Monday, 6 September 2010

The Brotherhood

They are out there.

Waiting.

Watching.

Ready to strike.

They are everywhere.

From the passenger sitting next to one on the bus ride home, to the
patient coming to get herself examined, to the doctor who is in charge
of the hospital, to the elderly grocer at the oldest shop in the
neighbourhood, to the members of one's own family inside one's own
home, the infiltration is complete. There is no getting away from
them.

It is the oldest brotherhood in the history of humankind. A
brotherhood with an appeal so universal that it has the highest
membership ever. The membership isn't based on race, religion, caste,
creed, mother tongue or any such trivial detail. Even enemies are
members. In a sense it is the most secular of all brotherhoods. And
the most dangerous ever too. Every living moment of a member seems to
be a concerted effort to find the right target, lure it into a
suitable trap and then go for the kill. Once the slaughter is
complete, its time to move on to the next victim.

The choice of the target is based on certain criteria- the age, looks,
social position, family status, caste, creed, mother tongue and
numerous other complexities. If it fits the bill, strategy is drawn,
feelers are sent, the trap is prepared, the bait dangled and if it
works, clang! The trap is shut.

One can't do anything other than being careful. Prepared for every
eventuality. Keep the cerebral radar out to identify the most
dangerous ones. Life has to go on even under a sword hanging over
one's head.

Still, one gets shivers down the spine when some member is
obstinate/foolhardy enough to confront with a direct question "Shaadi
kab kar rahe ho beta?" ("When are you getting married, Son?")

Tuesday, 11 May 2010

An Excerpt

An excerpt from one of my favourite books 'Catch 22' by Joseph Heller.The following is an excerpt of a conversation between Nately and an old man hee meets in a whorehouse:

Nately was instantly up in arms again. "There is nothing so absurd about risking your life for your country!" he declared.

"Isn't there?" asked the old man. "What is a country? A country is a piece of land surrounded on all sides by boundaries, usually unnatural. Englishmen are dying for England, Americans are dying for America, Germans are dying for Germany, Russians are dying for Russia. There are now fifty or sixty countries fighting in this war. Surely so many countries can't all be worth dying for."

"Anything worth living for," said Nately, "is worth dying for."

"And anything worth dying for," answered the sacrilegious old man, "is certainly worth living for. ........."


Thursday, 6 May 2010

Pedestrian Tales

It has been more than one year since I graduated. It wasn’t your everyday academic graduation. I graduated from being a pedestrian to a motorist. And I have never looked back. Because I couldn’t. The eyes have to be alert and watchful searching for flicker of movements (or the lack of it) when you are driving in India. The only looking back I did was via my rear view mirror (one of which broke one slippery, rainy day. For details, see this post).
Well, there is nothing pedestrian about Pedestrians. In this post, I try to classify them along with their attributes knowing fully well that it is an impossible task. Still, it’s a try. Here we go:

1. You have a thing called a brake in your vehicle, don’t you?:
You are on a highway cruising at seventy kph and you see a bloke standing in the middle of the road. You lean hard on the horn from a good fifty meters away and all he does is stare at you nonchalantly. You brake hard, slow down and after ascertaining that he has no notions of moving aside, take your vehicle around him.

2. Don’t walk on the road as if you own it, walk as if you don’t give a damn who owns it!:Well, this class does exactly just that! And that makes it quite a difficult proposition. And guess what? They also don't give a damn who is driving on it!


3. You talking to me?: Now this class is different. Not only they don't heed your frantic calls seeking way, they are always ready with a mouthful of choicest words. And more often than not, they are usually women.


4. Cattle class pedestrians: I hope blogspot isn't as famous as twitter. Else I may have to backtrack this entire post the way Tharoor did his statement. One observes that the more our civilization has advanced, the more our people exhibit what I call, for want of a better phrase 'cattle like behaviour'. The varied response that cattle usually exhibit in response to repeated honking of horns is reproduced in the human populace and is characterized by unexpected behaviour on the part of the pedestrian. To be fair to the cattle though, it has been observed that they have been exhibiting calculated responses to horns. A vehicle has to come, slow down and blow its horn and they spontaneously make way for the vehicle. And we humans call ourselves civilized!

5. Fight or Flight?: A bloke is walking across the road- lost in his thoughts, dreaming of a someone somewhere, of pleasures attained, of the girl living next door... well, you get the drift. Popo goes the horn quite close to him. He is startled. He freezes in mid stride, legs planted wide apart, arms slightly held away from the torso with a look of sheer terror on his face. Its the moment of truth! What he does next decides the fate of all concerned- himself, the vehicle and its occupants and the other pedestrians. Luckily, for me, I have come out unscathed from such encounters.

Well, that sort of sums up what I can think of right now. The next time you are on your vehicle, cruising along, do spare a thought (a good deal of thought, rather) for those pedestrians if you are to have an uneventful ride.


Tuesday, 4 May 2010

AD MAD

1 year, 1 month and 20 days late. But here it goes, with due apologies.

Ads. I love them. Well, most of them. It is a real pleasure to watch those carefully crafted movies made within specific time constraints conveying their necessity to the targeted audience. And if they are humorous too, it makes your day! 

I love the zoo-zoo ads. Also the fevicol ones. And there are many more in the list. But I don't understand certain ads or the logic which the producers think will make them sell like hot cakes. Here are some of them:

1. Akshay Kumar in Thums Up Ad: Want to 'taste the thunder'? Want your Thums Up? Our resident khiladi of Bollywood behaves rather irrationally when it comes to the bottle of blackish aerated drink. Rather than go to the nearby store (you can get them at the paan wallahs too), he starts off in bizarre ways. Thankfully advising viewers not to repeat the actions, he sometimes gets to the bottle without touching his feet to the ground causing destruction evrywhere(and yeah, there's a twin involved too!); sometimes he is chased by someone on a bike for the bottle; sometimes its his girlfriend playing the thief! The point is: "Have you ever seen him pay for those bottles of fizz?" Never! And why go to such death defying levels when you can get the same thing at 10-15 rupees at the nearest store? I can never understand it!

2. Hero Honda ad featuring Aryan Baruah: Yeah. This guy is broke too! His girlfriend sends him an sms wishing Good Night and he has to ride out all the way to her place to reply. It seems his vehicle's mileage is better than his network's plans (or his financial capabilities). So touching! 
But wait, may I suggest something Mr Baruah? How about using those monthly sms packs or the 1 paisa per sms plans? Fill them, no need to shut them and forget about them (at least for a month!). Just my suggestion though.
As an aside, the ad also shows the mean side of a girl's nature. The poor guy has just reached home and she sends him another message wishing 'sweet dreams'. You know well what the poor guy does (all over again!!!)

3. Karbonn mobile ad featuring Viru and Gambhir: Another pair of broke celebrities! (I hadn't started this post to enumerate famous guys who are broke but it seems it is now!). They are so broke that they buy a dual sim phone shared between the two. The guys are relaxing, probably after a grueling net session. And then it happens. Vidya calls. I don't know about Gambhir but I think Viru is married and his wife's name probably is not Vidya. Anyway, the call comes and they fight over it while no one claims the call from the team coach (wonder where he was during a net session!). 

4. Micromax ads featuring Dhoni: This time they think we are broke! And worse, they accuse us of stealing too. Dhoni came on screen numerous times claiming that his seven micromax mobiles were stolen during the IPL. (Wonder what he was doing with a phone in the dressing room!). Anyway, I have half a mind to file a case in court!

5. The VIP Guy:  There's something about these VIP guys! Remember the ad featuring a guy dressed in a chaddi with a robe over it and saving the girl? Well, this time he saves an entire train bogie by delinking the succeeding bogie containing a bunch of merrymaking ruffians. And a sideways glance at the girl. Now this explains the numerous train accidents in India. The links between the train bogies is weak enough. There are too many bogies lying around the tracks stranded as a result of those VIP men's heroics posing potential danger in wait.

Well, this is enough for now. Now you can wait two more years for the post titled Ad-Mad 2. :)

PS: The name Ad Mad devised by self for use as the title of a round in the quizzes I conduct.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Q and A

Post title derived from Vikas Swarup's novel Q and A (better known as Slumdog Millionaire).

Typical conversations in the life of Daktar Vnay:


















Monday, 15 March 2010

Monsters Inc.

 Childhood.

Well. Childhood comes with many plug-ins. Freedom of expression,  of joy, of fear, of wants, of likes, of dislikes and most importantly, of excretion. 
And since there is so much freedom, a control mechanism is needed to rein in the kids. 
And thus originated the class of childhood monsters! A group of fictional (and sometimes non-fictional beings) capable of scaring a child, shushing him/her to sleep. They go by varying names in varying languages- 'habu'; 'burha'; 'mur-katta'; 'dadhi-wala' (the bearded one) and many others (Of course I have now forgotten what my monster was called!). Even the great Gabbar Singh aspired to be one among them!

This post of mine is aimed at revealing one other group of 'characters' that fit into this 'monster scheme of things'. And if you have guessed it right, then, well... you guessed it right! It is the Doctors! Don't you remember how your mother/granny used to admonish you that they would take you to the doctor if you acted naughty? Or your mother wants a day off alone and pretends to go to the doctor to get injections for her tummy ache?

Well, I graduated into this class three years back. Even before that it was not too different when I was in medical school. The instant a kid sets his/her eyes on me the following words are ingrained into his/her mind: "This fellow is a daktar! So, no naughty business or he will spike you with injections". (I have heard these lines so many times that I sometimes surreptitiously check my pockets just to assure myself that I am not carrying these incriminating items.) And then however hard I try, the kid stays away. 

There are some who are adventurous enough. They ask, " Are you really a doctor?" I invariably answer "No, do I look like one?" But they see through my words. And God help me if I am to really give an injection to a kid. He might not talk to me his whole lifetime.

And then there are various kind of injections- injections to increase one's appetite, injections that shut the mouth, injections that make you good at studies, injections that make you behave well, injections...

Oh, Excuse me! My scaring presence is needed urgently in the dining room where a cousin (twice removed) is refusing his meals. 

I just hope that when I have a kid of my own, my parents don't tell him," Look, he is a doctor! No naughty business or he'll give you an injection!"

PS: Post title derived from the animated movie with the same name.

Sunday, 14 March 2010

Roadways trivia

Written behind a bus in Nepal:

BLOW Dont kiss me HORN



Open to interpretations! :)

Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Small Pox

It was unusual. I was busy for once in my hospital. Close to forty patients inside two hours though the average patient turnout is hardly 4-5 per day. Of course, the symptoms, the diseases, the class of patients- females and children- were the same.

In came a person clad in a suit. Inside the hospital premises, i mean. Some local hot-shot, i presumed and diverted my attention to the inability of my patient to hear properly due to ear-wax. I was in a benign mood today.

One of the hospital people informed me that the officer-in-charge (OC) of the local police 'thana' was here and wanted to get examined. I asked him to show the fellow in.

In walked Mr OC. We were introduced. The guy made it clear that he was the person responsible for our safety and security not because of superlative policing but because of a strong bond with the thugs of the area. Maybe there was a veiled threat there. You dont treat me well, you are responsible for the consequences thereof.

After the round of pleasantries and after taking the patient's seat, i asked him his problem. He said simply,"I have got Small Pox."

I was thunderstruck! Maybe the Nobel I dreamt of was near! Or the Pulitzer! Oh! how I would expose the nexus of corrupt officials, spurious drug manufacturers, unimplemented health programs, misused money and the scheming politicians- who assort wealth and sit on top of it like a dragon. How I...

For a disease that was declared eradicated from the Earth by 1980- and which I had innumerably framed as a question in my quiz shows- was here before me allowing me my shot at the Pulitzer.

Or maybe the credit would go to the authorities because being a part of the Government system, I was duty bound to inform the concerned authorities...

That was what happened- what came into my mind rather- in the short time between him uttering the fateful sentence and me turning my head towards him, my pen stopped on the prescription form i was filling in. 'What did you say?' I asked. 'Small Pox' he said. 

'My dear fellow! There are hundreds of diseases common enough. Why did you need to suffer from a disease that has been eradicated? If you need it, we may invent a new disease for you though.'

He had a sheepish grin on his face. 'Actually, I need medical leave for five days. I was so busy with other works that I couldn't go and collect my salary' he said though his words implied, 'I was so busy collecting bribes that I failed to collect my salary, and yeah, contracted small pox too.'

Ethics are something we are taught to follow but no one has ever shown an example. And the lack of an example led me not only to suggest but also write a prescription advising five days bed rest. Never mind that the rest won't be in bed.

The OC thanked me profusely and shook my hand warmly (probably playing the role of your friendly, neighbouring OC- keeping you safe from the scum of the street by associating with them!). I watched him go sadly. I saw my Pulitzer Prize going with him vanishing with the sound of a jeep engine starting.

Sigh!

SIMPLY SACHIN

What can you say about a master who has proved himself time and again? Whose records speak for themselves. Who has been the highest run-getter in the world. Who has been a role model to a whole generation and the next.
While a billion heart beats wont stop in their bid to express themselves by beating harder- waiting for that milestone that has never been achieved- he stands cool, poised- facing each new delivery with the same concentration with which he faced the first one of the innings.
Words fail to describe him and his efforts- throughout these twenty odd years. In fact, words are superfluous. What is needed is to lay back and watch. And watch him again and again doing what he does best.

Jahapanah! Tussi great ho!!!

Thursday, 31 December 2009

Happy New Year

I was not feeling well. Its not that I usually feel well, spirited and in the best of moods. But it was biting cold and I had a slight headache as well. Add to that, my pessimist view of things and the recent bout of depression (again!), and you get a muddled, depressed, frustrated and confused personality called 'ME'.

Being a doctor in one of the rare health institutions in the region that paid well was a positive in my favour (disregarding my pessimist view of things. Now, ladies, I am not the ideal match for you- so please back off!). And to have a rare off day on New Year Eve was something any of my colleagues would have traded for. In fact I did get offers to exchange duties. One guy was so desperate as to offer to do three shifts if only I would give him the off day. I was tempted too, but knowing the guy and his insane ways, I refused to take the bait.

So, I was in my room surfing the net as usual trying to concoct a good story to upload in my blog as well as juggling the various tabs in the browser which showed the recent news, one social networking site, a men's magazine site (with images of beautiful feminine figures) and my favourite literotica site. The mind was blank. No good story would come to my mind. No inspiration either. The news was stale and the other sites were taking far too long to load.

In came Ayush. He is probably one or two years older, almost my height, has a good physique, is admired by the ladies (and is careless about it) and is worldly wise. And he talks a lot. The yarns he weaves, the stories he tells- if I were him, I could have updated my blog regularly with stories, anecdotes and experiences- all featuring myself as the protagonist (even if it were someone else in reality and even if events didn't happen as they were told).

'Huh! Surfing porn again?'. His knowledge of computers and the net is confined to surfing porn and watching titillating videos. 'Give a rest to those poor eyes and that sore hand, not to speak of little Johnny down there. Lets go enjoy ourselves. Its New Year Eve, yaar!'

'Where to?' I ask. You can't say no to this person if he is bent on something (which he usually is, on everything). And anyway, I was getting bored with the inactive state of affairs on my monitor.

'We are planning a party. In JK's room. They have already brought some snacks. We are going to get some booze.'

It was cold but I knew I had no option. You never have one with Ayush. He gets things done his way. 'Lemme get my jacket and cap' I say.

Ten minutes later, I was riding pillion with him on his rusty, rickety but trusted bike, along the winding slopes, trying to shield myself from the onrushing wind. I was shivering despite my layers of protective clothing. Plus I always had this sense of imbalance. If the bike leaned too far while taking a turn, I had this insane fear that I would fall off. But grown-ups don't say out their fears loud and I kept mum. The ordeal was over within a further twenty minutes, thankfully with all the booze stacked neatly in JK's room and the party set to begin.

There were three more people in the room. JK, PP and Sid. Whether it is a trend to sound anglicised or mere ease of communication, many of my acquaintances have their names shortened to the initials of their names or a shortened but anglicised form of their name. Thus Jayanta Kalita became JK, Palash Phukan became PP (we however made it sound Pee-Pee!) and Sidhdharth became 'Sid'.

'Oh! So made it at last! I was wondering whether you had gone to sleep on that 'khatara' of yours'. JK's welcoming notes greeted us.

'Yeah. I did. By the way, why don't you go out in the cold when we run out of booze? I'll time you'. Ayush shot back.

'And how is our peeping tom today?' PP said. He is one of the least read guys in our group. I sometimes wonder if he even knows what peeping tom really means. Or for that matter whether he even touched his  forensic textbooks during the four and a half years long MBBS course. He is the sort who is more into physical sports- groping female body parts in crowded places or parties included.

I ignored his comment and asked 'Everything ready?'

Everything was ready. The table was laid out- its erstwhile occupants (which included two tomes of Harrison's Principles of Internal Medicine, some drug literature, some physician's samples and one or two magazines) thrown haphazardly on the bed. Yesterday's newspaper was spread out over the table and a bottle of Vodka and some disposable glasses were laid upon it. Chicken was being cooked in a pressure cooker while some packets containing 'tanduri chicken' were lying open ready to be served. The light was dimmed with the help of a plastic bag covering the naked bulb while the tubelight was turned off. Bottles of water and cold drinks rounded up the culinary requisites.

We took our places around the table. All except Sid. He was busy with his new Nokia N97. Sid is like that only- a show off. And being born with a silver spoon in your mouth doesn't hurt either. He had everything he wanted- a swank new car, the latest gadgets available, a fashionable wardrobe. Only he was a spendthrift inspite of all these riches (or maybe his Dad had taught him something about savings which our dads hadn't taught us).

'Hey Fucker! You need an invitation? With gold embroidered envelope? Do us a favour and shift that lazy ass of yours over here.' Ayush called.

'Oh! You guys started already? I had a bit of a problem with the pdf files in this phone. Was engrossed with it.' That was his explanation as he sauntered over to the table.

'What does pdf mean? Piss d fuck?' PP said. I told you guys. His English is crap even if he tries swearing.

'Lets get it started.' JK, the alcoholic decreed. We all raised our glasses, mumbled 'cheers' and took a sip. In JK's case, it was a swallow in which half the contents disappeared as if it were the genie in the lamp. Glasses were back on the table, chicken legs were searched for and the crunching sound of breaking bones were added to the sounds of the conversation.

The others were already on their second refills (with JK urging us to drink up fast) while I sat nursing my first drink. 'Hey Yuvi! You trying to last long this time? Drink up. We all are drinking Vodka this time.' JK urged making a reference to events of last year.

It so happened that being relatively new to this art of drinking, I had started with potentially 'lesser' drinks like Vodka mixed with cold drinks- Sprite being my favourite. The others were drinking Whisky last year while I had Vodka for myself. Unfortunately, Sprite was unavailable, so Ayush brought two bottles of Mirinda for me. During the course of events, someone (till date I don't know who did it) gobbled up my second bottle of Mirinda and filled it with Whisky. And by the time, I reached for that bottle, I was already drunk to notice the change in taste or the concentration. As a result, I was drinking a pure cocktail of Whisky and Vodka! I was sick the whole night and halfway through the next day.

'Just got a little headache. I'll go slow. You guys carry on.' I said.

Time passed. We got drunk. The conversation flitted fast from topic to topic- touching a whole gamut of subjects ranging from girls, bikes, books (even PP tried to sound literate!), boobs, money, society, life, politics and what not. The bottles started getting empty, the tanduri was long gone, the contents of the pressure cooker almost finished. The guys were getting drunk, and showing it. Speeches were slurred, gaits were unsteady.

Then came JK with his brainwave. You can always rely upon him to come up with it when he has a fair amount of alcohol imbibed inside.

'Lets go out, buy some more booze and tanduri and party outside. We can get the tanduri at that recently opened food outlet nearby.'

'Isn't it a bit cold outside?' I asked, being comparatively sober.

'Oh, stop whining and be a man, Yuvi!' Ayush chided. 'I am going on my bike. Dare to accompany me?' 

He knew well my fear of fast bikes and my unwritten principle of never riding a bike when drunk. But I had to show him.

'Sure.' I said.

So the other three piled up in Sid's car and me and Ayush on his bike and raced off into the night.

After getting the requisites, we went near the lake and sat atop Sid's car bonnet. Some people were sleeping on the footpath in the distance covered in torn blankets and gunny bags. A little boy was hovering nearby. Some dogs were fighting nearby, probably staking out their claim to a prospective meal of leftovers. 'I love dogs. They are so cool.' Sid started. 'I have an Alsatian and a Golden Retriever at home'. He threw a piece  of bone towards the dogs who started their 'two-dogs-and-a-bone-war' without waiting a moment.

Ayush and me were comparatively sober now as a result of our exposure to the chilly wind. Ayush immediately started making amends and launched upon the bottle (the glasses were forgotten in the room) with renewed vigour. The bottles were passed around. JK was almost passed out. He had already puked once and had come back to replenish what he had lost.

I had lost the thread of the conversation as I observed things. As I concentrated on the conversation, I heard Sid say, 'I hate those fucking politicians. Enjoying lives of unparalleled wealth, power and luxury while more than two-thirds of our population remains hungry. People have to sleep on footpaths. Not even a roof to cover their heads.' PP nodded his head in agreement. He doesn't have any ideas of his own. All he is interested is in birds (not the ornithological kind), booze and food. JK was passed out and lying inside the car. Ayush was busy gulping the clear liquid- finishing the last drops and smacking his lips.

'Oh! Shut up Sid! By tomorrow you won't even remember that you spoke these words. Let's get back. What to do with this leftover tanduri?'

'Feed it to the dogs.' Sid said.

'Yuvi, why don't you do the honours while I go and Pee-Pee?' Ayush said.

'Oh fuck off!' PP said.

I collected the leftover chicken in a poly bag while Sid, PP and JK took off in the car. As I was about to throw the bag towards the expectant hordes of dogs, I noticed the little boy.

'What are you doing kid?' I asked.'Why aren't you asleep?'

'Nothing Sir.' He said. 'I wasn't feeling sleepy.'

'What did you have for dinner?' I asked on an impulse.

He didn't answer.

I extended the bag towards him. He took it tentatively. Without saying a word, he turned and ran off towards the bunch of people sleeping on the footpath.The dogs howled in protest.

From a distance, I saw the kid go and shake a bundle on the footpath. The bundle sat up and took notice. She awoke the other bundles and then they started on the contents of the poly bag.

Ayush had started the bike and was blowing its horn.

As I straddled on the bike, I had a last look at the kid and his family and mumbled, 'Happy New Year Kid.'

'What?' Ayush shouted.

'Nothing.'I said. And we took off.