Suicide

They found her hanging from a nearby tree. She was still alive when they found her, though well on her way to the next world. She died a few minutes later. 56 years of life, vigor and vitality snuffed out by a length of rope.

He woke up to find the place crowded with people. His father called him and told him about a death. He didn't care much. Hadn't similar experiences, i guess. He loitered around. Reached the room where the body was kept, with people thronging to pay their last respects. He looked at her face. It looked serene and peaceful. That was the first and last memory that he had of her.

Many years later.

He came across the truth by a quirk of fate. Nah, by lending his ears to the gossip that was always on in the background. He was stunned. Not that he had any emotions or anything. Just the knowledge that the truth was kept from him. That was infuriating. 

That day many things changed. His  impression of certain people, his viewpoint of life, his decisions and his nature. Maybe his life too. 

Lies...

Eureka!!!

Found it! The new title. I was subconsciously thinking about it probably but its good to acknowledge the one whose words they were in the first place. That too, in someone else's blog!

So, its bye-bye Eureka!

PS: Qualifies as crap and bullshit, doesn't it??? :)

Suggestions!

Want to change the name of my blog. Suggestions please!

Nepuisms-7

We don't need to be perfect. We don't live in heaven.

Back in Business

Its not as cold as I expected. The breeze is a bit chilly and thats the only chilly part of my existence. Once you are ensconced in the confines of your room, you could be anywhere- Guwahati, Dibrugarh, Digboi...

I am in Shillong. Scotland of the East. Haven't yet got the chance to compare it with my knowledge of Scotland (which is confined to the knowledge of Scotch and the Scottish cricket team). Trying to live life on my own terms. With freedom. And joy. But they are hard to come by.

I would have written earlier. But the network is not to be trusted. Have to apply for a new number and a new GPRS connection. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after tomorrow. But soon enough.

I take your leave now. This was no blog post. Just an intimation to those who read me that I am alive (and kicking) and that I'll be back. Keep blogging friends!

Nepuisms-6

Where there's a fire, there's smoke.

And the smoke follows you around!

Nepuisms-5

Doctors are impatient. How can a doctor be a patient?

Nepuisms-4

Relatives are just that.

Relative.

The Mouse in the Mall

Not having much to do, i have been whiling away my time drinking gallons of coffee at a certain mall (sometimes with a lovely creature by my side). Not being of a talkative bent of mind (tongue?) my gaze always finds a small mouse in the adjoining store nibbling at the eatables in the racks. I feel a strange sense of solidarity with it. After all, aren't we all doing the same- wandering about trying to nibble at things that come within our reach?

Nepuisms - 3

When you breathe, you inspire. When you stop breathing, you expire.

Nepuisms- 2

Comments are generally better than the original post. At least in my blog.

The Cs of Disaster Management

1. Condemn
2. Console
3. Compensate.

That is what our leaders do.

Added points (courtesy readers and their comments):

4. Cringe and Cower in their homes

Three Point Something

I am supposed to be at point A while i am stuck at point B and have to be at point C at a certain point of time in the near future. This pointless pondering has separated me from all my instruments of connectivity except my trusted cell phone. And i dont like typing over the cellphone keyboard. So, thats it. My dear loyal readers, hope my short posts will keep you company and you wont forget me.
I'll be back!!!

Nepuisms

There is nothing like good or bad, right or wrong. There is just one thing- what you do and what you dont.

The other side of the coin

Read this post. (and i thought only the tall had problems and complexes!!! :))

You can then read this one too. (for a brief recap and some more hits on the counter:)) 

Travelogues

Another journey. New destinations. New people. New experiences. New friends. New enemies.

Am gonna travel again. On another bus. With no adjoining seats (so no opportunities there;)). 

I love travelling. Its only the after-effects- the bodyache, headache and kneeaches (refer to this post) that trouble me. 

Its not the desire to reach the destination that drives me. Its the actual act of travelling that enthralls me. The starting hum of the engine, the settling-in in the seat, music on your cellphone, the scenery rushing past, maybe a full moon lighting the countryside arousing a myriad of thoughts and feelings inside. Many a post in my blog were conceived in such journeys. At least the basic idea.

A face fleeting by. Emotions. A child laughing. A cripple begging for money. Flashing neon lights. Clouds in the sky. 

And your thoughts. A perfect time and place to be yourself, just letting everything go and immerse yourself into the innermost sanctum of your mind. Nothing sophisticated. Just thoughts and ideas fleeting by in your mind not unlike the faces fleeting by outside, just touching you and vanishing- probably never to come back again.

In a sense, life is like a journey. Nay, Life IS a journey. 

New destinations. New people. New experiences. New friends. New enemies.

Keep walking!

Pathologically Speaking

What would you call a man who has five brothers and five sisters???

Ans: FI-BRO-SIS :) 

(An sms I received from a colleague, just thought it cheaper to post here than send it to all :))

Ek Choti Si Love Story

INDIA  LIMA OSCAR VICTOR ECHO  YANKEE OSCAR UNIFORM.

That is 'I Love You' in the phonetic alphabet designed for NATO in the 1950s and this phonetic alphabet is used by almost all armed services.

Well, I sent it once to a girl (more about the girl sometime later). She didn't understand it. Her father did. He was an ex-air force officer. :(

End of story.

Confusing Stuff

I don't understand. People, i mean. 

For the last few weeks, I have seen a steady increase in the visitor counter numericals as well as an increase in my followers (thats not my term, blogger provided it). The followers are real enough, okay. But I have doubts about the counter. Why? Read on.

1. The counter functions such that whenever you open a page, it counts as one hit. If you even navigate to a post inside the blog, it will count as another hit. That may explain the increase in traffic, for one.

2. In the earlier days of the counter (not nowadays, i assure you), i myself used to reload the page a few times. Well, who would like a counter to read '11' when the blog itself has been around for almost six months? I don't know whether I do so subconsciously (or maybe in my sleep- that would probably be termed somnamrefreshism ;))  and in case I do that, that may account for the high number of visitors.

3. I have many well-meaning friends who like to inflate my ego to dizzying extents. May I put the blame upon them?

4. A regularly updated blog may draw good amount of traffic which again eggs the writer on to write more and it continues in a vicious cycle. Is someone egging me on by increasing the numbers in my counter?

5. A plot to find out more about my misadventures and misdeeds (which I may describe in great detail, once I run out of subjects)?

6. People genuinely come to read my stuff?

Which brings us to the same old question. Do people like what they read here? Or do they just come back for the next post because I promised them it would be better (see headline of the blog)? Or do they come just to vent their spleen (yeah, referring to u darkie)? Or, maybe for the fabulous (though plagiarized) information they get here (last post)? Do they come out of courtesy (I at least know a few who may get a severe tongue lashing if they didn't visit :))? Do they come because of the (brackets)? Or the bulleted points?

I don't know. Honestly.

I don't understand. People, I mean.

What the fuck?

Where are the ***s? Well, what the fuck use are ***s in a post that is itself written about one of the most spoken profanities in the English language? So, breaking from my usual norm and my status as a gentleman blogger (?), I bring you a post on 'Fuck'.

The idea struck me one Sunday(why it didn't strike me on other days is a matter of great speculation :)). Lost and lonely (and angry too. At what, I don't know now) in my own world, I changed my orkut status to 'wtf?'. Within the next hour or so people started asking me 'why the swear words?', 'what's wrong with you?', 'that's so unlike you' and so on. That got me thinking. Why is a word denoting the union of two sexes for the procurement of a new generation (not forgetting for pleasure too ;))demoted to the lower rungs of the English language? Isn't the person writing this and the one reading this a result of this self same verb (that was in the present tense a long time ago)? So, why this apartheid?

Thus armed with my ideas and ideals, I proceeded to Wikipedia for a further research on this topic. While the aforementioned questions were not answered, I came across certain interesting facts, which I'll proceed to present before you.

But before I do so, a disclaimer (or a claimer, whatever!): The material presented below is filched (plagiarised- you thought I would work so hard for a single post? You must have been kidding!)from Wikipedia. You may visit the page for a thorough reading. Also, I refuse to take responsibility for any inaccuracy in the facts provided.

Etymology:

1. Germanic origin? German 'ficken'(to fuck); Dutch 'fokken'(to strike,beget); Norwegian 'fukka'(to copulate); Swedish 'fokka'(to fuck)

2. Latin 'futuere' (to fuck). From it came the French 'foutre', Catalan 'fotre', Italian 'fottere', Romanian 'futere' and Portuguese 'foder' - all meaning 'to fuck'

3. Some suggested acronyms (believed to be false but nonetheless interesting)

They are:

*For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

*Fornication Under Carnal/Cardinal Knowledge

*Fornication Under Consent of King

*For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

*Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

Interesting facts:

1. James Joyce, in his novel "Ulysses" used a sly spelling pun for the word fuck:

"If you see Kay

Tell him he may.

See you in tea,

Tell him from me"

2. The fcuk tagline is a play on the word fuck by clothing retailer 'French Connection'

3. The pronunciation of the word literally means 'jaw' in Arabic!

4. Translated into different languages:

Arabic- Yoaasher

Catalan- Fotre

Dutch- Fokken

German- Ficken

Japanese- Fakku

Korean- Ssibal

Norwegian- Fokk

Swedish- Fakk

So, thats it! I didn't get any answers but got some interesting information which I shared with you. As I look back, it seems to have become quite a long post. And one with a lot of 'fucks' in it. What the fuck???!!! :)

The Girl in The Adjoining Seat

I was chatting with one of my friends the other day. Some days ago, to be exact. And while we were talking one topic popped up- 'Whenever I am travelling, I never find a hot member of the female species sitting next to me'. Okay, I have my expectations high. Lets modify it to 'Whenever I travel, I never find a good looking girl sitting next to me'. Forget about good-looking, I don't remember sitting next to a girl in any of the travels I have been (ages>40 and <16 excluded). And I was glad to know that the same stuff had happened with her too. She complained of the shortage of 'cute looking guys' on the adjoining seat while I go on and on with girls. She once even spotted some 'cute stuff' and was praying to God to bestow him as her companion. Her prayers were answered. God sent a priest to sit alongside her!!! :D (For details, see her blog).

Anyway, I was thinking about it and why it happens. Is it only me it happens to? I once heard that a good looking Assamese movie actress got hitched on a bus ride from point A to point B. I have travelled in the same bus numerous times (not with the express intent of getting hitched, though it'll be welcome ;)) and the only companions I was blessed with were some fat, portly guy smelling of sweat; some guy reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke (i hate cigarette smoke and i prefer if the smell of alcohol is on my breath! :)) and the like. Nowadays they have made most of the buses 2x1 seaters and single passengers like me always end up being dumped on those single seats. Though it avoids the problem of unwanted companions, I can't help regretting when a real 'babe' boards the bus (and ultimately lands up on a seat right next to a gruesome old guy :(). How unfair!!!

Sometimes it feels like the world is plotting against you. In the words of SRK in OSO (with little modifications, of course): 'Tum agar kisi cheez ki tamanna karo, to saari qaynaat tumhe usse door rakhne me jut jaati hain. Ye bus journeys hamari filmon ki tarah nahi hote mere dost, ant tak kuch bhi thik nahi hota. Aur kyunki kuch bhi thik nahi hota bas yahi aas rahti hai dil me- journeys abhi baaki hai mere dost! Kya pata kab kuch ho jaaye!!!'

Hope you guys have fared better. If not, good luck!

Shortcut

Q: What is the quickest way to a woman's heart?
Ans: Intracardiac injection!!! :)

Jab We Met

Its been a week of hectic blogging in my blogging circle (at least by our standards!). Posts are appearing right, left and centre. Am having a fantastic time reading some great stuff (and some crap too ;)), commenting on them and then sitting and churning out some myself (crap, i mean ...lol).

Most of the guys i read are from my friends circle. Except maybe one or two who are acquaintances or some stranger who writes so well (or so funnily) that i am compelled to read his stuff. So, this idea crossed my mind (as do many others) on having a post on my favourite bloggers, not about their blogging -its for the world to read and comment-but how we met.

So, here I go (for reasons best known to myself, I am not using your names. Who knows you may sue me!)

My first memory of 'D' goes back around four years back. He was our teacher then. Still is, for that matter. He was a stern taskmaster, with an acid tongue and a bulging waistline (all of which have been proved 'phoney' as time progressed). As we were on the last leg of our grad education, I had the opportunity of getting acquainted with him better and discovered a lot of hidden 'talent' (for want of a better word)- a well read guy able to discourse on almost every topic under the sun at the drop of a hat, a great (sorry GREAT!!!) cook, a good dancer, an avid quizzer- even though he doesn't participate, and a good friend, teacher and guide. The only thing he probably was lousy at was this computer stuff. I once had to configure his internet settings over the phone sitting 90 kms away! (this wasn't supposed to be about me, sorry! :)). And yeah, i forgot. A very good writer. And i take pride in the fact that it was probably me who inspired him to blog (come to think of it, it has been the case with many of my friends- okay, not many but 3-4 atleast :)).

'Q'. Not THE Q from the 007 series! My first memory of Q is from an accident which he was in. My acquaintance (and friendship)with him started at a Quiz when he and his partner stopped the onward march of the reigning college quiz champs (no points for guessing who they were) and help topple them from their high pedestal onto the ground. That day, i lost a quiz and gained a friend (friends actually- he came in a package that included his buddies and his sweet little girlfriend). We were going ga-ga over his various capabilities that included, among others, a knack for making some really good paintings (or is it something else? i am not familiar with the jargon, so forgive me. Still, he owes me a t-shirt with a picture of mine drawn on it!); being a smooth liar with a straight face and in general, a pain in the arse; when we came across his blog and the material contained therein. No use commenting on the stuff- it is for the world to see (and relish.)

We move on to 'J'. I had just finished a press conference (raised eyebrows??? Yeah, i did. Once.) Then this gorgeous girl comes to me (okay, not gorgeous but good looking;), not fat really- slightly plump would be a good word and a broad beaming smile on her face) and says to me: "Did you check my 'Orkut' profile yesterday?" I was flummoxed. What do I reply? Admitting to checking out profiles (that too female) wasn't a good impression upon me. (On second thoughts, it would be better than checking out guy's profiles, waddya say???;)) And at a time when I was at my nervous best with a show to conduct the very next day! I made some noncommittal noises and was thus introduced to an 'out-of-the-world-creature'. We spoke a few times during the next two days at the quizzes and life was back to normal when I stumbled upon her almost two months later on an IM service. We chatted. It was like she chatted, with me inserting some cute little words like 'really?', 'you don't say so', 'you did that?' and 'ah!' Still, it wasn't as bad as I am making it sound :). So, we chatted and talked a lot over the next year or so and became friends- close friends as she calls it. I got an invitation to her wedding already, anybody else got it??? :) Well, she is an incessant chatterbox willing to enlighten you upon any subject you wish to, providing ideas, suggestions and 'the-girl's-side-point-of-view' on matters of the heart (sometimes even providing conflicting pieces of advice on two consecutive days!) with her secret wish being a superwoman who could break some bones at the office and the skull of her boss. (There! I bared your secret J. Hope your boss doesn't read my blog for your sake. Hope he does, for my sake though ;))

We move on to X now. Second day at med school, he was without a book- the manual on dissecting dead people, so he comes over and we read it together. I notice a keloid on the nape of his neck and ask him what the hell that is. He replies- 'Thats my third nipple'. Thats my first memory of him. Since that day he has proved himself an a**hole many times over (third time in three days, i am using this endearment!), a miser to the core and what not! Still, he remains one of my closest friends, who leads me on various misadventures (from which we have luckily escaped unscathed- remember the princi's door?), bores me with his drunken calls [the first word invariably being 'a word starting with K that translates into a wholesome fruit in Hindi' (plagiarized without permission from a certain blog):)] and confides in me (over a glass of spirit, of course!)

So, thats it. Quite a long post. And not quite interesting, except maybe to the persons concerned. Still, here it is.

And thanks guys. For being my friends and enriching my life (and also for being the subject matter of this post :))

Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi

Surprised? Don't be.

For one, one of the longest running soaps of Indian television deserves at least a mention in this blog. Apart from that I have a certain affection for this marathon runner.

The story starts (and finishes too) eight years back. I was a young kid just out of high school, having secured a medical seat and waiting for the admission process to start (it took almost eight years for that). A successful person at that time (given the circumstances), I was hopping from one of my relatives to another with my only source of entertainment (apart from the food) being the idiot box. It was a whole new world- the hollywood movies on offer on HBO and Star movies, the series on AXN, and yeah FTV too :P. I was engrossed.

Thus I was happily whiling away my time in front of the TV set (and growing fatter). But all was not well. A certain series about a certain 'Tulsi' and her family caught the fascination of my aunt and considering that she could not watch it at night (it was on air around 10.30PM), she took to watching the re-runs in the afternoon. That really used to put a fullstop to whatever programme i was watching. Well, people adapt. I did too. I started watching it too. Even managed to get interested! I got all the background stories and the gossips and got pretty well versed about the going-ons. Thinking back, the prominent reasons I liked the show were probably:

1. I had no other option. :D
2. It started with a K. :DD
3. The story moved at a snail's pace. Even if you missed an episode or two, you didn't miss much.
4. Each episode ended on a climactic note- slow motion camera work with accompanying thunderclaps.
5. Some of the actors were really good. Seriously.

Well, every good thing comes to an end. My love affair with the series ended with me ending up in medical school. Ragging, studies and beautiful girls drove all thought of the series away from my mind. I used to remain updated about the story though. It ended when the series started taking generation leaps with new characters being introduced. The only saving grace was that 'Baa' was still alive.

Now I hear they killed her. And the show too.

RIP!!!

Suicidal Thoughts

It is human nature. We don't like to work. Why spend precious time and effort to create something which you can simply accomplish by taking the opinion of some people and then collating the results and presenting it as your own?

I did just that! So, this post is 'of the people, by the people and for the people'. :)

I messaged some of my friends this simple message and waited for their answers. Different people, different styles and different opinions. Here is what I found out.

Me: Am feeling suicidal. Any last words?

Answers:

1. REST IN PEACE!!! (This from the busy ones. In fact, the message read RIP- I just lengthened it to increase the length of the post!)

2. Where's your will? (As if I have anything precious to leave behind, except maybe this blog :))

3.Porhi porhi pagol hola niki? (This from a concerned friend)

4.Dont you dare negate my seniority, at least in this matter.Besides, dont you want to know what happens to Eragon? (This from a senior from my own profession. I told ya 'medicos are weirdos'- always insisting on things like seniority and stuff even when dying :))

5. I can beat you at a one to one quiz. Lets have one when you come to Dibrugarh tomorrow. Game? Hope you postponed the suicide for that one to one with me. Or you chickened out? Hope not...Anyway, enjoy... till you live! (This from a quiz buff and a dear friend who is heady after yet another of his recent quizzical conquests)

6. Go to hell!!! (This from my well-known a**hole of a quiz partner- one of the best responses in case you want me to rate them)



AN APOLOGY: To all my friends who were unduly worried on my account on receiving the message. And thanks to those who called!

One flew over the cuckoo's nest

Wire, briar, limber-lock
Three geese in a flock
One flew east, one flew west
And one flew over the cuckoo's nest.

Coherent Thoughts

Hmm. I am back. No crap this time. No typos too. And with proper spelling.

I am in a better mood today. Reasons? Not that I need to tell you all. Still here they are:
1. My prophecy about some crank coming up and labelling my crap as brilliant was fulfilled barely one day after I made it!!!
2. I was labelled a schizophrenic. I always knew I was mentally deranged but had difficulty naming my ailment.
3. I received an sms from a certain PP telling me about his last quiz in the college and how he misses me and my a**hole of a partner. That really inflated me quite a bit!
4. I am reading 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest' and going 'Cuckoo' over it. :)
5. I am just feeling good.

So, now that I have established that I am in a really good mood, what do I write about? It so happened that while on my most recent travels, I thought about something interesting to write about most of which evaporated and what remains is reproduced here. It consists of some basic questions and their sophisticated answers. So, here we go:

Q1. Why do people fall in love?
Ans: The notion that people 'fall' in love can probably be attributed to the work of a British scientist by the name of Sir Isaac Newton. Yeah, the same one as got hit by an apple on the head while sitting in the garden. You see, good ol' gravity acts on people who are in love in the same manner as on those not in love. And when gravity acts, thinks fall. Simple.

Q2. Why don't people rise in love?
Ans: Its difficult to base the answer to this question upon the works of some well known hot-shot. Still, some interesting answers may be:
a) People are not hydrogen balloons, you know. They are made of flesh and bones. And not many pneumatic bones either!
b) Have you seen what happens to a person who falls in love? He gets on his knees to propose. It is precisely this mindset that prevents people from rising in love.
c) An enquiry committee has been made to study this problem. Hopefully, we'll have an answer in umm... a decade?
d) We suspect the hand of some foreign agencies in this matter.

Q3. Why don't we have a retirement age for politicians?
Ans: Umm, pass

Q4. Any message for the new US president-elect Barack Obama?
Ans: Mu-Barack Ho!!!

Q5. Why the hell am I writing this crap?
Ans: Because there is someone tolerant enough to read it!!!


(As you may probably guess, a certain distraction drove me off course midway. I'll try and edit this post, if I can, in the near future)

incoherent ramblings

i am feeling blue. but how can one feel blue? one should be seeing blue, isn't it? like the way one sees red. but seeing red is also not what it seems to mean. there are many things that are not what they seem to be and many things that are what they are. same with persons. i can't decide what i am. am i what i am or am i what i am not? who am i to decide? but who'll decide? i? you? someone else? what does it matter? what does anything matter? almost three decades of futile existence on this planet with nothing to show for it. maybe something- a few useless letters hanging in front or after my name. nothing more. what am i living for? what is anyone living for? is it even worth living??? i have seen people slogging it out all their lives. people grow up, get educated, get married, fuck (not necessarily in that order, u see i haven't lost my sense of humor), beget kids, worry about their education, their marriage and all that crap and then die. what was the use of living, if not to increase the population? why are we afraid to die? why does the image of charred bodies that the channels telecast in the name of live journalism make us shiver? after all, death is death. it may be violent or peaceful. ha ha . peaceful death!!! i always wondered why people cry when someone dies. i dont think i'll probably cry if someone i know dies. not at that instant probably. maybe later. maybe never. u know, i think i somehow don't have this ability to feel things. they appear in a detached way. i can't feel love, hatred, anger instinctively. these emotions occur because i am supposed to feel them. but why am i writing all this crap? it is crap that i am writing. still, probably some of my friends will read and sympathise with it. may be someone will even speculate :) (yeah PP, talking about u.. he he). oh yeah, and while i am in the mood let me thank my dedicated readers for sticking with me and all the shit i write. admittedly, they are my friends but it takes great courage even for friends to tolerate such ghastly stuff! so, where was i? yeah, crappy stuff. but who knows some people do like crap. the world is a strange place and there is no scarcity of weirdos, u know. and i am one of them. and if you are thinking that i am drunk while i am writing this, you may be right but you are assuredly wrong :). i take my writing seriously. though my masterpieces have been created in bouts of drunkenness. masterpieces??? i see you guys smirk. ah! you heard of a certain van gogh? sold only one painting in his life. so, long after i am dead, some fella will probably stumble upon my blog and say 'wow! thats some great stuff!' and the rest will be history. or the future. whatever. yesterday, i saw a programme where they were telling about the earnings of dead celebrities. while we have to earn our way through life, they are raking in the money even now. elvis presley, marilyn monroe, heath ledger. hmm. heath ledger. liked him as the joker. fucking awesome role. and his dialogue about the stray dogs- 'I am like a dog that chases after a car. I won't know what to do if I catch up.' Aren't we all???

Love at first sight

'Do you believe in love at first sight or do I need to pass by again?'

I had seen this scripted on numerous t-shirts and almost always smiled at the implied wit. I never believed in love at first sight. How can a person like someone he/she just met and doesn't know anything about? Nothing about his/her character, nature, preferences. Nothing whatsoever. After all, a good looking face isn't the only requisite for a long lasting relationship. I still don't believe in love at first sight. Its just that yesterday I came to know of an instance of love at first sight that culminated in a relationship.

Our protagonist is a girl. A young girl. On a family visit to a certain place she came across this guy- nothing special about him- just the usual- okay looking, ordinary, down to earth guy. And oh! She was just 13 at that time. The guy probably didn't notice her (he was about 6-7 years older and probably chasing longer legs and shorter skirts! :) PS that's my view). So, it was a two day visit and she had to return home after that. She went home and cried.

Years later...

Not many, to be honest. Probably 4-5 years, a quirk of fate (or destiny?) brought her in such a position that she was able to get in touch with that guy. (He seems to be a loser to be without a girl or maybe a playboy enough to be between girlfriends). Anyway, he was single too. And boy! Our protagonist had grown up! A lovely lass of 17-18, carefree and easy-going, she caught his eye (she probably worked hard for it- catching the eye, I mean ;)). The fire took time to kindle but soon enough the flames were all over them and both were having heartburns (not relieved by i.v. injection of pantoprazole too :( ). Last I heard they were in a relationship.

Well, that sort of culminates the story. Still, I find it wonderful that someone should fall in love at first sight and that the relationship materializes (in due time, of course. After all sabr ka fal meetha hota hai )

There is no purpose behind sharing this story (as is the case with most of my posts). But the story touched my heart. And also the hope that people untouched by love till now may get inspiration from this story. And also the hope that those in love read and appreciate that something special called 'love'.

KARZZZ...ZZZ

I am not into reviewing movies as my readers are well aware (and i am aware too that i don't have too many readers except for a dedicated set of followers; thanks for sticking with me :)) but viewing Himesh Reshammiya's latest movie entitles me to express my views.

And before you guys exclaim eww!!!, yuck! and every other such word not found in the dictionary, I declare: 'Yes, I watched Karzzz' and am proud of it (my feat of watching it, I mean, not the movie!). Okay, here are my reasons:
1. There was no other option.
2. Himesh is an intriguing character. Love him or hate him, you can't ignore him.
3. The re-make of Karz would be worth watching. (I thought so)

So, as I started feasting on the gala unfolding before my eyes (with accompanying crunches of popcorn from neighbouring seats- yes, there were other people in the hall too!), with the now renowned nasal twang accompanying the visuals, I tensed with expectation. As the story started ravelling, my interest peaked- not with the story but the actors and their portrayals. And leading the pack was our very own HR- in his avatar as Monty the rockstar- handsome hunk, playboy and what not! Most of the dialogues were delivered in profile, notable exception being the 'lucky in love and unlucky in gambling' one.
Still it was fun. It always is when the characters try to do something and the result is something quite different. It was a passable comedy. I was doubled with laughter at certain points.
While my companion dozed away most of the second half leaning on my shoulder (it hurt later!) still, I commend myself for watching the movie. Reason? Well, 'If you can watch the movie and not fall asleep and come out of the hall alive, you are a man, my Son!'

HEIGHT MATTERS

I was on a vacation spanning almost a whole month. These are what I remember most about when I think back to the time:
1. My bruised knees on a night journey in a 'Night Super'.
2. The search for a vacant middle seat on the last row in the city buses in Guwahati. (I tend to get stuck if I try sitting on any of the other seats.)
3. My overhanging feet from the upper berth of the Indian Railways and the bumps that people received on their heads because of them.
4. Receiving a banging on top of my head in a minibus not once, not twice but thrice. That too on the same spot, and in full view of five beautiful girls. *sigh*
5. Bumping my head on the ceiling of two Maruti 800s. I still carry painful souvenirs of the same.
6. Instinctively bending my head while entering most of the homes I visited, in order to protect my head from another painful experience.
7. My inability to have a shower standing up at almost all the places I stayed
(not because of any physical ailment on my part, I assure you)
8. Realising the true extent of my height on seeing even my taller family members dwarfed (compared to me) in family photographs.
9. Being cast strange glances (and being most annoyed because of it) while being on a date with someone a foot shorter than me.
10. The above mentioned were for one way journey. Double them for the return journey!

PS. In case you still don't understand (and sympathise), make yourself grow tall and see for yourself!

Hws life?

My friend Vandana asked me a question on the social networking site 'Orkut'. Here follows her question and my exact answer to her. I haven't tried to correct any spelling mistakes, grammer or sentence formats. All is as i wrote in my answer.

Vandana: hiii...hws life?

Me: life??? hmm... i dont think orkut allows as many characters to describe life as is needed. still, i'll try my best to answer.

life is as usual. which means it is going on at its own pace and bidding and there is nothing suggesting its usualness. if i take my daily habits as a measure of usualness, still its not usual in the sense that its not at the same time, same manner and same mood as i was in earlier. if i take my job as a measure, i encounter many patients- some seriously sick and some less so- nothing suggesting usualness. hell! even my sleep pattern isn't usual! life and death pass by my eyes as if i was a visitor watching a movie in a movie hall. people pass my doors to health or to the afterlife in the same manner in which they pass the security guards of our hospital- without asking their permission. though they-and me too, try and dissuade the ones not authorized by our authority but who are we to dissuade anyone who comes by taking a pass issued by the higher authority???

thats whats usual about my life. unusual, but what we call usual. ur life is the same. as is everyone else's.

there is nothing usual about life. life is unique. thats what we need to understand and try to live to the fullest!



* I just thought it would make interesting reading at that particular time.

Diagnosing a Doctor

You know you are a doctor:

1. When the whole world sleeps, you awake to life and freedom.

2. You can get away with asking personal questions to your female patients for which you would have otherwise got 'one tight slap'.

3. You start feeling hungry on seeing the guts of the person on the OT table in front of you.

4. You see a skimpily dressed model striking a sexy pose and your immediate attention is diverted to her prominent veins and the thought of how easy it would be to administer an IV drip to her.

5. You can down quite a few pegs in one go and light a full packet of cigarettes in a day and still advise patients to give up smoking and drinking.

6. When you can get up from bed, dress, wash your face within one minute and start examining the patient by the time the minute's up.

7. When your zillion or so 'friends' and 'acquaintances' call you up in the middle of the night for your opinion on a prick on the little finger that has already been seen by another doctor.

8. When you seem to be quite proficient in giving information to the patients while successfully hiding your inadequacy and the inadequacy of your hospital.

9. When you can alter your facial expressions from a smiling benevolent creature to a grave, serious faced one within the blink of an eye or the time it takes to move from one patient to another.

10. When you say to yourself a hundred times in a day: 'I am not doing this anymore' and end up 'doing that' a hundred times over and over again in the process lying to yourself: 'its a great service i am providing to the people and to the society.'

* These are just some of the points that are coming to my mind as of now. My doc friends may add their own in the comments section, if they feel so.

SOME ADDITIONS (courtesy Dr. Kaustav Dutta)
1.Löoking at your watch everytime you finish a work and wonder if time could fly (or atleast run).
2.Your face being brightened up on seeing your replacement come on time or somehow still managing to smile even if he(most often she) coming a neat 30 minutes late!

And yes,there are times u know(and feel) you are a doctor when
1.You see a smile of satisfaction on your patient's face on being miraculously cured(with d state govt's not-so-reliable supply drugs).
2.See the healing scars of a burnt patient whose wound you have dressed for more than a month!

MOVIES, MASTI, MAGIC!!!

Three hours of out of the world experience. Three hours of constant vigil on the screen flickering before you. Three hours of following someone else's story, and relating to it. Three hours of leaving your feelings, your joys and sorrows behind you and getting immersed in a fantasy world. Three hours (and sometimes more than that) of watching a movie.

My love affair with movies (seems like it is a season for love affairs, waddya say RD?) started at a quite young age. My father was an ardent movie fan- the hindi ones- the only english movie that he has watched till date, in my knowledge is Titanic. I remember my childhood at a small place in Arunachal Pradesh where we sometimes used to watch movies at the local 'video hall' (an assortment of a television set and a video cassette player that used to run shows in the evenings with the electricity that was provided by a single generator for the whole village from 5 to 10 PM; with rows of chairs marked from A to F) or the Saturdays or Sundays when, with the advent of television, the whole populace used to converge upon the houses of the select few who had TV sets, and watch the movies being aired on the national channel. The grown ups got the chairs while we young fellows used to sit on the floor near the television. (Thinking back now, I salute the patience of those fellows who invariably welcomed their invaders with a smile and tea for the elders and snacks for the children). Within a few years, we had our own television and Dad used to borrow VCP from his friends and we used to watch movies sitting cozily in our drawing room, wrapped up in shawls to keep the winter chill out and with tumblers of tea to keep the warmth in. I don't remember the names of the movies, except a scene here and a shot there, but my distinct feelings at the time were pro-action. I was always disturbed by the romance angle and could not wait for the heroine to die so that the hero would rise up in revenge and beat the hell out of the bad guys! This served two purposes- a) it got rid of the romance and the songs and b) wasn't action the reason why we wanted to watch movies- the hero beating up the baddies and the victory of good over bad?

As I grew older, this notion of mine changed as I began to understand the importance of romance not only in movies but also in our lives. Our family tryst with movies continued as Dad bought a brand new VCP. But alas! the new place where we were posted was suffering from an acute shortage of electricity and electricity supply was quite erratic averaging 15-30 minutes a day. We used to watch movies by watching them like a series- a bit today and continuing with the next bit the next day. I remember having watched 'Border' in seven days! That was exciting, in a way. You waited the whole day in anticipation for those few minutes, having finished most of your assigned chores and your homework superfast while your mind wondered what would unfold in today's episode...

Things changed as I moved to college. Movie halls became quite accessible and were frequented often. The electricity supply at the hostel was almost unfailing and the hostel had its own cable line and a bevy of movie channels. It was during this period that I discovered english movies and HBO and Star movies channels. These have had a lasting influence upon my love affair. I haven't given up on hindi movies though- i watch the new ones and am getting re-acquainted with the classics too.

Things took a further turn when I witnessed a friend's collection of movies. Inspired , I started my own collection and within a short time had managed quite a good collection of both english and hindi movies.

The multiplex experience and my laptop were the next influences on this love affair of mine. While my laptop bore the brunt with having to play back to back endless movies (with the room suitably darkened and the woofers booming away), trips to the multiplexes were few but enriching. It is unparalleled- the experience of watching a good movie on a big screen with a perfect sound experience (with no chattering neighbours or loud mouthed businessmen talking into their mobile phones, or people playing what happens next games, of course).

Well, that sums up my little love affair with movies. Well, not sums up- it is an ongoing process, so it'll evolve, right? So, as I turn back to 'The Lord of the Rings' once more, go grab yourself something worthwhile to watch and let go of yourself and get immersed in those three hours of whatever it means to you.

REM Tales

I am to meet the President. Dressed in formal clothes, I am wandering about in a garden thinking about the moments to follow. Why am I here? I don't know. I don't seem to have won an Olympic Gold or a bronze, neither committed some great act of bravery nor am I a visiting dignitary. Still, I am here, waiting in eager anticipation.

The moment arrives. The President comes. He just materializes. Out of nowhere. Just like that. He is dressed in a kurta-pyjama, with horn rimmed spectacles and a benign expression on his face. He has slightly curly hair on the side of his head which are turning grey. Wait a minute! HE??? Isn't the President of India Mrs Patil- the first female President? Confused? Well, so am I.

So, the Prez just came ambling towards me, no guards in view, no bureaucratic hi-fliers in tow, just him. I don't know what to do and I stare expectantly at him. He looks at me with the same benign expression and continues past me. Not knowing what to do, I follow him.

Suddenly, I think I know where we are. Why! Its my old college and its the new medicine ward that we seem to be visiting. But theres absolutely no one to receive the Prez. He walks serenely past the entrance and towards the wards, with me in tow.

We walk past a doctor's duty room and I see a pc on the table. Wow! Things sure have changed! I exclaim. Suddenly I remember a very important task that I had to do on the pc. [Don't exactly remember what it was now. Maybe logging into my blog and check how many visitors I had since the last time I was online.] So, I sit in front of the pc in that empty doctor's room.

As my hands move towards the keyboard, the General Secy of the Junior Doctors Association comes into the room.'Oh good I found you here', he says. I need you to type out some important notice about a quiz in our college. 'Quiz, wow!' I say but just then I remember that I am with the Prez and tell him so, but he says that its a one minute job and wont take much time. Okay, i think and ask who the Quizmaster is going to be. He mentions a popular QM in the state but adds that he will be asking the questions. Huh! I think. He conducting a quiz??? Just then, the proposed QM and his hardcore antagonist in the Quizzing circle materialize in the room. I am confused. What the hell is happening???

Then the general secy tells me to participate in the quiz. 'How can I do so when I have passed out?' I ask. 'Its completely unethical. And I shall see to it that persons not from the college don't get to participate either'.

I remember then about the Prez again and I stand up to leave. Just then my phone rings. I pick it up. Still it keeps ringing...

And I wake up.

* For the uninitiated, REM stands for Rapid Eye Movement and is a phase of the sleep cycle where we see most of our dreams.

** Just wanted to share with you guys something that I thought interesting and which I think probably gives us an insight into our subconscious.

h2o

2H + O2 ------> H2O

Two molecules of hydrogen and one molecule of oxygen, when brought together, form one molecule of water.(as we were taught in school)

But its not about school here. Nor about water. Its about a watering hole in Dibrugarh and the memories attached to it.

There were only two places in Dibrugarh where I really felt at home. The first was my college campus and the second, during the latter part of my grad years, H2O.

I don't remember the date of my first trip there. It was with a friend who has been variously called 'pagal', 'havoc' and at times an 'a**hole'. It was probably his birthday. Anyway, I was struck by the ambience as I walked in. Semi darkened environment with hidden lighting, cool music playing in the background, soft couches and an interesting menu. And the service was quite efficient too. I don't remember what I consumed that evening- probably some cold drink or a mocktail (i was a good boy till then, you know!) but i came out with a longing to go back soon.

And go back, i did. The visits increased in frequency and my liver buckled up for some rough treatment as i graduated from cold drinks to mocktails to beer and to vodka. And i started picking up the lingo and discovering different flavors. And also the accompanying heady feeling when you get 'drunk' and you feel 'yay'. And some terrible headaches and hangovers too!

Since that time, H2O became a permanent fixture of our Dibrugarh existence. Celebrations called for a trip there as did sorrows. Many a passing out party was given there (and people did 'pass out'...lol...). Matters of the heart- whether it was getting hooked up or getting ditched resulted in the inevitable trip to H2O. So much so, that we were being given 'frequent flyer' type treatment and treated to discounts and all!

I remember the place more for the conversations that I had there. After downing some pegs, when the mind is without fear and the head held high [:)], when inhibitions take a back seat, serious conversations took place. They ranged from the quizzing scene in our college and in the state, from books to politics, from movies to cricket, from girls to dogs and god knows what, all the while craning our necks to have a peek at Mumait Khan waltzing to 'Mere piya gaye Rangoon' on the LCD [that was one of our favs. We requested the song so many times and saw it so many times that it has become permanently linked with the mention of H2O. Alas, the CD got damaged due to some rough handling (and maybe because of overplaying!)]. That was where, after getting high, I used to discourse about love to my fellows and lesser mortals or in case I was in a depressed mood, listen to people discourse on matters of the heart. That was where I had one to one conversations with my friend fr2k1 about girls, love and life in general. That was where fr2k1 gave me tips on how to kiss a girl better [haven't got a chance to try it out yet. *sigh* :( ] and opened my eyes to the realisation that i was a handsome guy with quite a fan following and quite appealing to the members of the opposite sex. Unfortunately, the realisation lasted only till the effects of the alcohol lasted.

I remember the return from the place to hostels. Having stayed most of the time till closing time, there would be a paucity of autorickshaws when we came out. The first thing we invariably did was to eat a paan at the nearest paanwallah's. Then it would be a long walk back (about 4-5 kms) with the more drunk being supported by the less drunk. The march would be accompanied by songs, if the mood picked up, or loud proclamations of undying love and brotherhood. A quiet usually descended when one entered the college premises as we were supposed to be 'model citizens'. The tempo was generally picked up again at the hostels though.

I remember too the last time I went there. It was eight of our batchmates who resided in the same hostel and who went out to celebrate for the last time together as students. We had a pretty 'emotional' time with slurred speeches being given, discussing our six years of togetherness and the approaching tough times. The videos I made are still with me and i sometimes look at them while having those low days and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. And it was the same old 'long walk back' with me supporting 'printer' who never says no to alcohol come what may and in whatever state he is in. It was a horrendous night, listening to printer's retching sounds (that almost woke up the whole hostel limb) and trying to give him an intravenous injection of an antiemetic.(it failed obviously, no one was in a fit state to administer an iv injection, it had to be given intramuscular).

I can go on and on about H2O and the memories. They form a part of my life that I shall always look back to with a smile. And the gaeity that we engaged in, that euphoria shall always come back when I reminisce about them. Any further visit to Dibrugarh shall be incomplete for me, without a visit to H2O.

Conversation Woes

I am a lousy conversationalist (if there exists such a word, which I think does). Talking to a person, specially if he (and more so if she is a she!) is a stranger or just an acquaintance is quite a tough task for me. And in case the conversation is over the phone, then God only knows how I fare.

I have been like this only. Ever since I remember, sitting down and chatting wasn't something I enjoyed. Unless, of course, I was with some really close pals or was discoursing on topics close to my heart (which are quite few, in fact). And jumping between topics is one of my characteristic traits. One moment I'll be talking about Agra, the next I'll be near the North Pole, if you know what I mean. And I like to think ahead about what I am going to say (even in informal conversations!) and when the time comes, i either completely forget everything or mess it all up.

I think I am selfish when it comes to conversation. I can talk about me, my likes, dislikes, and my life in quite detail, often, in the process forgetting about the other person. Many a times I have called a sick person and forgot to enquire about their health! Someone has been promoted and I forget to congratulate him/her! Its always me, me and me.

At least, face to face conversations are okay. You can drag your visual senses into the conversation. But when you are linked to a person just by your voice and the person is probably hundreds (or thousands) of miles away, its quite difficult to sustain the conversation. Once I have finished saying what I intended to say, the conversation becomes a drag. And after a series of how are yous? and i guess, everythings all right?, the conversation is thankfully terminated. There are only a few people who can continue a conversation with me for maybe ten minutes or more over phone. That would be two of my aunts (with them, its actually a monologue, with me inserting suitable yes, nos and ohs!); sometimes my mom when she is in a similar mood as that of my aunts; and some of my really close pals with whom i don't need to glance at the watch every few seconds and can discuss almost everything under the sun.

The upside of this problem is that I have comparatively lower phone bills. The downside being its getting quite difficult to interact with beautiful young girls. As if to add to my omnipresent woes mentioned above, i tend to get overexcited sometimes and sometimes my mind goes just blank. You can get away with talking about the weather once, discoursing about snippets of quizzical information next time (which, i guess, girls really dislike :( ). What about the next time? And the next? And unless you say something, how do you make conversation? The vicious cycle goes on and on...

I have tried various options. Tried taking tips from my roommate (who can talk on the phone for hours on end- he even passed whole nights on the phone just talking to someone!!!). Tried to evince interest in what the other person has to say. Even read those stupid articles from Reader's Digest. But to no avail. Guess this is an inborn error of metabolism. :) Hope some inborn error rectifies it too!

Of Muggles and Wizards

Its the 1st of September again. A new batch of excited students in London are probably making their way to King's Cross Station to platform nine and three quarters and to the scarlet Hogwart's Express, marking their first tentative steps to wizarding education that will prepare them for the life ahead. For, 1st of September is when the academic calendar starts for Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh! How i wish i could have been on that train! But i can't. The reasons being 1) I am a muggle and have never shown any sign of magical activity 2) I am on the later side of my twenties and i guess thats too late for elementary education.

Still, had I been a wizard (meaning having some magical powers, for the uninitiated. If still confused, refer to the Harry Potter series)and of the requisite age, I would not have been on that train, I guess. The simple reason being, I am an Indian, and of course, we would have similar institutes here. Maybe I would have gone to the world famous Indian Institutes of Wizardry that have produced some of the world's finest wizards (who have been gobbled up the moment they graduated by some foreign wizarding firm, and where you have to be exceptional to gain admission) or to the National Institutes of Wizardry or maybe to the Assam Wizarding Institute. I would have probably boarded one of the various wizarding trains made available by the Indian Ministry of Magic in consultation with Indian Railways and Mr Lalu Prasad Yadav.

Maybe I would have shopped for my school things somewhere near fancy bazaar in guwahati (the entrance having been suitably hidden from muggles). Maybe I would have gone to an institute which was once, among the top ten wizarding institutes, and which now languishes among the bottom half.Maybe I would have encountered some of the best and world famous wizards as my teachers. Or maybe I would have encountered teachers who would have been more interested in their personal glory and riches and in the student's personal lives than imparting quality education.

Maybe the institute would have a reservation system as is present everywhere in India. 27% for the muggle-born, 20% for the half-bloods, and 10% each for wizards hailing from remote areas. Maybe the Minister for Magic would ask us to spend a further 5 years of our life catering to wizarding amenities at very low paychecks and almost non-existent infrastructure before signing our degrees. Maybe...

For, I believe that life in India, the way the Government and bureaucracy functions, the way people behave and the way the system works, would be exactly the same- whether you are a muggle or a wizard. Life would not really be different, only you would be capable of magic if you were a wizard. Rest all would be the same. Nothing different.

MUMBAI MERI JAAN

Am yet to visit this city that I have heard so much about, read so much about and seen so much about in the movies.

The newest encounter I had with Mumbai was via Nishikant Kamat's movie 'Mumbai Meri Jaan'. I don't write reviews (reasons have been given in an earlier post) and this is not a review. Only that after such a long time, I have come across such a beautiful movie, that I was compelled to write about it.

The movie is set around the Mumbai blasts of 2006 and we are navigated through the story by the personal viewpoints of six characters. We are shown the aftermaths of the tragedy through six pairs of eyes. Paresh Rawal has probably produced one of his finest performances till date (my thanks to those people who broke through the typecast mould in Bollywood - otherwise we would have been seeing this wonderful actor only in villainous roles). Kay Kay Menon, Soha Ali, Irfan Khan, Madhavan shine through. The subject matter has been handled well and the personal viewpoints converge to give a collective impression to the viewer. A really beautiful and sensitive movie, overall.

I don't have much knowledge about film making and am not a reviewer, but if you get a chance to watch this splendid movie, don't miss it!

An Attack of MAIDS

I had heard about it. The symptoms and all the signs. The mental state of the patient and the physical manifestations of the inner turmoil. And I had never given serious thought to it. Denied it in the same manner that we deny that we may suffer from a certain disease until we are afflicted from it. The realization dawned on me only when the disease actually took over. I was suffering from MAIDS.

Nothing much to worry about, my friends (and in case any of my foes are reading this, nothing for you to cheer about)! MAIDS stands for Mobile and Internet Dependency Syndrome and is afflicting quite a percentage of the young generation.

It came to light when I made a trip to my Uncle's place for two days. My Uncle lives in a slightly rural setting and internet connectivity is not so widespread at present. I was prepared for that. What I was not prepared for was my unreliable network ditching me in my hour of need. Nothing unusual about that, i assure you. While I was 200 yards from my Uncle's place, the signal was quite good. As i entered the house, i glanced at my cell to see the now usual 'emergency services only'. What the heck! Its two days only, i thought. Hardly two hours had passed however, when my eyes and my hands started repeatedly wandering towards my cell. Glances at the mobile screen told the same old story.

It was quite a distressing two days. What with not much of socializing (my aunt had taken over the task of making me look younger and covering all those premature grey hairs by applying a thick paste of henna, as a result, confining me indoors for a whole day- the result of all that hard work is quite pleasant, i assure you ;)), i had to pass my time by resorting to a rereading of some old novels and a screening of some episodes of BR Chopra's Mahabharat (thank God for that!)

Well, i am back now and my nomophobia has been addressed (nomophobia is the phobia of getting disconnected from your mobile) but my internet dependency has yet to be cured. The unreliable network (who claim of providing total network where there is no air, no water, no land- no wonder they can't provide it where all are available!!!) is experiencing troubles with the gprs services. So, its been another long day of distress alleviated by the fact that i am accessing the internet using one of my friend's connection.

That pretty sums up my present state of affairs and my first encounter with MAIDS. I guess more are to follow. Still, its a small price to pay, i hope, for remaining connected.

RETIREMENT THOUGHTS

60. A glorious age. An age when you are considered wise. And venerated. When you are respected. An age when you are expected to retire.

60 years has been kept as the age for retirement. An age when it is supposed that the individual is not at his productive best and that he should pave way for the younger generation. I don't have any issues with the physical aspect of this thinking- it is true that a person is not at his physical best at the aforementioned age. But wisdom and experience, they are probably at a cumulative high. Still, people are retired from their jobs at 60.

Well, in fact, I don't actually have issues with people retiring at 60. They have done quite a lot in their life and its time they take a break and enjoy life, if they wish. What I don't understand is this- Why don't our politicians retire at 60? Why isn't there an upper age limit
for our policymakers? If it is a rule that Government servants should retire at 60, then why not those servants who run the Government too be included?

I think that we all know the answer. Politics and public office are lucrative careers nowadays. Worth more than any other profession. And since they are the lawmakers, they are adept at mending ways and finding loopholes in any provision that may be suggested. And sometimes, they blatantly pass laws for their own benefit disregarding even the judiciary of the country.

Still, its a thought. Maybe, someday, we may see a politician retire at 60!

Magical Me

Thats right! I am magical! For that matter, so are you. As is everybody else.

I am not saying anything new. Just giving words to what almost each of us has felt sometime or the other in life. Imagine starting life as a single cell and ultimately ending up a giant (compared to a cell, we would be more than giants) of maybe six feet plus lengths (and varying breadths ;)). Imagine all those complex processes going on inside our bodies to keep us alive. Imagine all those neurons carrying messages to and fro at speeds unimaginable. Imagine that heartbeat of yours beating away to the end of your days dutifully without fail (affected sometimes by members of the opposite sex though). Imagine the human body in all its glory. Imagine life!

And to think that we rarely spare a thought to these simple things. Just because they are. Just because we are mired up in the other 'goals' of our lives. Just because we have to be succesful, and famous, and celebrated. And we come to think of these simple facts only in death or disease. And since my profession is such that I do come in contact with these two truths of life frequently, I may have realised what I am writing now. But for how long the realisation lasts, i don't know.

So friends! Lets try to unearth the magic. Lets comprehend what we have been provided. Lets try to respect the treasure within and without us and ensure its well being. Lets celebrate life!


(PS: Whatever it is, this is for you, Kaustuv. Sorry about the book though)

Nomenclature Woes

"Whats in a name?" Thus spoke William Shakespeare. "Call a rose by any other name, it'll smell the same".

I am sorry to contradict you Mr Shakespeare, but you are wrong. Imagine if one of your publishers had published your 'Romeo and Juliet' in his name, would it have been the same? I guess that person would have been famous instead of you, would have topped all the literary 'most important lists' and would have been the first name in the literary 'hall of fame'. Of course, you may have been famous even in this scenario, but not as the writer but as the person who filed numerous lawsuits and alleged (so audaciously!) as Mr X having commandeered his works! And yes, the conspiracy theorists of the present generation would have unearthed your name to tarnish Mr X's reputation rendering him all the more popular.

A name gives a person his/her identity. It conjures up a vision in front of the eyes of a particular person. It brings back memories. Most important of all, you know who/what is being referred to.

I myself had the privilege of going through various names (nicknames excluded, they may be dealt with later, if the urge comes upon me). When I was born (as does everybody), I was given a name on my 11th day in this world after due consultations with a Panditji. I don't remember the name exactly because 1) I was too young at the time 2) that name was never used because my maternal grandfather (who himself was a Pandit)found out that the earlier chap had miscalculated and so my name should be different. Thus my first name got discarded. The only thing I remember is that it started with F. Guess, i got spared from the F name ;).

So, after due calculations, my grandfather gave me a name. The auspicious letter was 'Dh', so I was named Dharmraj (after the Hindu God of Dharm). Thus I got my second name- the name that has to be used in the official religious rituals and ceremonies.

My dad didn't seem satisfied though. He seemed to have thought out a name for me and so, I was named a third time and thus came to take my present name. But it wasn't the same as what it is now. I used to be called 'Binay'. The 'B' was replaced when I reached the 8th standard and when I took a fancy to the twenty-second letter of the alphabet. Thats how my name came to be associated with me in its present form.

I have always been fascinated with names. The more uncommon they get, the more I like them. (I must mention that I was not entirely satisfied with my present name too. But its too late in time to change it again, i guess. Anyway, its a pretty decent one). So, when my uncle delegated the task of naming my cousin-sister (the only girl child in our family), you may guess my situation. I had to find something uncommon, something that would stand out yet would be likable. I hammed and hawed for around six months (thank God! the kid couldn't speak. Imagine yourself without a name for six months) and when the pressure became too much, I delved into the Ramayana and came out with a name that was both interesting, uncommon and mythological. Thats probably the last time I'll be naming someone.

I faced the same problem with my blog. This blog went through exactly three sets of names before arriving at its present name. It started as '4 your eyes only' inspired from the James Bond flick. And when I got fed up with the name, I decided to change it. After much soul (and name) searching, since I could not arrive at something likable, I just let it be 'Vinay's Weblog'. The urge to rename appeared all of a sudden yesterday. After almost one hour of continuous staring at the screen, i came upon a name. As I pressed the edit button, my mind said 'i found it'. So, the name changed once more and came to assume its present form. Don't know how long it shall last...

So, whats in a name? An identity. A story of how it came into being. A reflection of a person (and maybe his/her ideas). And maybe more...

Thats why I say Mr Shakespeare, you are wrong.

The Art Called Laziness

It has been hours since I have been sitting like this, whiling away the time doing absolutely nothing (this piece not included, of course)even though I have been promising myself long hours at the study table, working out for a better physique and a dozen other things.

Doing nothing is an art. Laziness, in itself, is an art. How many people in the world do you think can effortlessly put away what has to be done today till tomorrow and what has to be done tomorrow till the day after tomorrow? Well, everyone probably wishes to do so, but how many seriously accomplish it???

I have been accomplishing this feat quite successfully and with quite a distinction in recent times. Probably, I would have claimed to have perfected the art itself, hadn't it for the fact that nothing is perfect. I have the same skinny look in terms of physique (i don't consider myself that bad looking though. Narcissus, anybody???) Am at the same pedestal as far as learning goes, maybe a bit lower (have gained wisdom though...lol). The hours I spend in my bed have assumed quite a legend of their own. I can while away the time doing absolutely nothing and not getting bored too!!! Weird, isn't it???

A thousand promises have been broken, many a resolutions shattered trying to withstand this mountain of evil. And even though the realisation is there, the body and mind feel disinclined to do anything productive in this matter. And as I know full well that to thwart this evil inside me, to stop putting things off from today till tomorrow i have to start working right now, I take your leave for today, hoping against hope that i succeed. Hope to give you some good news in the next piece. If not, do remember that I am afflicted with the art or rather the disease called laziness. :)

PS: About the last post, my sleep was a dreamless one. Seems my subconscious too is too lazy to dream ;)

Serendipity!!!

Quirky!

Thats how i may describe my day today.

As i reached my room after a sleepless night attending to a gamut of patients suffering from almost all the diseases in the universe, sleep was the first thing on the agenda. But, because of a long standing habit, i just powered my laptop and got connected to the net. After checking the usual mail and all, i went to a popular portal to have a look at the news and recent happenings.

'Having sex doesn't mean that you and your partner are connected' screamed a headline in my face. Intrigued, i clicked on the link. It led me to a book extract from a certain book by a certain upcoming female author whose idea of a great book seems to be one which is full of the F-words, mention of various parts of the female anatomy every second line and the number of drinks that she downed in the latest party.(Don't think that I am taking a moral high ground here. I am okay with anything one has to say about oneself. After all, India is a democratic country!!!)

I ventured back to the sports section of the portal. 'Meet the most beautiful face of the olympics' was the topmost headline. I went ahead. It was about some model turned athlete from Paraguay. The last paragraph, which was probably the longest in the whole article, told us how she has featured in a topless calendar in 2007 and which is circulating in the internet. The guys stopped just short of giving the link to that site.

On to the movie section. 'Ten tips for a sexy ass'. I went through to have a look at the voluptuous females shown alongside the text. (I never said I was a saint, did i???)

Sleep overtook me at last and I drifted off to an uneasy sleep punctuated by the mongrel barking outside, the power going off twice, and my wallmate's irritating laughter.

After waking up from 3-4 hours of laboured sleep, i went to have a look at the news paper. I generally skip news about politics and politicians. So, apart from the sports news, what caught my eyes was this article: 'Boobs on Bikes'. Seems there is some festival of some sort in New Zealand or somewhere where topless young women ride on motorbikes (whew! this is kinky!)while the world watches by. And there are pro- and anti- protesters for the trend too!

I then turned to the movies being screened section. Apart from one or two new releases, the following movies were on offer: 'Milan ki Aag'; 'Body of Evidence'; 'Kissa Jawani Ka' and something titled like 'The Wife, the Thief and...(i forgot what exactly was the word). I smiled as i tossed the paper aside.

Times change. We know that. Traditions change. Principles too. But, as well as I may enjoy going through these articles or movies, i think that a line needs to be drawn between what is appropriate and what is titillating and sensational but worthless stuff. Of course, sensational stuff sells, but is it everything???

We have to think about this.

PS: As i prepare to go to bed, i am wondering what sort of a dream i shall have, considering today's exposure coupled with some really strenuous hours at work. I may tell the story the next time. ;)

INDEPENDENCE DAY

"Pandit Nehru made a horological mistake. When India was awakening to life and freedom, the world was not asleep. For instance, it was 2.30 PM in New York."

Thus starts Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi- a wonderful movie.

As I woke up today in the hospital after a fitful sleep and 10 hours of duty and was leaving for my residence, I came across some people hustling around preparing for the flag hoisting ceremony at the hospital. By the time I reached my residence, my mobile phone started receiving 'Happy Independence Day' smses. I opened my mail and got similar messages there. I didn't reply to a single one of them.

I am not saying that I am not patriotic or my friends who sent me those messages are not patriotic. But a thought struck me. Are we really independent??? I mean, we attained independence from the Britishers some 61 years ago, but are we independent in the real sense? Are we independent from corruption? Are we independent from social discrimination? Are we independent from poverty and illiteracy? Are we independent from the clutches of cash loving politicians? Are we???

We were taught in medical school that health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well being and not merely the absence of disease. Isn't that the same for Independence??? Isn't it Independence not only from slavery but from all the social and political ills plaguing us???

I am sorry, my friends. We are not independent. And thats the only truth. Nor can we be competely independent ever. Till then, i can't reply to your messages and smses. I am sorry...

'LAZY-CALLY ME'

In case you are wondering what the title means, there are three explanations-
1) I am lazy (as evident from the long duration between this post and the last),
2) I was supposed to write a book titled 'Magical Me' and since that seems improbable in the near future, i thought that this piece may act as a substitute and
3) I am always out of titles for pieces in my blog.

Well, i am lazy not only in posting in my blog (which probably accounts for the low readership stats), but in almost everything in life. I am lazy to get up in the mornings, lazy to breakfast, lazy to work out, lazy to study... The list goes on and on. The only acceptable thing for me probably would be to lie in my beloved bed all day (and night!) and read some interesting book.

Which reminds me of two of the books that I read recently. I am not in the habit of doing book reviews simply because 1) i am not paid for it and 2) i don't think anybody would be interested in my reviews. Anyway, just some hours ago, I finished 'The Silmarillion'- the 'prequel' to The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit. It was a wonderful read. I have always been interested in history, and this book does just that- gives info on the history (mythology may be a better word) into all the characters and events that have been part of modern lore via these books. It took me back to the time when i was reading LOTR. At some instances, it was almost as if I was present at the times and happenings that took place. For lovers of Tolkien, i recommend this book, in case you have not gone through it.

The second book that I went through was also an interesting one. 'The Catcher in the Rye' by Jerome David Salinger. The narration is simple- the language all the more so, splattered liberally with swear words and american slang. The mood of the protagonist is the same throughout- always humiliated and ridiculed, with strange notions and ideas. The characters are interesting too. And the way the narration starts and abruptly ends- i found it really interesting.

Well, that sort of somehow sums up my lazy ways. Of course, i am going to start a new book in short order and am not looking forward to it too much. But i'll have to conquer my demons. That book is also an interesting one, though it didn't appeal much to me in my undergrad days. Well, since i'll have to do it, i'll do it. That book is titled 'Harrison's Principles of Internal Medicine'.[:(]. Wish me luck!

Pichle Saat Dinon Me

"meri laundry ka ek bill
ik aadhi padhi novel
ek ladki ka phone number
mere kaam ka ek paper
mere, taash se heart ka king
mera, ik chaandi ka ring
pichhle saat dinon mein maine khoya
kabhi khud pe hansa main,
aur
kabhi khud pe roya

present mili ek ghadi
pyaari thi mujhe badi
mary jane ka ek packet
meri denim ki jacket
do one-day match ke passes
mere naye naye sunglasses
pichhle saat dinon mein maine khoya
kabhi khud pe hansa main,
aur
kabhi khud pe roya

kaise, bhoolun, saatva jo din aaya
kisi ne, tumse, ik party mein milwaaya
kaisa, pal tha, jis pal maine tumko pehli baar dekha tha
hum jo mile pehli baar
maine jaanaa kya hai pyaar
maine hosh bhi khoya dil bhi khoya
kabhi khud pe hansa main,
aur
kabhi khud pe roya
maine pichhle saat dino mein
ye sab hai, khoya..."



Lyrics from the upcoming movie Rock on sung by Farhan Akhtar. The last seven days of my life were, in fact, quite similar to the situation described above. Thats why i related almost instantaneously to this song when i heard it. Not the actual merchandise, but i lost some big bucks, my peace of mind and my heart too...

The only difference??? Pichle saat dinon me maine ye sab hai khoya


lekin


bahut kuch hai paaya...

Random Ravings

I have lived the last seven days of life in small bursts. Akin to ripples in a pond formed as a result of a stone being thrown in, the ripples subsiding and a long wait for still another stone. While life was more or less stagnant, the ripples created quite a hulchul, maybe for a lifetime...

In between all those boring moments- another of those marriages where you are supposed to go, smile, say polite hi's, hellos and thank yous and where you aren't supposed to be enjoying unless you are dead drunk; visiting all those relatives of yours; listening to the non stop chatter of some of your aunts (waiting for a pause in the monologue to slip a word, if necessary, or just nodding your head while perusing a magazine), i discovered the ripples.

One of the ripples was in the form of a 3rd grade Quiz which I attended on my friend's insistence. My mind was already on the plans for the evening after the prelims (being quite sure that we won't qualify), i was surprised when the quizmaster called the Born Idiots to the stage (no points for guessing- that was our team name!). The next three hours were drawn long by that hopeless guy and I predictably, performing in ripples- giving a brilliant answer and confusing my partner for the next one. And we missed out on some big bucks too...

There were other little ripples too like the evening i got dead drunk and was quite unsteady returning home. That resulted in a conscious decision to try and decrease alcohol consumption (that means 'mere blog ka ab bhagwaan hi malik hai'. sometimes i used to write really good pieces when drunk). So, its 6 days and counting...

There were still other ripples that are too private to share on a public site but those ripples are the ones that will probably travel the furthest. How far, i don't know. i'll have to see. And wait.

I just read a great quotation somewhere "If you can't do great things, try doing small things in a great way". Well, i hope these ripples accumulate and cause some real benefit to my life...

PAPPU CAN'T DANCE. SO WHAT?

So what if Pappu can't dance??? Even I can't dance. And I guess there are a lot many people in this category who can't go through those eyecatching symmetrical movements of the limbs and the body.
Dance, for me, is an expression of the inner joy and exhiliration that I feel, deep down. I can't dance but I try to. Wait a minute! I guess I can and do dance. Only that doesn't come under what the world categorises as 'dance'. If I can simply jump around flailing my arms and enjoying myself (accompanied by music, if possible)and if I feel good and the people around me are feeling good, I won't hesitate and categorise it as dance.That means I have been dancing since my childhood through my college years (i won't forget those MRCs)to the present!!! The thing is to try and do what you can and enjoy it no matter what the world says or feels about it.
So, Pappu, my friend, don't let those mean guys get to you. Enjoy your life the way you enjoy best and dance in the manner you know.I am with you.:)

In Search of a Better Topic

Well, well, well. I am no Arnold Schwarzeneggar and I didn't make any promise about coming back, but here it is - I am back. Back into the big bad cyberworld from which i had to take a forced leave due to the inability of my service provider to keep me connected.And while i huffed and puffed here and there, applying for a new connection with a new company (this is Asom guys, in case u didn't know!- snails move faster here), shouted quite a few times at the supposed call centre executives, had a hard time figuring out the internet settings, the cyberworld had moved along. I felt so out of touch when i came back. My favourite sites were wearing a completely new look, most of my contacts had simply forgotten i was there and i was lost... A quote came back to me out of my past "Anyone who thinks himself indispensable should watch a finger in a bowl of water. When the finger is removed, the water fills the void that was created".

Now, with my aura of indispensibility dispersed, i thought of updating my neglected blog. I wonder if anyone reads all that crap i write (i seem to be mirroring someone, word for word!)except for some of my good friends who seem to go through them and post some ego-boosting comments. But it gives a release to the pent up feelings and emotions deep inside and afterwards i feel better.

Hell! I should probably have got drunk before starting. Its so difficult to express in fluid words what you want to say when you are sober. For that matter, I myself don't know what I am writing. A flight of ideas starts in my brain, reaches a certain point and then changes tracks altogether leaving me confused.

I search for a topic to write. What do I go for this time? Death??? Nah! Thats too depressing, though easier to write about as it brings all your depression and anguish to the fore. Love??? Hmm... Its beautiful but what else would a poor somebody write about something that has been covered from all improbable angles by some (sorry, most, if not all) literary giants? Loneliness??? Thats better felt than described. The political situation??? That always remains the same, only the players change; the only persons benefitting from politics are probably the politicians themselves. Book or movie reviews??? Thats interesting. But i haven't seen any new and interesting movie yet and have been revising some of my old classics- Lord of the Rings, O Jerusalem and now The Deathly Hallows- and these dont need any reviews.

What then? Nothing? Of all the wide array of matter in the world, i have nothing to write about? Well, glancing up at the length of this piece, i have written about something though. I am confused. Nothing? Something? ? ? ?

I'll let you guys decide...

Continued Social Education

11.10 AM

The Continued Medical Education program was scheduled to start at 10 AM sharp. We, the junior doctors, were asked (ordered would be the right word- though there was the carrot in the form of the promise of a lavish lunch afterwards) to the auditorium at the aforementioned time. We came, we saw and we waited. No conquests for us. No way!

A cellphone rings. A popular and melodious song fills the air. My head splits (i forgot to mention that i was having a headache). I can never understand this habit of people not silencing their cell phones at events such as this. Maybe it shows their importance in the social hierarchy. Whatever! I, at least, know that it is bad etiquette and in my mind's eye, this proves to me that I am yet to convert into one of those shamming imposters.

The function begins. Lamps are lighted and the inaugural speeches given. I am really surprised at the English of some of the speakers. Really pathetic! (though their command over their subject matter is impeccable, i must agree). And then wonder of wonders! Vote of thanks is given even before the program is actually started!!!

Well, tea is served. The presentations will start afterwards. Have to go now. Otherwise, I may end up with an empty cup. I have seen people coming to these educational programs just for the want of good food. (Maybe, I am one of them. I, at least, make sure that I see the program through). I sincerely believe that what is needed before we embark into these educational programmes is the need for a Continued Social Education program, so that the society doesn't forget the rules it made for itself.

Life, actually

I was pondering about various issues of life in my usual depressed state. The meaning of life, the meaning of our life and the purpose of our life when I came across this beautiful story told by my friend Ankur. I am reproducing it as well as I remember in the hope that it will help redefine our lives or help us keep to the right paths that we have chosen.

There used to be a gardener who used to carry water on two cans balanced on his shoulders to the royal gardens. One of the cans had a hole in it. After many years of service, the can asked the gardener (believe in it folks! it doesn't cost you anything to go through this post or the implications therein) 'Why do you keep using me for the purpose of taking water to the Royal Gardens knowing fully well that I have a hole in me?' The Gardener then didn't reply. He took the can of water to the paths they had travelled daily for all those months. On one side, there were beautiful flowers blooming all around while on the other, the land was arid and dry. The Gardener pointed this out to the can with the hole and it is said the can breathed a sigh of relief on knowing his importance in life to those he hadn't thought about.

It is the same with us human beings. Each act we undertake, every act of kindness that we indulge in results in happiness to a select few who, though unknown to us, pray everyday for us and thank God for our existence. It is like what my room-mate Mithu told me: Each person is born on this Earth for a purpose, whether we know it or not. I can only hope that my existence has brought a few of those smiles to some people, albeit a few in number...

Love, actually

It all started innocently enough. My little cousin sis sending me a msg about calculating your love for a particular person (in reality, just a tool for knowing the name of the crushes of the person you send the message to- she got some fabulous names though- Madhubala, Geeta Dutt and Deepika Padukone!!!). Well, it sort of sent me back into time- inside memories I thought were buried too deep to surface but which did surface...

A train journey, a blue bandanna and a pair of beautiful eyes that I'll never forget - to the day I die- those were my first recollections of her. Oh! They were beautiful- conveying a gamut of emotions: surprise, innocence, joy and sheer delight. And the red dress that she wore on the return journey is as vivid in my mind as if i saw it yesterday. The way she talked- that stupid way of arching the eyebrows, those little jokes of hers and the fondness for my singing(!!!). Oh! we lived in perilous times when the heart had trouble listening to what the mind says.

Time goes on. Things change. People change, or maybe, circumstances change. I thought I had changed too- that I had stopped loving her. How wrong I was! It all came out- not the name though- I was probably too conscious for that- in a drunken confession which I have no memory of ever confessing but which I seem to have confessed in front of a select few. I was in a depression for the next three days- knowing that I had missed an opportunity of a lifetime. There was no certainty of anything but I rue the day when I made the glorious mistake of deciding that what i felt wasn't what I wanted deep in my heart. There have been very few such occasions in my short life but it was an occasion of which i am sure now,too late, alas! that i was in love, actually.

Death and the Drunken Rhapsody

12.05 PM. 24-03-2008.

I met death today again. It came in the form of a lifeless young body of just 13 days. I was summoned to F ward with the words 'Doctor, a patient has expired.' Predictably, I was unable to work wonders with a lifeless young body, not even with the title of Dr. hanging around my neck helping in the endeavour. I was at a loss to explain to the parents. My Senior consultant came to the rescue. She explained the child's condition to the parents (in words they will probably never understand) and consoled them. She ended her consolations with the words OK. Goddammit! Nothing was OK. Nothing would be OK (though I don't doubt the sincerity of my senior nor the meaning of the words). What can be OK with a couple losing their first born to a disease they had never heard about??? What can be OK with death itself? Nothing...

I am forced to think. I think. What is life? What is death? What is the meaning of our existence? I can't find the answers nor I think I will be able to.

8.00 PM. same day.

I meet life in the form of a drunk young friend of mine (who, as a gesture of goodwill towards me, has brought some alcohol for me since I was on duty upto 8 PM). The first thing he does is to salute me (i must mention that he was terribly interested in joining the Indian Army, but was denied because of an extra thumb!) and proclaiming his love for me in his own manner. We listen to some romantic songs, some love songs and some rock songs. We dance, we laugh and we shout. The sorrows of the day are forgotten. What matters is now and the Drunken rhapsody we all are engaged in.

As i finish my dinner, and make my way towards my PC, i summarize my day. More importantly i compare the two extremes - one of death and one of life- albeit drunk. I am at a loss. As always. I cant put my feelings into words. Death and life in a single day- its too much for me, for anybody. I wish someone could solve it for me. I wish someone will.