Hope and Love

The lover..

2012-03-07T19:31:00.002+05:30

The Lover is ever drunk with Love.

He is mad,

she is free.

He sings with delight,

she dances with ecstasy.

Caught by our own thoughts,

we worry about everything.

But once we get drunk on that Love

whatever will be, will be.

If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,

don’t try to explain the miracle.

Kiss me on the lips.

Like this. Like this.

Love is best when mixed with anguish.

In our town,

we won't call you a Lover

if you escape the pain.

Look for Love in this way,

welcome it to your soul,

and watch your spirit fly away in ecstasy.

~Rumi

Kiss the earth..

2012-02-21T13:23:00.000+05:30

"A little too abstract, a little too wise,
It is time for us to kiss the earth again,
It is time to let the leaves rain from the skies,
Let the rich life run to the roots again."
~Robinson Jeffers

The pic was taken during my morning walk :)

The modern fairy tale :)

2012-02-13T22:45:00.000+05:30

The modern fairy tale ending is the reverse of the traditional one: A woman does not wait for Prince Charming to bring her happiness; she lives happily ever after only by refusing to wait for him -- or by actually rejecting him. It is those who persist in hoping for a Prince Charming who are setting themselves up for disillusionment and unhappiness. ~Susan Faludi

Its all about loving ourselves sweethearts ..!!

Happy Valentine's day..!!! :)

A prayer..

2011-12-20T08:43:00.000+05:30

My sister gave this prayer to me.. Its from the bible.. Gods words to Isiah the prophet.. This prayer is for a person seeking the purpose of his life.. For one who is chasing the dream in his heart..For one starting a new begining..

I loved the verses and made a video of it :)

Love..

2011-11-19T08:01:00.000+05:30

"It matters not who you love, where you love, why you love, when you love or how you love, it matters only that you love”
― John Lennon

something new..

2011-11-07T13:25:00.001+05:30

Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge

--Eckhart Tolle

Insanity..

2011-10-21T09:06:00.001+05:30

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.

~ Nietzsche

Life..

2011-10-07T22:51:00.003+05:30

As each precious year of my life passes , I am getting more and more convinced that the words below breathe pure life..

Rules 4 , 6 , 7 , 9 were the lessons that remoulded me and my life the most.

Rule 4 was the most painful..

Rule 9 was the most liberating..

What about you?

The Ten Rules for Being Human

1. You will receive a body.

2. You will be presented with lessons.

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons.

4. Lessons are repeated until learned.

5. Learning does not end.

6. "There" is no better than "here".

7. Others are only mirrors of you.

8. What you make of your life is up to you.

9. All the answers lie inside of you.

10. You will forget all of this at birth.

From the book "If Life is a Game, These are the Rules."
(Written by Cherie Carter-Scott, Ph.D.,

Awakening..

2011-09-29T13:24:00.002+05:30

“Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.

Who looks outside, dreams;

who looks inside, awakes.”

― C.G. Jung

Beauty..

2011-09-19T21:59:00.000+05:30

If you want to have beauties of the sky
Appear to you and flirt with you,
Give your heart to the One who makes the mirror.
He will make it shine, be clean.
O Heart, be silent. Talk without words.
~ Rumi

Crossing the oceans..

2011-09-07T09:38:00.000+05:30

They will not cry out loud,

No tears will fall from their eyes,

Those who have suffered the depths of pain.

Their very soul torn apart.

In darkness innocence was lost and in darkness the scars remain,

to be healed only by a love that would cross oceans

with no stars to guide and wait eternity

as if it were but a day...

just to reach the hidden door of their heart.

~Jimmy McClendon

A weed bouquet..

2011-07-07T09:03:00.000+05:30

A rose can say "I love you", orchids can enthrall, but a weed bouquet in a chubby fist, yes, that says it all. ~Author Unknown

Dying..

2011-01-25T13:48:00.000+05:30

I don't know why.. but there is at least one case of death during my night duty now a days..

Actually my colleagues have started to tease me about it..

Its not anything dramatic.. all are chronic cases.. waiting for the release that only death can provide.. from bedsores.. catheters.. and iv drips medicines and sleepless nights of agony..

Waited.. patiently..and sometimes impatiently..by the patient. as well as the relatives...
.
Whatsoever.. I don't mind it.. I like to watch death arriving..

Slowly..

I wait for the gasping to slow down.. the pulse to become feeble.. and finally the pupils to become dilated and fixed.

Waiting with the patient and his relatives I wonder how his life had been.. I say a silent prayer that the person leavng has no genuine regrets..

Recently I watched an elderly lady breath her last.. the gasping was slowing down.. she thrust her tongue between her parched lips..

'Water ?' I asked

She nodded softly..

A thin stream of tears trickled slowly down her sunken cheeks..

I told the sister on duty to call her husband

'Give her a sip of water.' I spoke gently..

He obliged.. she gulped the water down

Suddnly he started to weep and wheeze.. and crumpled on to the floor

OMG..!!

We carried him to a nearby bed..

He was gasping..

Hyperventilating actually..

Cos of severe mental stress.. !!!!

W left the dying patient and attended to him !!

He responded to treatment..

We waited for some time for him to settle.. and went back to the dying patient..

And smoothed her death..

I remember another case.. a chronic alcoholic.. with end stage.alcoholic liver disease ..

He lay dying .. slowly..

What struck me was his son.. a Teenager.. only as old my son.. waited alone for the death to come.. only his few friends were with him.

The man had fought with all his relatives and even his wife had left him

But the son has somehow been able to forgive him.. he waited.. for days.. on the veranda outside the ICU.. .
.
After the death.. the body was handed over to him.. he took over and made all the arrangements..

I was impressed by the way he did it.. soft.. sure and sad. and dignified... supported by his few friends as young as him .
.
I felt like hugging him .. comforting him ..and supporting him.

But I did nothing..

Just watched and learned ...

.

This year..

2011-01-13T20:47:00.001+05:30

This year I will take time daily to

Master my mind.

Care for my body.

Nourish my soul

I will Read , Write, Pray and Thank daily.

.

Forgive...!!

2010-12-02T23:03:00.000+05:30

This year I had an experience that hurt me badly.. Almost shattered me. I can proudly say that I really understand what the poem below means.. cos it was forgiving that person that ultimately healed my wounds..

The tears I shed, I forgive.
The suffering and disappointments, I forgive.
The betrayals and lies, I forgive.
The slandering and scheming, I forgive.
The hatred and persecution, I forgive.
The punches that were given, I forgive.
The shattered dreams, I forgive.
The dead hopes, I forgive.
The disaffection and jealousy, I forgive.
The indifference and ill will, I forgive.
The injustice in the name of justice, I forgive.
The anger and mistreatment, I forgive.
The neglect and oblivion, I forgive.
The world with all its evil, I forgive.

Grief and resentment, I replace with understanding and agreement.
Revolt, I replace with music that comes from my violin.
Pain I replace with oblivion.
Revenge, I replace with victory.
I will be able to love above all discontentment.
To give even when I am stripped of everything.
To work happily even when I find myself in the midst of all obstacles.
To dry tears even when I am still crying.
To believe even when I am discredited.

- Paulo coelho

P.S. From his new book The Aleph (O Aleph), The book is currently only in Portuguese, but it will be published world wide in 2011

Flow..

2010-11-19T13:57:00.002+05:30

Whatever runs contrary to the 'Flow' will not last..

Let us learn when to act and when not to act.
.
Let us understand the 'Action in Inaction and 'Inaction in Action'

Let life unfold and unfurl over us..

Let us accept and harmonize with the 'Flow.'.

.

Someone

2010-11-07T22:21:00.001+05:30

We wait a lifetime to meet Someone

Who understands us,

Accepts us as we are.

At the end,

We find that Someone, all along,

Has been Ourselves.

:)

Two possibilities.

2010-10-29T21:46:00.001+05:30

There are only two possibilities in every moment. You can fight or you can kiss.

.

Memory

2010-10-27T22:50:00.004+05:30

Let us erase from our memory completely

a) Our lost opportunities.

b) Our mistakes once we have asked for forgiveness.

c) Our hurts.

Let us save in our memory and keep reminding ourselves

a) Our blessings

b) People who have helped us.

sUrrender

2010-10-22T20:35:00.001+05:30

The only way to win,

sometimes,

is to Surrender.

failure.

2010-10-18T11:04:00.001+05:30

Lets not be afraid to fail..

Why not try again , again and again ..?

Reality

2010-10-15T14:15:00.001+05:30

We have the power to do anything we wish except these two

a) We cannot create reality.

b) We cannot destroy it.

.

Trials..

2010-10-12T20:19:00.000+05:30

We build lifetimes as spiders build webs.

Lots of trials, sometimes, to fit one strand.

Fear

2010-10-10T21:27:00.000+05:30

Clouds don"t worry

about falling into the sea because

they can"t

a) fall or

b) drown

but they are free to belive they can,

and they may fear if they wish.

Letter writing :)

2010-10-04T11:05:00.004+05:30

Write letters to God .

Daily.

It really helps.

How can he not reply??

:)

Peace.. Peace.. Peace..

2010-09-30T14:42:00.002+05:30

Nothing is worth spoiling the peace of our minds..

Be a peace angel today. India needs you.

Raindrops

2010-09-29T10:53:00.002+05:30

No raindrop ever falls in the wrong place.

Life..

2010-09-21T21:55:00.001+05:30

Let life happen to you. Life is always right. Nothing happens by chance.

Lessons..

2010-03-18T12:12:00.005+05:30

‘I don’t know how you manage it.’. My hubby sounded cross.. ‘People instinctively know that they can cheat you..’

I kept silent.. Was it true?

Maybe it was..

‘Don’t take what people say at face value.. And money is something that tempts people.. Always..’

‘Hmmm.. ‘ I nodded my head bent..

The bill had been for 525 rupees. I had no change. So I had given the caretaker a one thousand rupees note.

‘You go there only few days a month.. It’s not as if you know him that well’

‘True..’

‘You should think what is making a person say something.. not just believe it blindly.’

‘Yes. I had believed him.. When he told that he had spent the balance amount and he would pay me back when he got his salary.. I had again kept quiet when he told his salary was not enough but he would himself pay the next month’s bill.

He had come after me each time I walked across the lobby to get into my car.. Apologizing..

‘Ma’m please don’t tell the committee.’ he had begged

I had finally got irritated.

‘Don’t keep talking about it and wasting my time. You pay it next month.’ I had driven off angry with myself..

He had kept quiet after that.. And I had ignored him..

I had gone there the last weekend to see a new caretaker.. The previous one had left..!!

‘You have been cheated.. Don’t trust people like that. If you have to pay 525 you should give only maximum 600’. My hubby repeated ..as if talking to a small child.

‘Hmmm..’ I nodded contritely.

Somehow I had never thought that he would Leave the job and go away like that without paying me the balance.

‘Just learn from it.. Don’t fret over it .’ My hubby felt sorry for me I think.

‘Hmmm..; I nodded.

I could only learn from it and move on.

But I felt a bit disturbed.. I had so blindly trusted him.. It was not a big thing.. Just 475 rupees .. But still.. It was not the amount.. It was the fact that I had been so naive.. That I had been fooled..

Something that was so obvious to my hubby.. I had been blind to it..

Any way I have learned one more lesson.. I consoled myself.

Yes.. I keep learning..

I dedicate this post to all those who have cheated me.

Thank you .. For all the lessons in life..

After all the only mistakes in life are the ones from which we learn nothing.

Take care..

2010-03-04T13:10:00.007+05:30

Take care of them..

They are our most prized possessions.. Little bundles of energy.. With capacity to breed.... Millions and million times over..

They can make us stagger with pain ..stark mad with fury..smother us with wretchedness, loathing, and despair..

They can make us face malice with mercy.. defeat with equanimity.. and terror with tranquility

They can make us see the vulgarity in vanity.. hilarity in hypocrisy .. gift in adversities and blessing in betrayals..

They can give us the might of tenderness .. the quietness of absolution.. and the delight of dreams..

They can sweep away the past.. living waters to flow on.. and grace to gush forth..

They can lift us up.. get us going.. and make us soar..

Beyond the the horizons.. beyond the quiet of the clouds..towards staggering light and love..

They are our most prized possessions.. Little bundles of energy.. With capacity to breed.. Millions and million times over..

Yes sweethearts..

Let us take care of our thoughts..
:)

They are out most prized possessions..

Refuge

2010-02-25T20:53:00.001+05:30

Choose compassion..Choose happiness...

For ourselves as well as for everyone..

Our refuge is our good nature available for expression..

.

Why?

2010-02-22T13:12:00.002+05:30

When two seemingly unrelated events occur simultaneously we at least owe it to ourselves to question 'WHY'

Its all about loving yourself..

2010-02-14T13:54:00.003+05:30

I watched the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks..

‘Love you forever!’

Does that sort of love really exist? I wondered.I didnt’t know… Maybe it did..

‘Love you forever..!! You are mine.. Only mine..I want you forever whatever happens.. He told me.. ‘

'I didn’t know ‘whatever’ included his marriage too !'

She started to sob again

‘Sweetheart don’t cry.' I told her. He is not worth it.

Haven’t you heard it? ‘If he is making you cry he is not worth the tears.' I laughed at my own joke.

She continued to sob

Pl don’t cry like this. He is not worth it. I repeated driving in the point.

‘You have your whole life ahead.. Wonderful years.’

‘I cant promise that everything will be fine. Life is not that easy.’

I had taught her many things.. How to French braid her hair.. how to make a mean beef fry .. How to breathe with the wind.. Her mom’s untimely death had made my cousin, her father to put her in my care off and on.. And I loved it.. I definitely needed some female company for a change..

Having only sons. Two football crazy eating machines !!

Personaly I don’t think’ love u 4 ever’ kind of love really exist.. I mean the‘romantic couple’ walking into the sunset holding hands forever sort of love . It’s only a trap of our own romantic dreams.

I wanted to tell her that too.. But no I wouldn’t tell her that. She would have to learn it herself.

Certain things one has to learn by oneself.. Earn it .. as they say in the ads.

‘Life is a roller coaster ride my love.. Its bitchy one day, showering you with blessings the next. ‘‘Go with the flow…The more u resist life, more is your pain.’ I told her.
‘Have courage in yourself. Rejection is a great teacher.. Makes us understand that we can grapple with disappointment and then move on.’

She was listening now , rubbing her swollen eyes.

‘So your Prince charming went back to become the toad .’ I giggled..

‘So what? It has happened to many princesses and they have survived.. I smiled.

Now wash your face, I have a gift for you, its valentine’s day after all na.’

I gave her a DVD. ‘I have recorded two movies in it. Watch both today itself.’ I smiled.

‘Il cal tonight .Tell me who you want to be Clara or Annie.’

She picked up the cell at the first ring itself

'Ya I saw both..I understand..'

Her voice was hoarse. She had cried again I knew..

‘So tell me whom u want to be.’

‘Clara or Annie?

‘Clara.. For sure..' She whispered.

‘Hmmmm .. I knew that.. classy revenge.’ I giggled..

She laughed..

‘Ok sweet heart. Watch Clara.. Again and again’

Goodnight..Happy valentine’s day once more. And Remember.. It’s all about loving yourself..

I switched of the phone and walked to the mirror and smiled at myself....

The DVD had contained two movies . Stories of two diff type of women.. Clara of Padmarajans ‘Thuvanathumbikal ‘who had let go of her lover with a smile and moved on with her life and of Annie of Lenin Rajendrans ‘Chillu’ who had drowned in her misery.

I looked at myself in the mirror …admiring my dark eyes … the soft hair loose on my shoulders...

Yeah it’s all about loving yourself..

‘Happy Valentine’s Day I smiled at myself....

Maybe..

2009-11-30T14:54:00.004+05:30

Death stared at me.

Her whole system was failing.. It was obvious.

Death was in the room already.. I could hear it in her rattling breath.. Her clammy skin..Her sunken eyes.

Her gaunt body was struggling to take in the oxygen through the mask.. Her hands and feet were cold and clammy.. But it was the eyes .. The tortured sunken eyes that gazed around.. Beseeching solace.. That struck me with the knowledge....I know that eyes.. seen it before..
I would be certifying her death before sunrise.. I was sure.

I examined her..

Oh I knew her history.. HIV positive.. Her husband had presented it before he passed away.. Leaving her two kids with her. 8yr old girl and six year old boy.

Both kids were HIV negative.... "Thank god..!!" Her brother who was looking after them now proudly told me that. "The kids are negative..!"Even before I asked about it..

She had been on treatment for past two years... But she had developed cancer.. Aggressive type.. Rare in women of 35yrs.. but expected in HIV positive cases.

"We want to take her home .. to Palghat .. now" Her brother told me..

"But how?""Her condition is too bad."

"She wants to see her kids now." Please refer her to a hospital at Palghat.

"But Palghat is too far off.. at least ten hours.. something may happen on the way."

"Yes. But it will happen even if we don't take her."

"But her condition is too bad. She wont survive the long road journey"

"What will you do if something happens on the way?"

"We will take her to some hospital."

"I cant permit it. Her condition is too bad."

" She wants to see her kids ."

"Then bring them here."

"There is no one to bring them."

"We want to take her."

"Well i cant permit it. I will not refer her in this condition. You get disharged against medical advice." I said walking off.

I wouldnt be a part to it. what if something happened on the way. our hospital and I could be blamed.. these were sensitive issues..

Me the woman and mom could understand them but me the doc couldnt support it.

They left.

I prayed that she should see her kids.. Nothing should happen on the way..

But she was sinking.. i knew it..

Ragini died half an hour before they reached home.

She couldn't see her kids.

Maybe I shouldn't have discharged her against medical advice.. Maybe I should have refered her.. In a fully equipped ambulance with nurse accompanying them .. .There had been no resources for all that..But maybe I should have tried harder and somehow done it..

Maybe then she would have survived half an hour more.. and she would have seen her kids..

I dont know..

Maybe..

2009-08-12T13:33:00.007+05:30

Some people walk in the rain.. others just get wet.

My sweet little honey bee..

2009-05-10T11:49:00.006+05:30

I don’t know what was it that woke me up.. I sat up in the bed and checked the time.

04.05

Oooooh..!!

‘ I needed bit more sleep..!!!’

I snuggled back ..Tossing and turning.. Trying to relax..

But no.. I couldn’t..

Something niggled at the back of my mind.

I raised the curtain and peered out of the window. There was nothing.. Only the pre dawn darkness outside..

Oh yes..! I remembered..

It must have been the mild worry of Gautam’s trip

My son’s first trip alone...to Malayatoor Church and back. I checked the time again his train would be leaving soon.. He would get down at Angamaly. Find a bus to Malayattor.. Climb the hill alone.. Pray at the St. Thomas church and return.

He would be back only at ten night..

He had already slept last night when I reached home..

Your money for the trip is on the table.. I has whispered and he had nodded sleepily without opening his eyes lest his sleep be disturbed.

The mom in me had to call him. Even though he had told me not to.

‘Yes?’ He sounded grouchy

‘Where are you?’

‘On the second platform.’

‘Has the train come?’

‘No. Announced’

‘Don’t let your bag out of your sight.’

‘Ok’.

‘Don’t talk to strangers.’

‘Ok.’

‘I’ll call in between’

‘No don’t call.’

‘Ok then sms me or miss cal me if there is anything’

‘Ok’

‘Edaaa… wish me Happy Birthday’

‘Huh?’

‘You forgot??’

No. Happy birthday. The train is coming. Bye’

‘Hmmm. Boys..!!’

‘It is in such moments I wish I had a girl.. ‘

I couldn’t sleep again.

Self pity washed over me.

Hubby was in some happy dreamland..

I decided to get up.. Could do with some quiet time in the silent house.. Some self reflection.. Some time to pray.. A leisurely cup of tea.. I walked downstairs.. Taj was also sleeping.. grateful for one day without his morning tuition.

‘Hmmm..’

The light was left on in the dining room… he must have forgotten to off it in the hurry..

I walked into the kitchen.. ‘Earl gray tea today’ I told myself..

I made a pot. Set a tray with my fav linen , cup and saucer and a plate of cookies.

Yes!!! Happy birthday to me…!!!

I walked into the lighted dining hall singing ‘Happy birthday to you Anu…!!!’

I stopped in my track

On the table was a gift wrapped parcel..!

On the top of it an envelope

I took the envelope first

On it Gautam has scrawled..

“To my mother who is always an eight year old girl at heart.

You are so special , your birthday happens to be mother’s day”

I opened the envelope inside it was a card with a smiling honey bee prancing around flowers . I read.

"This sweet little honey bee is here to tell you mom that you make our home a special place to come back to always.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.”

I opened the parcel.

Inside it was a teddy with an adoring smile and a huge pink heart with ‘MUM’ embroidered across it !!!

My eyes moistened.. I dialed his no: .. No he had told me not to call during his first adventure trip alone.. I texted instead.

THANK YOU SWEET HEART..!!

Instrument..

2008-12-12T20:45:00.002+05:30

The sky was a clear blue. The leaves rustled softly in the mild breeze.. People stood in groups chatting quietly outside the old church..

I walked inside.. Some were listening to the hymns .. Some praying.. Some deep in thought.. saying their last goodbyes..

There were no tears.. Only a quiet awe of the figure that lay in the coffin.. Of a life lived so well..

I gazed at the calm face.. I could see the twinkle behind the closed faded eyes. The snow-white beard still gave him that Santa clause look. I could hear the soft sing song voice so common in people from Cochin.. I could hear his soft laughter as he made fun of himself.. his ‘begging’.. He would laugh wryly… holding his palms beseechingly..

He would come and wait silently outside for me to finish my patients ..I chided him lovingly many times.. It hardly took few minutes. Patients could wait..

‘ No.’.. ‘.. Then I won’t be able to talk to you. I would have to go away fast.’ He would laugh softly

He would then ask me in detail about my family.. He had a special affection for my boys. He would then give me updates about the child I sponsored.. Anecdotes about the interesting things that happened when one looked after and cared for two hundred and thirty seven unruly boys. I would give him the monthly amount for his orphanage The Poor Boys Home run by Franciscan Brothers.. He would show me photographs of the boys.

Once in a while very gently he would talk of the spiraling expenses and make me raise the amount.. I paid mechanically.. as I talked to him. The amount was not much.. and I did it automatically as I talked to him

‘Lots of places to visit.. Jeweler shops.. Hotels..’ he would say as he rose up to go

‘.Hmm I know you have lots of rich friends.’ I would laugh..

Yes!!. All rich friends..!!.. To beg..!!.... Holding his hand beseechingly.. He would laugh his huge tummy jiggling

His Christmas cards were always the first one I received. A group photograph of all the boys in the orphanage with a simple Christmas message at the back, I cherished is cos it always was the first reminder that Christmas season was arriving

The good news always came from him.. My favorite Santa Claus.

Brother Julian had died on duty they told me.. He had gone to a bank to collect money from some employees there.. And was on his way to a few shops..

He followed the same visiting schedule every month he had once told me once.. ‘Organized begging..!!’ He had laughed..

I watched the silent figure.. so many wreaths surrounded him.. From jeweler shops.. Textile shops.. Hotels.. Resorts..Organisations

I gulped .. willing my tears away..

Piles of wreaths. Expressions of love and thanks from hundreds... People with more money than they needed.. Who didn’t feel the pinch but needed the gentle prodding of this old man who had gone from doorstep to doorstep gathering the bread crumbs to feed three hundred and thirty seven boys. And hundreds before them

The money was not enough to care for one child but he nominated each regular benefactor as the parent one child.

The feel good factor it gave made people wish to give more..

So much goodness had happened through him..

And we had all gathered to thank him.. For making us do something good..

He had been an instrument for so much goodness.. To so many boys to find a life..

An instrument..

“Lord make me an instrument of your peace.."

My favorite prayer by St Francis of Assisi..

Miracle..

2008-11-23T21:30:00.003+05:30

"Take frequent feeds.. bland food ..it will sooth you.. "I smiled at her

"I don’t feel hungry..” She bowed her face..

“But you need to eat frequently.. Your pain is due to hyper acidity..” I persisted

“I don’t feel hungry at all”

Her eyes filled up.

I watched the plump unadorned face....there were black circles under her eyes

I felt impatience rising within me

“Saradamma.. You need to move ahead.. Concentrate on your family..” Was my tone a bit sharp ?

She started to weep..

I felt so helpless..

She was depressed . Still in mourning.

Her thirty one year old son had died in an accident two and a half years back

Leaving a young bride and one year old girl child.

Saradamma hardly saw them .They were in Mumbai.. With her daughter – in laws parents..

“Take more interest in life.. Eat good food.. Go for walks.. Temples..”

“Don’t you want to go to Mumbai..? Visit them ? “

I smiled encouragingly..

“I don’t like going anywhere”

She started to sob..

“Please don’t cry. You are the pillar of your family. Think about your husband..”

“At least get out of the house.. Don’t just sit and brood. Go to temples then ..Get close to God”

“I used to be very close to God.. Now don’t feel that too” she shrugged.

I would have to suggest professional counseling for Saradamma..if things didn’t improve in her next visit.

“Take frequent meals.. Go for walks.. Pray more. Your problem is hyper acidity. Go out of house I spoke fast writing the prescription”

Patients were waiting me had no more t time to spare that busy Monday morning..

Mourning your child death.. Is there any pain more intense than that ?

I know a couple who distributes laddoos on their dead son’s birthday.. Every year. To the whole school where he studied.

A mother once asked me if they could donate the organs of her brain dead teenager ..

I remember a woman I met on a train journey to Mumbai.. She talked to me late into the night the tears falling unabashedly down her cheeks. She didn’t even bother to wipe them away ..

She talked and talked.. Describing how exceptionally smart first born had been.. An IIT student. He had died in the hostel at Gorakpur.. With undiagnosed cerebral malaria.. Fourteen years back.

But once the tears had died, I remember her eyes glowing in the dim light as she spoke of her grandchild for whose wedding she was going to Mumbai.. About herblooming garden.. How one day old kanji water did wonders for her anthuriams and roses..

She even told me the recipe for perfect lime rice.

( I still follow her recipe)

As a child I had heard stories about a brother of my mom, who had died at the age of twelve due to typhoid.. My grandma used to stand on the terrace during the weeks following his death.. gazing up at the sky waiting for the stars to fall down..cos she believed that definitely the world was ending..

But the grandma I knew was so full of life.. Laughing incessantly. She loved cooking and would feed the whole brood lovingly.. Her mysore paks. Halwas.. Mutton chops.. Dried mango pickles…all were out of this world..

I remember her in her eighties bringing me steaming coffee at 4. AM as I sat reading for my medical entrance. Watering her plants herself..

They all had survived.. And moved on.

When one survives life’s devastations.. With acceptance.. Strength.. Courage .. And Hope.. There is so much power in that.. It becomes a miracle..

I would have to suggest professional counseling for Saradamma..

She too must move ahead.. With smiles.. With hope in her heart.. And love in her soul.

To be a child..

2008-11-10T12:57:00.001+05:30

“Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul.”

-Francis Thompson

dance in the drizzle..

2008-07-29T10:39:00.003+05:30

Dark dull clouds filled the sky..

I looked around with pleasure…

The road along the side of the canal stretched ahead. There was not a single soul in sight.. only the soft soft rain.. and the wet chilly breeze..

The moist earth was totally drenched.

I watched the slow unhurried drops slanting into the burgeoning canal... millions of tiny ripples danced in the waters..

The coconuts palms glistened as they swayed gently in the wet breeze.

A few bird sat brooding on the electric wires. Not bothering to sing...

The leaves and the flowers drooped… overburdened with the last night’s rain..

I shivered with pleasure as the rain drops fell like pins and needles on my skin... ....the chilly breeze stung m y cold cheeks

My dress was getting damp.. My shoes slowly soaking...

The soft sound of the drizzle had awakened me from sleep early morning....I had rushed out..

I love to walk in the drizzle..

I took in a deep breath as I walked briskly.

Four short inspirations... then four short expirations...the fresh cold crisp morning air was literally cleansing my system. I matched the rhythm of my steps with my breaths

She was walking towards me fast , her bare feet faston the sodden ground.. She wore a graying polyester skirt that reached mid calf...a dull brown blouse hung loosely over the dark skinny body... A thin cloth possibly torn off from a sari was wrapped around her head and shoulders...

I smiled at her warmly but she didn’t notice me as she walked past across me.. crouching under the thin cloth.. her frown deepening.. her body cringing with discomfort as each drop fell on her face...

I looked back to see her walking hurriedly..

Unmindful of the dark murky beauty unfolded around her.

The beauty of the drooping flowers... the soft rhythm of the drizzle... the millions of ripples dancing on the water...

Yes.. she was hurrying towards the tiny shop attached to a hut that sold minor provisions..

Probably to get something for the breakfast.

Throw back that cloth , take a deep breath and smile at the clouds sweetheart..!!

I wanted to tell her.

Allow the drops to caress your cheeks. Let the chilly breeze play with your tendrils.

Close your eyes .. Pull out your tongue and taste the fresh drops...

Breathe in again...

Smile flirtly at the clouds...Cajole the birds to sing... Pat the drooping flowers playfully and watch the rain drops dance around madly.
Dance in the drizzle sweetheart.

Love the rains...She is your friend...’

Dance in the monsoons that batters your life sweetheart... That’s the best way to beat them...

Make sorrow your friend..

Yes sweetheart.. dance in the drizzle

A white pillow and a wooden cross...

2008-06-10T12:22:00.006+05:30

The coffin was closed. The jasmine garland decorating it had already started to wilt. I caressed the small wooden cross.

The family burial chamber was a very very old type. The top, slanting slab was still intact. There was a trap door at the front. The coffin was pushed in through it and placed on an iron grid just below the ground level.

The trap door would be sealed. The bodily remains would drop down through the grid....join the mortal remains of those gone before her.

Till the trap door was opened again...and someone, his breath reeking with alcohol....his senses dull, would be sent in through the trap door. He would clean up the iron grid hastily and
keep it ready for the next person..

Then we all would go again. Singing hymns, some weeping, some numb, some just on looking and man watching...

Some with beautiful memories..some with not so good ones.. some curious..some just out of duty, wondering when it would all be over and they could go on with their precious lives..

The trap door was still open.

I could see the coffin placed on the cleaned up iron grid.

It was closed....Silent. The flowers had already started to wilt...

A soft white pillow daintily trimmed with white lace was placed on top of it.

It had been removed so that the lid could be closed.

People had started to leave....Some silent, lost in their own thoughts... Some talking to one other softly...Some laughing and chattering as they saw long lost friends and relatives.

Only we, the family remained. Each one lost in the last goodbye, the last prayers

The coffin was silent..but soft white pillow daintily trimmed with lace whispered to me...

'Even I was removed.'

I caressed the small wooden cross again...

It had also been removed from her hands at the last moment....’Becaus the Cross is never buried’ They told me as they handed it over to my hands.

I looked at it...

My mom in law had handed over...I had taken over.

Who would take it over from my hands? I wondered curiously.

Symbol of hope..

2008-04-13T09:18:00.007+05:30

Vishu...

New beginings..

The harvest is over.

The barns are full

The new seeds are ready.

There is hope...

In the fertility of the soil.

The bounty of rains.

The smiling benevolent Sun.

There is hope..

In trusting our inner self.

In the love of our sweethearts.

In his grace that guides us....

New hopes are rising high..

'Happy Vishu' to all of you..

May all your hopes and dreams come true..

:))

PS.click on the foto for experiencing it fully..

Time..

2008-03-22T21:46:00.005+05:30

To everything there is a season,

a time for every purpose under the sun.

A time to be born and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

a time to kill and a time to heal ...

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn and a time to dance ...

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to rend and a time to sew;

a time to keep silent and a time to speak;

a time to love and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace.

ecclesiastes 3:1-8

PS. My special thanks to the gifted person, Mr Rajesh Rajendran for being so generous and giving me these beautiful fotos.. and for the following words..

"Sun is the only witness of the events that take place in the world. Bright sun with its all good blazing rays could be attributed to the happiness of life and the dull one masked by the clouds to the sorrows. In your lines,the two aspects of life that is positive and negative are implied such as love and hatred;weeps and laugh etc.So, i am sending u two pictures that seemed suitable for me.."

Endurance..

2008-02-29T14:30:00.003+05:30

She looked better… face calmer.. stronger..

‘You look good ..!!’I smiled at her warmly

‘Yes. Doc..! I feel better too..! See.. My hair is growing back..!!” She turned her head to give me the full view of her scalp.

Sure.. It was growing back.

‘Has stared to curl already…!! ‘I giggled.

She had come to me last May. With a lump breast. Detected two days after her husband’s first death anniversary.
Her unmarried daughter was with her. She has one more daughter she told me .But she was married. Now living in US.

She was jittery, over talkative. Fear clouded her eyes. She repeatedly begged me to give the report fast. Even though I reassured her that I would give it the next days itself.

It was CA. She was referred to RCC .

She underwent mastectomy and chemotherapy.

I watched helplessly as her inner self-crumbled several times and tears flowed down her cheeks as therapy ravaged her body and spirit...

She spent days in bed retching her guts out. She became pathetically thin. completely bald. Her eyes often looked terror stricken.

But today she looked different. Her figure looked fuller.. Her eyes were calm. Her gaze steady, as she smiled at me.

‘Eight months.’ She sighed deeply.

‘You survived it..!!’

I grinned back.
.
‘Why don’t u make a trip to US..? Visit your daughter..?’

I wanted her to come back to life fully.

‘No doc I prefer to be alone now.’ That calm smile again..
‘
Pray. Cook a bit. Take frequent rests’
.
‘Hmmm.. true..’ I nodded.

‘How you managed..?

I was eager to know how she has brought about the transformation..

‘It was tough doc. But I held tightly to god. Would’nt let go of him.’

Her eyes were earnest..

‘And I tried to find comfort within myself.’ She continued..

‘You know it’s always better that way. Only if you are unable to console yourself should you go to others for support’
.
‘Oh..!’. I was impressed.

‘Yes doc. The fear of relapse is always there.. but I trust in god. In myself.’

She got up to go. Then grinned at me.

‘You look lovely today..! “

‘Oh thanks…!’

I smiled back delighted

The room felt quiet after she had gone. I closed my eyes. I had witnessed true human spirit.. Human endurance and strength.

Trust in god. Don’t let go of him. Find strength in yourself..
So true...

April rain

2008-02-16T23:22:00.004+05:30

I love this beautiful poem...

It is not raining rain for me,

It’s raining daffodils;

In every dimpled drop I see

Wild flowers on the hills.

The clouds of gray engulf the day

And overwhelm the town;

It is not raining rain to me,

It’s raining roses down.

It is not raining rain to me,

But fields of clover bloom,

Where any buccaneering bee

Can find a bed and room.

A health unto the happy,

A fig for him who frets!

It is not raining rain to me,

It’s raining violets. '

-By Robert Loveman (1864-1923)

ps.Love n hugs to ashi for helping me with the template.. Thanks a lot sweetheart..!!

Delusions..

2008-01-26T21:12:00.000+05:30

The girl was in bed most of the time. She was not clearing her exams. She was not talking much.. Eating much.. Not sleeping much either..

I requested her parents to wait outside. I needed to talk to her alone.

‘Tell me Jamie..? What is your problem ?’

She stared back.. blankly.
.
Her face looked puffy and pale.. The eyes dull..

‘Tell m.’ I repeated.. smiling cajolingly.

The blank stare again..

‘Jaime are you afraid of something some body? Worried?’

‘No.. Its not fear.’

Then?

I knew it was not anxiety.. her expression was too dull for that. I was just poking around. Trying to instill some response in her.

‘Err.. Hmmm.. Thoughts keep coming..’

;Thoughts?’

‘I keep getting these thoughts..’

‘What thoughts?’

‘About one person.. I love one person’

‘Love..?! Great...!!

I smiled sweetly
.
‘What does he do?’

‘He is a teacher.’

‘He loves you too?’

‘Yes.’

Yes.. She believed it. Her eyes told me so.

‘So what’s the problem?’

She glanced at the closed door

‘He is a Hindu..My parents don’t agree.’

‘Hmm.. ‘ I nodded..’So tell me more about him’

‘He is a teacher

Where does he live? How u met him ?’

‘He gave me tuitions’

‘Hmmm..’

‘And’

‘Yes?’

‘He is married ‘

‘And he loves you?’

‘Yes.’

I looked at her dull and washed out churidar . Her cotton shawl was crumpled

‘He wants to marry you ?’

‘Yes. But he will not tell that.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s the understanding between us.’

‘Understanding?’

‘Yes. When he says I don’t love you he means‘ I love you’

‘Oh…!’

‘And when he says I must not call him he means I must keep calling.’

‘Hmmm..’.

‘Any kids?’

‘Yes. Two girls’

‘He loves you..? He wants to marry you…?’

‘Yes.’

The blank stare again.

‘Ok. Call your parents... and Jaime please waits outside’

‘Your daughter suffers from delusions..She needs psychiatric evaluation.’

‘Delusion ?’

‘Yes…fixed false belief. typically occur in neurological or mental illness’

‘Oh..!They stared back at me.’

‘The false belief is firmly sustained despite what almost everybody else believes.. despite obvious proof or evidence to the contrary’

Some patients belive that their spouse is having an affair.. some that their neighbours are harming them …some that their co workers have ganged up against them ‘

‘They will not belive belive that even if you try to convince them. They suffer a lot of agony thinking its true.’.

‘Your daughter belives that a married man wants to marry her.’
.
‘Yes we know.. he is also upset because of it.’

‘We took her to a priest for counselling..’

‘No counselling will not help now..’
‘Her delusionsWill start to break down after six to eight weeks of treatment.. Then conselling may help.’

‘Till then don’t support her views or tell her she is wrong.. it will only aggravate her distress.. just be neutral..’
I refered Jamie to a psychiatrist.. Ifelt disturbed the whole day.. I could imagine her pain.. her despair..

Do you know anyone with fixed beliefs that’s obviously wrong to everyone else.. ?

Do you feel that you reach a dead end ..a blank wall when you talk to them….? Don’t just get frustrated.. consider if it could be delusions.

Delusions have wrecked my friend’s life.. Proper treatment at the right time could have prevented it..

That’s why I wrote this post..

Fading 2007..

2007-12-29T18:46:00.000+05:30

The New Year is arriving..

Last year was a good one.

Lots of love and laughter shared.

Good health.. Good boss.. The two things we have least control upon.

:))

I feel blessed. Let me thank for my countless blessings

Let me move on with hope in my heart. Cocooned and safe in the unconditional divine love that is my birthright

Praying for the strength and wisdom to make the right decisions.

For the grace to see goodness in everything
Gautam will be completing his plus two. Hope and pray that his hopes and dreams come true..

WISHING YOU ALL A WONDERFUL YEAR AHEAD..

PS. Thats the pic of Palayam Church taken today at dusk..

my blog was reviewed

2007-12-06T20:18:00.000+05:30

http://avidblogreader.wordpress.com/2007/12/06/hope-and-love-blog-review/

Hope And Love’ - Blog ReviewDecember 6, 2007 — Ishq

Hope and love are not the only things, what this amazing lady ‘Anu’ from God’s own country offers to all in her blog ‘Hope and Love‘. It has all the human emotions that a lady can sustain. A doctor by profession pens down her medical encounters and peronal get-a-alongs with absolute charm and uncomparable mixture of reality and philosophy. Most of the author’s blog entries are her trysts with her patients but when it surfaces from a women who has such an ability to put life into each words it touches the inner core of your soul. There are a few blog entries which sent shivers down my spine. Though most of the blog entries are mentionable, the ones which cannot be missed are ’Pandora’s Box’ and one without a title posted on ‘Wednesday, May 30, 2007′. I am impressed the way by which simple relationships and day to today events interpreted with such soulful thinking by the author. The art of writing the personal incidences in form of a story is worth praising. Each entry has a picture corresponding to the titles of the blog entries.
The blog has a dull theme and the appearance is not upto the quality of the writing in the blog entries. The blog does not attract the the visitors until they read the blog entries. The navigation of the blog is simple and similar to other ‘blogger’ themes. The blog started in February of 2005 and has more than 60 wonderful instances to read to your heart’s content. There has not been much activity on the blog recently. The last blog entry was on Nov’24 2007 when I reviewed the blog. I go ahead and give this wonderful blog a 3.5/5. I would offer a few suggestions to the author of the blog:
use a theme which compliments the content which you are writing and also improve the overall appearance of the blog.
update the ‘about me’ section or provide a link to your orkut profile, people will appreciate the blog more, the more they know about you.

Blood guilt.

2007-11-24T19:39:00.000+05:30

‘Pregnant..??’

The stricken eyes gazed at me. The smooth cheeks burned.. The full lips trembled.

“Yes pregnant.. About 6wks”.

‘But.. But we used condoms.. Always..’

She whispered.
‘Condoms are not 100% safe.. Didn’t you know that..?’

‘No.’ She stared back.. Blankly..

‘Well, you are pregnant.’ I repeated allowing the news to sink in.

‘Talk to your boy friend. Get married… Fast..!’

I smiled at her.

Marriage… him..? no..’

‘But you are pregnant.’

She stared back her face pale..

‘But we never discussed marriage..’

‘Never..?!”.Why.’

I was confused.

‘Our paths are different.... Our families will never agree. She wouldn’t look at me.

‘Different religions. Different backgrounds. He is a Muslim’.

‘But.’

‘I was now utterly confused.

'We are lovers. But marriage is out of question. It was made clear from the beginning itself.’

‘We used contraceptives. Always.’

‘So you want to have abortion. .

I felt anger bubbling up my gut.

‘Abortion. ? No. Its murder…’

The lovely face was deathly pale.

'You plan to deliver the baby?'

She was silent her gaze fluttered. She looked trapped. Cornered.

I leaned forwards and rested my hands on the table. ‘Aparna you are pregnant. You can’t wish the problem away. The baby is growing every minute’

‘But we used contraception.’

She murmured to herself

‘Contraceptive failure is always a possibility.’ I repeated.

‘Sex should never take lightly. My tone indicated.

‘Confess to your parents. Shall I call them over here? Give me their no:’ I spoke softly. Gently.

She looked as if she would faint.

‘Take your time. Decide what to do.’

‘But abortion is murder.’ She said to no one in particular.

Don’t take a decision now. Think it over. Tell me tomorrow

I had many more patients waiting.

I watched her as she walked out in a daze.

Smart. Forward..Good looking... Professional. ..Self sufficient.. anyone who saw her would credit her being all that.. on first impression..
'Forward' enough to consider sex without marriage

She was now facing the age old problem.

'Women are women. You should have been more careful.'

I wanted to tell her. But what was the point? The damage was already done. She had already learned it the hard way.

She never came back to me. I don’t know what her decision was..

I sincerely hope it was not abortion.

The easy way out.

Murder.

Bloodguilt.

Peace..

2007-11-15T13:20:00.000+05:30

Mr Moorthy died. A few weeks back.

His wife came to see me today. To collect medicines for her sons.

Mr Moorthy was conscious almost till his end. The morning he died , he called both his sons to his bedside.. He hugged them and blessed them. His eyes overflowed.

What pains me deeply is that nothing definite has been arranged regarding the sons.

Who will take care of them once their mother too passes away...?

From what I understood, they had expected her brothers to take care of the two sons after taking whatever property they have. But it was towards his end that they realized that it was not going to work out.

She is now searching for some institution which would take care of them.

I felt so sorry for the old woman. Widowed at 72yrs. With not much education or exposure, she is somehow grappling with her life, alone, burdened by her two sick sons.

I told her to do something as early as possible. To arrange something with the help of her brothers. Meanwhile I would also try to contact a few institutions.

May God help her.

May his soul rest in peace..

PS. I had written about Mr.Moorthy and his special family on March 6, 2005.

Self sufficiency

2007-10-23T13:45:00.000+05:30

She kept blabbering something. I couldn’t make out the guttural whisper. I suppressed my nausea as the stench of blood, urine, sweat and tears wafted from her, filling my nose.

One half of her face was swollen. She had multiple contusions all over the body, fractured ribs and bleeding from her ears. The right eye looked grotesque. The pulse was feeble and the BP, not record able.

She was in shock.

I started an I/V line, sutured a gaping lacerated wound on her forehead. A batch of tests, painkillers and antibiotics were advised. Neuro, ENT, Surgical and Opthal consultations were ordered.

No, sedation would have to wait much as I would have liked to sedate her.

The bleeding from the ears looked ominous. Head injury had to be ruled out first.

“Sister, tell the bystanders to come to my room.’

I told the sister as I walked out of the ER.

I felt furious.

It took about 20mts for someone to turn up. A middle aged bulky woman. She stood near the door.

‘Come, sit.’

‘No I’ll stand’.

‘No you sit.’

She sat.

‘Her sister?’

‘No, neighbor.’

‘Her husband?

‘The Police is searching for him.’

‘What happened?’

‘Her boy came and called me.’

‘Boy? How old?’

‘ 8yrs’

‘He was in tears. Told that his amma was hurt and crying. I went with him to see what had happened.’

I could feel her panic as she recounted what had happened.

‘ I didn’t find her in the house. Then I found her.. In the verandah at the back. She was lying on the steps leading to the backyard. ‘

‘Didn’t you hear anything?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No, the TV was switched on in both the houses.’ She shifted her eyes
‘
Where is the child now?’

‘He wouldn’t come to my house. I left my kids with him’

‘Has this happened before?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘C’mon you must know.’
‘ Oh. Ok. Yes.’

‘You spoke to her about it?’

‘ No’

‘But why?’

‘It’s a personal matter. These things happen’

‘But you never discussed it?’

‘No’

‘She didn’t tell you anything too?’

‘No. She was a very quiet woman’

‘Quiet?

‘Yes. Quiet… Soft ... Timid… Shy… She never spoke about it to me. And I didn’t want to ask her’

‘What about the husband?’

‘ A good for nothing fellow. Drunkard…Involved in Petty crimes. Never gave her peace’ .She shuddered. ‘We avoided him, my husband and me.’

She rose up again. Eager to leave.

‘M’am I’ve to go. The kids are alone. They must be scared and hungry’

‘But some one should stay back.’

‘We have rung up to her father he is on the way.’

‘Where do they live?’

At Neendakara.... They are on the way..’ She repeated as if it was an excuse for her to leave.

‘I have to go. My husband will be here till they come’

‘Ok. Tell her father to meet me.’

The Causalty was busy that day. I got time to talk to her father only late in the night. A shriveled, defeated man. His shabby terlene shirt hung loosely around the frail old body.

‘Ganga’s father?’

‘Yes.’

‘You saw her?’

‘Yes’

‘Understood her condition?’

The sunken eyes beseeched me. The gaunt face looked tired and drawn.

‘Do you think she will survive?’

The softness in my voice made him jerk in pain.

‘To be frank I doubt it.’ I persisted.

I knew that I was driving the arrow in his heart deeper. But I had to be open in this hopeless case.’

‘We will try for the best. . But...’ I left my voice trailing.

Yes I had to be open. Her reports had come
.
She had fractured skull. Intra cranial bleed, ruptured spleen, fractured ribs and Contusion in her lungs.
There were cigarette burns on her cornea.

She was already in coma .It was highly unlikely that she would survive.

‘You know what happened?’

‘Yes.’

‘ You know that she was often being battered?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes?’ I couldn’t keep my anger out of my voice.

‘ Yes. I know that her suffering started the day she married him. She would come to my house and weep’

‘First it was for dowry. Then a scooter. Then whenever he had problems
He was involved in petty crimes. Didn’t have a proper job.’

‘Was she admitted before?’

‘Yes twice.’

He wouldn’t look at me.

‘Once with a twisted arm and once with fracture ribs.’

‘You never reported it to the police?’

‘No’

‘He told he would set fire to her body. Pour acid on her face.’

He paused for a moment and looked into my eyes as if it was a confession.. Then he continued.

‘Last month she came to my house. She refused to go back to him.

‘It was I who convinced her to go back.’ The old man started to shake.

‘You convinced her? Why?’

‘I told her that she must go back to her family.’

I felt the nausea rise up my gut again.

‘Family?’

‘Yes. Her husband and kid’

‘But why?’ I didn’t ask that but it my silence did.

‘My Ganga was a timid girl. I felt that she wouldn’t be able to manage alone. Who take care of her after my death? ? But she has left before me… I can’t bear this…!

He started to sob again.

‘Ok ok.’ please calm down.’ What has happened has happened. You did what you felt was the best for her. Don’t torture yourself... Please. ‘

My heart went out to the old man. I could feel his deep pain. His regret... His guilt.

‘Take some food and try to get some sleep. I’ll tell sister to give you a mild tranquilizer.’

That was all I had to offer him.

Also, I too was tired and hungry. I needed some rest badly.

Quiet. Soft... Timid… Shy..

The words kept resounding in my ears, as I lay sleepless.

Quiet.. Soft…. Timid.. Shy...

Ganga didn’t pass the night. She died during the early hours of dawn.

Quiet ,Soft, Timid, Shy , Ganga.

The words often used to describe a woman

High time it is changed to Bold. Spunky and Smart …

And of course ‘Self-sufficient...’

Sailing..

2007-10-20T10:44:00.000+05:30

“To tack a boat, to sail a zigzag course is not to deny our destination or destiny. Just the opposite.

Its to recognize the obstacles that stand between ourselves and where we want to go, and then to maneuver with patience and fortitude making most of each leg of our journey, until we reach our landfall.

The seasoned sailor stays on the same tack as long as it appears to b advantageous and then at the appropriate moment, pushes the tiller towards the sail and swiftly changes direction.
Each separate tack calls for a major readjustment. The bow moves across the face of the wind. The sail swings from one side of the sloop to the other. Helmsman and mate shift position. The land looms from a different quarter.

But if the maneuver is handled fluently, the boat continues to surge ahead with a minimum loss of momentum.

In due course we arrive, if it can be said that we ever fully arrive. The truth is that there are destinations beyond destinations and so the confirmed sailor goes on tacking for ever.”

-Richard bode( First you have to row a little boat)

I'v just finished reading this little book. It’s full of wisdom beautifully told by a sailor with years of experience sailing his blue sloop. He writes about similarities between sailing and living.
I wanted to share the book with you all. Plz read it.

Angel

2007-10-06T14:32:00.000+05:30

I was tagged by Geets..

There are 3 rules.

Rule 1. Same as for the last tag

Rule 2 You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.

Rule 3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog

I dont have a middle nam.. naturaly I choose 'Angel'

Accomplishment-The satisfaction at the end, for my efforts..

Scanning through the newspaper held in trembling fingers. Seeing my my no:in the list of those who got admission to MBBScourse.. Feeling the bolt of pleasure and excitement explode. Turning and grinning at my mom.. Watching happiness floods and ripples her face as the realization dawns..

The first glimpse of my babies sleeping in my moms arms bundelled in a soft shawl.. Marveling at their petal soft cheeks and curly eyelashes

A patient’s smile when I tell him that he is healed and can be discharged...

A spotlessly spring cleaned house..

The boys gobbling up 'palappam and mutton stew' cooked to perfection..

The first bloom of a jasmine creeper planted ,watered and nurtured by my own hands..

The first glimpse of every new post in this blog..

Nature- My greatest love. The magic the horizons promise.. The soft breeze that knows me intimately.. The serene green meadows dotted with wild flowers. Lazy white clouds of the blue blue summer sky..Ethearal mist floating down a sleeping valley.. Full moon nights. The song of the rain. The silence of the stars..

Nature can sooth me when nothing else can..

Grave stone-A stone put upright on a grave showing the name etc of the person buried there. The sum total of all my dreams, efforts and agonies will be summarized there.. In a very few words.

Energy- My basic necessity.. to work, play and love.. With passion..

Learning-Yea I keep learning.. To trust.. To forgive.. to share.. to let go ..to slowdown... to keep silent or to talk.. To laugh.. or to not laugh.

I leave the tag open.. anyone who wish to do it is welcome.. its very rewarding.. I enjoyed doing it..

txs geets..!!

Human Nature.

2007-09-17T14:53:00.000+05:30

Silvie had tagged me a few weeks back. Maybe she has forgotten about it having posted several posts after the tag …

Sorry for the delay silvie,I didn’t get time . I am sure you will forgive this busy woman-doc-friend for the delay.

:))

I enjoyed doing it because human beings always interest me. Also it made me go back and remember the people I love and respect and the ones who have pained me.

FirstI have to name those I wish will take up the tag.

I tag the following people.

1. mm
2. abc
3 .adorable pancreas
4. cool-alien- frm- mars
5. di

I wish to get to know you better sweet hearts..!!

:))

The second part of the tag is about the "Kinds of People I Judge"

I know that I am not supposed to judge others. But being human, I do judge some kinds of human nature.

1. Suck ups-People who suck up to relatives and colleagues with lot of money and social status and look down on people who are not that lucky. In general, people who believe that those with more money and social status is “superior’ to others.

2. People who bring religion, castism and groupism to their work place

3. Manipulators - people who try to manipulate the emotions of others. They use kindness, goodness, guilt, greed, envy, lust, gluttony, and pride, of their fellow human beings to get their way.

4. Those who don’t keep their promises. Some may even give false promise to get their way. It makes you lose your trust in them.

5. Goody goodies and hypocrites

The third part of the tag is about "People and Things I admire" (The best part I think)

1. People with physical handicaps or chronic disease, who get on with a positive attitude. There was this doctor who did PG with me. He was struck by polio while doing his ‘plus one’. He had been a state cricket team player before that. His one leg was paralyzed and he walked with a limp using braces. Also had severe back pain on and off.

I always admired the way he used to join in all the fun never drawing attention to his disability. He was always smartly dressed and smiling calmly. His presentations, depth of knowledge, and language skill were excellent. I always admired the dignified the way he handled his disability.

2. Women who are successful professionally but always prizing their tenderness their feminity. Women who successfully balance their carrier and home. Who can exercise control over their male subordinates firmly softly and effortlessly. I once had a lady boss like that.. she used to be so soft, but firm and clear as to what she wanted. I loved the time I worked with her.

3. People who are disciplined and organized in an effortless manner. Wonder if I will ever be that..

:(

4. People with a positive regard to everything in life and malice to none. Those who live happily whatever their circumstances are making the best of whatever they have

5. People who can get across their message frankly, simply and pleasantly without hurting others..

6. People who can make others laugh a lot. ( And silvie dear, U lead the rest…!!)

:))

A date with the past..

2007-08-20T13:03:00.000+05:30

A date with the past..!

Tomorrow I will meet faces long forgotten..

The Friends..The enemies.. The bullies.. The buffoons… The snobs..

I’ll be hugged and pulled back to the past..

We will share what we were, those days.

We will also celebrate what we have become..

But most of all I will meet her.

After a long long time..

A tall skinny girl wearing a starched cotton sari and a white coat. Her huge eyes are lined with kajal.. There is a huge red bindhi on her forehead..

She is walking into the medical college with wonder and pride..

She is to become a doc..!

I can see her rushing from one lecture hall to the next. Chatting and giggling with her friends

Sharing the lower half of a female body with five others.. To cut open , dissect and study the human body, in and out..

Making friends with a bag of bones, the grinning skull given permanent space on her study table.. and wondering if the whole set belongs to the same person..

Recording the action potentials on a rotating drum as the pithed frog convulses desperately..

There she is.. walking to the hostel in the hot sun, blushing as she hears the cat calls from the Male House Surgeon’s quarters..

Sitting and reading in the hostel verandah late into the night..

Walking into the ward and examining a patient.. Embarrassed as the rest of the ward sits and watches her..

Watching the autopsy of a nine year old.. And running out of the autopsy room to retch her guts out..

Walking alone through the dark, sleeping ward to a patient gasping his last breath. Then waiting for ten minutes after the pupils are fully dialated and fixed.. to be sure.. before certifying the death..

Watching the bloodshed and trauma of a normal delivery for the first time and wanting to see mom immediately..

Walking out of the medical college thinking that she owns the medical field only to realize that she has to start from the scratch. Carve out her own path..

That only experience will teach her that the patient’s trust is the greatest compliment and her greatest responsibility.. That the way she talks to the patient is as important as the drugs she prescribes..

That she has to fix her priorities. Find out her own definition of success..

Her own definition of happiness..

I will hug and kiss that skinny girl with the huge bindhi..

I will hug her tight and pat her on her back..

Tell her to move ahead with smiles..

With hope in her heart and love in her soul..

Counting her blessing..

With grit, perseverance and wisdom..

With the confidence that..

Whatever happens she will emerge a winner..!

A long lost monsoon..

2007-07-16T10:31:00.000+05:30

The rain had been merciless. Had been the whole night. Beating down on the rooftops. Washing down the dust and grime..

The op was almost deserted. It always was during the first few days of rain. Then slowly, as epidemics of viral fever and respiratory infection erupted and spread, the op would get crowded, the wards overflowing, the staff too falling sick one by one.

My first case was a very draining one..I looked into the worn out eyes of the woman. Her daughter cowered besides her scorched by shame. She wouldn’t look at me.
The rain was gathering momentum. I had to raise my voice to make myself clear.
‘Accept it. Your daughter is four months pregnant. There is no question of abortion now. She will have to deliver the baby.’
The woman stared at me leaned back on the wall, bent her head as if in deep shame, and started to weep.
I glanced at the girl again

Why were women so stupid?

'Yes why so stupid ..?' I wondered again as I drove home that evening.

The wipers wiped off the raindrops falling on the misting windshield. But the rain was persistent. New drops. New patterns on the glass… to be wiped away again and again. I switched on the dim lights of the car, driving cautiously. The wet gleaming roads were skidding. The drains overflowing.

I made a mental note to add more soups in the menu.
Boiling water steeped in tulsi leaves to drink. Panikoorka leaves in the hot bath water…To prevent fever..

I remembered another monsoon and another sixteen year old.. guilty of yielding to empty promises and cajoling lips.

I walked into my house. my younger son was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV.

‘Didn’t go for tuition?’

‘Not feeling well.’

‘Hmm’. His chubby cheeks were flushed. The huge eyes drooping
I stroked his forehead pushing back the long hair. His forhead burned.
‘Ate something’?

‘No.’
‘But you must. Along with your tabs’.

‘Soup?’

“No tummy aching’.

‘Toast and hot milk.’?

‘Ok’
‘As I waited for the milk to boil I thought about Gayathri again.

She kept intruding into my thoughts today... after a long time..

The rain.. the pregnant girl… my son's fever..

I had been in 6th std. It was monsoon..My folks had gone to Kumily to attend a marriage. I had fever. I was to stay back with the new servant girl. Gayathri.

The day passed off fine.

She sat besides me on the floor. Served me hot kanji and pickle.

I felt a bit sick but loved all the attention being lavished on me.

It was drizzling as I slipped off to sleep in the afternoon..

I woke up dreaming that I was drowning in water.

The rain was pattering wildly on the roof. The windows had been closed. The curtains drawn across.

There was no electricity but Aa candle was burning and I was covered with a blanket.

Gayathri looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at me.

‘Chechi called. They will be late.’

‘The road is blocked. Some huge tree fell on the road.’

‘Don’t worry’. The dark gentle eyes smiled at me. Her nose stud flashed in the dim light.
‘I am here. You sleep for some more time’

I closed my eyes. The rain was persistent. Gathering momentum.

It started from the pit of my gut. A small shiver. My core felt frozen .. waves of chill spread all over my body. My teeth chattered. I was shivering.

‘Molu.. Molu..’ I could hear gayathri call urgently. She was rubbing my hands and feet. Running here and there covering me with more blankets.

‘Molu take this..’

I opened my mouth ,she poured hot kanji water into my mouth. The hot scalding liquid scorched my throat pleasurably. I opened my mouth gulping down more and more as I felt it warming my core filling my hunger..

I slowly opened my eyes the dark eyes smiled reassuringly. The nose stud flashed.

‘Sleep’.She whispered.

‘I am here’
She sat besides me on the floor and started to sing.

'What’s that ..?' I murmured sleepily.

‘Narayaneeyamm’

I lay with my eyes closed. Drifting off to dreamless sleep..

‘Molu’.
I woke up to feel soft hands on my cheeks.

‘ Better?’

My mom sat on the bed. Morning light flitted in through the open windows. Raindrops dripped softly the leaves of the guava tree outside. It had stopped raining.

‘Hmm better’. I smiled sleepily hugging her.

‘My son drank the hot milk and ate the toast. I gave him the tabs and tucked him in his bed.I looked forwards to the rainy evening ahead. My hubby was out of station. He would be coming the next day only. The trains were cancelled.

Some tree had fallen on the tracks.

I looked forwards to reading late into night cocconed under the blanket ..drinking coca.. while the rest of the world slept .. the rain pattering wildly on the roof .. the wind howling at the windows..

But somehow I couldn’t read.. I kept thinking about Gyathri..

I adored Gayathri after that. I loved the way her tummy jiggled under the half sari as she ran around cleaning, cooking and washing. Her glass bangles clashing, her payals dancing.

She made unniapams for tea.. sweet crunchy ones..

She gave me warm water steeped in tulsi leaves to drink and mixed crushed panikoorka leaves in my hot bath water ( To prevent fever she would smile at me ).

My uniforms were dazzling and neatly pressed.. she braided my hair deftly..

She would sit besides me singing narayaneeyam as I slipped of to sleep at night.

The sky was over cast when I returned home from school, one evening to find that she had gone.

‘Why?’

My mom would not tell why.

'When would she be back?"

No she wouldn’t be back.

‘Go out and play.’

My mom looked distracted. Upset.

‘Play’?

Didn’t She notice that it was drizzling outside?

I never saw gayathri again.

My confusion about her was cleared years later..

My grandfather had been buried the previous day. I sat watching an old man poking the canvas roof of the pandal from below with his huge umbrella. The pandal was sagging with the previous night’s rain. I watched water flowing down from the sides of the canvas with each poke..

‘Molu’.

I turned around to see my mom with a seven year old girl.

‘Remember Gayathri ?’

‘ Gayathri’?

Memories of a long lost monsoon.. Deft hands braiding my hair.. sweet crunchy unniappama.. The sound of rain gathering momentum… Fever and chills..Hot liquid burning my throat... Nose stud flashing in candlelight… Gentle eyes smiling reassuringly… A husky voice reading narayaneeyam..

‘Gayathri? Where is she?’

‘Didn’t you know? Gayathri died in her childbirth.’

‘Oh..!’

I looked at the skinny girl. Huge lonely eyes gazed at me. Unruly curls framed the cute face.

‘Her father married again…?’ I guessed

‘What father?’ ‘Molu, Gayathri was betrayed.’

‘Betrayed? But you never told me?’

‘You were too young at that time to understand.’

‘She trusted the new police constable. Didn’t know that he was already married. He never returned to the village. She was expecting him to come for her when she came to work for us.

Oh..!’

‘It was too late when I came to know.. she was almost four months pregnant .

Why were women so stupid..?' I wondered again.

I slipped into the bed hugging my sleeping son. His body was cool . The fever had left him.

I lay sleepless hugging him..

The rain was gathering momentum.. again..

2007-07-03T13:14:00.000+05:30

Mr. MN is a regular patient in our hospital. A 70 yr old hypertensive and a diabetic, he comes for regular checkup.
Every one abhors him.
Cos of his rudeness.

He picks up a fight with everyone. To the op counter clerk, to the doctors, to the sisters, to lab staff’ to the x-ray technician’ to the pharmacist.

Added to it he has patches of leucoderma all over his body and his snarling face.

Today morning I walked towards my room. And there stood Mr MN commenting rudely about doctors arriving late for duty. The fact that I was a bit late added to my irritation. I walked in head high as if I had not heard him.

The lady hospital attendant walked in looking fraught.
'Horrible man.' He was abusing you very badly.
Before I could reply. Before I could lay down my bag and take my steth out Mr. MN barged into the room muttering loudly about doctors coming late. He sat down on the chair.
I couldn’t trust my self to speak. I just placed my bag on my table and walked out.
To control myself or to teach him a lesson? I don’t know. Maybe both.

:))
I returned about five minutes later. He sat staring at me coldly.

‘Come sit here. I pointed on the stool besides me.’

‘ Oh ! You have only a stool for examining patients? ‘
He glared at me.
I pretended not to hear.

‘Hmm tell me your symptoms.’

‘I have pain abdomen and numbness both legs and feet.’

'Hmm any vomiting?'

‘No. I had told about my pain abdomen to the doc who had seen me last time. He gave me some stupid medicines. I have no relief.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Is your blood sugar under control..? Show me the results.’

He took out the report.

‘That’s the report. Who knows if anyone can trust the lab reports?’

It went on and on. Me asking questions softly and him being bitchy.

I asked him to remove his shirt and lie down on the couch so that I could examine his tummy. Then I examined both the legs in detail. Talking very pleasantly and softly.

Slowly the rudeness started to crumble. He started to wring his hands shyly while answering my questions. His voice became soft.

I came back and sat down.

‘You seem to have hyperacidity
Are you under any tension?’

‘Yes doc. He said quietly.’

He then talked for forty minutes non-stop. Yes he had a lot of tension in his life. His wife suffered from paranoid schizophrenia.
Since the past thirty years.
She doesn’t go out of the house. She is paranoid of every one. Doesn’t trust anyone. Even their grandchildren.

He talked and talked I listened.

Finally I advised the tabs he had to take and the diet he had to follow. In detail.

He quietly listened.

He got up to leave. Reached the door and turned back
He smiled at me.

‘I’m sorry doc. Sometimes I cant help my self. I behave rudely I know.’
‘I understand. Its cos of your family problems. I smiled back.’

The poor poor man.

I had been seeing him for the past several years. But I had not bothered to find out the kind of life he lived.
‘Treat the ‘person’ not the disease.’ I remembered reading somewhere.
So true.

I looked forwards to seeing Mr. MN the next time.

Alone.

2007-06-26T10:23:00.000+05:30

Recently during my morning walk Inoticed something. The herbs and grass grow close together. The shurbs stand slightly wide appart. But the trees, the taller and bigger they are stand wide appart.

They stay alone.

Today I came across these words.

'Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone...

Stand together not too near together for the pillars of the temple stand appart.'

-Kahlil Gibran.

P.S. That is another pix of Veli.

2007-05-30T12:37:00.000+05:30

The breeze flirted around lazily, playing with my hair, nuzzling my cheeks, pulling at my shawl idly.

The lake rippled and giggled. The flowers danced in gay abandon. The sandy stretch just lay there slumberous.... sedated. The ocean rose up in spray, crashing and roaring deeply.The blue, blue sky smiled serenely.

I felt calm, contented.

I was at Veli. Alone. With my journal and camera.

To be with my thoughts, soak in the nature, centre myself.

I do it off and on. When I need some 'Me' time.

Take a day off and drive to Veli.

Wander around alone, listen to the birds , gaze at the clouds. at the water plants bobbing serenely in the water , kids feeding the pigeons and the geese .
Marvel at the birds that swoop down on the rippling lake in a flash and fly away with the catch.

Take the pix of whatever catches my fancy..

Obeserve my thoughts silently..

Then relax in the floating restaurant, sipping tea, relishing the crisp spicy pakoras and write in the journal whatever i feel like with the roar of the ocean in the background.

The landscaped lawn at Veli is lovely

It includes the figure of a full-bodied woman lying on her back with one hip and knee slightly flexed. Her body is deliciously curved, moulded from warm earth and covered by soft, lush grass.

To me, she is the embodiment of a woman confident with her lush body, relishing her sensousnes, comfortable with her sexuality.
I have seen people especially women watch her surreptiously through the lashes never daring to admire her openly. They gaze secretly and then shift their eyes.
Her unbridled sensuality seem to be a threat and embarrassment. Even men seem to be uncomfortable around her.

I have taken her pictures from many angles, but it never did come out right.Needless to say that I know next to nothing about photography

Somehow, I was never able to capture her mood...her spirit...

That natural, innocent wantonness.

Anyway that breezy morning I decided to give it one more try.

I walked around her with my camera aiming from different angles.

'No. She was evading me'

I walked back about 20 feet and tried to capture her.

'No, I couldn't'.

I had to get her full figure and I could get it only from above her . I looked around.

'No, there was no building around.'

Then an idea flashed. Maybe if I could climb on her flexed knee, I could capture her fully.

I clambered my way up her body and climbed on to her knees,

'Maybe I could make it this time’. I kneeled down, tilting my camera to the right angle.
'Hmmm..... She lay before me ..! Unrestrained..!I aimed to click
'Hey!Hey...!!Come down...!!'
The voice was harsh. I turned to see the security guard gesturing at, me wildly.

I pretended to ignore him and turned back to click once again.

"Madam come down, you are not permitted to climb up there".
His eyes glared at me.

A few women workers had gathered .I had not noticed them.

'She walked around! Then she went away, then climbed on the top..!.'
They reported to the security officer. They stared at me accusingly measuring me from top to bottom, making me feel like a pervert.A shameless, immodest woman.

'But, it’s not written that photography is not permitted.'
'Landscaped lawn are meant to be walked upon'
' Her pose and mood is to be admired'

I wanted to tell them all that but I knew I couldn't reach out to them.

'Okay...Okay.’

I Smiled at them, walking away as fast as i could.Iwanted to escape from those censoring eyes.I didn't want to spoil my mood arguing with them.

As I walked away, I could feel those eyes boring down my back.

Typical attitude of the society towards sensuality and sexuality.Towards sex.

I felt sorry, for the artist who had crafted her so lovingly.

P.S. That is her distorted pix. All that I could capture of her. Maybe the purpose of the geese is for people to pretend that they are feeding them and gaze at her secretly..!

:))

Anniversaries of the heart..

2007-04-29T19:50:00.000+05:30

“The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart,
The secret anniversaries of the heart”

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The sun rays slant across the dry field coating it copper gold.The earth was dry, ,brown, and crusty. Blooming bougainvilleas blazed here and there. Fluffy white clouds wandered lazily across the sky.

I listened to a group of teenagers playing cricket on the other side of the field. Their shrieks and yell filling the warm summer air. Exams were over..

My mind floated back lazily to those long lost summer hols at my Amminja’s with my brood of cousins and neighboring kids.

Thirty years have vanished.

I can feel the hot summer sun burning my skin. I can hear my uncle talking, my Aminja’s laughter leading the rest.

Those mad days

Hot sunny days, Summer frocks, Lush juicy mangoes, Burgeoning jack-fruits, iced lemonades ,fragrance of jasmines blooming at dusk, summer storms.

Playing Cricket, badminton and football, the hot sun burning our brown, sweating, grimy bodies.

Ice-sticks, red yellow and milky white.. bought and savored secretly from the ice-cream man

Raw mangoes cut and mixed liberally with chilly, salt and coconut oil shared in damp dark leafy corners our tongues burning, our eyes watering.

Watching the thunderclouds build up with excitement and impatience … jumping and leaping around in abandon and delight as the heavens open and the rain lashed across drenching the dry crusty earth.

Balmy summer nights performing plays in the portico as adoring adults clapped and cheered.

Dark- Room pillow fights…

Make believe tree houses…. picnics….swimming, fishing.

The excitement. the wonder ,the love the sharing,the security.

The delights of childhood celebrated those long lost summers.

Captured forever in the fragrance of jasmine,the mangoes, the lemonades, the balmy summer nights. the fresh morning air following a night of summer storm.

One summer and many summers after that, a red rose was found every morning at the bottom of the huge flight of steps that led to my grandparents home . We came to know that it was from a secret admirer. A lanky teenager in the neighborhood who adored a lovely cousin of mine.

This made our summer hols all the more exciting. I remember running down the steps early morning giggling and laughing as we spotted the rose.

We are now spread out in different parts of the globe leading different lives.

But those shared summer hols bonds us forever permitting us to pick up where we had left off on the rare occasions we meet

We are kids again, giggling as we remember this…teasing as we remember that…thoughtful as we remind each other that the lanky teenager still remain a bachelor supposedly pining for my lovely cousin.

The sun had dropped below the rim of land. The boys had finished their game and gone home. A faint breeze cooled my skin .The trees were turning an ominous black.

’ Sweet are the memories you left behind’

I silently thanked my long gone Amminja as I walked back home for accommodating the whole brood with pleasure.

Gifting us beautiful summers.. Holidays of the heart that are remembered every summer..not restricted by the passage of time.

Jal Rekha

2007-04-14T21:59:00.001+05:30

The dew that melts away… The waves that crash and recede… The rainbow that fades… The night breeze that plays with my tendrils and silently sweeps away… They all murmur to me.

“Nothing is permanent.”

Nobody is mine forever. There is no ‘my’.

I must accept that I will have to let go at one time or another.

I may share tears, laughter, hope and despair. I may be loved, betrayed, admired or hated… But everything passes.

There is only me and the deep, deep silence around me.
There is only me and his grace that guides me.

Advice

2007-03-21T14:05:00.000+05:30

The room was silent and dimlight. The doors and the windows shut. She was alone.

The nurse lifted the net that hung over the bed so that I could examine her.

40% burns.
8 weeks old.

The upper body was exposed. The skin was charred. Cracking and peeling, exposing raw, oozing areas. She had no hair, eyebrows, nor nipples. Contractures were developing on her neck.pulling her lower lip,sticking it to her chin. Exposing her teeth.

Her ears were burnt out.
I called her name. She opened her eyes.
Pain, agony, loneliness and despair stared back at me. Filled her eyes and poured out as tears.
‘How are you?’ I smiled at her. ‘Slept last night?’
I was seeing her for the first time, doing my routine rounds before breaking off from night duty.

Words poured out.
“Sever pain… Itching…Cant sleep… No appetite.. I am fed up… I want to go home.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“My kids are having exams today. She started to weep.”

“Gosh!
She was in deep despair. She needed tremendous psychological support to carry her through her despair and the deep agony that lay ahead.

I had to say something.

“Take it as a test for your resilience… your patience… your strength…”

I smiled at her again.

“ Bear it for some more time.”

She stared at me as if I had gone mad.

“Testing? Suffering? Patience? It has been nearly two months.”

“ I know, but maybe you have to suffer a little while more.”

She kept staring at me as if I didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Accept it. Amma, that is the only way. “

I smiled back softly. I felt like hell. I knew that I must sound like a supercilious bitch with superfluous advice.

True. I knew nothing about what I was talking about. I couldn’t even imagine the extent of pain, suffering, loneliness and despair that she was going through.

I didn’t even have the time, the patience or the energy to sit with her for some more time.

I had more patients to see. Finish my work fast and be home before my boys left for the exam.

My neck felt stiff and sore after the sleepless night. I had to soothe it.

My neck, which had troubled, nagged, pained, frustrated,disheartened and despaired me for the past 6 weeks.

Yes, what right did I have to talk to her about resilience, about patience ?

It was rumored that hers had been a suicide attempt.

Suicide?

A mother with two kids?

I couldn’t imagine it.

But what could I advice her?

After all, Who am I to judge ?

The Magician

2007-02-11T08:20:00.000+05:30

‘Outstanding is the new normal and the unthinkable, sheer simplicity!’

At least, it is when Federer is around. He is a stage performer in a play where he writes his own script. A big, well defined tournament, where results reflect not only mastery of the game, but also tests the deep depths of human toughness and endurance. A grand slam tennis tournament. Tough for all, except for Federer that is. He just goes on to win it without dropping a set. As simple as that! The fact that he was not at his best makes it all the more scary. Therein lies the mystique of the man.

In such ambiguous times, the Nadals and Roddicks are not the archenemy, although broadcasters will play up or even come up with a rivalry if need be. In actuality, they are mere props for Federer to showcase his talents. Even as he is annihilating people and bringing them down to their knees, he has a smile on his face and gives a pat on the back afterwards. A sportsman.

Nothing stirs a tennis fan like seeing a cross-court half volley taken in the run by Federer for the opponent can do little but gaze in awe with his eyes wide open. The greatness of the man for me doesn’t lie in the number of matches he wins, but the manner in which he wins them as if he were just killing a fly. Magical.

Today is the day of the sportsman who has more endorsements and fan support. And they will go to any extent to get the same. A player is how he is presented. Anything that comes loose and unpackaged is viewed by the public mainly with condescension and is summarily dismissed. Effect of the media. Not the case with Federer. He commands respect with his game and not by praising the fans. However, the media has been helpful. As Federer his himself said after winning the 2007 Australian Open grand slam,

“Nobody would know how good my forehand was,
if I hadn’t been playing every match on center court.”

A proof of the phenomenon that is Roger Federer. No theatrics. Just the game.

Some believe that Roddick, Nadal and the like are good enough to spring a few surprises. Maybe. But that is all. To even dare to dream about more is not just hypocrisy. Its humour. Roddick’s strokes are powerful but lacks consistency. Nadal’s form is a wave of ups and downs. Yes. Federer is in a league of his own. The kind of leagues of Schumacher and Tiger woods in their respective sports. That few is the number of such leagues in this generation of world sport. Only Bjorg and Sampras can run him close in the open era.

As his opponents try to catch up, the gap seems to widen even more. While they are foraging for scraps of hope, Federer might want to take a break to make tennis a more fair sport. But for now, all that can be done is to keep on trying. Federer might just make an error. Wishful thinking, maybe. Just try and hope for the best. What else could possible be done in this unfair world.

-Gautam

Well, that was my son Gautam.

:))

I was not well for the past one month. Cervical disc disease. Had to undergo rest, physiotherapy and pain. It is said that doctors are the worst patients. It was true in my case. It was a pretty bad one. Kept imagining all the worst possibilities. Prayer centered and consoled me a lot.

I am better now. Will b joining duty tomorrow. I wont b blogging actively for the next 6 weeks.

Love and hugs. Miss you all.

See you later.

:))

Best Wishes..

2007-01-04T15:19:00.000+05:30

I sat in the car waiting for the class to be over. It was getting late than usual..Prof M.J’s drone could be heard faintly through the mike. I felt happy that we had chosen this place for Gautam’s entrance coaching.

Expensive yes. Strict too.. But Gautam liked it. And the timings were ok

I remembered those long lost days... Preparing for admission in the med school. Reading… re-reading. Writing…. As if life depended on it...Tutions..Tests..

It had not been so easy for us...

My parents had supported. Vaguely.

Now it was different. Parents put their entire life on hold those two years. Taking the kids to tuitions and coaching centers. In the wee hours of morning. Or late night… the city roads unsafe even for boys to travel alone during such odd hours.

We had chosen this place cos of two reasons. One, Gautam liked it. And two, the timings were ok.

5.pm to 9pm three days in a week. At least the family could sleep..!!

I gazed around. Parents stood in groups. Chatting. Some like me preffered the solitude in their cars.. cherishing the time alone. Lost in their thoughts. Listening to music.

The wind blew in playing with my tendrils. My cheeks felt cold. The December air was misty. Chilly.

I switched on the FM station.

‘Maniyara deepam ananjal pinna karimizhi random nanayaruthe..’
I listened idly as KJ yesudas crooned deeply. The lover was consoling and strengthening his departing beloved. He was begging her... to never permit her deep dark eyes to be wet once the lantern was dimmed on her nuptial night.

I sighed. and leaned back on my seat.

That was when I noticed her. She stood in the shadows. Close to the wall of a house, a few meters ahead. She wore a purple nylon sari. The borders draped tightly… Suggestively… Over her bulges. Her hair was teased into tendrils around her face and loosely plaited,decorated with jasmine flowers. Her lips were painted blood red.

She looked …well….. Ready for action..

I watched riveted as I saw car lights coming up the street. She too saw it and stepped out from the shadows. Her movements controlled. Sure.
The car moved ahead without slowing down.

She coiled back into the shadows with equal ease.

I watched her. Fascinated. Curious. I wish I could talk to her but didn’t dare to.

How did you land up here in the shadows? Ready to sell the softness of your skin. The lushness of your curves. The skill of your lips…?

I wanted to know.

Innocence? Desperation..? Pure greed…?

Do you dread tonight? Or are you just not bothered? Seasoned by your past. Hardened by practice. Shrouded by numbness.

I could see her talking rapidly into her cell. I remembered reading somewhere that life was easier for them with the advent of cell phones. They could do their own networking now..

Do you have dreams..? I wanted to know. Will your kid hate you?

Why does everyone hate you..?

The sound of engines starting up woke me from my thoughts.

The class was over. Boys and girls were coming out chattering loudly. I sat wand watched mutely as she lurked back into the shadows again.. Eager to escape from the car beams.

Why was hr car not coming? Maybe he was waiting for everyone to leave….

Maybe he was parked among us.

‘Mama…!!’

The doors opened and shut forcefully as Gautam and his two friends clambered in noisily

‘Lock the doors.’

I orderd mechanically, Starting the engine

I glanced at her as we moved ahead. She was burying herself into the shadows. Her back to me. her pallav covering her body...

I kept watching her through the rearview mirror.

“Goodbye..Hope your car comes soon. Hope he is good to you. “

I wished silently..

I thought about her again as I drifted off to sleep that night.

“Where are you now..?”

‘Maniyara deepam ananjal pinna karimizhi random nanayaruthe”

“I know that you are not doing this for yourself.” I wanted to tell her.

“Enjoy baby…”

“Continue your good work.”

Positive thinking for prostitutes..!!!.

I smiled sleepily.

If you are bold enough..

2006-12-04T13:17:00.000+05:30

"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life

-St Francis of Assisi

I love this small prayer. It acts as an internal compas helping me to direct my thoughts,relationships and actions..

St. Francis' prayer is a bold one, asking for strength to give of ourselves to meet the needs of others.

Of course I often find myself falling short .. But it sort of inspires me to try to do better..

He is one of the saints I adore cos of his beautiful thoughts, focus on peace , his love for animals, birds and the enviornment..

So if you're bold enough, pray the prayer.

:))

Pandora's Box

2006-11-19T20:53:00.000+05:30

Spend the whole morning cleaning up my cupboard.

Omg ..!! It took me hours.

What’s wrong with me..? The clothes, cosmetics and junk jewelry I have wasted my precious time, money and energy to buy senselessly and hoard for years is amazing.

Why don’t I realize that shimmer and glimmer on the face only suits models on magazine covers?

That jeweled bidhis make me look silly and decked up.

That chunky ethnic jewelry I buy from handicraft shops looks so garish and gaudy on me that I finally just push it back after wasting time contemplating whether I should wear it with my handlooms.

They only make me resemble Protima Bedi on a bad day.

That bohemian style doesn’t suit my looks personality or my lifestyle.

That jeweled stilettos are only good to look at. They are h horrible to wear esp in evenings.

That organza makes me look fat. Organdie pricks my skin.

That drop earrings and huge hoops only make me feel my age. I would look foolish in them.

What makes me buy all thee things. Which of the seven vices..?

Is it greed? Or pride.?

Why don’t I realize that I will never use these things?

They give me some pleasure when I buy it.

But they are hardly used and just serve the purpose of irritating me. Cluttering my cupboard.

Making me realize that my lifestyle is too busy for all these things.. That I am getting old. ..

I should realize that I am a mature woman . A busy professional juggling her home and career.
That I should have a vision about the my lifestyle, personality and choices when I shop.

That I always end up wearing the same few soft simple snug handloom churidars with white Kurthas and shawls, tiny elegant jewelry and soothing light silks in mild shades that makes me feel feminine...

That my feet only tolerate soft, cushioned, snug footwear.

That all I need and use is a good cleanser, toner , moisturizer , a coral pink lipstick and mascara and a tiny black bindhi. And of course a perfume..

I was ruthless this time. Removed all the ‘hardly worn' clothes, cosmetics and footwear.. To be handed out to those who will use them, enjoy them..

And I have taken a resolution that I will only buy what I really need and use..

I will simplify my life..

Wish I could do it with my thoughts, emotions and relationships too..

Shut up..!!

2006-11-09T13:50:00.000+05:30

“I hate it when you open your mouth.”
( angry and insulting)

“I TOO hate it when you TOO open your mouth.”
(Angry, insulted ,eager to strike back)

“Shut up! Both of you.. Don’t start in the morning itself..!!”
(loud and commanding)

:))

Snippets of conversation I heard from inside a hut during my morning walk today.. An old woman lives there with her son and daughter-in-law.

I couldn’t help agreeing with her..

We all have this tendency to score and win during our arguments.

We use hostility, rudeness, sarcasm, finger pointing and idle threats, to win at any cost..

We even bring up unrelated issues from the past..

These only serve the purpose of only hurting the other person.. destroying relationships..

The basic issue is often never addressed..

Let us avoid the instantaneous 'tit for tat' responses..

Let us try to solve the problem in a clear and honest manner.. Present our point of view respecting and validating the feelings of the other person..

Let us be conciliatory.. Reasonable..

It is always better to avoid emotive statements isnt it..?

Let us not jump into conclusions before the other person finishes speaking.. Let us face the facts with an open mind without trying to interpret (often wrongly) the other persons motive..

Maybe we need time to cool down before the discussion..

If so , let us shut up, hold out tongue, grit our teeth and if possible keep smiling..!

:))

Heart of a flower..

2006-11-02T13:46:00.000+05:30

“When we look deeply into the heart of a flower, we see clouds, sunshine, minerals, time, the earth and everything in the cosmos in it. Without clouds there could be no rain, and without rain there would be no flowers..”

- [Thich Nhat Hanh]

Yes..! The heart of a flower.. One of the most beautiful things in this world..

Thank you jaguu for clicking this pix for me... Meeting you on that clouded afternoon was a lovely experience..

Ps. He is exactly as I had imagined him to be

:))

Well built.. and Rugged in a Tee-shirt the color of this flower..

Gentle brown eyes..

Sweet.. Sensitive.. Soft-spoken .. Unassuming..

Exactly the kind of young man I would love my boys to grow up to be..

Acceptance..

2006-10-25T13:20:00.000+05:30

THIS IS HOW IT IS.. NOT HOW IT

Was..
Might have been..
Should have been..

NOT HOW

I wanted it to be..
Hoped it would be..
Planned it would be..

I ACCEPT THAT THIS IS HOW IT IS.

Now I get on with my life..

-[auther unknown]

When our our life experiences are not matching with our ‘shoulds’..
When situations are plain unfair, but there is nothing we can do to change them...
When the perfectly rational decision is to let it go..

Blogging and me..

2006-10-16T11:43:00.000+05:30

Alexis is one of the real gems I found in the blogworld and I feel that it is apt that it is he who tagged me to write about my blogging..

so here I go..

1. Are you happy/satisfied with your blog, with its content and look? Does your family know about your blog?

Yes I am quite satisfied. However I would love to add more pictures preferably taken by me.
Yes my family knows about my blog. Hubby dear and my boys seem to have a love - hate relation ship with it.
:))

2. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?

Only a very few close friends know about it. And I prefer it that way. For obvious reasons

3. Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?

Sure. It has opened a lovely word where smart, intelligent and caring people voice their inner most thoughts and share their emotions and experiences.. Definitely this wonderful world has made positive changes in my thoughts. Positive changes in ‘me’.

4. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?

There are some blogs I love to visit regularly.. They keep my blogging going. I also try to visit those who comment on my blog as well as go blog hopping too. Depends on the free time I get. Which is really very little..

5.What does visitors counter mean to you?Do you care about putting it in your blog?

Yes I have put visitor's counter in my blog.. It is interesting to go through the reports and analyze them.. It sort of motivates me..

6. Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?

Yes. That’s part of the fun of blogging.. you get to know people from their words, their emotions, and their comments.. It sort of builds up and as time passes and slowly you have an image of the person..
In the real world it is the other way round isnt it..?
I don’t know why, but creating an image for each blogger like putting a jigsaw puzzle together , gives me a thrill.. Also I believe that this image will be a true one

7. Admit. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?

Yes there is a real benefit
It has offered me connection and bonding with some special people , widened my horizons and has given me the pleasure of being the part of a warm wonderful community..

8. Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?

Never..!! It reflects the inner world of the people living in the ‘real ‘ outer world.. and I have always believed that the inner world is the true world..

9. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it’s a normal thing?

Criticism both positive and negative is normal and expected.. positive criticism encourages me.. I feel that there should be more frank positive criticism..
Negative criticism.. Well..it disturbs me .. For a few days.. Though I try to ignore it..

10. Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them?

I don’t fear or avoid them.. I am not much interested in them too..

11. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?

No. It is to be expected I suppose..

12. Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?

Hmm.. I have thought about it.. It will die with me ..

But I expect hubby dear to put up a notice in my blog that I am no more so that my dear buddies are at least kept informed about it..
:(

13. What do you like to hear? What’s the song you might like to put a link to in your blog?

I love melodies..soft sweet ones..

This blog is an expression of the goodness I would like to cultivate within me and share with others..
I read this poem by Wordsworth as a fourteen year old and was instantly hooked .. This is my ideal woman. This I what I would love to be.. And I would love to put this poem a link to this blog

She Was a Phantom of Delight

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.

Thank you alexis.. Doing this tag was a beautiful experience.. cos I was writing about something that i hold dear to my heart..

PS. That is the pix of the blooming 'arali' in my garden.. thats how blogging has brightened my life..

Good News..!!

2006-10-11T13:16:00.000+05:30

It is good news my dear sweethearts..I clarified it from the police myself..
:))
The boy was handed over to his parents.. The goondas were kept under police custody for a few days and released..
It seems the boys family had to payback some loan.. The police has told them to pay it back as early as possible..
So..
Three cheers to our cops..!!
And three cheers and hugs to our dasappen who did score..!!
:))

Desperate Hero..

2006-09-28T19:38:00.001+05:30

The young man ran past the gates of our hospital, across the drive way and into the foyer. He looked around in panic and bolted into the X Ray unit.
His clothes were dusty. sweat and tears ran down the gaunt face. His teeth chattered. He smelled of filth, hunger and fear.

“Call the police..!!”

“They will kill me..!!”
He gasped, skulking towards the shadows of the dark room

The x-ray technician froze. He watched the boy as if in a trance.
"Call the police..!! Don’t allow them to take me away..!! "

He pleaded, his sunken eyes looking around wildly for a place to hide.

“They starved me for two days….”
“Please someone call the police….!!”
He pleaded at the small group of patients and staff who had gathered around..

The crowd watched in alarm and panic as four or five men rushed inside the room..

“Goondas..!!”

Realization dawned as they watched the brash tee shirts clinging to sweating, lean bodies.. Arrogant flashing eyes and colored hair.

“Come”

One man caught hold of the boy and started to pull him..
“No.. no..” the boy fell down to his knees weeping..

I was on my way to the lab when I saw a big crowd in front of the x-ray unit.

“OMG..!”

Something was terribly wrong..

People had a stricken look.. They were whispering to one another..

I could hear wisps of conversations..

“Call the police..!”

“Must be trying to get loan money back..!”

“Call the police..!”

“We must lock the door..! A gruff voice was speaking feverishly.”.
That was when I noticed Dasappen shoving people apart.. Trying to close the door..

As the crowd parted I saw few mean men trying to pull a petrified looking boy who was shrieking something

My heart was beating fast..!!

“Yes..! We had to lock the door..!!”

Suddenly I felt a blunt hit on my back..

“Move.. move.. “A cold commanding voice ordered and I felt myself being shoved out of the way roughly..

He looked about seven feet tall ..had golden brown colored hair and wore a tomato red colored tee shirt.. he walked into the room..

My heart was galloping..!!

“No we shouldn’t allow it.. we had to call the police..!”

I ran to my office..and dialed 100..

I spoke rapidly..

“Ma’m we have already got the complaint.. Police is on the way.. The voice was crisp..”
I rushed back.. And watched the scene in horror..

Everything seemed to move in a slow motion..

A huge crowd had gathered.. The boy was pleading something as he was being pulled across the foyer.. Few people had joined in the fight and was pulling the boy back.. Some were talking excitedly into their cell phones..Dasappen was in the center. Hugging the boy from the back.. His face was buried in the boys back.. His body was bent as he strained to pull the boy

Suddenly the golden brown haired leader took out a knife and flashed it in front of him..
There was a collective gasp. The crowd parted.. Many people moved back..

“Where was the bloody police..?”

I couldn’t bear it.. The boy was being pulled ahead slowly.. Surely

The procession had reached the porch and was progressing along the drive way..

I ran behind the crowd....

They were taking him towards a Qualiz parked near the gate..

I could see Dasappen still clinging to the boy.. Oblivious to every thing around him. his face buried in the boys back.. he clung.. Obsessively.. Compulsively..
“Dasappen..! I wanted to shout.. Let go.. They will hurt you..”

There was a collective gasp once more as a police jeep swerved in through the drive way.. My heart danced as I saw police men jumping out..

The inspector roared something..

The men froze.. Their body language changed.. There seemed to pass some unspoken communication..

I was surprised.. The men didn’t try to run away.. They just stood there.. Docile..
The inspector spoke something to the boy and the men.. Handcuffs were placed on all of them including the boy..

All of them walked towards the jeep like trained Labradors..

The Goondas seemed to have some unwritten code of conduct. All of us watched in spellbinding silence as the police jeep drove way followed by the Qualiz..

Pandemonium broke out..!!.. Everyone started speaking excitedly..!

“Must be loan money..!”

“The Goondas were talking about money..!”

“What if the police had not come..”

“Doc are you hurt..?” Someone asked..

“Nothing..!” I giggled.. “I will be proud to tell my boys about being hit by a goonda !” I laughed..

Must be “ Pacha vikraman.”. Gautam commented his mouth full of the chapathy and chicken he was gulping down,. as I told about the tall leader with golden hair..
.
Taj sat and stared at me. his huge eyes shone with excitement.. Peeps listened silently..

Imagine..! Goondas in Mama’s hospital..! Thank god Dasappen was not hurt..! I exclaimed..!

Dasappen..? The psychotic whose son died..? Peeps looked curious..

OMG..!

I had forgotten about Ravikutten.. his death.. No wonder Dasappen had clung so adamantly to the boy..

Next morning the first thing I did was call Dasappen to my room..

“It was only because of you that the boy was saved.. Somewhere his parents will be thanking you .”I smiled at him warmly..

“Yes the boy was saved only cos of me..” Dasappen spoke in his usual gruff over confident style..

I smiled again..

“Bala is worried that they will hurt me ..”

“Don’t worry .. they wont remember you specifically.. .”.I smiled .. “And they are under poliuce custody na..?”

“Hmmmm..”

Dasappen continued to stand there..

I wondered if I should say something about Ravikutten.. But I refrained myself..

I smiled again..

Dasappen.. Continued to stare at me.. strangely.

I felt uncomfortable.. The glitter in his eyes unnerved me..

Was it his psychosis..?

Or was it cos his eyes were moist..? Was he thinking about his Ravikutten..?

I wished he would leave..

Yes I was feeling uncomfortable..

My eyes too were becoming moist..

Dogmatism

2006-09-21T11:43:00.000+05:30

Dasappen is a Gr 4 staff in my hospital..A psychotic on regular medicines..I have known him since the past 14yrs.

He is a constant headache for the matron.Cos of his tabs he can’t be put on night duty. He lectures to the supervisors about how things have to be done.. Taking x-rays.. Doing the lab tests.. Dressing the wounds.. Dasappen has a definite opinion

Everyone sniggers behind his back.. They make fun of his stocky barrel shaped hairy body.. The squinting glittering eyes.. His over enthusiasm in his work..

No body takes him seriously.. Cos every one knows that he is a psychotic on tabs..

No one dares to call him a psycho at his face..

“Lie down there you bitch.. Ill show you whether I am a psycho or not..” He once roared at a lady attendee who taunted him about his madness..

:))

But I had a fondness for him. I couldn’t help acknowledging his sincerity to his work.. His loyalty to our institution.. That he ploughed ahead despite the odds and provided good education to his kids..

One boy and one girl..

How are your kids ..? I would asks him casually..

Dasappen would puff out his barrel shaped chest .. The squinting eyes would glitter proudly.. His voice would become still gruffer with emotion..

I was away on a training when Dasappen's son’s body was found dead in Vellayani Lake..

The boy had gone for an interview.. And had just disappeared into the thin air.. The body was found three days later..

Accident.. Suicide.. Homicide.. Rumors spread..

But Dasappen had a definite opinion..

“It is homicide.. My son knew swimming.. He was murdered and thrown into the lake..”

I decided to wait for the post mortem report..

In case of drowning, the lungs are examined in detail…

Presence of planktons.. tiny microorganisms found in water.. are also looked for.. Their presence within the far off blood vessels and within the lung tissue indicates that the deceased was alive and breathing and his blood circulation was functioning when he fell into the water.. The plankton went in through the water that was inhaled in.. Crossed the blood vessels and were transported into the lung tissue.. and other parts of the body..

It wouldn’t be seen in far off blood vesels and tissues if the person was dead while he fell into the water..

However suicide can’t be ruled out by this test..

The post mortem report came.. Planktons were present in the lung tissue and
blood vessels

“Maybe he slipped and fell..” I told Dasappan gently..

“No ma’m.. He was murdered..” Dasapen was dogmatic. The eyes glittered as he stared at me..

Maybe he had reasons to believe it..( I knew that he had some problems with his sister’s husband.. There had been physical fights..) Maybe it was the belief of a father who believed that he knew his son well.. Maybe it was the part of persecutory delusion of a psychotic..

Dasappen refused to believe anything else..

It is seven years after his son’s death now..

Dasappen still works hard.. With enthusiasm.. And self-righteousness.

He didn’t fall into deep depression.. He didn’t have a nervous breakdown..

I wondered if the medicines he took helped to blunt his pain..

I hoped so..

And he still believes.. That Ravikutten.. Blood of his blood.. Soul of his soul.. Was murdered and thrown into the Vellayani lake..

( to be continued)

ps.I'v included some additional info about planktons/diatoms in drowning

*************************************************************************************

Drowning associated diatoms

Rajvinder Singh, Rajinder Singh, Mukesh Kumar Thakar
Department of Forensic Science, Punjabi University, Patiala-147002
Introduction

Drowning is type of asphyxial death by submersion in a fluid, whether or not the fluid is aspirated into the lungs. This is considered as the cause of death if the death occurs within 24 hours of the insult and if survival is beyond 24 hours after the submersion and implies that recovery has occurred after the insult it is called near drowning.

Diatoms are among the well known water planktons. Every water body has its own diatom diversity. Diatoms are autotrophic in nature and different genera are found in both marine and fresh habitats. Diatoms belong to class Bacillariophyceae and further divided into two orders i.e. Centrals and Pennales on the basis of their symmetry. There are about 10,000 species and 174 genera of diatoms having different shapes and sizes ranging from 1 to 500μm. Diatoms are commonly found in water bodies like ponds, lakes, canals and rivers etc. but their concentration can be low or high in a particular water body, depending upon the season. With regard to another feature-the water depth limits to benthic distribution-there is no incontrovertible evidence for autotrophic growth of diatoms below about 100 m.

When drowning takes place, diatoms enter into the lung cavity of a person through the aspirated water and this water exerts a pressure on lung cavity and rupturing of the lung alveoli takes place. Through these entrances diatoms can enter into heart, liver, kidney, brain and bone marrow. As diameter and thickness of lung alveoli remains between very small therefore it is not impossible for all the diatoms to penetrate into the body organs through the lung cavity and diatoms which can penetrate through this capillary network are called “Drowning Associated Diatoms” (DAD).

Analysis of diatoms present in the lungs, liver, spleen, blood and bone marrow has for many years been undertaken as a confirmatory test in possible downing cases. However, the diatom test has been controversial since numerous cases of false negative and false positive results have been documented. Careful analysis of diatoms is a useful means of determining whether or not death occurred while the face was submerged in water. Before diagnosis of death by drowning an emphasis must be made on the morphological and morphometric studies of diatoms from the putative drowning medium because penetration of a diatom in lung capillaries depends upon its size and density Hurlimann et al. (2000).

In forensic investigation, while solving cases related with drowning, one can easily detect diatoms in the viscera of drowned body, if drowning is ante-mortem and diatoms are present in that putative drowning medium. The diagnosis of drowning by diatom analysis should be considered positive when number of diatoms is above a minimal established limit; 20 diatoms/ 100 µl of pellet (obtained from 10 gm of lung samples) and 50 diatoms from other organs (Ludes et al.1996) and further matching of diatoms from bone marrow and drowning site can strengthen this supportive evidence and a positive conclusion can be drawn whether person was living or not when drowned. In the present study a detail survey of the literature has been undertaken and an attempt has been made to provide some important information about the specific types of diatoms, which are commonly recovered from the various body organs of drowned persons.

agony..

2006-09-11T18:13:00.000+05:30

It was monsoon..

Dark angry clouds swarmed over the dull gray horizon.

The rain lashed down drenching the leaves.. soaking the ground…. puckering the surface of the lake with millions of ripples. Dipping the waterlillies..

The coconut palms swayed.. Their leaves surrendering to the cold, harsh wind and the incessant rain..

It was at about 11.am that the 'body' was found..

‘It’ lay among the reeds.. near the banks.. bloated.. skin soggy , blistered and broken in areas..

Dasappen shivered in the hostile biting wind , as molten heat rocked him in waves..

He couldn’t call ‘It’ Ravikutten..
His slim, smiling, earnest Ravikutten..

He couldn’t see ‘Its’ face..’It’ lay prone in the gray muddy water..

But the curly hair was familiar.. The striped polyester shirt and dark gray pants were familiar..

They had gone to the textile shop in the town to buy it two weeks back..

No the local tailor wouldn’t do. It had to be sharply stitched..

“Smart formal look is needed for the interview Acha.”

Ravikutten’s dark smooth cheeks had been flushed with excitement as he read the interview card. His dark eyes glowed earnestly..

Front office staff.. For a star hotel in Dubai..

‘Yes. Ravikutten will get the job.!.”

Bala had beamed at him as she lovingly pressed the shirt and pants once more.. Smoothing away imaginary creases.. The night before.

Ravikutten would be leaving for the interview.. In the first bus in the morning..

“Yes !”

Dasappen had nodded .. His heart almost bursting with pride..

‘They had made him a graduate hadn’t they..? And a diploma holder in hotel management and catering too..!’

The agent was asking for seventy-five thousand .. fifty now.. Twenty-five six months later. He would have to make final withdrawal from his PF.. But it would be worth it.. Ravikutten would look after them.. Ammu had to be married off.. But that could wait another two to three years.. she had just started her MA..

Yes Ravikutten would score..!!

His slim, , smart smiling earnest Ravikutten.. His first born.. His son.. Blood of his blood.. Soul of his soul..

The molten pain was rising high.. like crashing waves....Fiery.. Icycold..

Gripping.. Soaking.. Crushing and Blinding him..

Dasappen could hear himself howling.. Like an animal..

(to be continued)

The deep dread..

2006-08-31T14:44:00.000+05:30

I glanced at my watch…

6.35pm.

“I should have remembered that it gets dark early in November. “I chided myself.

The lights of the traffic roaring ahead colored the raindrops blue, green and red… It had started to drizzle.

Peeps was away. My car was in the workshop. It had been a casual Saturday shopping with my boys aged 7 and 5... Not that I needed anything urgent.

Just an excuse to pamper ourselves. Wandering through the shops.. Cosmetics.. Clothes.. Black forest cake and Milkshake with Ice cream for the boys.

Gautam was raising his face to the sky in abandon.. His tongue catching the raindrops falling down.. His shoelace was undone. His tee shirt trailing down from his jeans..

Taj stood pulling my shawl.. he looked sleepy.. his jeans lay hung low on his hips.. the bottom trailing in the mud..

I tried to wave frantically at the auto rickshaws but they just whirred past ahead.. Fast..

I glanced at my watch..

6.50pm.

“Lets walk “. I pulled them along. Walking towards Palayam.. I was sure to get an auto there

The rain was gathering momentum. The trees in the university college campus looked sinister..The VJT hall looked threatening in the dark. I looked for the reassuring policeman often seen near the Spencer’s.. No he was not seen anywhere..

Ooh..! One auto was slowing down..

"Where to..?" His eyes measured the three of us huddled against the rain.. Without even an umbrella..

“”Kumarapuram.." I shouted raising my voice above the rain..

“No.” He shook his head snobbishly...The auto whirred ahead..

The sadistic pleasure in the ‘no’ was evident..

Rain plastered the hair to my skull. My clothes hung to my body dragging on my steps.. I drooped..

I could feel the eyes on me.. Young.. Old.. Measuring.. Weighing.. Teasing.. Curious.. Inquisitive..

Touching me..

“Oh yes..!” Another auto was slowing down..!

I clambered in pulling my boys along before the driver could open his mouth.. could speak..

“Where to..?”

“Kumarapuram”

Rs.90.

“Ok. “I sounded breathless..

I leaned back on the seat.. hugging my boys towards me... my eyes closed thankfully..

I could feel Gautam’s eyes on me..

I smiled at him reassuringly..

His eyes gazed at me..

“Why did you agree..?”

“It is late na..?”

“But it is too high..” He sounded indignant.

“It is dark na..?”

"But it is not fair.."

He looked disturbed..

“You are a coward.. You allowed yourself to be bullied.. Emotionally blackmailed.. "

His eyes accused me..

How can I explain it to him..?

I boss and admonish men in my work place.. I don’t suffer fools or bullies gladly during the day. I drive alone in the city even after 11.30pm cocooned in the safety of my car.

But in the night.... surrounded by staring eyes. If I am alone.. I feel strange..

My confidence falls.. A familiar deep unexplainable dread cloaks me.. I feel the eyes on me.. My voice become high pitched.. My breath quickens..

And those eyes stare at me.. Disturbing me.. Making me want to run to a safe haven..

Maybe it is my fault.. Maybe my response brings out the killer instincts in those around me..

Yes.. Maybe it is my fault.. Or maybe it is the fault of the men in my State.. Who look at me as if they have not seen a female of the species..

I have accepted it as part of being a woman.. Infact I have even included it in my profile..

Recently Parvathy ventured out alone at night. in my city.. To assess the problems faced by women who travel alone at night..

There were discussions about it in the newspapers and TV shows..

I felt happy to read it.. At least some women were trying to change it, not just accept it like me...

To be an angel...

2006-08-22T13:43:00.000+05:30

I have seen it happen in many blogs.. Now it has happened in mine too..
Anonymous posting insulting comments..

"this one reveals the several faces of the self proclaimed angel Dr….. … …..(my name) In blog, you could fool others, not always in real life. Those who know you.......... knows the real …….(my name)"

Frankly …sincerely… I am unable to recognize the anon.

.
I have received a few anonymous letters in my professional life too.. Insulting and threatening ones..

I know how I should deal with them.. Throw it into the dustbin and forget about it.. I do the first thing but often the words haunt and disturb me.. For a few days..

I wonder who the anon is.. And why she /he hate me..

I am a person who lives by my own rules.. I do what I feel is right..

I can be very bitchy.. if i feel that the situation demands it..

I am not here to “fool” anyone about my virtues..

This blog is only an expression of the goodness I would like to cultivate and share with others..
I blog only for positive emotions.. Cos I feel that we all need positive emotions in our lives..

“Angel” “hope” and “love” were chosen with these thoughts in mind..

There may be lots of negativity in our lives but I don’t think anyone would be interested to read about it.. Anyone would benefit from it..

I don’t come here to fight.. Or insult..

I come to love and share beautiful emotions

I don’t know if my posts sound too self-righteous and goody goody… If I come across as a self proclaimed angel..

The previous post was actually a note to me.. I posted it cos I felt that it may inspire someone somewhere..

I have deleted the comment and enabled comment moderation..

Cos I don’t want any negative emotions in this space..

Please..

But I would like to clarify something..

No I am not an angel..

I am just an ordinary woman.. Ploughing ahead.. Pushing ahead..

But I would love to be an angel.. Even if it is only for one second..

It is my dream…

The Universe Within..

2006-08-17T13:53:00.000+05:30

There is a silent universe slumbering within me…

My only truth.. My only reality..

I can plunge into its mesmerizing depth and vastness.

Slowly.. Surely.. In silence and solitude…

This world is all that matters to me.... My outer world is only a reflection of this inner world..

This world has to be soothed, nourished and lovingly nurtured..

This needs constant focus on my part..

Physical vibrancy ..Contentment… Gratitude… Forgiveness... Sharing… Order.. Simplicity.... Prayer... A sense of contribution.. The right thoughts.. A lovely self image.. Silence..Stillness ...Contemplation....Love and warmth..

All these enrich and fertilize this beautiful world..

Rush.. sickness.. anger.. hurt.. bitterness.. frustrations.. guilt.. and treachery and jealousy drains and shrivels it…

When my inner world is lush, vibrant and enriched I feel great.

Lovliness, Sweetness, Laughter, Joy , Confidence and Glow oozes out of me…

Caring.. soothing..nurturing..healing and inspiring the people around me..

My gifts are unleashed…

I become the rippling ocean.. The mountain mist.. A valley of flowers.. The molten sun.. The drenched mother earth..

I become a lovely elegant pearl..

I become an angel...

Rituals and Routine..

2006-08-03T13:52:00.001+05:30

Rituals and routine didn’t impress me while I was young..Spontaenity… Variety..Adventure.. Different from the ordinary.... That used to be my mantra..

But now I feel different..Order… Doing a few things.. The..same way.. At the same time each day.. Sooths me..

Ringing the bell in my boy’s room .. lying on the bed.. as soon as I wake up every morning…. Daily morning walk, seeing the same scenery and the same smiling faces.. …Watching the NDTV news …all the four of us… chatting and joking as we have breakfast... Saying Rosary and a Psalm daily.. Laying down my steth.. cell… glasses and pen the same way, on my table before I start my work….. Having specific dishes on some specific days.. Lighting the candle before our family prayers at dusk.... Watching the night sky in solitude and silence every night..Pampering my body and face with bath and lotions before going to bed.. The familiar fragrance of camphor melting..as I slip off to sleep..

Simple pleasures of life.. But.. Ha..! So soothing.. So comforting.. I find all these things stabilizing me ..I find it binding and connecting our family in a beautiful manner....

No they are not just superficial things..

There is tremendous power and strength in rituals and routine...

PS. Thats my familiar scene every morning.. I walk along that road.. I start getting withdrawal symptoms if i miss it for a few days..!!
:))

Alexis's Tag .

2006-07-26T16:01:00.000+05:30

Awesome, Amazing Alexis has tagged me.. so here i go..

1. Most desired celebrity

Masculine.. sexy.. intelligent.. Adorable..warm..tender..
sensitive.. sense of humor.. He is the best...

2. Want to do this some day
Swim in the sea... don’t think I will ever do it..
After my drowning experience I am scared of water..

3. Want to visit this place
Mount Kailas and Manasasarovar...
Hindus view Kailas as the abode of Shiva, and for them
it is a goal of pilgrimage.
Mount Kailas (22,028 ft, 6,714 m), the famed holy
peak, is situated to the north of the Himalayan
barrier in Western Tibet. This legendary snow-shrouded
rock dome is one of the most revered pilgrimage sites
for Hindus, Buddhists, Jains and Bonpos
(Pre-Buddhists)
At the slopes of Kailas, a
stream is said to pour into Manasarovar and from this
lake, flow four of Asia's great rivers the Indus, the
Brahmaputra, the Karnali and the Sutlej.
I would love to visit there and dissolve in the
majestic silence... heart wrenching solitude and sheer
wilderness..

4. Random Favorite

Arundhati Roy..

Bold, intelligent, beautiful, spunky, straightforward,
has her own awesome style..
I fell in love with her on reading the first paragraph
of the ‘God Of Small things’…

My Mom's Cooking..

2006-07-17T14:32:00.000+05:30

Kappa and Mulakupottichathu

Steaming cylindrical pieces of creamy white ‘Malabar’ kappa with crushed onion, crushed green chili /red chilly laced with coconut oil and salt..
Ooh..! My tongue burns in pleasure filled memories of those monsoon evenings as I soothed the spicy taste with hot coffee…watching the rain drops pattering down..

Ice cream
Milk, egg vanilla essence sugar.. Beaten and cooked over a water bath and poured into ice trays and chilled.. That was ice-cream for us.. Frozen and crunchy or smooth and soft.. We licked it up.. Greedily.. Like puppies..

Prawn fritters

Prawns marinated in spices dipped in corn flour paste and deep fried.. We gulped it down in dozens..

Pidi and chicken mulakuchar

The ultimate comfort food.. Globules of rice powder dough cooked in coconut milk and mild spices paired with very spicy chicken curry with fried and grounded red chilly.. Delicious.. Delectable. It is still my favorite dish..

Appam and mutton stew.
Soft lacy white appams with a bland ( she didn’t add much spices) mutton stew in thick coconut milk.. She prepared it for all those Christmas and Easter breakfasts.. Still do.. ( Appams are ordered these days)my sons pig out on them.. I too shamelessly..( That’s why she orders them these days I think..)
:))

Pal payasam
Just milk, rice, cardom, sugar.. I still don’t know how she managed to concoct that delicious semisolid stuff that filled us with heavenly sweetness

Inji kari and Manga kari

The steaming hot kanji, mangakari and inji Kari she made on Good Fridays.. Made us obsessively gulp down the lunch… our stomach growling after the breakfast that had been skipped..

Snehamoru
Light yellow bland buttermilk she made lovingly when our tiny bodies or minds were hurting. Along with plain rice it never failed to soothe out or troubled bodies, emotions or soul..

Cakes.
Rock cake, sponge cake, lazy daisy cake, lemon cake, chocolate cake,
I remember the aroma of the cakes baking in the oven filling our home … welcoming and tantalizing us.. on those long lost evenings as we walked into our garden after a hard day in the school..

Ribbon rice

The ultimate gourmet dish she prepared for special occasions.. Basmati rice, prawn with thick gravy, coriander chutney.. All these layered and baked.. To form a multicolored layered dish.

Bittu’s mamma tagged me.. Im supposed to write ten dishes that I miss from my moms cooking..and I enjoyed doing it..

Yes I miss my moms cooking…While I was a child she used to painstakingly try out new elaborate, exotic dishes while we waited in bated breath for the end product. Somehow she doesn’t do that now.

I enjoy cooking.. But I don’t have the patience to try out elaborate dishes.. I stick to simple yummy stuff.. 'Life is too short to stuff a mushroom’ That is my motto..

My mom is different.. Her ‘life’ is her family. She is so focused on cooking and caring for us..

My eyes are moist as I write this.. She injured her fingers in the grinder today while she was preparing breakfast.. Lacerated wound… two fingers with split nails.. Wound ha been sutured.. She is on antibiotics and painkillers.. She stays 200 km from me..I couldn’t go to her.. I just monitored everything over the phone. She should heal in a few days..

I can’t help thanking you mom.. For all the hours you sweated over the stove.. Stirring.. boiling.. frying and baking.. Burning your hands, cutting your fingers, scalding your cheeks. Eyes watering and sneezing over burning spices.. To quench our hunger.. Tickle our palates and make us grow…

people i wish would take up this tag..
silverine
alexis
geo
sarah
velu

Reading in style...

2006-07-12T11:19:00.000+05:30

My son is reading the newspaper .. inspite of having such a comfortable chair he prefers to sit and read like that.. and of course it is the sports page ..
:))

wisdom..

2006-07-02T07:50:00.000+05:30

"Be quick to listen,

Slow to speak,

And slow to become angry."

-proverbs( the bible)

I love this chapter in the bible.. It is a treasure- house of ancient wisdom thats relevent in our daily lives today....but its not so simple as it appears..
I wonder if Iwill ever be able to master the one given above..
:))

CHIVALRY...

2006-06-22T19:14:00.000+05:30

“Vasectomy..??”

He looked at me in alarm…As if I had suggested castration..

“Yes vasectomy.”.

I spoke sweetly. Hiding the anger and disgust rising within me..

“But I will have to undergo anesthesia..”

“It can be done under local anesthesia..”

“I wont be able to go for work..! I will need rest..”

“Just a few days only.. you are a clerical staff.. you can go for work.”.

“Side effects..?”

“What side effects..? Nothing..” I was starting to enjoy myself..

She sat there staring at him with hopeful eyes.. Eagerly hoping that he would agree..

The man who had promised to cherish her.. protect her..

His wife the mother of his three kids.. She had undergone three caesarians..

And three induced abortions..

Why couldn’t he take up a bit of pain..?

Was chivalry something you read only in romantic novels..? Not to be expected in marriage..?

She was missing her periods again..

Her caesarians had been in a mission hospital that didn’t do family planning procedures..
His company paid for treatment there.. So she had not been sterilized even though her abdomen had been cut open thrice..

Our hospital was conducting a free laproscopic sterilization camp..

Someone had motivated them to come for the camp..

The surgeon was a bit reluctant.. there was bound to be adhesions inside the abdomen after the three surgeries.. passing in the laproscope and navigating it to ligate her fallopian tubes would be difficult..

The anesthetist was reluctant.. she had a history of allergic asthma.
.
He had created some nuisance in the ward when he was asked to sign the consent form for the surgery.. asking hundred and one questions to the duty nurse.. that’s why she sent him to me..

“I suggest that you undergo vasectomy and spare her from all these risks..” I smiled sweetly..”

“Anyway medical termination of her current pregnancy can be considered only after one of you undergoes a permanent sterilization procedure..”

I was firm.. I knew he wanted that.. didn’t want the burden of one more child..

He started to squirm on his seat.
.
“Well… what do you say..? There is definite risk for her.. I can understand your reluctance to sign the consent form.. “

I was really enjoying myself now..

Cos he didn’t want any risk for himself. was willing to put his wife to risk..but was not willing to sign the consent form.. wanted to blame the surgeon probably if something happened..

“Well what do you say..?” I persisted..

He wouldn’t look at me..

I leaned back on my chair..

“There is a definite risk for your wife. even though she is willing to undergo the procedure.” I couldn’t help making the dig..

“You can undergo vasectomy instead.. The procedure is much simpler and you are a healthy man.. I drove in the point..

“Hmmm.. hmmm.”...

I shall think about it.. He started to rise.. He wanted to make good his escape

“ I don’t think you have a choice.. abortion shall be considered only after one of you has undergone permanent sterlisation..and the surgeon is reluctant to do lap sterilization for her.”
.
He had vasectomy two days later.. he was sullen .. brooding … probably scared about his self-image... About his masculinity..

She underwent MTP two days later. ..quietly.. no fuss..

Didn’t she know that she had a choice..? I wondered.. Why were her needs not given importance..?

To use contraception..? To find a surgeon who would do sterilization along with her caesarian..?

To refuse abortion..?

Maybe she didn’t have choices.. I told myself.. Only he had that privilege..

After all he was the breadwinner.. Wasn’t he..?

Grit..

2006-06-15T17:13:00.000+05:30

“When I was captured I was placed in an underground prison. I was angry and afraid, but I was also determined that I would not be defeated by the experience. During the first week of captivity, three points came to my mind, which were of considerable help during the long days alone. They were.

No regrets.

No self-pity.

No over sentimentality.”

-Thoughts from a prison cell from Terry Waite

gangotri

2006-06-09T18:56:00.000+05:30

My father often tells the story of an old man. Who went to a temple in the Himalayas. He traveled long and after a tiresome journey, finally walked up the steps of the temple, to see the poojari locking up the gates of the temple.

“Please open the gate I have traveled long to come here” said the old man.

“The temple is closed for the next six months. The deity has been taken to a temple in the valley.”

The old man was disappointed.. It was getting chilly and dark. The poojari felt sorry for the old man. He handed over his shawl and told him “Sleep near the verandah. U can make your way back in the morning.”

The old man sat in the front of the temple, shivering in the chilly, misty night, and surrounded by the huge, silent mountains. He must have dozed off. He felt someone patting him awake and saw the poojari standing in front of him.

“I couldn’t leave u here. I will stay with u. We can play dice to pass the time.”

They spent the whole night, playing dice. Finally it was morning and the old man’s eyes were moist as he walked down the steps. He knew that he wouldn’t be healthy enough to make the long journey 6 months later

As he walked down, he saw the poojari climb up from below.

The poojari looked amazed. “Are u still here?”

“Still here?” The old man was confused.

“Yes I remember you were here 6 months back. I am here to open the temple again..”

Realization dawned on the old man. He had been playing dice with the deity of the temple…! He had been protected in God’s arms, not for a night but for 6 months..!!

My father used to tell this story to impress upon us that God would protect us and look after us.

We just had to trust in him.

The gates of the Gangotri temple are closed on Diwali and are opened again after 6 months in May. During this time, the idol of the Goddess resides in the Mukamba village near Harsil.

I wondered if this was the temple where the old man in my father’s story had played dice with God for 6 winter months. I was also surprised that Mukamba village was the group of cottages that had caught my curiosity during my morning walk.

Gangotri is a small pilgrimage town. The place was crowded with pilgrims. Lots of tourist buses and jeeps were parked.

There is a lane winding up the mountain side, to the temple. The lane is lined by restaurant and small shops offering curios, brass vessels, bottles to carry water and beautiful chains made of Rudraksha and exquisite tiny coral colored beads

The temple painted in silver was a small one with huge bells hung in a row in the front ... Water from the Ganges is offered for pooja there. There was a meditation hall and broad steps leading down to the Ganges.

I was amazed to see people taking bath in the freezing water. Probably the belief that they would be cleansed of all their sins made them tolerate the cold chilly bath….

Some people were offering pooja. Some were floating small bamboo baskets of marigolds and lighted candles in the water. I too collected the water and floated the baskets of marigold.

Somehow, I didn’t feel any spirituality among the chattering crowd all around.

Few young men approached us asking if we were interested in trekking to Gaumukh. It was 19 km from Gangotri where the Bhagirathi River emerges from the snout of the Gangotri glacier. One gets a fine view of Mt. Shivaling from there.

Six km from Gaumukh is the Tapovan, a beautiful high altitude meadow above the Gaumukh.

I knew I wouldn’t make it. Gautam wanted to try it, but there was nobody else to accompany him. So the idea was dropped.

We spent two more days at Harsil, soaking up the nature. ..

The stimulating scenery was slowly becoming too much for my senses…. Somehow I felt burdened with all the beauty. The poverty and hardships that the locals faced were striking. The people seemed to cling to spirituality for comfort. There seemed to be a tiny temple every hundred meters.

Women worked very hard.. I saw women chopping wood…. carrying logs, firewood, provisions and water up the mountains.. And doing manual labor and tarring of roads alongside men. There seemed to be no natural source of income.. Not much agriculture. Tourism was confined to the few buses filled with pilgrims who came to visit the temple.

There were very few hotels … they served only roti, sabji, dal and chaval.. we had to sit and wait for the hotel people to go and buy the provisions from the nearby shops and then cook it for us. My boys were getting restless. Their tummies were growling for chicken and mutten..!!

I was getting restless too..

The harsh cold climate… the terrain. The strange food , The poverty and hardships around me were making me homesick.

‘Gods own country’ with its soothing scenery, swaying palms, serene backwaters, gentle rivers , mild climate and homely food was beckoning me back. I wanted to go home..

Pahari Wilson Rides Again..!!

2006-05-31T20:21:00.000+05:30

We were in high spirits…!

The breakfast had been lovely. It was served as a buffet in a large tent they called “The Mess”.

Delicious hot porridge, piles of toast, butter and jam and a tray full of a doughnut like sweet that was served with apple sauce ... Coffee/ Bournvita. I watched my boys gulping down like starving Labradors. I too decided to forget my diet for a day and silence the rumblings in my stomach. Hmmm..The mountain air had made all of us ravenous..!!

My heart danced…! We all piled into the Qualis. The driver switched on the music… “Meri sawalom kaa…jawab dooo…Doooo naaa….” Sang the lover..The melody fit into the curves and twists in the road. I giggled and started singing along with funny actions. Pinching Taj’s cheeks and pulling Gautam’s hair. Peeps pretended not to see. The boys looked in embarrassment at the driver. But I just sang along.
.

The road carrying on from Harsil, enters the dense green gorge of Bhiron Ghati. After crossing the Jadh Ganga river, beyond Lanka, the road winds its way to a halt at Gangotri at an alt. of 10000 ft, 24 km. from Harsil. All along this route, we were surrounded by dense green pine forests, enchanting views of snow mountains, around… and the ravishing Ganga in her different moods sometimes serene and wide.. sometimes narrow and mysterious deep down in the valley .. but always stealing the show..

I don’t like to repeat myself... The scenery was spellbinding. Was it the physiological acclimatisation to the high altitude…? The twists and turns making me giddy…? Was it the smell of the blue pines that filled the crisp, chilly mountain air…? Or the visual splendor of the flowing Ganga and the snow peaks that seemed to touch the sky
Heavenly.. Divine..No wonder it drove me crazy.

One sight that filled me with amazement was the Suspension Bridge at the Bhiron Ghati gorge.. The bridge was built over a deep ..deep gorge formed by the Jadh Ganga. Built by E.E Wilson..

A legend prevails in the mountain villages of a holy trail in the Garhwal hills, that the restless ghost of a raja rides his half Arab-grey horse across the rocky trails on moonlit nights. The ancient Ganga weeps in sympathy at Harsil as she listens to the retreating hoof beats swing by the dilapidated bungalow on the road to Gangotri. It was here that Pahari Wilson or raja Wilson as he was referred to settled down with Gulabi, a local girl in his Wilson hut, a grand bungalow.

Mystery still shrouds the adventurer EE Wilson’s origins. Some believe that he came from Lancashire in bonny England. Others say that he left the British army in disgrace and found refuge amongst the Garhwal Himalayas.

When Wilson built the suspension bridge at Bhairon Ghati Gorge Over the Jadh Ganga, the locals were too petrified to venture into it. Leaping onto his Arab, Wilson galloped up and down the bridge. Even today, on a full moon night, the locals believe that Raja Wilson rides again….

Thank God the last night had not been a full moon night…!!

:))

I wanted to take a photo of the bridge, but photography is not permitted.I tried with my camera hidden in the shawl.. but just when I was about to click, a guard came and told me..”Photography karna mana hai ma'm”

The Qualis moved ahead..Wow! We were reaching Gangotri…!

(To be contd.)

Surrender..!!

2006-05-23T16:52:00.000+05:30

The camp nestled deep in the valley .. in an apple orchard.. the trees had just started to bloom.. A view from the back of the tent.. our tent was only about six feet away from the river..

A walk along the river bed.. note the millions of stones..

Ganga in the predawn darkness..

It was the sound of flowing water that woke me up... The quilt and the blankets felt soft and warm... Images of last night flashed across my sleepy mind..

The biting, bone chilling cold… Walking in faint light to our tents. Whisky was a must to heat up our bodies.. Even Taj was given half a peg.. Hot dinner.. Crawling under the blankets..

Blackout..

Peeps lay fast asleep..

Ooooh..! I was at Harsil..!

I felt so excited..!!

Then I heard a scampering noise. A head peeped into our tent..

“Mama..?”

I smiled to myself..

Gautam and I always got up early during holidays.. We were too excited to sleep..
Peeps and Taj always slept and slept..

I jumped out of the bed, snatched my camera and pulled on my shoes..

I wanted to explore..!

I zipped the door open and got out..

Oooh..! It looked ethereal..!

About ten tents stood facing each other in an apple orchard.. A faint mist hung all around..

Gosh..!! We were surrounded on all sides by huge mountains.. Most of them snow capped..!

The fresh cold air whooshed into my breath and filled my heart with exhilaration..!

"Come....come.."

Gautam's eyes glowed in the faint light.. Mist blew out from his breath as he spoke..

I followed him.. He was taking me to the back of the tent..

OMG..!!

My heart stopped.. The visual splendor that lay out before me was spell binding..

Ganga flowed..

She looked so pure and divine..

So Crystal clear that you could see millions of white rounded polished stones on the river bed.. She was milky white in areas as she flirted with the wind and silver grey as she danced along the bigger stones... . Her skirts seemed to be silver tipped as she rose in spray and foam here and there....

Pure soft silvery white beach stretched out on both sides.. Studded with the same amazing white stones..

Deep dark pine wooded mountains surrounded on both sides. Their peaks frosted with pure white virginal snow..

There was a pregnant silence all around..

My heart danced… I wanted to float ….. And gather all the loveliness around me..

I wanted to surrender myself to the glory… the splendor..

I walked as if in a trance. Wow..! There was a bridge.. ! I crossed to the other side.

Dark deep woods.. Huge pine trees.. Deodars.. Silver firs.. I walked on. There was only the sound of birds chirping.. And the musical sound of Ganga flowing..

I sat on a fallen bark.. And sipped in the silence the enchanting, bewitching, ravishing Mother Nature showered on me..
Ganga was beckoning me.. I started to walk along the beach.. Her dry river bed… Studded with millions of stones, she had polished out from the mountains..

I removed my shoes..

“Acupuncture walk..!” I told myself..

The camp was soon far off.

I was alone.. Not a soul to be seen.. Only the river, the mountains, the birds and the deep pregnant silence..

It was then I noticed the driftwoods. Lovely pieces.. Huge ones.. With hundreds of stories to tell if you cared to listen to them..

Some of them smelt so mysterious and sensuous..

I saw a temple ahead on the bank.. Over a piece of land jutting into the river..

And wow..!

There were steps leading up to it..

I walked up.. A local woman and her daughter were offering pooja..

On the east side of the temple,another set of steps lead down to the river.. An arch was seen over the topmost step from which hung a huge bell. The arch looked as if it was the frame of the most beautiful scenery I have seen in my life..

Dawn was breaking out on the eastern sky.. The view was spectacular.. Ganga was broad, deep, dark powerful, wild and majestic.. With mammoth mountains as backdrop.The mist gave mystic air to the whole scene..

I seemed to be floating..!!

:))

Few log cabins set in an apple orchard formed a village near the temple.. Probably the families who looked after the temple ..The poverty was stricking..

I noticed something there..The local people seemed to be very spiritual.. Maybe the struggle against the harsh terrain, the climate and the stricking poverty made them seek spirituality as a comfort..

Few young women came out smiling.. Light skin, grey eyes, nubile bodies.. I wondered if Raj Kapoor had chosen Mandakini from this area.. They all seemed to resemble the pure heroine in his film..

I grinned at them..

“Main from kerala..”

My Hindi is horrible..

“Keral..?”.. They looked at me with wide eyes.. As if I was an alien

“Thumara jagah bahuth acha..” I smiled at them..

They giggled ..

I clicked their photos, they clicked mine.. With the mountains, the temple and the Ganga as the backdrop..

"Kal ayega main." I grinned at them as I waved goodbye.

I walked back slowly. Embracing, savoring and saving each tree, each stone, each driftwood and each drop of water in my heart. I filled the pocket of my sweater with the beautiful polished stones…to be used as paperweights. I would have collected some driftwood also, but I knew that I would be ragged terribly if I turned up at the camp carrying stones and twigs. besides i would need a lorry to take the huge ones home..

The camp was stirring awake... The generator was running

Peeps was sitting and sipping his tea. . I zipped open the door to the toilet. Thank god….! There was hot water!!

Gautam looked fresh after his bath. Taj was still sleeping….

It was time to get ready, have breakfast and visit Gangotri…

(To be contd…)

ps. plz click on the pixs for better view..

Welcome to the Hills..!!

2006-05-17T18:12:00.000+05:30

Dehra Dun was a disappointment…… Just an old, dusty town……

I don’t know why, I had imagined it to be a lush green hill station with crisp mountain air, quaint cottages, misty meadows and picturesque schools.

Maybe it was because I had heard about the glamorous Doon School…. Or maybe, it was my cousins who used to come from Dehra Dun during those summer holidays long back…. They would come..... with their glowing pink skin, lustrous hair and a confident air about them making me feel a scrawny, ugly duckling than ever.....

‘Doon’ means valley mama’ Gautam pointed out when I murmured my disappointment.

Gangotri can be accessed only by road. Our plan was to camp at Harsil and to visit Gangotri on the next day. We could stop at Mussourie on the way.

We started our journey at 9:20 am.

“The view on the way would be worthy of the tedious journey”. I hoped.

Mussourie was another disappointment. A shabby town with old buildings and a few hotels. We didn’t feel like getting down there.

Our Qualis moved ahead slowly. The road was winding along huge mountains. The mountains looked sort of dried up. People were few in number and the poverty evident. There were waterfalls and ropeways in between but it all looked sort of dusty and dry.

They towns on the way were also unimpressive, shabby and dirty. There were no good places to eat. The roads were narrow and bad.

We had tea at Uttarkashi, another unimpressive town.

“The road ahead is bad.” The driver told us.

It was 5 pm.

“The route from UIttarkashi follows the Bhagirathi river with sharp twists and turns. Sometimes the road ascends high above the valley, while at other times, it drops right down to the river. The entire Bhagirathi valley is amazingly green and at Harsil, the river suddenly opens out into this wide picture perfect valley, cutting a broad path with sandy beaches on both sides, surrounded by apple orchards, pine forests and beautiful snow mountains. It is this beauty which made Raj Kapoor choose Harsil as the setting for his film, Ram theri Ganga Maili”. I remembered reading it..

I looked forward to the glorious view.

But our perception was different. It was getting dark. The Qualis trudged ahead slower than a snail. There was a light drizzle. It was getting chilly. There were not many lights to be seen. Just the narrow, rugged, winding road……

From the way we were climbing up, we knew that the valley on one side was pretty deep. The roads were water logged at the base of the valleys. We had to climb all the way up and then down towards, the bridge, to cross the river as we passed from one mountain to the next.

It was almost nine pm. We were tired and hungry. There was not a single restaurant to be seen.
Finally, the milestone showed that Harsil was only a few kilometers ahead, but there were no lights to be seen ahead. Each kilometer felt exactly 1000 metres.

Finally, we saw four or five lights ahead. Few men covered in shawls were coming out of a shop. We asked for directions. To the camp. They showed a path winding deep down into the valley. Into the eerie darkness..

There was just one light. The gate was closed. The sound of a generator could be heard. There was an arch above the gate which said, “CHARDHAM CAMP”. A bell hung down from the arch.

Peeps got out into the biting cold and rang the bell, while we sat in the warmth of the jeep, cocooned in sweaters, shawls and woollen gloves.

(To be contd…)

A Doc And A Mom..

2006-05-13T18:30:00.000+05:30

I was in my Op yesterday when the cell rang.

It was Taj on the other side.. he sounded strange..

“Hey what’s the matter..?”

I am used to my sons calling me while i am on duty .. for demands for something nice to eat to be bought on the way home, to bitch about the other.. To complain about some vague health problem.. and it’s the third one that makes me immediately jittery..

“Mama..” he started to sob..

“OMG..!! what’s the problem.. ?”

I forgot that a patient was sitting in front of me.. I forgot about my ‘calm doc act’

“Mama I was zipping my shorts.. my ding-dong is trapped in the zipper..”

His sobs came out louder..

My baby in pain.. and I am so far off..

That’s a situation when I lose control.. I lose all my professional coolness..

The jelly soft mother in me surfaces.. almost to the point of hysteria..

I blabbered something to the patient .. called my colleague.. sent the patient to her and was out of the hospital in two seconds..

The car wouldn’t run fast enough for me.. I cursed at the traffic jam..

My baby was in pain and I had to sooth it away..

Ooooff..! I had reached home..I honked at my gate repeatedly..

He was rolling on the bed crying and howling.. wouldn’t permit me to look or touch....

Finally I coaxed him.. tried to unzip it.. no it was jammed and edema was building up slowly..

Ohhhh..! he was yelling.. tears streamed down his cheeks..

"Ok we will go to the hospital." I soothed..
.

“Go away…!” He howled at Goutam who was standing and watching the scene , grinning spitefully..

“Go away..!!” I yelled at Gautam..

The maid came running..

“What happened..?” she looked confused.. she had seen him sitting and watching the TV only a short time back..

“Go away..!!” my baby screamed in pain and shame..

“Go away..!!” I yelled at her… Hiding my 13yr old’s private parts..

“ The surgeon will give local injection and remove it..” I hugged him tight.. kissing his tear soaked chubby cheeks..

“I want anesthesia..!!” He screamed.. “Not injection..!!” ..

“Ok.. ok..” I fussed.. stroking his hair..

But he couldn’t walk.. the pain was too much.. he had himself cutoff the shorts away with scissors.. only the zip was attached to the body..

I rang peeps..

We took him. Wrapped in a dhothi..

The pain subsided as soon as the local anesthetic was given..

.
The pediatric surgeon tried his best under local anesthesia.. but the zip was jammed.. Edema was building up..

Finally emergency circumcision had to be done under general anesthesia..

He is ok now.. Shy about the incident but loving all the pampering he is getting now..

A small act of carelessness.. but the pain and shame he suffered was terrible..

I felt so incompetent and frustrated .. Unable to do anything.. Even taking him to the hospital, I couldn’t manage myself..

:(

The soft ,emotional side of me that I hate.. The mother in me that i love ..

"In all ways a woman"

2006-05-10T15:13:00.000+05:30

“Being a woman is hard work. Not without joy and even ecstasy, but still relentless, unending handwork. To become and remain a woman commands the existence and employment of genius.

The woman who survives and be happy must be at once tender and tough.

She must convince herself or be in the process of convincing herself, that she, her values, and her choices are important. In a time and world where males hold sway and control, the pressure upon woman to yield to their rights - of - way is tremendous. And it is under those very circumstances that the woman’s toughness must be in evidence.

She will need to prize her tenderness and be able to display it at appropriate times in order to prevent toughness from gaining total authority and to avoid becoming a mirror image of those men who value power over life, and control over love.

Women should be tough, tender, laugh as much as possible and live long lives.

The struggle for equality continues unabated, and the woman warrior who is armed with wit and courage will be among the first to celebrate victory.”

-Maya Angelou

Forty two years of being “In all ways a woman..”

Thank you God for all the blessings…

Happy birthday to me…!!

:))

My birthday wish – I wish that the days ahead filled with

Order.. quietness.. simplicity… elegance…dignity.. calmness…, sharing… good cheer… refinement…prayer.. forgiveness.. beautiful sunsets.. starry nights… bible.. night breeze.. nature walks,. lots of sleep.. pure water to drink lavishly… music… flowers.. books lots of them....sprouts.. Soyabeans..fruit…, nuts( supposed to be good for me)… … oil baths…greenery.. laughter..
And my sweethearts besides me to share all these things with…

Confessions

2006-04-26T20:15:00.000+05:30

Geo has tagged me..

:))

so here I go..

5 people who top your shit list..... And why:

1.Men who make snide remarks about women in general. (Brings out the claws in me I suppose)

2.People who cut others down. ( Well we all hate bullies don't we..?)

3.Hypocrites and goody -goodies. ( they bring out the worst in me esp when other people believe them)

4. K.Karunakaran. (I abhor everything about him.)

5. George W Bush. (For obvious reasons)

Close brushes with death/danger:

We had gone to visit my cousiniat Ranni.I was looking forwards to dipping in the Pampa river which flows behind their back yard. Her son came with us but he was in the hostel..Had just come for hisChristmas hols and didn't know that river sand had been removed from the river bed in some of areas he thought were safe..

One minute I was fooling around, my feet firmly on the river bed. we were almost in the centre of the river that was almost dry . And next sec I i found myself going down deep into the water..

I don't know swimming but I was not worried cos peeps knows, and he was standing nearby.

He jumped in and tried to push me towards the banks but it was deeper and deeper there cos the sand had been removed from that .

He kept pushing me up in the air on and off and I would take deep breathes and sink down again like lead.. in between I could see my maid throwing some shawl towards me but I couldnt grasp it.

After some time I could feel his pushes becoming weaker and weaker.. I felt myself going dee
per and deeper and started to suffocate .. I almost lost my consciousnes..

In between I thought of the response of my parents, relatives and friends when they heard about my death..

:(

Then I felt strong hands holding me and pulling me towards the bank..

Some workers on the other side had heard the commotion and dived into the river to save us..

I vomited out some water and felt soooo cold and damp for the next twenty four hours.. later came to know that a woman had died at that spot exactly one week before.. ! and that we should not go to bath at 12 noon.. ghosts comes and pull us down..!!

Peeps was panting with the strain That is the only occasion when I have seen him in a panicked state..

:))

OMG..!

( Geo u made me write something I always block off from my thought Especially the part when I sink deeper and deeper.. feel suffocated and almost lose conciousness)

5 Preferable modes of suicide, in descending order:

I simply refuse to even think about such a morbid thing..!!(even for Geo)

5 Guilty pleasures:

1. Diary milk , milk halva, jilebis.. (those red succulentulent ones), gulab jamun with icecream.. ( I love everything sswwweeeeet)

2.Sleepin round the clock.( good for preventing wrinkles Supposed to be more effective than even visiting a spa.!! )

3.Buying endless no:s of sequined jeweled stilletoes which I rarely use cos im too tall for them and cos they r too harsh on my feet

4.Taking oil massage on every single day. Whether im on night duty or on tour. I skip it only if im on overnight journey..

5.Sittin and dreaming for hours.

5 things you never want to forget:

1.the first glimpse of my babies

2.my grandparents and a fav uncle and a fav aunt who r on the 'other side'

3.my college days.

4.the first time I wore my doc's coat and steth.

5.a soft buttery voice.

5 things you wish to forget

1. my aging :(

2.my morning sickness days :(

3.my ugly duckling days..( I was not a cute and lovely girl child..) :(

4.some unkind relatives :(
.
5.betrayal of a close friend or two. :((

5 really exotic dishes you have tried:

1.frog leg fry.

2.Rabbit meat fry.

3.Kada fry.

4.Pigeon meat fry

( my grandma's sis cooked it for some unexpected guests. She told us only after we had eaten it .. I cried and cried in sadnes and guilt cos we all had loved my grandma's pet pigeons.. )

No nothing more.. only 4 no:s. Geo u made me realize that I need to have more gastronomic
adventures..!

5 crushes/loves in your life... in chronological order (even initials or nicknames wud do. Oh, no ID attempts orpleasests pleez):

1.All those Tall Dark and Handsome Mills and Boon heroes ( thats what made me devour all that stuff..!! Iused to read them even on the nights before my exams keeping them inside my accademic books so that my mom wouldn't find out that i was not studying for my exam..!!
god i was hooked..!!

2.Imran Khan (his masterful arrogance made my knees go weak. )

3.Mel Gibson - (well those sexy eyes and butt could make me swoon even today.. )

4.Jeyan - sexy body, deep voice and the habit of raising one eyebrow..

5. Emran Hasmi.. (Jesus..!!! He is getting better and better..!!)

A weird dream u have had

Me in a crowd when I realise that im the only one in...ahem... my birthday suit.. :))

the rest of the dream comprises of howI try to escape as cooly as possible..!
I get this dream on and off..

5 most valued personal possessions:

1..my wedding ring

2.my diamond nose stud..( it has given me only good luck)

3.my music system ( id die without it)

4. my santro ( well.. I wouldnt mind if it was replaced by a by a brand new car.. )

5.my accademic certificates .

5 favorite superheroes

1.The... giant in alladin's lamp and all those lamps some lucky people find.( who wouldn't love a giant slave who makes all ur wishes come true)

2. Phantom .. handsome, sexy. mystic.. and so debonair and polished when he wore ( unlike Tarzan the ape )i used to be so jelous of diana :))

3.Astrix and Oblix.. (adorable and cute whether they had eaten the majic potion or not ;))

4.Karna of Mahabharata..( so handsome and golden with conjenital golden 'kundals'...poor guy.. was a bastard and his mom too let him down.. my heart used to bleed for him. I hated krishna and arjuna for ganging up against him)

5.Bheema of Mahabharata ( after reading the book randamoozham)

5 people who should pass the parcel )

lash
jagu
esvee
clash
immigrant in canada.

Actually I was reluctant to do this tag cos of lack of time... but i couldnt refuse geo so I did it...

But I enjoyed it...!

I suppose all those confessions have cleansed me.. And made me fit to visit Gangothri.. !!

Well I suppose geo knows the best..

:))

No wonder he is my darling..!!

Ps. Plz excuse the spelling and grammar mistakes. The checker is not workin and I dont have the time nor patience to do it myself.

Tips..?!

2006-04-19T14:17:00.000+05:30

We are planning a trip. To the Himalayas. Darjeeling and Simla were considered but later ruled out cos we felt that they were too commercialized...finally we decided to visit Gangothri... and few other places in Uttaranchal...

Pristine virginal snow.. ! Lots of it. .!

Wilderness and silence that makes my heartbeat stop for a second.. And then heart quicken.

The smell of the blue pines . Breathing in the fresh crisp cold mountain air.. green medows..

Watching the morning mist sweeping down the valley cocooned in a blanket.. Sipping sweet tea..

Strolling down quiet country lanes lined with aged chestnut trees, not a sound to be heard except for the sweet chatter of the birds and the gurgling of streams..

Quaint little churches where I can light a candle at dusk

These are what i am seeking for..

But there seems to be a lot of places to choose from.. in Uttaranchal itself..

Any suggestions. Any tips..?

Ooohh..! I feel so excited..!

Dawn by the astamudi lake..

2006-04-05T15:14:00.000+05:30

I walked out of the cottage in the predawn darkness. The fact that we were the sole occupants in the resort of twelve cottages filled me with ecstasy. I breathed in the crisp chilly air deeply.... A faint mist hung around..

The Astamudi Lake shimmered in the faint moonlight invitingly.. Mesmerizing me..

I knew that I would find it besides the lake..

The perfect silence that bewitches me.. Tantalize me..

I know it is there.. On the other side of all the chatter around me.. Beyond my grasp.

I can glimpse it here and there.. Behind the palm leaves swaying softly in the wind.. In the bark of huge trees.. between the patter of the raindrops..

I sat down and closed my eyes. Oooooh ..! Yes..! It was coming slowly.. Softly…. Engulfing me.. Sweeping through me…

I let myself go.. Drowning and dissolving in it to my hearts content..

I slowly opened my eyes. The world was stirring awake.. The first streaks of light were breaking out in the eastern sky. The lake shimmered joyfully in the rosy dawn .. Birds twittered... Some swooped down fast into the water and flew away with their prize catch. A cow mowed somewhere..

I sat there.. cocooned .. In the loveliness around me.. Till the sulight was more than I could bear..

Peeps lay fast asleep in the cottage. Food.. Alcohol…. A sexy roll in the bed.. Deep sleep.. That is holiday for him.
:))

He smiled indulgently as I describe my morning experience..

“U missed it.. u should have avoided alcohol ....why do u block out your senses when u are on a holiday.?’ I fail to understand the fascination men have for alcohol during celebrations and holidays..

'You don’t understand.' He laugh lazily.... 'What is a holiday without a good booze..?'

P.S. That was the sight when i opened my eyes..I thought id share the pix with u..

Summer..

2006-04-02T12:07:00.000+05:30

In the depth of winter, I finally learned, that within me lay an invincible summer...

-Albert Camus.

Lazy Sundays..

2006-03-26T10:29:00.000+05:30

I drove fast. I was late. My gut burned. There had been no time for breakfast. My PMS didn’t help.

It was Sunday. And I was on duty.. For the next twenty four hours.

I had got up late. The aftermath of a late Saturday night watching the idiot box..

My maid takes off on Sundays.

Some damn pipe had broken in the city. There had been water shortage. The milk had curdled on boiling. My boys had hated the breakfast I had fixed in a jiffy. . The house was in a mess...

I knew it would be worse when I came back.. With only three members of the male species left alone for twenty four hours in the house it was bound to be..

Peeps sat and sulked.. He always does when I am on Sunday duty..

The railway gate was shut… I waited impatiently. My hands drummed on the steering wheel. I noticed that my nail polish was chipped.. My irritation mounted. I hate going around with chipped nail polish.. looks so unprofessional..

I watched the people returning home from the Sunday mass and Sunday shopping.. There was a lazy air about them.. I felt envious..

‘Damn.!.’ I was twenty minutes late..Dr Laksmi whom I am supposed to relieve would be furious by now..’

‘Hmm.. The gate was being opened..'

My irritation mounted further as I waited for the confusion to be over.. Auto rickshaws and two wheelers ran crisscross e trying to poke in.. Engines roared.. Horns blared..

I drove faster.. Past the hospital gates.. Towards my parking slot that I guarded jealously..

That was when that the boy ran in front of my car.

My feet jammed on the brakes.. Fast. My heart hammered.. I was sweating.. Adrenalin through my body already burning with PMS.

The young child was running towards a well dressed young woman who was standing by the window of a car.. Chatting to the people in it.. And she had not noticed anything..!

I parked the car and got out. I felt furious. But other than staring at the group maleovalantly there was no time to give them the tongue lashing they deserved..

And my doc act in the hospital is always calm.. and controlled..

Dr Laksmi was waiting.. Impatiently.. I murmured my apologies without giving her any eye contact..
‘Anything special..?’

Op patients would be waiting .. I proffered to attend to them before taking ward rounds.. Being a lazy Sunday, I was the only doc in the block.

‘Yes. One RTA case.. Head injury is suspected.. General condition is bad.. CT scan report is expected any time now.’

I decided to see that patient first.

He was in a bad shape.. Drowsy.. In shock..Multiple injuries.. .. Broken ribs..
I checked his vital signs.. Hmmmm... Ok..

The CT report was brought to me..

OMG..! Extra dual bleed...!

I needed to talk to the relatives.. He should be shifted to a higher center with facility for neuro surgery.. Blood had to be arranged..

I noticed her as I walked out of the ICU…. The young well dressed woman I had noticed in the drive way.. My lips tightened.. I had no time for that irresponsible woman..

She was coming to me.

Close up, the lovely face looked tired.. Her eyes were swollen.. The face flushed. The smartly cut hair needed a wash..

‘Doc how is my husband..?’

‘ Your husband..?’ I was confused .. I had thought that she had come to thank me.. And apologize for her carelessness..

‘Hmm.. Mr. Sharma..’

‘Mr. Sharma..? ‘I was confused..

Then it dawned to me .. OMG..! The RTA case..!

‘Yes doc.. We are from Mumbai.. Came here for a holiday.. Was on the way to Kovalam when the accident occurred..’I don’t know anybody here.. '

She looked bewildered and tired..

‘Oh..! The poor poor girl..’

‘But to whom was u talking in the drive way..?’

‘ The local rotary club members.. My father is a senior member.. He told me to contact the local club..’

‘Blood has to be arranged fast .. He has to be shifted .. I don’t know any hospital here..’

No wonder she had not noticed her toddler dash in front of my car..

Remorse coursed through my body.. I had been so quick to judge her.. Condemn here for being careless..’

Absent maid…. Curdled milk…. Chipped nail polish…. Messy house…. Loss of a lazy Sunday.. None of it was an excuse for being late.. And driving so fast especially in the hospital compound where I am not supposed to honk the horn..

I badly wanted to help..

“Don’t worry, we will help you.. First tell me what your husband’s blood group is”

‘O negative..’ ‘I know that it is a rare group.. ‘

My blood curdled..!

Holy Mary Mother of God..!!

‘O negative ..?’ I stammered.

I remembered my son as I had left him today morning.. Sprawled on the ground.. Reading the Sunday newspapers scattered around him..

Gautam’s blood group is O negative..

O negative.. Universal donor..

But can receive blood only from another O negative person..

And searching for his rare group.. In an emergency.. In a strange place is my deepest dread..

As it is for my mom.

Cos mine is B negative.. Another rare one..

But I would be able to help her.. My close friend owns a blood bank .. I smiled at her.. Calmly..

Searching..

2006-03-23T11:03:00.000+05:30

It has come again.. That restlessness...That heaviness in the gut.. That slight lingering pain...That vague longing.. My mind keeps searching ...For what...? I dont know..

Nothing special has happened to me..Then why..?

Does everybody get these feelings at times I wonder..?

Is it given to me..? As a gift..? To seek more from life..?

Laughter..

2006-03-20T13:23:00.000+05:30

An interior convulsion, producing a distortion of the features and accompanied by inarticulate noises. It is infectious and though intermittent, incurable.

I came across this definition of laughter recently and wanted to share it with you all..

:))

Fuss..!!

2006-03-15T11:19:00.000+05:30

Gautams exams have started today....

I know its so silly of me but I felt so emotional..

I went to the church for the morning mass.. ..Both Peeps and Gautam refused to come with me.. Boys and girls waited for the father to come after the mass to his room to get his blessings.. Pens... Books and Heads were offered for blessings..! I waited cos I wanted to pay for a mass to be offered... for his exams.

In the house we lit the candle and prayed before he left.. and we drove him to the school.. Peeps commented that all these would only make him tensed up..I thought Gautam would be irritated with all the fuss but I was surprised.... !He tried to hide it... but he loved the fuss..!!
:))
Shows that my son is still a baby..
And I know that he will kill me if he happens to read this...!
:))

The Book..

2006-03-08T14:19:00.000+05:30

"Now it is time
To open your presents.

Gift of tin and glass,
Wear out in a day
And are gone
But I have a better gift for you.

It is a ring for you to wear
It sparkles with a special light and
Cannot be taken away by anyone;
It cannot be destroyed.

You are the only one in the world
Who can see the ring that I give you today .
As I was the only one who could
See it when it was mine .

Your ring gives you a new power.
Wearing it you can lift yourself
Into the wings of all birds that fly .
You can see through their golden eyes,
You can touch the wind that sweeps ,
Through their velvet feathers.

You can know the joy of going up ,
High above the world and all its cares .

You can stay as long as you want
In the sky,
Past the night,
Through sunrise,
And when you feel like
Coming down again,
Your questions will have answers and
Your worries will have gone.

As anything that cannot be
Touched with the hand
Or seen with the eye,
Your gifts grow more
Powerful as you use it.

At first,
You might use it only when you are outdoors ,
Watching the birds with whom you fly.
But later on, if you use it well
It will work with the birds,
You cannot see.

And last of all you will find
That you’ll need,
Neither ring nor bird
To fly alone above
The quiet of the clouds.

And when that day comes,
You must give your gift
To someone you know who will
Use it well,
Who can learn that,
The only things that matter are made
Of truth and joy, and not tin and glass.

Every gift from a friend
Is a wish for your happiness
And so it is with this ring.

Fly free and happy beyond
Birthdays and across forever,
And we’ll meet now and then
When we wish,
In the midst of one celebration that can never end."

And so I finished reading the last lines..Of The book 'There is no such place as far away..' By Richard Bach..

5 yr old Rae invites Bach for her birthday party.. Bach is miles and miles away from her.. The book is about his journey across the deserts... mountains and oceans..

I got the lovely book from the library. It looks like a fairy tale picture book written on pages with lovely watercolor paintings by H.Lee. Shapiroo. There are only one or two lines in each page..
I have typed the line in each page as a stanza.. it is not a poem..

I finished reading it in about 5 mts and then spent the whole day reading it again and again and gazing at the paintings,,,

I had fallen in love with the magic Bach creates in me.. Again…

I wanted the book for myself..

I wondered if I should cheat.. Report loss.. Pay the full amount and keep the book for myself..
I have done it once.. For an old tiny book of classical poems.. With an exquisite picture for each poem.

I simply couldn’t bear to part with it..

After dinner I called Peeps and Gautam to sit besides me.. I wanted Gautam to read the book.. Aloud.
“Oh! No! I want to watch ‘American idol’ … He looked alarmed..

“Plz baby..” I begged..

“OMG!! philosophy..!!” He exclaimed.. turning the pages.. “It will be boring mama.”.

“Plz..” I begged again.
"You will like it..”

“Read it . It will hardly take hardly five minutes”. Peeps said..

He knows what a stubborn beggar I can be..

:))

"plz.. plz.. "I begged again. I wanted them both to enjoy the book..

Gautam started to read.. Fast...

His feet tapped impatiently.. He wanted to get over with it..

I watched my son read the lovely book. He was slowly getting absorbed in the words..

He glanced at the paintings in between. His body started to relax. The words slipped out soft and sweet..

He was surrendering to the magic.. He too was falling in love..

And so was my hubby..!

I decided to not cheat this time.. I would try to buy the book from somewhere…

'Me'

2006-02-23T18:59:00.000+05:30

The most important person in my life is ‘Me.’

My best companion…..

‘Me’ has to be satisfied.

I should listen to what ‘Me’ has to tell me.

I need silence, solitude and guts for that.

Then ‘Me’ will show me the path I should choose.

And then I should take the responsibility of my decisions.