I have been posted at the PHC in a place called Saphale-about a couple of hours from central Mumbai,along with two other co-interns. Amongst other things,we are supposed to visit Anganwadis (something like nurseries) in smaller villages even more faraway from Saphale to examine children. Usually there is a means of transport for the same. So when I was told to go to Vaadiv for an aanganwadi visit,I was sure it would be like any of the other three I had already done to places I don't even remember the names of (ending with preposition,sorry). Lets just say this one was slightly different.
I was told by the two nurses (or healthcare workers,I have no idea,they're all called 'sister') that no automobile goes to this Godforsaken place and we will have to take the train to Vaitarna and walk from there. Grudgingly, I obliged and found myself on Vaitarna station soon after (oops,did it again).
The walk,it turned out,was no simple one.We were supposed to carry out the journey on the railway tracks,the two of them that were there. So off we went through the whole kilometre,them with their full comfortable strides and me hopping and skipping clumsily on the large rocks that line the tracks in the scorching heat. Good thing I was in my (non garish) sneakers. The realization that I was actually walking on railway tracks made me shudder from time to time. Soon enough,I realized that traffic was heavy and that we were supposed to hop from one track to another dodging approaching trains,which we had to look for on both sides by squinting hard in the sun. As someone who is terrified of crossing roads and sometimes even dreads certain staircases (and height and water.....you get the picture),this was a phenomenal leap,sometimes literally.
Little did I know that the real adventure challenge was yet awaiting me. You see,there is a large water body called Vaitarna khadi (bay) over which the tracks run. The space between the two tracks is a huge two metre gap which is ~gasp~ interrupted by a one and a half foot broad and about half a mile long metal plank running parallel to the tracks. The space on either side is sufficient enough for a well built human being to comfortably slip through and fall into the khadi. Yes,you guessed it right,we were supposed to walk over that plank and get to the other side. I offered continuing to walk on the tracks-but soon realized the dangers. If a train approached we would have had to jump over the gap on the plank-more dangerous than walking on the plank itself. To say that I was scared was a gross understatement. Still,I thought of all the children waiting for me to examine them (!) and began.
It was the most dreadful 15 minutes of my life. Literally on the edge,I took literal baby steps (as you can see this is all too literal) trying not to look down and failing at it miserably. I could not hold sister's hand because of the narrowness,and all I could listen to was the gushing deep waters below me. The heat,dehydration and fear were working in tandem to make me dizzy and make the path even harder. There were people in front and the back,that was reassuring,but their steps caused the plank-and consequently,me-to vibrate. There were women who carried large,heavy looking bundles on their heads and looked as if it was a walk in the park for them. I started to think about the anthropological undertones of the attitude they have about Life and Death,but the plank and the bay below soon made me less philosophical and more primal. Concentration was key. I kept affirming myself with 'I can do this', 'I can handle anything life puts in front of me','I am a strong,calm,centred person'-a technique I have used throughout internship. An addition was 'If I fall,I will swim'. But I pretty much could no longer ignore 'If I cannot swim,I will die'. After a gruelling 15 minutes,Thank God,I was back on terra firma.
After another half a mile on the tracks again,this time on solid ground,I was at the Anganwadi wiping my brow.
If you thought my struggle was over,you are far from right. I was supposed to make the whole journey all over again to get back to Vaitarna station. This time on the plank,I managed to ask the Anganwadi worker who had so kindly accompanied me, whether it was dangerous to cross the khadi this way. In a trademark charming rural callousness,she answered 'Sometimes people fall. If they fall,they die'. I tried my best not to dwell on that and just keep on going to the rhythmic banter of her regaling me with tales of how her relatives are scared of this 'bridge' too.
Somewhere in the middle,she saw the tracks vibrating and shouted out loud to me 'Madam,memo gaadi aa rahi hai'. We were not on the tracks,so I was confused. I told her so. She said that if a train goes by while you are standing on the plank,you have a really,really,good chance of keeling over and falling! The solution,ladies and gentlemen,was to sit.That's right,she held my hand and we squatted in a taking-a-dump-in-the-woods way over the precariously limited metal strip with our backs towards the train. The worst part was that this forced me to look nowhere but down. So there I was,squatting on the plank,with a fast moving train behind me throwing gushes of wind enough to send me over,looking at what I had been avoiding looking at all this time and cursing the skin care Gods for making me apply hand cream. I had no clue if I would return.
However,I did,and was safely back on Vaitarna station,where I had to catch the Ahemdabad passenger to Viraar,and Life,curiously,went on as before.
status-goosebumpy and with really sore quadriceps.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Testing boundaries,
My eyes
travel across
the length
of your body
your face
your eyes.
Then,together,
impolite,
across Mumbai
take flight.
When they return
I come to learn
When I look at me,
my eyes
are no longer
my eyes.
status-Creeped out.I woke up at 3.30am today with a sudden jolt and the memory of a dream with a suggestion of these lines on a page. Except that instead of Mumbai it was Chennai. ???
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
10 reasons why he hasn't called yet
1.) If he calls you,he hears your voice which leads to an avalanche of emotion which leads to disruption in daily activities.
2.) He went to the woods to get some wild flowers for you where a bear swallowed his cellphone.
After mauling him.
3.) He is so distraught by your absence that he cannot muster the energy to even dial your digits.
4.) He was in a bad train window mishap and his fingers are now eternally dysfunctional.
5.) He was in a bad train window mishap and is now comatose.
6.) He was looking at your photographs in his cell phone,one thing led to another,and unfortunately the phone is now down the toilet bowl.
7.) The thought of calling you up puts him under tremendous pressure-which requires lying down and a cold compress.
8.) He stared at your number so hard that it just vanished from the contacts list.
9.) He was telling Megan Fox about how much he adores you and how much he wants to talk to you so she broke the phone in a jealous fit.
10.) He sold his cellphone to buy you gifts.
status-staring at an exasperatingly silent (new! pink!) phone and unsuccessfully willing it to ring by sheer will power.
2.) He went to the woods to get some wild flowers for you where a bear swallowed his cellphone.
After mauling him.
3.) He is so distraught by your absence that he cannot muster the energy to even dial your digits.
4.) He was in a bad train window mishap and his fingers are now eternally dysfunctional.
5.) He was in a bad train window mishap and is now comatose.
6.) He was looking at your photographs in his cell phone,one thing led to another,and unfortunately the phone is now down the toilet bowl.
7.) The thought of calling you up puts him under tremendous pressure-which requires lying down and a cold compress.
8.) He stared at your number so hard that it just vanished from the contacts list.
9.) He was telling Megan Fox about how much he adores you and how much he wants to talk to you so she broke the phone in a jealous fit.
10.) He sold his cellphone to buy you gifts.
status-staring at an exasperatingly silent (new! pink!) phone and unsuccessfully willing it to ring by sheer will power.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I am very indecisive.
I am the girl who avoids standing in front of the ice cream counter because it all gets a bit too much and I get stressed at the end of it.
Then I buy vanilla.
So may be I am really decisive,after all.
In the frighteningly close future,I am supposed to grow up and make a decision.
I am good at visualizing ;)
I can see myself whiling away my time like I am now with Priyadarshan at book shops,multiplexes and auditoriums.
I can see myself squatting by a dusty road in Kalimpong smoking a bidi with 7 tribal women and a pig called Lallu.
I can see myself as a newly wed on her first course dessert.
I can see myself at a suburban hospital abroad,equally smug and confused about being there.
I can see myself in a quiet,clean classroom with 19 year olds and a new beginning.
I see too much.
status:-Wishing I could just go for the vanilla and not worry if banana berry is really 'ME'. (Actually its cookies and cream)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
An extraordinary passage from an even more extraordinary essay
The end of imagination by Arundhati Roy.
When questioned about the only dream worth having.
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength,never power. Above all,to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never,never,to forget.
............to dream that you will live while you're alive and die only when you are dead.
The end of imagination by Arundhati Roy.
When questioned about the only dream worth having.
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength,never power. Above all,to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never,never,to forget.
............to dream that you will live while you're alive and die only when you are dead.
status:-have probably decoded why I have an illogical soft spot for Malayalee-Bengali hybrids.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Recently I accompanied my mother to a classical/folk music event. Here's how some of the lyrics in the middle of one of the numbers went-
Chhaati se lagake tumko rakh lenge near
ab to aaja dear
Soulful and soothing are not words one would use to describe a bhojpuri song on a usual basis. However, it was a song from an era before bad taste and the film industry happened. What drew my attention most was the lyrics. It started to end with hindi words such as 'peehar' and then came the english ones 'near' and 'dear' for the rhyme. They were perfectly at home.
I could not help but wonder about the plasticine nature of language and culture. While human beings grow into more rigid,more stringent,more intolerant avatars,ironically (irony,as you will later see,is a staple) for the conservation of what they presume to be THEIR culture,culture and close relative language seems to laugh at them in their trademark relaxed way.
We trivialize and infantilize both of them beyond belief. We,at least some of us,take it as their responsibility of sorts to 'protect' it. The truth might be that the mad,blinding search for a tiny scrap of identity to hold on to makes us take ourselves too seriously. The truth might be that it does not need any protection because it is happy transitioning at regular intervals of time and becoming a complex compound which does not show properties of any of the original elements yet somehow preserves its grace and history. It is as impossible to dig out the 'unwanted' matter-there aren't any sediments. May be the Dravidians were the first people. May be the Aryans came later. May be the Moguls came,saw,conquered and settled. May be the British colonized this country for more than a 100 years. May be as we speak now we are being covered by an opalescent veil of 'the west'.The truth could be that it does not matter. None is an addition to an already satisfactory mix-rather they're what make the mix and keep on changing and enriching it. Ironic, considering the fact that it is finally 'we' who create language and culture but are somehow slaves to homeostasis in a way they can never be.
It is for this purpose that we come across the numerous succulent ironies which dot our daily lives like capitals on a map. It is in a Ramdev Baba declaring that gays are physically ill in a country where the son who 'took birth' out of the union of Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu-Lord Ayyappa-has his own temples where hundreds of people flock daily. It is in that Barber bridge in Chennai which was originally named 'Hamilton bridge' by the british,roughened by mundane tamil to 'Ambattan bridge'-ambattan being the tamil word for barber-and in a full circle coming back to barber. It is in all those tourists and Indians who see India symbolically in the Taj Mahal without being aware of the secondary citizenship that most Indian muslims endure. It is in all the Los Angeleses and San franciscos of the world which will not change no matter how America feels about its mexican immigrants.
Status:-Overwhelmed with all the effortless grace of the universe.
Chhaati se lagake tumko rakh lenge near
ab to aaja dear
Soulful and soothing are not words one would use to describe a bhojpuri song on a usual basis. However, it was a song from an era before bad taste and the film industry happened. What drew my attention most was the lyrics. It started to end with hindi words such as 'peehar' and then came the english ones 'near' and 'dear' for the rhyme. They were perfectly at home.
I could not help but wonder about the plasticine nature of language and culture. While human beings grow into more rigid,more stringent,more intolerant avatars,ironically (irony,as you will later see,is a staple) for the conservation of what they presume to be THEIR culture,culture and close relative language seems to laugh at them in their trademark relaxed way.
We trivialize and infantilize both of them beyond belief. We,at least some of us,take it as their responsibility of sorts to 'protect' it. The truth might be that the mad,blinding search for a tiny scrap of identity to hold on to makes us take ourselves too seriously. The truth might be that it does not need any protection because it is happy transitioning at regular intervals of time and becoming a complex compound which does not show properties of any of the original elements yet somehow preserves its grace and history. It is as impossible to dig out the 'unwanted' matter-there aren't any sediments. May be the Dravidians were the first people. May be the Aryans came later. May be the Moguls came,saw,conquered and settled. May be the British colonized this country for more than a 100 years. May be as we speak now we are being covered by an opalescent veil of 'the west'.The truth could be that it does not matter. None is an addition to an already satisfactory mix-rather they're what make the mix and keep on changing and enriching it. Ironic, considering the fact that it is finally 'we' who create language and culture but are somehow slaves to homeostasis in a way they can never be.
It is for this purpose that we come across the numerous succulent ironies which dot our daily lives like capitals on a map. It is in a Ramdev Baba declaring that gays are physically ill in a country where the son who 'took birth' out of the union of Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu-Lord Ayyappa-has his own temples where hundreds of people flock daily. It is in that Barber bridge in Chennai which was originally named 'Hamilton bridge' by the british,roughened by mundane tamil to 'Ambattan bridge'-ambattan being the tamil word for barber-and in a full circle coming back to barber. It is in all those tourists and Indians who see India symbolically in the Taj Mahal without being aware of the secondary citizenship that most Indian muslims endure. It is in all the Los Angeleses and San franciscos of the world which will not change no matter how America feels about its mexican immigrants.
Status:-Overwhelmed with all the effortless grace of the universe.
Friday, September 11, 2009
5 types of inflated egos in KEM
1) The God complex
The most important type of complex that doctors, especially over qualified doctors become victims of. Basically defined as a gross overestimation of their abilities of handling a case (as opposed to treating a patient),it also encompasses the who's-he (God forbid a 'she')-to-tell-me-how-to-go-about-my-job syndrome. Not to be confused with the.......
2) The Hod complex
-A surgery HOD mouthing expletives because a dermatology resident asked her the directions to the concerned department after a polite conversation. Apparently,HODs do not do directions.
-An ortho houseman suturing intact skin on an old woman's hip while she squealed with pain. The HOU had ordered an abscess drainage to take place in a specific way but the residents knew better. To satisfy one deluded person,they had to go through this whole ordeal and expose the patient to infection. Also,am I the only person who thinks that its actually something when a patient has to bear pain?
-I will not say anything about anagram REAL GAS except that may be we all need to pool money and get him a video game or a wife or a cookie cutter or something.
3) The topper complex
Who says KEM is not entertaining? There is nothing more amusing than putting 5 toppers in the same room and observe their interactions. It could be a brilliant anthropological experiment and a lucrative reality show.
Hmmm.
I think I need a few phone numbers.
4) The wannabe topper complex
"arey yaar, yeh to hamein sikhaya gaya hai. How can you not know this?"
"I am a genius at surgery."
"Last exam main maine padhai nahin ki thi. Otherwise,you know,when I read,I read."
"Oh,so you are sitting in the first row ~wiping brow~....ummm.......doesn't your neck pain with all the straining?"
Just to be clear,these statements have actually been uttered.
5) The all rounder complex
You know,not only can I dig through 2 inches of snow,I can also cut your hair-its called freestyling and its really popular amongst the leftover flower children. And did you know I have 76 trophees lying around my basement?-man did I luck out at the sale at the trophee store! I also write poetry-with a straw dipped in my own blood on a toothbrush. I am calling the records-after I get done with my MBBS. And MD. And DM. And DMR.
Status:-I could come up with 5. Its your turn again.
The most important type of complex that doctors, especially over qualified doctors become victims of. Basically defined as a gross overestimation of their abilities of handling a case (as opposed to treating a patient),it also encompasses the who's-he (God forbid a 'she')-to-tell-me-how-to-go-about-my-job syndrome. Not to be confused with the.......
2) The Hod complex
-A surgery HOD mouthing expletives because a dermatology resident asked her the directions to the concerned department after a polite conversation. Apparently,HODs do not do directions.
-An ortho houseman suturing intact skin on an old woman's hip while she squealed with pain. The HOU had ordered an abscess drainage to take place in a specific way but the residents knew better. To satisfy one deluded person,they had to go through this whole ordeal and expose the patient to infection. Also,am I the only person who thinks that its actually something when a patient has to bear pain?
-I will not say anything about anagram REAL GAS except that may be we all need to pool money and get him a video game or a wife or a cookie cutter or something.
3) The topper complex
Who says KEM is not entertaining? There is nothing more amusing than putting 5 toppers in the same room and observe their interactions. It could be a brilliant anthropological experiment and a lucrative reality show.
Hmmm.
I think I need a few phone numbers.
4) The wannabe topper complex
"arey yaar, yeh to hamein sikhaya gaya hai. How can you not know this?"
"I am a genius at surgery."
"Last exam main maine padhai nahin ki thi. Otherwise,you know,when I read,I read."
"Oh,so you are sitting in the first row ~wiping brow~....ummm.......doesn't your neck pain with all the straining?"
Just to be clear,these statements have actually been uttered.
5) The all rounder complex
You know,not only can I dig through 2 inches of snow,I can also cut your hair-its called freestyling and its really popular amongst the leftover flower children. And did you know I have 76 trophees lying around my basement?-man did I luck out at the sale at the trophee store! I also write poetry-with a straw dipped in my own blood on a toothbrush. I am calling the records-after I get done with my MBBS. And MD. And DM. And DMR.
Status:-I could come up with 5. Its your turn again.
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