled ferocity about acute and critical illnesses,which when abate,seem absolutely surreal,because of the calm,that prevails in the tormented body and the scarred minds of the relations.
You bet, we all were (treating doctors and anxious relations), waiting for peace, to descend on the cot no.2,medical I.C.U.Finally, it did.
I would want to believe that the calm after the storm, had more to do with logic and art of reasoning than any science,at all.If science had anything to do with the eventual breakthrough in diagnosis,then it was an embarrassing process of hit and miss,or the infamous trial and error.Hence,i am certain,science was involved very early in her survival,in the casualty room,but beyond that the processes and methods involved,were based on non-acceptance of what did not seem logical and did not arouse conviction.On the flip side,it was following hunch and intuition about the ailment.It has so transpired in my life,that most defining decisions seem to have had no method or design attached to them.Of course,it may not be so simple,as dissected thread bare by Malcolm Gladwell in his brilliant book- "blink".Such narrative goes a long way in reinforcing and augmenting the process of "thinking from the heart"and putting head to it to make it acceptable to the masses.I honestly do not know,how convincing this may sound and this explanation to arrive at any deductions,which may turn out to be life-saving ones,shall find any takers.But then if you care for takers,for the unconventional and the unorthodox,you shall tread some very well defined ,orderly,time tested methods,which lead to unconvincing methods.
Mrs.V had an unpredictable onset,terrifying disease progression and had the trained staff,behave in a very random and haphazard manner.In any case,conventional wisdom had waned and there was a huge danger of autocratic autonomy taking over,and treatment schedules,totally at the mercy of relatively inexperienced,though always well-meaning, medical staff.
A stage had arrived,where, something had to give.My experience with the resilience of the afflicted had already told me that she was not going,anywhere.Hence, the next logical extension was that it had to be then,the ailment,which had to give.The other significant aspect was that the disease presentation,and the behaviour did not gel with explanations offered by the better endowed(with knowledge and exposure) colleagues.The phenomenon of the lack of conviction in what was professed and propagated as the cause and my lack of belief in what was felt unconvincing,formed the backbone of the newer methods that were employed.The retreat in the past history,and the need to search for a more convincing cause,helped us,in looking at the ailment with renewed vigour and the perceptions got totally altered.
The glaring deficiency,commonly plaguing the medical fraternity,of looking a part of the whole as a whole,was abandoned.Anyway,holistic approach,of healing the mind before the body,and not losing the sight of the individual and his/her compulsion and need,forming the basis of the relationship,between the doctor and the patient are never lost on me.Clarity of approach needs confusion to prevail,as its precursor.Once the clarity had dawned,the methods and the path became simple to follow.There was peace in the mind and firmness to follow methods, that would bear conviction and were not open ended in interpretation.Looseness and laxity had to be replaced by firmness and clarity in approach.A very very firm decision was arrived to take the outcome to its logical end point.Believe me,it was then a cakewalk.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Has enough been done?
May be i read it somewhere.It was about the difference between obstinacy and tenacity(resilience).
Rather than the literal meaning,the writer had related the former with negative intent and the latter with a positive one.
I guess,i was resilient with my favourite ,Mrs.V.Single- mindedness and retaining focus,over a length of period,offered opportunity to sustain passion and consistency.A breakthrough,had to be the logical end-point.It was achieved,or so would i want to believe,at this moment.Not that there were no weak moments,which posed very uncomfortable questions and created doubts about the commitment and even ??????????????worthlessness of the emotionally draining and physically challenging exercise.Colleagues seemed and sounded practical and i,very ancient in my beliefs of dated virtues of patience and sustenance of efforts.
Today,it feels better..i do not care for superstitions.They tend to make their appearance,when the energy levels start dipping and the feeling pervading around is that ENOUGH efforts have been made.What is enough?Who ever knows?Who shall ever know?
Possibly,we shall know about, the enough,in her case,on the 6th of May,when the lymph node biopsy report MUST reveal ,a treatable,more relevantly,a curable malady.
True to my nature,i do not even cross my fingers.True ,honest intent must yield,cure.We all shall know.
Rather than the literal meaning,the writer had related the former with negative intent and the latter with a positive one.
I guess,i was resilient with my favourite ,Mrs.V.Single- mindedness and retaining focus,over a length of period,offered opportunity to sustain passion and consistency.A breakthrough,had to be the logical end-point.It was achieved,or so would i want to believe,at this moment.Not that there were no weak moments,which posed very uncomfortable questions and created doubts about the commitment and even ??????????????worthlessness of the emotionally draining and physically challenging exercise.Colleagues seemed and sounded practical and i,very ancient in my beliefs of dated virtues of patience and sustenance of efforts.
Today,it feels better..i do not care for superstitions.They tend to make their appearance,when the energy levels start dipping and the feeling pervading around is that ENOUGH efforts have been made.What is enough?Who ever knows?Who shall ever know?
Possibly,we shall know about, the enough,in her case,on the 6th of May,when the lymph node biopsy report MUST reveal ,a treatable,more relevantly,a curable malady.
True to my nature,i do not even cross my fingers.True ,honest intent must yield,cure.We all shall know.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Summer mornings and everything else......
Raging heat waves, in my neck of the woods,do not come up for discussions at the dinner table.We are in the midst of one.They offer so much more than the obvious discomfort and agony.Heat in India does not only roast or bake the parched soil and already ravaged human bodies further,but it proves crucial for the colours and fragrances of the summer.Colours of the flaming orange of the KESUDA,canary sparkling yellow of the GARMALO (amaltas),the pink and the yellow cassia,and the melange of the happy red,orange and yellow of the GULMOHAR.What a riot of bright and fiery shades!And add to this,the tangy,lemony fresh fragrance of the parrot green SHIRISH....
What a breath taking spectacle the early summer morning offers,when i walk/jog/trundle/run on the roads,lined haphazardly by these trees.The ongoing,merciless heat wave,as in the past,had to be mellowed by cloudy,relatively cooler morning skies.Strange- seem the ways of nature-strange- they are not,compassionate and considerate-they generally are.Cloud covers in the subcontinental skies have a very sobering effect on human behaviour.The noise levels,either a result of raised and charged decibels of human larynx,or, from the obsessive,compulsive,neurotic malady engulfing all subcontinental drivers-HONKING-,go down dramatically.Early morning times,anyway,are vulnerable and defenseless periods for us,humans.Clouds and coolness bring that queer phenomenon out,in the open !
Back to the colours and the aromas....
Extreme cold or cooler climes have quiet,stillness and greyness as their salient features and allies.It is either cold and deathly white or morbid,drab and depressing grey ruling the landscapes.The mountains wear a look,that one usually associates with poker faced,expressionless, blank faced guards at the British prime minister's residence.The trees are stark naked,sans any foliage,reminiscent of withered,emaciated skeletons in the anatomy dissection rooms..The bone chilling winds threaten the inhabitants,with as much of disdain and contempt for human endurance, as the heat haze and dust storms;raked up by the Indian summer,do!No surprise,that the depression lifts with every passing month, as westerners,arrive closer to spring and summer.
And the aroma...Where on earth shall we conjure up the absolutely divine fragrance of THE KING-Alphonso.No where but in India!Get me the heavenly sweet,lingering fragrance left on my fingers,after i have licked them dry of the mango juice,and i shall retreat,from all that i have written for the heat and against the cold!And where on earth do you get the hair- raisingly sour and sweet,magenta coloured FALSA.The hypnotisingly fragrant musk melon and the thirst-quenching,blood red water-melon may miss out on the attention,almost always reserved for the mangoes,but they really complete the unique and special smells, colours and tastes of the Indian summer!
So much for the sights and beauty of the heat.Today morning,it was predictably cloudy and hence cool.....It had to be!What with energy sapping,merciless,cruel, dry heat of Ahmedabad, yesterday.Inhabitants here,in Ahmedabad,become very predictable in their reactions in April and May.The sound bytes of 2008,could well have been recorded in 1967,or any other year.Every year,every single year,the temperatures are the highest and the oppression felt-the worst.The eyeballs that such cribbers get have now dwindled and have become a laughing stock.
But today was different.Covered skies and cool breeze made the morning ritual,more tolerable.The already mentioned colours and the aromas felt even more captivating.The yellow garlands embellishing the amaltas trees,easily outnumbered the spat and polished,freshly arrived leaves.The other members of the rainbow team-the cassias,gulmohars and cordias,added splendour and crispy freshness to the morning.
What was different,compared to the harsh and hot mornings was the behaviour of my fellow inhabitants and lo and behold!-the animals as well.i have always been biased about my views over the beast of burden-the donkey.They have always reminded me of a mature and wise philosopher at work.The natural detachment,indifference to the world at large,lost-deep in thoughts-look ,could easily find a host of takers among the thinkers and philosophers.Such immense depth,is rare-nay-unparalleled and non-existent in the living beings.I found two of them by the roadside,hold your breath,standing-(they always stand,has anyone seen a sleeping or a sitting donkey? under the shade of an overgrown shrub.They were spoilt for choices,what with all the thick,shady trees at their disposal!But then who is to reason with the wise heads?
On the left stood the youngish grey one,and on to the right was a spotlessly white,older head.
As is their hallmark and strength,both were unfazed by the flies humming around and the dust and bits of scraps flying around them.Such a perfect picture if equanimity and nonchalance!They looked like fiercely committed sentinels,guarding the overgrown weed,on either side.What made their calmness more noticeable was the ruckus created by a couple of stray dogs in their immediate vicinity.Now these dogs ,inherently, are overly playful and almost unnecessarily at that.It does not get more obvious than,when two dogs,very early in the morning,fight over a rag and a bit of torn,polythene bag.Having observed them indulge in this seemingly stupid game of running round in circles,chasing each other,i have tried to find the reason or method in their madness.I have failed,so far.These two were not even young ,to be given a benefit of doubt of being petulant or impetuous,because of their immaturity.They wore looks of wisened,scarred,battle-hardened warriors.Look,what a little difference in the weather makes to the behaviors!The absence of dust storms was dutifully compensated by their overcharged overtures.I felt intrigued and irritated.But their immediate neighbours did not even offer so much of a glance,to their fun and game.So much was on view to learn from!The donkeys advocated stoic indifference and detached involvement on one hand and the playful canines bore a torch to finding fun and joy from seemingly mundane,monotonous and routine chores.What depth ,what wisdom!And all this time i was made to think that we were the wisest!
The next lap of one kilometer took me to a tea kiosk,by the roadside.What cacophony even in hushed tones!What noise and chaos!We humans,cold or heat,will never change!We are now blase about heat or cold,rain or clouds,wind or gales.When shall we respect silence and nature ? May be ,never!
What a breath taking spectacle the early summer morning offers,when i walk/jog/trundle/run on the roads,lined haphazardly by these trees.The ongoing,merciless heat wave,as in the past,had to be mellowed by cloudy,relatively cooler morning skies.Strange- seem the ways of nature-strange- they are not,compassionate and considerate-they generally are.Cloud covers in the subcontinental skies have a very sobering effect on human behaviour.The noise levels,either a result of raised and charged decibels of human larynx,or, from the obsessive,compulsive,neurotic malady engulfing all subcontinental drivers-HONKING-,go down dramatically.Early morning times,anyway,are vulnerable and defenseless periods for us,humans.Clouds and coolness bring that queer phenomenon out,in the open !
Back to the colours and the aromas....
Extreme cold or cooler climes have quiet,stillness and greyness as their salient features and allies.It is either cold and deathly white or morbid,drab and depressing grey ruling the landscapes.The mountains wear a look,that one usually associates with poker faced,expressionless, blank faced guards at the British prime minister's residence.The trees are stark naked,sans any foliage,reminiscent of withered,emaciated skeletons in the anatomy dissection rooms..The bone chilling winds threaten the inhabitants,with as much of disdain and contempt for human endurance, as the heat haze and dust storms;raked up by the Indian summer,do!No surprise,that the depression lifts with every passing month, as westerners,arrive closer to spring and summer.
And the aroma...Where on earth shall we conjure up the absolutely divine fragrance of THE KING-Alphonso.No where but in India!Get me the heavenly sweet,lingering fragrance left on my fingers,after i have licked them dry of the mango juice,and i shall retreat,from all that i have written for the heat and against the cold!And where on earth do you get the hair- raisingly sour and sweet,magenta coloured FALSA.The hypnotisingly fragrant musk melon and the thirst-quenching,blood red water-melon may miss out on the attention,almost always reserved for the mangoes,but they really complete the unique and special smells, colours and tastes of the Indian summer!
So much for the sights and beauty of the heat.Today morning,it was predictably cloudy and hence cool.....It had to be!What with energy sapping,merciless,cruel, dry heat of Ahmedabad, yesterday.Inhabitants here,in Ahmedabad,become very predictable in their reactions in April and May.The sound bytes of 2008,could well have been recorded in 1967,or any other year.Every year,every single year,the temperatures are the highest and the oppression felt-the worst.The eyeballs that such cribbers get have now dwindled and have become a laughing stock.
But today was different.Covered skies and cool breeze made the morning ritual,more tolerable.The already mentioned colours and the aromas felt even more captivating.The yellow garlands embellishing the amaltas trees,easily outnumbered the spat and polished,freshly arrived leaves.The other members of the rainbow team-the cassias,gulmohars and cordias,added splendour and crispy freshness to the morning.
What was different,compared to the harsh and hot mornings was the behaviour of my fellow inhabitants and lo and behold!-the animals as well.i have always been biased about my views over the beast of burden-the donkey.They have always reminded me of a mature and wise philosopher at work.The natural detachment,indifference to the world at large,lost-deep in thoughts-look ,could easily find a host of takers among the thinkers and philosophers.Such immense depth,is rare-nay-unparalleled and non-existent in the living beings.I found two of them by the roadside,hold your breath,standing-(they always stand,has anyone seen a sleeping or a sitting donkey? under the shade of an overgrown shrub.They were spoilt for choices,what with all the thick,shady trees at their disposal!But then who is to reason with the wise heads?
On the left stood the youngish grey one,and on to the right was a spotlessly white,older head.
As is their hallmark and strength,both were unfazed by the flies humming around and the dust and bits of scraps flying around them.Such a perfect picture if equanimity and nonchalance!They looked like fiercely committed sentinels,guarding the overgrown weed,on either side.What made their calmness more noticeable was the ruckus created by a couple of stray dogs in their immediate vicinity.Now these dogs ,inherently, are overly playful and almost unnecessarily at that.It does not get more obvious than,when two dogs,very early in the morning,fight over a rag and a bit of torn,polythene bag.Having observed them indulge in this seemingly stupid game of running round in circles,chasing each other,i have tried to find the reason or method in their madness.I have failed,so far.These two were not even young ,to be given a benefit of doubt of being petulant or impetuous,because of their immaturity.They wore looks of wisened,scarred,battle-hardened warriors.Look,what a little difference in the weather makes to the behaviors!The absence of dust storms was dutifully compensated by their overcharged overtures.I felt intrigued and irritated.But their immediate neighbours did not even offer so much of a glance,to their fun and game.So much was on view to learn from!The donkeys advocated stoic indifference and detached involvement on one hand and the playful canines bore a torch to finding fun and joy from seemingly mundane,monotonous and routine chores.What depth ,what wisdom!And all this time i was made to think that we were the wisest!
The next lap of one kilometer took me to a tea kiosk,by the roadside.What cacophony even in hushed tones!What noise and chaos!We humans,cold or heat,will never change!We are now blase about heat or cold,rain or clouds,wind or gales.When shall we respect silence and nature ? May be ,never!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Mrs.V lives to fight another day......
It is fine, as long as foolhardiness is borne out of ignorance.The stance taken by Mrs.V,was probably,a child of an uneasy alliance between,? implicit faith in the medical expertise and a devil-may-care attitude,borne out of long and hard battles,with equally sinister ailments,in the past.When a disease process becomes unruly,it somehow finds an ally, not only in the worsening state of the patient,but the total disruption in the rational and logical approach of the medical personnel.It is a situation, best described as unholy and damaging.Doctors tend to get swayed anyway,by anecdotal evidence and opinion of the seemingly wiser colleagues.The fundamental flaw in the actions that follow,is that even when there is complete absence of convictions,investigations are ordered,diagnosis presumed and even treatments are initiated,under the guise of empirical therapy.
I rather be branded as ignorant, and hold a candle, to convictions borne out of documented evidence than fall easy prey to convenient explanations,which never convince anyone,the proponent of the theory or the unfortunate recipient of the consequences,arising out of a flawed process.
The horrendous aftermath of a rampaging,uncontrollable ventricular tachycardia proved the famous adage of a Satan or an evil ,any day more powerful a foe than the protection offered by
godliness of a saint.contd.......
I rather be branded as ignorant, and hold a candle, to convictions borne out of documented evidence than fall easy prey to convenient explanations,which never convince anyone,the proponent of the theory or the unfortunate recipient of the consequences,arising out of a flawed process.
The horrendous aftermath of a rampaging,uncontrollable ventricular tachycardia proved the famous adage of a Satan or an evil ,any day more powerful a foe than the protection offered by
godliness of a saint.contd.......
khushi.....
Radhakishen had heard of me from his acquaintance in his native
village in Rajasthan.In our only encounter on a balmy Sunday afternoon
at my home,he had sounded terribly despondent and helpless.His
tentativeness and anxiety were evident from the entourage that had
accompanied him.He was desperately looking for help and more
relevantly,HOPE.
Hope for his six year old-KHUSHI.
Khushi had been diagnosed with a malignant tumour in the brain.The
thick set of papers in the files that he had carried with him,revealed
the reason for his desperation.Fortunately,she had been referred to a
competent neurosurgeon,whose words were far from comforting, in any
which way.The tumour and the nature of it were unforgiving and looked
scary,even,to my initiated eyes.
Radhakishen was and proved himself to be different in so many ways.His
mannerisms,even when he was seeking solution to a hopeless
malady,managed to convey,that i had to offer something better.It was
not upfront or in-the-face kind of attitude.It was honesty and fierce
belief in the recovery of his daughter.He did not plead or nag for
answers-the answers he wanted to hear!
The tumour was located in a very sensitive and neurologically delicate
location.The neurosurgeon had refrained from any heroics and suggested
radiotherapy as the alternative,to shrink the mass and relieve the
child of her symptoms.He had not got Khushi along,the first time, he
came to my place.Recounting the onset and the rapid deterioration in
his daughter's state,it had become obvious that she was almost
semi-conscious and had lost power in the right half of her body.Of
course the neurological deficit unnerved him,but what hit and hurt him
very hard was that the tiny bundle of joy,had developed slurred
speech.He could not bear this development.He had reasons,very strong
ones,to seek remedy.
To put the record straight,Radhakishen was a doting and uncompromising
father.We all have heard about the preferential treatment to a boy
over a girl in villages.It has been so much in our face all the
time.,Radhakishen did not really care about these phenomenon.He simply
was a doting,committed father.His words,interspersed with stifled
sobs,"SAAB,MERI KHUSHI HAI NAA,AAP IN GAANWWALON SE PUCHHO,YE SAARE
GAANW KI KHUSHI HAI..SACH!!!.JAB SE YE AAI HAI MAANO SAB KE DIL MEN
CHHA GAI HAI.ITNI HOSHIYAR OR CHANCHAL HAI.ISKE AANE KE BAAD,HAR SAAL
ITNI BAARISH HUI HAI.AAP IN BAATON MEN VISHWAS NAHIN KAROGE,PAR YE
HAMARI DEVI HAI.MERA EK BETA HAI ,PAR WOH TO AISE HI BADA HO
JAYEGA.USKI MUJHE KOI FIKAR NAHIN."...Such simple,uncomplicated
reverence.
A film of tears in the eyes has always pained me more than the trickle
of tears which leave them.It shows the resolve and belief in a man.He
could cry and relieve his pain.Radhakishen valued his tears as much as
his daughter's recovery.Not even once,did they run down his
eyes.Pure,fiercely committed-to the cause,unflinching,goading-me-to
-wake up and do something- eyes.So much for Radhakishen.
Today,he arrived at my clinic at 9 in the morning.This was my second
encounter.I had not bargained for what transpired,between us,or should
i say amongst us.He has such an honest ring to his voice that it
becomes impossible to ignore the need to move forward.The ring of
truth and simple,unwavering faith in ????my silence,create an
atmosphere which becomes so heavy that ,i have often taken my eyes
away from his prying eyes.Prying for clues,hints and solution.But
today he was not alone.His wife carried Khushi with her.
Khushi.!!! She had all the answers to my amazement about her father's
trust,faith,hope and commitment.May be it was orchestrated-no,i am
certain it was not.A vibrant orange shirt and a stunningly embroidered
blue denim.,created sheer magic in the dull,pale white room.The
picture was complete when her mother placed the matching denim cap on
her head.I hate myself for having conditioned or primed
myself(inadvertently),in looking for reasons or meaning to every
demeanour of people around.i am convinced that it was not to hide a
bald patch,but it was her style-Khushi's very own.
She looked at me,turned her eyes away and then looked back at me. In
that second,she had seen and gauged whatever she had to.Then she
smiled.!!.A smile that told me and offered a consent to me, to go
ahead, with whatever i felt was needed to be done.Radhakishen was
absolutely sensational today.He was already extrapolating and
expanding on the gains of radiotherapy.Khushi had regained her
consciousness ,her speech was clearer.Incredibly enough,she had
learned to use her left hand in lieu of her right.To prove her
amazing, ambidextrous skill,,he made me offer my cell phone to the
little one .He then stunned me by asking Khushi to dial his number,
from my phone.You must believe this.The frail,little,unconditioned
left hand could barely hold the phone.She still managed to dial the
correct number. I choose not to react ,usually.To term, what
transpired as unusual,would be a gross understatement.,for what i had
missed was the 0 that was added before her dad's number.Khushi was
oriented,not only in memory,insight,judgement but had an incredible
sharpness to demonstrate orientation in place as well.How on earth
would a 7 year old,exhibit the knowledge of a local call from an
outstation one?By then she had won over me and my heart.She had
started forming some words and sentences which kept me glued to this
wonder kid.
The mother,hitherto silent and stoic,could not take any more.Tears
started rolling down her eyes.Lo and behold! Our little bundle of wit
and joy had all the answers.Pulling out a small handkerchief,from the
lapel of her top,she proceeded to wipe the tears off her mother's face.
So much had happened,so fast,early in the morning.It had become
increasingly difficult to mask the pain and not give in.
But then,doctors are supposedly or supposed to be different,when such
encounters threaten to engulf one and all.Gathering the already
tattered steadfastness and mustering resolve,i did a smart thing and
started looking down at the paper on the table and began to scribble-
nothing.
Khushi has gone to the Cancer hospital.She is not alone.She has her
father's ferociously contagious commitment and her mother's silent
belief in God and all the other supernatural.Today morning,by the time
she left my clinic,Khushi had added, one more member, in her already
burgeoning entourage,who have a common purpose and unflinching
belief-in her recovery.
Amen.
village in Rajasthan.In our only encounter on a balmy Sunday afternoon
at my home,he had sounded terribly despondent and helpless.His
tentativeness and anxiety were evident from the entourage that had
accompanied him.He was desperately looking for help and more
relevantly,HOPE.
Hope for his six year old-KHUSHI.
Khushi had been diagnosed with a malignant tumour in the brain.The
thick set of papers in the files that he had carried with him,revealed
the reason for his desperation.Fortunately,she had been referred to a
competent neurosurgeon,whose words were far from comforting, in any
which way.The tumour and the nature of it were unforgiving and looked
scary,even,to my initiated eyes.
Radhakishen was and proved himself to be different in so many ways.His
mannerisms,even when he was seeking solution to a hopeless
malady,managed to convey,that i had to offer something better.It was
not upfront or in-the-face kind of attitude.It was honesty and fierce
belief in the recovery of his daughter.He did not plead or nag for
answers-the answers he wanted to hear!
The tumour was located in a very sensitive and neurologically delicate
location.The neurosurgeon had refrained from any heroics and suggested
radiotherapy as the alternative,to shrink the mass and relieve the
child of her symptoms.He had not got Khushi along,the first time, he
came to my place.Recounting the onset and the rapid deterioration in
his daughter's state,it had become obvious that she was almost
semi-conscious and had lost power in the right half of her body.Of
course the neurological deficit unnerved him,but what hit and hurt him
very hard was that the tiny bundle of joy,had developed slurred
speech.He could not bear this development.He had reasons,very strong
ones,to seek remedy.
To put the record straight,Radhakishen was a doting and uncompromising
father.We all have heard about the preferential treatment to a boy
over a girl in villages.It has been so much in our face all the
time.,Radhakishen did not really care about these phenomenon.He simply
was a doting,committed father.His words,interspersed with stifled
sobs,"SAAB,MERI KHUSHI HAI NAA,AAP IN GAANWWALON SE PUCHHO,YE SAARE
GAANW KI KHUSHI HAI..SACH!!!.JAB SE YE AAI HAI MAANO SAB KE DIL MEN
CHHA GAI HAI.ITNI HOSHIYAR OR CHANCHAL HAI.ISKE AANE KE BAAD,HAR SAAL
ITNI BAARISH HUI HAI.AAP IN BAATON MEN VISHWAS NAHIN KAROGE,PAR YE
HAMARI DEVI HAI.MERA EK BETA HAI ,PAR WOH TO AISE HI BADA HO
JAYEGA.USKI MUJHE KOI FIKAR NAHIN."...Such simple,uncomplicated
reverence.
A film of tears in the eyes has always pained me more than the trickle
of tears which leave them.It shows the resolve and belief in a man.He
could cry and relieve his pain.Radhakishen valued his tears as much as
his daughter's recovery.Not even once,did they run down his
eyes.Pure,fiercely committed-to the cause,unflinching,goading-me
-wake up and do something- eyes.So much for Radhakishen.
Today,he arrived at my clinic at 9 in the morning.This was my second
encounter.I had not bargained for what transpired,between us,or should
i say amongst us.He has such an honest ring to his voice that it
becomes impossible to ignore the need to move forward.The ring of
truth and simple,unwavering faith in ????my silence,create an
atmosphere which becomes so heavy that ,i have often taken my eyes
away from his prying eyes.Prying for clues,hints and solution.But
today he was not alone.His wife carried Khushi with her.
Khushi.!!! She had all the answers to my amazement about her father's
trust,faith,hope and commitment.May be it was orchestrated-no,i am
certain it was not.A vibrant orange shirt and a stunningly embroidered
blue denim.,created sheer magic in the dull,pale white room.The
picture was complete when her mother placed the matching denim cap on
her head.I hate myself for having conditioned or primed
myself(inadvertently),in looking for reasons or meaning to every
demeanour of people around.i am convinced that it was not to hide a
bald patch,but it was her style-Khushi's very own.
She looked at me,turned her eyes away and then looked back at me. In
that second,she had seen and gauged whatever she had to.Then she
smiled.!!.A smile that told me and offered a consent to me, to go
ahead, with whatever i felt was needed to be done.Radhakishen was
absolutely sensational today.He was already extrapolating and
expanding on the gains of radiotherapy.Khushi had regained her
consciousness ,her speech was clearer.Incredibly enough,she had
learned to use her left hand in lieu of her right.To prove her
amazing, ambidextrous skill,,he made me offer my cell phone to the
little one .He then stunned me by asking Khushi to dial his number,
from my phone.You must believe this.The frail,little,unconditioned
left hand could barely hold the phone.She still managed to dial the
correct number. I choose not to react ,usually.To term, what
transpired as unusual,would be a gross understatement.,for what i had
missed was the 0 that was added before her dad's number.Khushi was
oriented,not only in memory,insight,judgement but had an incredible
sharpness to demonstrate orientation in place as well.How on earth
would a 7 year old,exhibit the knowledge of a local call from an
outstation one?By then she had won over me and my heart.She had
started forming some words and sentences which kept me glued to this
wonder kid.
The mother,hitherto silent and stoic,could not take any more.Tears
started rolling down her eyes.Lo and behold! Our little bundle of wit
and joy had all the answers.Pulling out a small handkerchief,from the
lapel of her top,she proceeded to wipe the tears off her mother's face.
So much had happened,so fast,early in the morning.It had become
increasingly difficult to mask the pain and not give in.
But then,doctors are supposedly or supposed to be different,when such
encounters threaten to engulf one and all.Gathering the already
tattered steadfastness and mustering resolve,i did a smart thing and
started looking down at the paper on the table and began to scribble-
nothing.
Khushi has gone to the Cancer hospital.She is not alone.She has her
father's ferociously contagious commitment and her mother's silent
belief in God and all the other supernatural.Today morning,by the time
she left my clinic,Khushi had added, one more member, in her already
burgeoning entourage,who have a common purpose and unflinching
belief-in her recovery.
Amen.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Of unforgiving diseases and their ferocity...
The picture with its serene backdrop was uploaded to highlight the contrasting (stifling helplessness) emotions that are ruling my thoughts.
I am in the midst of the ferocity of a raging malady,that has struck OUR Mrs.V.
It is some time in the afternoon...i have lost the track of it..the time..the supposed healer...it has frozen and stood still for me and Mrs.V.I think i am incorrect,in my perception.It has stopped for the staff nurses and the medical officer on duty,in the ICU,as well.
The soporific humming of the overstretched air-conditioners,has taken its toll on the aching bodies and tired minds of the ICU staff.They are in different states of consciousness,from trying hard to stay alert and oriented-to-drowsy,stuporous,semi comatose to almost being comatose.The shrillness of the ultra-high pitched bleeping emanating from a dozen cardiac monitors,of myriad rhythms,has proved futile,to arouse them.My trained ears, spare me the need, to stare at the monitor trace of Mrs. V.The rhythmic chugging of the heart,initially intermittent,has now given way to a complete chaos.The disease process has broken all the shackles,imposed by the concoctions of drugs.The abnormal rhythms look vulgar.They have a menacing look of a bull,drunk on the blood of a matador.I have heard about method,even in madness.Here,in this place,there is no sanctity or sacredness,usually attributed to rhythms and notes.Every rhythm is jarring to the ears.It feels as if a band of impostors,is churning out cacophony,masquerading as music.
Our Mrs.V sure is a very tough cookie.Her attitude of looking the malady,in its eye,is refreshing.No,it was refreshing to begin with,but it has now turned to a battle of attrition,that she has taken up,with her ailment.It feels as if she has a personal score to settle with her tormentor.I never encourage battles against abstract or inanimate.Faceless foes,as a rule,stand to be in advantageous position.It is,forever,a lop- sided battle,heavily tilted towards the disease,once it manages to break free.Her decision to fight the enemy,within,made her take decisions,which may prove very costly to all of us.She overstayed on the battle field,alone.Retreat is not always synonymous with defeat.It probably is smartness,-camouflaged.
contd...........
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