Threat level Midlife

 A decade and a half back I believed that being 30 was “old”. I assumed i would have a roaring career, children, a tastefully done home with beautiful cutlery, mastery over filing taxes and still have a head full of thick black hair. I mentally ran marathons rehearsing winning speeches for various occasions where I would save the day, and was blindingly optimistic about the future. 

That future is here today, and it’s not even remotely close to what I had anticipated. 

My career is not roaring, it’s barely a meow. There is no crisp cotton saree, a starched spotless white coat, sweat less face in the summer during grand rounds or thankful patients in the vicinity. From being ready way before time during school days I’ve become this blob that thinks of a hundred interesting excuses to not turn up to work even before I’m out of the bed. I’m grumpy on the way to work, can’t say no while at work, and return home fuming like a charcoal iron box burning anyone who annoys me to the slightest. 

Since my career isn't topping any Spotify charts, I started thinking of the feasibility of having a biological xerox copy. But then i realise there isn’t any time to actually take the xerox. All this while constantly stressing about the prophetic ticking biological clock which loves to surprise, is never on time and is an emotional wreck. 

The only thing I don’t have to worry about for now is filing taxes. Because my income does not even qualify for it. So that’s a worry saved for when I’m 50 years old, because apparently older doctors earn more. Why not? I might be able to afford a fancy funeral and hire a helicopter to sprinkle my ashes over my favourite beaches. 

It’s so hard to come to terms with this reality, in comparison to my extremely detailed and aesthetic imagination about my future in the past. 

From calling others aunty, to actually being the aunty life is speeding by so fast constantly changing the algorithms I had in place. Like my 10th standard maths grades, my algorithms too are failing spectacularly at multiple levels. 

But does this failed algorithm work? Surprisingly yes. It works very hard. It creates new pathways every single day to circumvent my daily anxiety and self doubt. It’s inclusive, exhaustive, learning and unlearning constantly. On some days it’s the unbelievable Gaylord and on the others it’s personification of all things pessimistic. It keeps looking forward to to better days, better pay and a better place. It realllly wants to slow down but does not know how.

The only thing slowing down for now is my metabolism. It has settled on a comfortable couch and has no intent of moving in the near future.

30s does not feel “old” anymore. It feels like the beginning of a new school term where everyone excitedly wraps books in brown covers waiting to get to a new class and yet nothing makes sense when alphabets are introduced in the maths problems. Anything is possible, also everything is possible.  What a beautiful dichotomy. 

And when the going gets really tough, I take strength from the happily multiplying grey hair colonies around my temples. Cut, colour , pluck them, they come right back. Whiter, stronger, and more in number than before. They teach me, maybe, just maybe I could possibly have it all. In the future. 

Past perfect-present tense

• Loneliness is like a fleece blanket in chennai. Baby's bottom soft to touch but the moment you slip under them hoping for buttery comfort you will sweat out about a 100 calories. Everyone else sees you under the "comfortable fleece but only you know how desperately you want to get out of it.. I do not know if it's the new place,  totally different way of living,  a different set of rules or being totally clueless about what next, but I feel smothered by this fleece blanket. I've never been in one place too long. By the time a new place grows on me,  it's already time to move. After a lot of such moving around,  I'm finally in Mumbai. I know I know,  there is social,  juhu,  vada paav, and the monsoons but it does not float my boat. Not yet. I have spent years in the laid back and fiercely polite Coimbatore,  hills and valleys of ooty, family friends more than family GULF, best UBERs and hypermarket ever (lulu) cochin, and something for everyone chennai. I guess Im not that big a fan of this beehive called Mumbai except for maybe the sea link road which I adore to bits. My ideal place would be ever cool with hills on one side and Bessy beach on the other, the sea link bridge that connect one hill with the other via the sea don't ask me how though.  There should be the occasional snow fall, 2 months of monsoons per year and inhabited by a mix of people from different states each minding thir own business but gathering together under banyan trees to play carroms or chess or just to catch up. There would be shops selling free Mysore dosas, kancheepuram idlis and filter coffee with Tamil songs from the 90s blaring in the background. There will only be public buses of all kinds,  no private mode of transport except for cycles, mc Donald's delivery bikes and ambulance. This utopian world of mine is what sweet dreams are made of. No matter where in the world you've been to,  at the end of the day there is just one place that you want to get back to. This distorted reality is my happy place. And here I am in a place that travels faster than time , almost a galaxy away from my utopian world.  The constant ache of wanting to be elsewhere has totally closed me off, making me a kitchen island surrounded by advanced gadgets, utility areas and designated cooking areas.  I know it's not fair to this place with the sea link road and this lonliness is of my own making. Knowing this is the good part. How l'll get out of it is another that will probably require a few years to figure out.

THE CASE OF CURIOUS SOMEBODY

“You should get first rank next time, second rank is for loser. Go for tutions to that XY teacher”

“You should get into the best college, just like your uncles daughter did, else it’s a shame for your parents”

“You should work with the top most MNC, what is the point of working elsewhere?”

“You should only do clinical subjects, non-clinical is not an option. Best is cardiology”

“You should do something about your skin. It’s too dark. Use lemon juice on your face!”

Sounds familiar?

It should! It is called unsolicited advice/ suggestions. Doled out by highly judgmental, often jealous and jobless people who do not know how best to mind their own business!

Advice is free and makes a lot of difference when we seek it, from someone we look up to. But when “suggestions “are piled on us from unknown and unwanted sources life becomes a living hell.

This unsolicited advice from anyone including a peer, a neighbor, colleague, or even the lady who sells tomatoes in the street corner is an integral part of our life.  Like a drop of ujala in water. Once you add it to water, it mixes quickly and effortlessly staining our clothes in sickly shades of blue.  Pretty much like an annoying totally uncalled for advice that stains our outlook.

These advices do not respect personal boundaries, preferences, opinions. It is often discriminatory, demeaning or outright hurtful

.

Being a medico, these annoying suggestions reach an all-time high immediately after UG

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 Everybody is suddenly interested in the specialty I wish to do, making creepy faces if I fail to say “obs and gyne” or “pediatrics” because that is supposedly the best specialty for girls!

I occasionally come across male colleagues who are exceptionally talented in para clinical/obs gyne, but still chose “manly” ortho or sugery because of the sharp tongue and opinions from people totally unrelated to the field.

If Career is one hot topic among these inquisitive people…..marriage, babies and other embarrassing personal issues happen to be their forte.

They need to know why mango pacchadi was served at you wedding and not pineapple. Why is your wedding saree so expensive? And if its not so expensive, why is your wedding saree cheap? You get married only once! They say pink is your color because you are dark, and will help distract the crowd. They compare and complain on everything from the parting of your hair to the length of your toe nails suggesting alternatives that they saw elsewhere.  Mind you, some of these “talks” happen on the stage, where a whole lot of other people stand in a Q quietly observing the verbal exchange and phony smile and drawing their own inference. You may want to punch them in the face, but no the camera is all over you and the photographer charges a bomb so you can’t waste candid pics on this blabbering “unknown” individual

.

The very next day after marriage, as some of my friends confessed, the annoyingly inquisitive person has the audacity to ask for the “good news”. And hence starts the “good news” period. Been a month no good news?? Oh how sad. You should see this doctor..blah blah..  The newly married girl is not mother Mary, or Kunthi Devi to miraculously conceive. Dear somebody who knows everything, you should also know that such things take time. Besides there is something called "planning" and preference, which i hate to break it to you, but is none of your frigging business! 

They offer endless suggestions, call it the life (ruining) advice not just to us but also to our parents who are responsible adults. They are responsible for more than half the fights I have with my parents regarding trival tv shows to the courses I want to apply. The clothes I wear to the friends I have, nothing escapes “their business” zone. It is like being on the Truman show or Big boss.

That’s how good their surveillance is. If they could channelize this energy onto something productive, I think they would make the best “surveillance team” for detecting communicable diseases. Department of community medicine, your attention please.

I’m pretty sure even if they happen to meet superman, they would suggest he wear his flashy underpants beneath his blue body suit and also advise him to wear airy costumes so he can have healthy sperms and hence healthy babies. Because life is all about babies.

Stay a safe distance away from our air space dear superman.

MUSIC BUBBLE

I have decided to abstain from all  movies/ serials with an extensive background score.

No. it’s not because I'm too busy working or because I have a major exam. It’s simply because it has made everyday life such a pain in the rear!

I was pretty alright until I watched a few episodes of Devon ke dev mahadev.  This particular episode had the ridiculously good looking telly Shiva staring into the love struck Sati’s eyes oblivious to the other demi gods and humans around them as the background music wrapped it all together ,successfully causing the goose bumps effect. I felt like a big cube of butter dropped into the hot frying pan!

It took a few days for me to get over that melt down. I kept wondering why!?? Why does a “divine”soap have such an effect? Was it the stunning Shiva?  The Impossible human-god relationship angle??  The beautiful sets? Was it how Shiva, Sati and everyone else said the right things at the right time or was it just the music??

Well the actual culprit is THE music! 

You can call me crazy, but I watched the same episode on mute and surpriseeee!! It wasn’t magical anymore. In fact it was plain awkward! How long can two people with blank faces stare at each other without any background music!?

Then started the movie marathon (on mute of course) but with sub titles to reconfirm my hypothesis.

I started with Vinnai thandi varuvaya, a beautiful Tamil move with amazing BGM.  I changed genres and watched Pirates of the Caribbean, Inglorious bastards(another amazing BGM), Star wars, Legend of Bhagat singh, Visvaroobam,indira, and a bunch of other movies which I hold special. Without the Background score the emotions conveyed in these movies seems blunted. Even the heart tugging dialogues and scenes dint quite complete the picture.

Yes I am quite jobless at the moment. But here’s why it affects my everyday existence.

When I wake up every morning, there is no chirping birds or girly chorus playing in the background.  I’m late to work or college and literally on a run but there is no fast paced music playing along pushing me to get there faster!  

After a fight with a friend there is just breakable silence, no sad violin tunes. Someone cracks a joke there isn’t the claps and laughs we hear in the background of a sitcoms. 

When a mother in law fights with her daughter in law there is no weird owl hooting noises, or crying chorus that produces enough tears to build a dam!!

And If I do manage to stare at someone with all the love I could possibly feel, it just makes me feel like a creep and that someone extremely uncomfortable! Where the hell are those goose bumps inducing music when I need them??

There are so many such everyday situations that get blunted, buried in awkward silence, or the unbearable sirens and horns and the din of mundane existence. 

Wouldn’t life be much cooler if we had our own bubble around our heads playing timely “punch music”??

Imagine having your own intro music!( like Ajith’s in Mangatha) every time you enter a new place??, 

 or VTV’s Bgm every time you feel a little romantic? 

Or how about Superstars “vidukaiyaa inda valaki” music when you are totally stumped in an exam hall?

There is such a sharp contrast on what’s portrayed on screen and our lives. May be that is why we look up to cinema or television and music as a source of escape from everything that is normal making us feel inadequate and incomplete in some way...... the only solutions being, Invention of the “punch music bubble”or just stop providing such unattainable, unrealistic  BGm’s  for otherwise normal events pictured on screen( like the movie The lunchbox)

The latter pretty much won’t happen, because family soaps thrive on Sad music, a villain/vamp will always have an owl or wolf entry music, all major dialogues will be followed by a lightning bolt sounds, shocking incidents will have a a few Carnatic swarams in high pitch, romance is never silent and has nostalgic numbers playing along. No awkward silence anywhere.

So our best bet  and the only hope for a “complete” feeling is the “punch music bubble”. In case you are interested please wait for your turn in the Q. Someone somewhere is equally mad and is working towards the betterment of us! It is time to blurr the lines ;)

THE PETER PAN SYNDROME

Yes! It does exist. Most prevalent in the generation born in the mid-late 80’s and early 90’s and is defined as “unwillingness to grow up”. Almost all my fellow 89’ers and 90’its are afflicted with this disorder. If for any reason you think that you are above this nonsensical syndrome then please consider this:

  Do you associate Parle-G with shakthiman? [ “No” is not the answer!]                                                                

Do you remember the spinning psychedelic Doordarshan symbol and the funeral song that played along?—if you don’t, please pass away and I will play it for you!

                  

)How about games like lock and key, chain catcher, “color pei”??

“knock knock”

Yaar adu???

“Pei idu!!”

Enda pei??

“color pei”

Enda color??  Followed by Usain bolt like sprint in all directions??

Rember those Sundays reserved exclusively for cartoons like Flintstones, Laff-a-lympics,centurions and chandrakantha??  Fortunately the mega families dramas dint exist then, so the TV was mostly free.
                                                   

Do you remember Dravid as Jammy even though he earned more sophisticated names later??

                                                  

 And have you ever checked out, liked or shared stuff that glorifies the 90’s, the old cartoon network or “The I miss my childhood” pages on FB?? 

Things have changed in unimaginable ways over the last decade. The World is just a touch away. It is possible to have pepperoni pizza in Kumbakonam and Avial in France. There is airtel D2H, Videocon and tata sky and yet life is not very Jinga-lala as it was before.

I spent the 90’s in two different countries and six different schools. Change was always the constant common denominator.

The first school I was enrolled in is at Coimbatore. That school taught me two very important lessons

a)    The teacher will ALWAYS know if you are actually sleeping or  pretending to be asleep during the sleeping hour.

) b) The water bottle with a tiffin box on top, and the sharpener with an eraser on one end and toilet cleaning brush like bristles on the other was(still is) the most genius stationary ever !

It was during this period that we had Annual day in our housing colonies, which included appetizing games like bun eating, and Jamun on spoon. Clothes were meant to be soiled rolling about in the mud. Knees were almost always covered with scabs as a result of falling multiple times from cycles or trees. All the unoccupied houses in the colony were said to be haunted and my friends and i promised all the new kids in the colony that we had seen a ghost in a white saree under the banyan tree that dint even exist.

Then I shifted to a boarding school in ooty! That is where I fell in love with Inland letters and envelopes. That was the only way I could communicate with my family. The letters were distributed every Sunday. Every time I opened a letter, the familiarity of the handwriting (usually my mother’s) were the happiest few minutes of a Sunday (also the Sunday tea time when they gave us vegetable puffs)

 Irrespective of the fun I had I would always write letters complaining about how horrid the school was! There have been occasions where I would lightly smudge the ink with saliva to make it look like I was crying while writing the letters! ( I love drama!)

After this short period where I was obsessed with hand written letters, table manners and vegetable puffs I moved to another country in the year 1999.

There life progressed at lightning speed. There came a brick sized nokia phone with a table cloth like transparent cover. I got my first Walkman, and I discovered the existence of Sonu Nigam and his albums!

I spent the better part of my teenage reading agony aunty columns from YOUNG TIMES, the most popular magazine in the region. The “F” word was all over the place and was uttered in hushed tones like when saying “he who must not be named”.

I created my first email id and I am proud of my 13 yr old self for having had the insight to not create id’s with names like “bunnylove” or “twinkle sparkles” because I still use that id!

Msn messenger is where all the after school action happened and anything that left the confines of the chatroom was a juicy piece of gossip to be discussed during the recess!

Series like hip hip hurray, fresh prince of bel air and Sabrina the teenage witch slowly replaced cartoon network and small wonders. It was probably the fastest 5 years..like a log phase of a growth curve.

Looking back I’ve had an eventful childhood. It is a place I would gladly visit again.and again and again! It invariably arouses a sense of fondness. It amazes me that “childhood” was hardly 20 years back! The changes have been faster than a chameleon changing its color.

I am sorry for the generalization but I do believe I come from a generation that holds on to its dear past! It is indeed golden. As golden as the gold color of the new Horlicks gold label.

Kids these days [that line ages me by almost 100 years! But anyway!] Prefer to grow up ASAP! They are on the lookout for the magic beanstalk that grows overnight. Childhood is replaced by a mad race. A race for better grades, better jobs, better bank balance and a better coffin at death. That thought almost pushes me into the depression mode. I am sure a few episodes of The Jetsons  can cure that. Thank you YOUTUBE.

Oh! The irony!

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Last month I happened to travel a lot with family. While driving all the way from Mangalore to Coimbatore via parts of Kerala we stopped for breakfast at a small restaurant at Udupi. I ordered a ghee rost, like every other time because I love how its served.. Golden, crispy, oily cone with two chutneys and sambar. The smell itself is soooo intoxicating! But as I was eating it, I realized that it just dint taste that good. The sambar was watery, it had coconut in it and there was just one chutney. Coconut. Coconut and I do not get along well you see.. Bad breakfasts lead to a bad day. I knew then. Food changes our outlook. It affects our mood. It makes us happy, sad or mad. Food is magic.

Food means a lot to me, and it is pretty evident! It is associated with many memories good, bad and weird.

The very first time I had a pizza, I thought my hands smelled funny! The last time I had fish was the first time I had to be rushed to a doctor to remove the bone stuck in my throat! I gave up chicken believing I would get chicken pox if I had them! Well that was a good decision; I saved many a chickens life if not a patient’s! :D

My love for food started in school. So many tiffin boxes, all with different types of snacks and hungry us.

School life was all the more memorable with “pepsi”ice, and Kucchi ice, which were priced at 2 rupees and 5 rupees! There was one time when the kucchi ice had a small worm in it. I saw it as soon as I removed the cover and cried a lot! I wouldn’t get 5 rupees for another week! I dint give up on kucchi ice! Never will.

It was in school that I betrayed maggi. I was loyal to maggi, all throughout high school, until my friend had top ramen in her lunch box. We were in 11th standard!!. That day we were sent out of class for not completing our physics record. I pledged alliance to top ramen that day as I stood outside the class! Who really cared about physics record?

A few evenings after school, I would walk to my friend’s place and have real hot aloo bondas her mom made with a glass of boost, ignoring the world including her dog beta who would bark his head off. Not just coconuts, I don’t get along well with her dog either.

Then came college. It was the work of stars that I found friends who were foodies, all except one! :D We bonded over the pathetic hostel food. Aloo bonda came back into my life as that was the only tea time snack we would flick from the mess hall. We got a little bolder and started ordering food from nearby restaurants. This was all behind the wardens back. We would plan days ahead…the food we wanted, who would order, which number would we give, the name we would use.. And then come up with a plan to sneek the food into the hostel without the warden’s knowledge. It was our own version of Mission impossible minus The Tom Cruise!! Feasting on that food was our sorgavaasal!

And I also happened to have this wonderful roomie in the first year....we would have picnics in our room with packets of oily chips, bread, Nutella, ceralac and pointless discussions.  The recurring topic of discussion would mostly be “how to lose weight!!”, as we kept stalking people on orkut :D

The food court opened when we started our second year. Every evening we pooled our resources and ended up with a single dosai or one glass of juice split 4 ways! Birthdays were spent at budget hotels with good food. At once such “food craving” outing, we were left with hardly any money to get back to coll and ended up begging and fighting on the roads of Adayar! Adayar has been my favorite place ever since.

We attended conferences after discussing in detail if the travelling expenses and time wasted at the seminar was worth the food being served at the venue. We would mostly end up going; because good food is worth any trouble.

During internship, food became all the more special. We ditched the food courts and started patronizing the D block canteen right in the middle of the hospital. We would demand for the coffee to be strong, less milk, high on sugar without aadai! :D That was heaven in a tiny paper cup. During the night duties, we would set out to the dosai kadai, or karai kudi chettinad. Two roadside eateries that fed us and kept us happy. We had the opportunity to have candle light dinner at the fried rice kadai every time they were out of power. Candle supported by a Miranda bottle. The most romantic dinner my group of 6 interns ever had!

There were times in the hostel when one vessel of plain white rice, homemade sambar, with garlic thokku and chips made with a loot of love and care would make its appearance every time my friend’s mom (Jessie bhavan’s ownwer!) came to visit her. That food would feed about 10 to 12 of us .when you are away from home, and you get home cooked food life looks a lot better and filled with love.

Food, has always been something special. It fosters friendships, ends arguments, promotes sharing and just makes us a better person. It engages all our senses and makes memories that come back later in life. Even now, when I look at aloo bonda I’m reminded of my friend from school, her mom their terrace and for some annoying reason her dog! 

P.S: I’m on the look out for Amudhasurabi as a gift for Jessie Bhavan’s owner. It’s supposed to be a vessel from which we get endless supply of food. If you have not heard of it, never mind. I have probably been fooled to believe its existence.

Give food. Spread love.

FIND THE "X"

Find “X” in the following equation. This was reason enough for me to hate Math.

I could never find X, not just in math class but also in physics and chemistry. One fine day I found not just one X but two! It was in the biology class, and the best part of it was that XX was a part of me! 46XX, and I love it!

Now, this blog is not about algebra, or about chromosomes. It is about the 24^th alphabet X, which signifies everything unknown.

We see so many movies most of which is as unrealistic as unicorns riding on rainbows and there are some movies that are so real and raw that it makes us cringe. And then there are movies like Avatar and Gravity. Let us exclude Avatar, because Pandora does not exist. It is just a fragment of an individual’s wonderful imagination (also Hogwarts!) But Gravity was based on outer space, and it does exist! As I was watching that movie, I kept wondering how it would feel to be in space.. I screamed my head off, and rendered a few people deaf on a giant wheel when I saw the VGP golden beach globe from up there. How would I handle seeing the earth from outer space!??   It becomes another X for me. Something I will never find.

That is not the only X. I will never know how it feels to bungee jump! Because there in no way I will jump off a cliff or bridge or even my own bed with a rope tied to my feet and not die! I will not know how it feels to be on a roller coaster that has a vertical drop of 90 degrees, because I’m pretty sure I will pass out the moment the ride begins. You would possibly say, get over your fears and just do it. But these Xs, I don’t want to find them ever!!!

Apart from the Xs that we will never know because of our fears and inhibitions, there are some Xs that are like non modifiable risk factors. There is simply no way in haven, hell or earth (or Hogwarts: D) that we can find them.

For instance, There is no way i could have known how it feels to be that cute kid with monkey bangs and short bob when I was in 2^nd standard, because at that time I was busy sporting a coconut tree sprouting from the vortex of my head. I could still get a bob and monkey bangs, but I just can’t go back to 2^nd standard unless it is for my future kids PTA meeting. If I do go for that PTA meeting with a bob and monkey fringe, my future kids will be pitied upon by the judgmental teacher! Poor kids that don’t yet exist.  This X is lost in the clause of time.

I will not know it is to be a man and hang out anywhere at any time, not care about looks, have a big tummy and a balding head, drink, smoke, have a poor sense of humor and still have girls in Q for marriage! Because this X is bound by the clause of gender.

And the chances of how it feels to be stuck in a tsunami, hurricane, stuck by a lightening, though weird is still an X, is pretty bleak here in Coimbatore. I am not capable of inducing them as I please for experience sake because it is bound by the clause of nature. However if I could induce them in a controlled manner, I would be the owner of an awesome amusement park with the best and truly one of a kind wave pool!

And there is simply no way I will know how it feels to disappear on Malaysian flight 370. I am not being insensitive here, but that’s an X that is bound with mystery, politics, or aliens. Whatever makes sense to you.

These Xs make all of us the same yet different. Different because you have found or willing to find Xs that I’m not interested in or don’t necessarily prioritize. Same because all of us have Xs that we can never find due to factors like time,gender,nature or because we are never meant to. 

Unsolved Xs is always the human minds biggest thrill.

Our lives are about the size of a pin point. The Xs in this world is about the size of a beet root. One pin prick in a beetroot won’t make a difference. Multiple pricks do! For those of us who believe in karma, rebirth and destiny (all Xs) we have chance of multiple pin pricks, so cheer up! We will find few more Xs in the next life time.

And I chose to prick a beetroot because I detest them. Why??  It’s another X, reserved for another lifetime, maybe.

Smell Fixation

What a beautiful weather! I’m sitting beside an open door, and looking at the gloomy sky and the dull green trees listening to some oddball bird that’s chirping instead of cozying up in its nest.  A really cool breeze presents itself occasionally.  This feels like master Shifus’s inner peace!

But, this inner peace soon becomes more like Po’s inner peace.  I tell my brain that I am enjoying nature and don’t wish to be disturbed and at that precise moment it reminds me of the DD that I have to take in favor of COMEDK.  I tell my brain, no worries! I will take it soon.

 It’s quite for a minute then tells me about all the clothes I have to fold before placing them neatly in the cupboard.  I say so what?? There is sooo much time left. Then my two faced brain sent down a set of instructions that made me turn away from the door and the beauty beyond it, and forced me to look at all the books on the table. It was torture. It hurt me really bad! I argued with my brain. What the hell is your problem??? Can’t you let me enjoy pleasant weather?? Why do you always have to spoil everything for me? Don’t you have a heart? I asked my brain.

That was the question that did the damage. My brain couldn't handle the fact that I asked about heart, my brains on and off friend. My brain came back at me with full vengeance. It reminded me of the new shirt that dint fit, the chicken pox that will leave scars, the application forms that I hadn't yet filled, the tap that was not working in the loo, my friends engagement that I missed, the fast approaching new years eve that will just be another day, the magnum ice-cream that is playing hide and seek, the exams and their results, and all the uncertainties of the future.

 My brain won. I blamed the gloomy sky and dull green trees ad that mental chirping bird for distracting me, wasting my time and making me feel dull and lazy!

Whoever it was who said “stop and smell the roses” was seriously crazy. He/she must be DE cerebrate.

Its impossible to stop and smell anything for that matter, without having a muted conversation with our brain at every step. A thousand thoughts occupy our little heads at any given time. The worries and joys of everyday life , the mistakes of the past, the lies we have told, the people we dislike, the war in Syria, the dirty politics in our country, the price of onions, expectations, the peeling paint on our walls and that new Audi A7. We think about anything and everything. And if we do get to smell the rose, we ask ourselves, isn't’ this a bit too mild?, I think the other rose was better,  oh crap! Its making me sneeze, Am I inhaling pesticides!??

So forget about stopping and smelling the roses. We have our own sweet smelling/ stinking lives to keep us occupied. Enjoy that. When you do it will be a smell to remember!!!

Please me!

I have to change my whats app contact image, so i get hold of a reasonably good pic then just before i make it my DP i have this mind voice "noooo it looks too plain" , "makes me look too dark", öh shit! its the same shirt as in my previous DP!"",...and i finally stick to the old picture. 

 I go to this fancy coffee shop ( oh pardon me! "la cafe" ) for a school reunion, with batch mates who are apparently having very interesting lives...orders are being taken and one wants a mocha, another a frappe, cafe au lait with skimmed milk.... blah blah and now its my turn to order something exotic and foreign and prove my prowess in diction..i stare at the menu card (my mind is screaming FILTER KAPI ) and i order an espresso. Whats that? i don't know either!

Everything I ( can i say we? ) do is subject to scrutiny and judgement. It happens at home, school, housing complex, super markets, internet,.. the whole freaking place!

When i say i am from XYZ school my neighbor is quick to respond "ohhh anda schoolaaa. is it not the one from which a student eloped with some man??"  I have already killed her inside my head but all i can say is "ÿeahh aunty!"

 Even at departmental stores when I go for some mundane purchase looking for good stuff at cheaper rates, there are two or three staff members tailing me like some body guards,shaking their heads every time my hand reaches out for the cheapest (but proven efficient!) stuff on the shelf.

This is just the beginning. Being judgmental is a part of everyday existence. It starts right from when we were at primary school. The kid with the cutest stationary, the tastiest snack box and the chubby cheeks was always more popular than the quite, nose digger out of curiosity  kid.

Then comes the high school where report cards are like paychecks. Higher grade is always a better kid!
Invariably after every exam when we took our report cards home the very first question our parents ask "how much did your friend get??" if its less then wooow its celebration time. But if your friend happens to be a nerd, then all you get is advice cum blackmail. Throughout school its always about out performing the neighbors , our uncles children, great grandmothers sisters family and yeah even the reference student in America!!
Music class? go for it. Dance? yes go!. Karate? why not?? after all this if your tired?? you hear "ïf mala aunties sisters daughter can do it, why cant you???"

Since we grow up midst all this comparison and outperforming crap we evolve to be a highly judgmental group of individuals who care about the image we project to make sure that we are not judged. But hey! its fine to judge others.

The way we project ourselves is now more important that what we actually are. Even in a hospital the patient obviously prefers a doctor who is smart,, with a clean white coat and a smile like how hey show in close up ad.( never mind the fact that he know way less than the other doctor who has been stuck up in the hospital and got no time to shave and looks like a zombie)
 And as a doctor we judge the patients too! If its a well dressed, English speaking patient then our treatment will also involve a lot of fake laughs and nauseating discussions involving everything from sweat to stools. And if the patient happens to be not so aware type, we just quickly examine give the required medications and bye bye.

IM not staying stop judging, dont label people, because its something we all do subconsciously.  Everything from the place we study, work, the friends we make, the enemies we choose, the car we drive to the food we eat is largely dependent on projecting a better image of ourselves. Its all a part of" im up the societies ass strategy "

Least we forget..we often find a well wisher in the strictest of professors, lasting friends in the sickest college, happiness in an exam hall where no one knows the answer and soul satisfying food from a street vendor (hint hint_ Nehru park!)

So next time your at some place like the hilton and have this craving for lemon rice with fries potatoes do ask them. If your shown the door, just wish them a good day, head straight to saravana bhavan or vasanta bhavan and eat your heart out.

What is life if not for such small pleasures ? And yeah dont go anywhere near the hilton again. They wont even let you in!

THE BEST PROFILE FORWARD

 

Im 23, 4 more months and i will be done with college,a seat to a pg course is somewhere in the near future, A horoscope thats is pretty screwed up, cousins younger than me about to be hitched, aunties and uncles who have "my best interest" as their  prime concern who egg my parents further until they finally decide i have to get married!! and to sort it all out and to help my family with the same comes the most savy, Bharath matrimony, and a bunch of other matrimony sites.

I totally hate these online matrimony portals. Some random person expresses interest,  and courtesy demands you do the same..numbers are exchanged (so are badly photoshoped pictures) and somewhere along the line things go off like the fizz in a bottle of cola opened 2 hours back.

Every time im shown some profile of a potential groom, my highly judgmental part of the brain become overactive.  Every single line i read, ends with the same thought "bull shit".

98% of the profiles i come across have almost identical description about the guy in question. "god fearing, soft spoken, homely boy" wait a second! this is where you begin to select a groom based on the principle of exclusion. I most def do not want the god fearing soft spoken homely boy!

First - God fearing??! who fears god? the one who commits sins. so does it imply the prospective groom commits sins on daily basis? or does it mean he does not commit ANY sin just because he is scared of some invisible presence on top of his head keeping a watch over him and his deeds 24/7?? Either way not good! what im actually looking for is someone with a conscience, who does what he does not because its the expected behavior, but because he believes in him and his deeds to do no harm to those around him. Now common thats not too much to ask for?

Second-      homely and soft spoken. sorry!

   how did life come this far? we evolved obviously. we learnt to face the struggles that life throws at us, we fight, we establish territories, we create boundaries and we rule. Had our cavemen remained passive to what fate had in store or them, we probably would still be living in caves and mountains, guarding ourselves from the wild with fire  from the stone. Again is it wrong to look for someone who shows traits of being able to evolve,. and this most commonly used expression hold good for women too.!

 This does not mean im looking for some wandering hooligan who dominates and thinks the world is his head, rather someone who respects fellow human being and their space. who can be considerate and diplomatic but at the same time is not afraid to raise his voice when he is wronged.

After all this description about the guy, comes the demanding part.

Looking for  "Tall, beautiful, slim, fair,homely,well cultured girls from decent families" then my head says, why don't you add, 36-24-36, blond or read head, rai's face, Madhuri's smile, Paris Hilton's brains and can still look like a traditional doll in strategically draped saree??  Never mind the guy looks like the uncle you see around at malls. IF you want a doll go buy one jackass!

some demands go a step further to border on near selfishness when the look for a bride "who can support the groom, make him happy,look after him and his family at the same time help HIM achieve his goals!" well just so you know mister, the girl has a family too, she has her own dreams and whimsical fancies..she is not your "talking ginger" or "talking tom" who you gradually loose interest in just because another app comes around!

My online profile is hilarious too! Describing me in those exact same words i mentioned before. everything that i am not. But why does this have to happen??

Every one lives to fulfill the needs of the other. First you assess what is in demand and then you manufacture goods accordingly, thats basics of business. Business that now also includes matchmaking. If tall, fair, slim ( the magic adjectives) is what you want, then that is what you will get. some how the bride / groom miraculously have to change accordingly, because anything less will become a compromise.

Marriage is no more the sacred, family affair it was ages ago. Its now reduced to choices. This web site or that. this boy or that, giving true meaning to the phrase you choices make you what you are! Of course the old ways might still exist you say, but judging by the success of these online matchmaking sites i doubt that with a biig question mark! 

THE RESULT HORROR

My final year M.B.B.S exams  came to an end. I wanted to scream my lungs out, cry for all those hours of metal torture, sleep myself to death for all those days of induced insomnia, talk endlessly to any one who would listen about any nonsense beyond the subjects, listen to all my favorite songs, take a nice long shower, go to the marina beach, eat roasted corn...the things i wanted to do was endless!
But the day the exams got over, another nagging pain in the rear took over...what about the results?


Every single day the MGR university website replaced the morning paper and ensured that my bowels forgot all about the constipation that accompanied exams! My dream lovers and the happily ever after dreams were replaced by various nightmares about the results and its consequences.


Every single day out with friends, dinner parties with family friends and small picnics were wrapped up with anxiety and plenty of bile in the throat situations. All facebook chats involved in depth discussion about the rumored dates for results arrival and Phone calls were mainly to reconfirm all the information exchanged on facebook or yahoo!


The only page that was open 24/7 on my laptop was the MGR university site. I am very sure my index finger became a millimeter shorter as i kept pressing the refresh button about hundred times a day. Every time the page failed to load i almost convulsed and my lacrymal glands ran out of tears! My family refused to believe i was sane considering the various facial expressions i would display by just staring at the computer screen!


Waiting for an important exams results is probably the most cruel part of the examination process. All the time wasted, the classes that were bunked, teachers who became the butt of jokes come back to haunt you like the ghost of your  Ex.  Finally one fine day when the sun was setting in the west and i was settlling deeper into my corner on the sofa with tea, i saw it. The result.


Convulsions started so did tears! i dint dare enter my roll number into that rectangle box! It took two whole minutes for my dad to convince me to let go of the laptop, and another three minutes for him to get the roll number out of my mouth! Then in about 5 seconds he told me "PASS" !
NOOOO way! I had to see it myself! and it was pretty much there on the screen! 


The holidays of the haunted results thus ended. I did not do a single thing on my list of to do things. Did not celebrate, did not scream, did not freak out like how i had imagined i would during the exams!


I now regret those wasted days. Internship in its first trimester, and im yet to register the fact that i have passed. The moment of glory has passed to never come back.But definetly we are worth more! And being the dreamer i am i still believe that some day in the next one year there will come a day when i celebrate with my besties in such a way that will compensate for all those years of desperation,hopelessness and days where we worked our asses off! 

To that day i say cheers!

Homeostasis meets nemesis!

December 25, 2011. The day Saturn took over my life.


Initially it was the 10th boards, then the 12th, every university exam in college and now THE final year exams of medical school. 


I made elaborate plans with well organised time tables to make sure i complete the portions by January 16th 2012, but like every other TR's movie, my plans turned out to be a big joke. Complete the portions?? what the hell was i even thinking??


When rest of the world was celebrating new year, here i was staring at the books but concentrating on the songs blaring from the stereo outside, regretting every single second for having taken medicine!
My ipod was untouched for a period of 38 days to be exact..the longest ever we have ever been separated.
Conversations with friends involved dialogues like "man! i have so much left" "i have no clue what im gonna do!!" "im definitely gonna flunk!" over and again!...the only thing i had time was for books, and i hated them!


Prayers increased in frequency and duration; nightmares of sitting "vetti" in the exam halls became the norm; It was like having PMS all throughout! Mood swings, oily  head and faces, exam acne( that's my  terminology), relapsing bouts of confidence, and endless worry..a typical Pre-Exam syndrome complex.


This is just the preview..the climax occurs the day before the 1st paper General medicine one. Its humanely impossible to read trough Davidson before the exam, and so came George Mathew to my rescue. Every topic looked important, every unusual name or sign a potential 1 marker, every unmarked page a reminder of the vastness of the untouched portions..now this is what hell should be like. That emotional turmoil, the mental agony is one of a kind.


One paper after the other with no time to sleep or eat, rumors about the possible questions for the next paper,  few annoying batch mates who go around announcing how badly prepared they are( they are usually the toppers!), a few others who swallow microphones and discuss the answers with the wall, the near death experience when you receive the question paper and realize you do not know both the essay questions, last minute revisions(just before being dragged into the hall), "totally screwed" glances with best friends, hoping for a bomb to drop on the examiners head are all inherent to an important theory exam.


Balding patches, over grown beards, bushy eyebrows,fine tremors on inspection; 


Moist sweaty skin, irregular pulse,on palpation;


Changing murmurs, loud s1 and s2,s3 s4 s5 s6 s7 sn!! all over the precordium, unusually loud bowel sounds on auscultation. 


Investigations- CT brain reveals a recently hypertrophied brain with scattered ares of sclerosis( for all the answers that failed to make an appearance in mind's screen during the exams)
These are the pathagnomic features of a student who has just taken a med school exam (any exam for that matter!).


Bungee jumping scary?? my foot!!!!  Try writing a med school exam! 

The perfect past

It was the tenth time i suppressed a yawn! My head hardly registered the anything that was being discussed at the seminar. It was an exam oriented seminar conducted by another college and i overestimated my potential to patiently listen to over 8 hours of lecture with just a 30 minute break in between. I totally lost it when they started  talking about varicose veins at a speed of 3 words per minute!...i was still thinking about the palatable lunch i just ate, the chair that was abusing my spinal cord, the unbelievable eye popping students around who kept nodding for even the breath the professor took!

It was 2 o clock, in a jam packed hot, humid room where the air was completely paralyzed, that's when i spotted a student religiously take notes..like every one else (where is my pen?)  but this smart ass was typing away to oblivion on his laptop! I saw signs of mental disturbance in him for sure! But what really caught my attention was the laptop.

The laptop for some reason reminded me of long forgotten NATRAJ (THE PENCIL), my red and black NATRAJ pencil the most pivotal object  of my childhood.

I would sharpen it every single day before school (prestige problems)..Just for the heck of it i'd sharpen the other end too and show of with my dual ended writing instrument!...It was the only food i got in the exam hall!..i'd chew on the wood and stare blankly at the bent backs right in front.

I remembered  the notebooks, that were neatly covered in brown paper, with a "bata" or "kiwi" label on it. The double margins, the smudged pencil marks that made pages look grey, red marks and even worse "very bad handwriting" remarks and the occasional "neat" or a star.

The eraser, that was the most hardworking stationary in my pencil case. It would assume odd shapes by the end of term and ultimately disappeared as a tiny round thing in my friends braid.

The ever strong wooden ruler,in its yellow glory bearing compass marks and my name in bold letters. It must have definitly waged wars with other scales in class but was never used for the intended purpose.

And obviously, the very 1st led pen.Renolds! .the refill that had pathetic looking ends, and the the ink totally wasted in "correcting" news papers, text books, and dads office stuff(ouch!)

I saw the laptop again...what a shame! its just there, reminds me of nothing except wasted hours, and non productivity  multiplied by guilt.Its no match for the physically deformed and emotionally challenged stationary of my past.

I finally found my pen. That professor is still speaking 3 words per minute...i open my note book and take down an important point "Prof.X, varicose veins, 3 words per minute".

I would love to look back at this sometime in the distant future.

Forensic blues

I have always loved reading Robin cook novels, specially the ones which revolve around forensic investigation...CSI, Bones,Dexter..you be blind to not see the pattern! I was totally in awe of Forensic medicine. So my excitement was obvious when i started my 2nd year of med school, because FM is one of our subjects for the year! YEAAAAA!!!


1st day orientation to FM, that's when i realized i was grossly mistaken about the subject! I felt like i had been smothered in cow dung...It was way too remote form what i had read or seen or dreamed of!!!  We had 3 professors. The HOD who comfortably invisible, Mr.Y who was "this" close to kicking the bucket and Mr.A. Mr.A our savior!


This Mr.A was cool for many reasons.He was patient, sincere, and seriously worried about our lack of interest towards the subject. He did his masters abroad, hence came along the accent,the only thing that ever caught my attention. The classes were usually in the afternoon, immediate postprandial, the time when i suffer from serious attention deficit disorder...Not just me but our batch of 120!! That never Deterred Mr.A from screaming on top of his voice through a broken microphone form the podium about plant poisoning, alcohol abuse, road accidents...blah...blah..WAIT did he just talk about sodomy???? Clever man, he knew how to get the class to listen!


The biggest mistake he probably made, was returning back to India to teach forensic...Forensic of all the subjects. We never considered it a subject...it was the hour to catch up with gossip, upcoming culturals, finishing OTHER subject records and assignments...im sure he must have felt more at ease with a a room full of cows chewing cud!!


A year passed and it was time for our university exams..and then we knew..NOTHING about FM!
we had to get through the exam! We tried to go through our class notes, sadly we never took any! The text book was brand new and i was the most boring book ever with least informative pictures and texts that said the same stuff over, the font dint help either!


We were desperate for help, and thats when we saw the big, bright, gleaming halo over Mr.A's head. He worked harder than any of us to drill the subject through our thick skulls .Im sure he had many mild attacks reading our answers and listening to pure ignorance that we shamelessly committed!! But he was a strong man!


The day of the practical exam, and we got the first look of our externals form other states..Im sparing you the horrific details!..But somehow, we went through the hell hole and it was not as bad as expected. The most anxious face in the practical hall was Mr.A's. His face was red, spectacles constantly slipping off from his nose thanks to the sweat!..it was a sight! 


With the exams over, the results out( yeah i cleared!) the chocolate distribution in progress, Mr.A  stood with an expression that made us rot with guilt...He was beaming! Mindless of all that insult we bestowed on him and his queer accent, of all the troubles we gave him, the records for which he literally had to beg....Did he have some memory issues??


He congratulated every one of us,  gave us a lengthy advise about how to tackle the 3rd yr subjects, and a lot of other personal issues....we dint deserve any of that. 


 I dont see him in the college anymore; Rumors fly around..some say he is suffering from alcohol withdrawal, a bitter divorce, cancer???


I have no clue. But he will always be remembered as our savior, the man who earned respect from 120 immature, arrogant, and indifferent students.


And for the record, Mr.Y is still going strong. His Bucket is that old fashioned type..the cast iron one...guess he will stay put....for many more years.