BLESSINGS

The platform was crowded. I waited for the train to roll in along with hundreds of passengers. There was anticipation and thrill in the air around me. Anticipation of the weekend ahead... People waited eagerly to meet their wives... girlfriends.. kids..moms... friends... after a week of rush and routine..
My mind was troubled... too much pain and heartburn during the past few weeks...i felt batterd bruised..sort of distant from my world...
I needed a break... badly... I was off to my parents place for the weekend. To destress and recharge...
We found our seats quickly... my boys settled on both sides... I sent an SMS to my husband that everything was fine...
Gautam complained about lack of adequate leg space. He fidgeted for some time... then pulled one end of my dupatta over his eyes... and promptly went to sleep...A,irconditioning always make my elder baby drowsy..
Taj sat quietly reading his set of comics. His huge dark eyes glowed greedily when he saw the cutlets and vadas being sold around... his favourites.
.
I took out an old Jackie Collins novel from my overnighter and started to read… hhhmm… the antics of the fiery smart and bold heroine with her cloud of black curls failed to hold my attention... I smiled to myself... difficult to belive that I had wanted to be like her during my teens...
George of 'Famous Five' had been my role model during my childhood... And Jackie Collin heroines during my late teens.....
i thought about the woman I had grownup to become... soft... emotional... I laughed softly...

I turned the pages trying to find out what was it about the heroine that had made me to adore her...
A folded tiny paper fell down from between the pages... I opened it and read...

“Open your eyes and give your life a glance. Are your basic needs met..? Do you have a home? Food on the table. Cloths to wear..? Is there a regular paycheck coming..?Do you have dreams? Do you have your health…? Can you walk talk see the beauty that surrounds you... listen to muscic that stirs your soul or make your feet want to boogie..? Do you have family and friends whom you love and who loves you..?”


My eyes filled... I thought about the young girl who had copied it from somewhere and placed it between the pages of a favorite novel. She had forgotten about it... but it had come to her when she needed it the most...
I looked out of the window... the stillness of the ashtamudi lake was breathtaking in the setting sunlight...birds were flying back to their nests, a kid was taking a group of goats home...
I thought of my lovely home with its beautiful garden. I thought about the love and security I got there...my parents and sisters who waited for me at the end of the journey...my work which gave me so much certainity and satisfaction...
I signed contently... I couldn’t count my blessings... like stars in the sky I loved to watch at night from my terrace garden they were infinite...
My life ahead beckoned me lovingly. So much love to be shared... books to read... muscic to listen... food and wine... flowers... sunets... rain... and good company to share them...
The beauty and power of simple pleasure that made life beautiful...
I closed my eyes and gave my thanks...

Pure Pain

The pleasure of pure pain…
Betrayal of the closest friend..
Today..
The last day of an extraordinary friendship..

One more chance..

Yesterday I met a cardiologist. A woman of about 33yrs. Smart, pucca professional.. Authoritative.. I felt envious of her..
I am also a doc. But I couldn’t make it professionally as good as her. Due to many reasons.
I am not the typical studious type of doctor. I love my hobbies and entertainments too much.. I am married to a person who loves fun and entertainment and prefers to have me besides him always. I had to bring up two active boys depending solely on maids..
I am happy.. I enjoy my work especialy the human part of it..I am paid well. I enjoy my family, my friends, my reading ,my gardening.. I get time to find pleasure in nature in her different moods..
But I couldn’t reach excellence in my profession. I could have achieved it had I given it the time and effort..
I have no regrets but when I saw this girl I couldn’t help feeling a bit envious.
I asked her about her family and she told that she was unmarried.. Must have been tied up with her studies.. Her profession..
I wonder about the paths we have both chosen. She her profession and reaching excellence and me my family and not achieving that excellence in my profession
If given one more chance would I do the same with my life.?. I ask myself..

DESPERATION

“Professionally helpful people must sometimes learn what life is at the receiving end of welfare”. The words crossed my mind as I sat waiting in the reception launch at SCT with my son and husband..
‘Lionel blue..’ The name of the book I couldn't remember.

SCT is a place where all patients are treated based on clear-cut norms.Usually docs are allowed to by pass the formalities in hospitals.. but not at SCT
So I sat there along with other patients. Waiting for my son’s EEG report.
My gut burned. My heart felt heavy. My head felt numb. There was a lump in my throat. I prayed silently..
Anxiety, despair. and terror hung around most of the people around me.

A mother sat besides me. Her 18yr old daughter was admitted in the ICU with encephalitis. she had been unconscious and had recurrent fits since one week. She was allowed to see her daughter only for 10mts daily. But she sat there in the lobby anyway.

I saw a father bent double over the balcony praying. he stared unseeingly at the garden down below a lush garden with the soothing sound of flowing water,. .. His daughter was undergoing brain tumour removal surgery in the theatre.
I saw a family of father, mother and son pushing a trolley on which lay a 15yr old boy unconscious.
I saw a skinny woman carrying a sleeping teenager with shaved head and blue pen markings on the scalp for radiotherapy ..in her arms ..trudging up the stairs slowly.
A nine-month-old baby with a weird shaped head slept on its mother’s lap besides me..But inspite of the odd shape the resemblance between the mother and child was striking...
Suddenly.I noticed a woman waving at me. She sat at a distance. I tried to recognise her. But I couldn't.
She then gestured commanding..confident. Calling me to her side.
“ Must be some old forgotten patient “ .I thought... I went to her side..
An elderly woman...grey face.. haunted eyes. Drab sari. Hair carelessly knotted.... No I dint recognise her.
“These are my son’s records. He has brain tumour ..need to start radiotherapy tomorrow. You have to help“ she literally ordered me...
I was confused. I started to read the records...
My husband tapped me on my shoulder. Gautam name was being called.
“Whats wrong with you”. he admonished me.
“Frauds immediately recognise they can cheat you easily.”. He looked irritated...
I handed the papers back to her and went to my son’s consultant’s room.

“EEG is normal“. I was told.
"No need for medicines. Just give him more care and support."

My heart lifted. I thanked the consultant profusely and walked out.
I looked around for the woman. Fraud or not..I wanted to give her some money.
The chair she had sat was empty.
SCT is a place where entry is very restricted. Frauds wouldn't be permitted to beg around.
I knew in my heart that she had been genuine. It was desperation that had made her call a stranger and order to help her
But why had she chosen me..?

I searched for her all around the OP section. But she had disappeared...

A Wedding and a Funeral..

Last week was busy.. I had to make two trips to my husband’s family home.. One for a wedding.. And one a funeral..

The wedding was an arranged marriage.. A grand affair.. Abt two thousand people.. Typical Syrian Christian lunch..
The scorching summer made the crowded church and the hall hot and stifling...
The pretty bride flashed her million-dollar smile at everyone.... Obviously for the cameras... The handsome groom looked smug and self-satisfied..
. But there was no spark between the two...
“So sad“. I thought..
Fat middle-aged women in heavy silks and brocades. . Fleshy backs glimmering with sweat. Chunky jewellery flashing on sagging necks...
Unmarried girls were out in their full glory. Hoping for the highest bidder for a marriage..
NRI girls in ethnic gargaras.and churidars...loose hair... Heavy makeup.. Painted lips
Ethnic dresses looked stupid with western body language...
Snobbish old ladies stood in-groups gossiping.. And watched the parade…
Huge men in raw silk shirts and crisp dhothis..Some drunk and grinning stupidly ..others nursing a terrible hangover from the previous night ..stood and ogled around Everybody was chattering and joking loudly..
“Hollow and artificial.”. The thought crossed my mind..
My boys sat besides me and sulked.. They looked bored and irritable .. They gobbled up the lunch.. Appam.... Fried chicken, mutton stew.. Beef fry.. Fish curry.. Rice vegetables.. Ice-cream
I could have only the vegetables, curd and ice-cream.. The rest were too hot and spicy for the unbearable heat..
“I hate weddings “. Gautam growled as we drove back home. He stared moodily out of the window.
“Mama I want my wedding to be held at night.”. The younger baby Taj declared.
“Ok baby“. I soothed.
“But how will the people reach home.?” My husband commented
“See now we can reach home before it’s too late” he explained..“It’s not possible to arrange accommodation for such a huge crowd.”
“Why do they want such a huge crowd? To show off.” ?
Gautam wouldn’t let it go..
The funeral was two days later.
My husband’s aunt ... a grand old dame had died..
She had lived her life well.. She lay in the coffin as if she was sleeping peacefully among the pristine white gladioli and jasmine. There was a wreath of red roses around her head. She held a crucifix and a rosary in her gloved hands.
The whole brood had come to bid her farewell, pray for her soul and be with her family for a day.
There were prayers, soulful songs and tender touching last minute goodbyes as the coffin was lowered into the grave.
As I walked back to the church after burying her, I felt serene and peaceful..
.
I looked ahead... Same church. Same crowd.. But what a difference..!
People stood outside the church chatting in small groups against the background of the setting sun.. coffee and biscuits were being served around. ..Everyone appeared more sober, simple and genuine.
Death had humbled all of us...!
The boys were quiet and thoughtful on the way back.Their first experience with death of a loved one..They were probably remembering their loving ‘Peramma.’ Who used to smother them with snacks, hugs and kisses. ..
.
“I prefer attending funerals to wedding” i commented to my husband..
He laughed..

POEM

This is a poem my son Gautam wrote..
And i'm proud of it..!!
:-)


Adieu! little lily

Oh! Dear flower, I'm sorry to say
You won't be there for another day
You are the sign of love,
And as sweet as breeze from mango grove.

Till the sun sets,
You refresh your guests
Swaying in the breeze
But you are about to freeze.

It'll soon be night,
And you'll be out of my sight
Just like darkness takes over light.

Oh! Sweet little lily,
People think I'm silly
To cry for you

Tomorrow when the day breaks
When the sun will be shining
You'll just stay
In my mind

As bright and vivid
As a child's mind.
-Peter Gautam

DIGNITY

I heard the sound before I noticed the smell..a feeble whimpering.. like an animal in pain..
I glanced up from the patient I was examining and looked around the ward….oh there she was.. in a corner bed.. emaciated body just skin wrapped around bones...bent double in pain.. . ..A bandage covered one half of her skull like face . I knew that.under the bandage the cheek was eroded..tongue and teeth were visible from outside..and the smell was that of putrified flesh..Infact there had been maggots in her cheeks when she had been brought here..

I had seen her the previous day.. she had been sitting on the bed .. head thrown back and pouring tea down her throat.. her cheeks eroded.. and the stench aroud her..

The cancer in her cheek was spreading.. fast.. and almost encroching into her eyes.
.
I remembered her as she had come to collect the report from me.. tiny dark woman.. a widow.. she had been eager .. .. to take treatment.. to live.. she had a daughter to marry off.. but the cancer had been too aggressive..
I went to her…” sara".. I called softly and took her bony hands in mine..
She opened her eyes.. her gaze was dull probably morphine.. then something in her expression changed.. recognition?..smile.?. I squeezed her hands.. she sqeezed back.. then the clasp loosened.. she was drowsy again..
I stood besides her.. a woman in pain..waiting for the mercy of death.. her only hope now was a fast and peaceful death.
I felt disturbed.. what did she know about euthanasia...?...mercy killing.... about dying with dignity.. not like this.. whimpering away like an animal.. Why couldn’t we docs help hersara died few days later but she influenced my views about mercy killing a lot…
comments needed..

Manipulations....

I am proud of my son Gautam. His Adonis like looks..Excellence in sports..Leadership...The way he gets good scores without any fuss...
His thickening eyebrows and hoarsening voice makes my heart melt.. Even the crops of pimples on his face. And his brooding anger at times ..I find adorable.
Naturally I wish the best for my son. And what's that...? hhmmm I want him to be happy. Of course...
A mom wants the best for her son. I wish he gets admission in IIT or a good medical college. Doctor or engineer. The basic middle class dream...
I know that to be happy he should do the work he enjoys. That I should wait patiently till his tastes develop
But I cant help dropping manipulative comments.... Here and there...
Recently he told me that he would prefer IT, journalism or geology. It may change too. He is so innocent. What does he know about life?

I should be happy. I'm sure he will excel in any field he chooses.

But in the heart of heart I want him to become a doc or an engineer. Why..?. To boast about my smart son....? To make my friends and relatives envious..?.Or cos they are established stable fields and I am so protective of my son....? I don't know....
Should I leave him to his choices or try to guide him..? Is it right to interfere with a persons dreams...? . I wonder...

comments needed..

Kumkum.... and Thali....

I sat staring at the report in front of me ...I could feel anger bubbling up in my gut and surging up my face ...my head throbbed. My breathing quickened...

My PMS didn’t help...i sat there trying to control myself...To get into my calm pleasant bedside manners. My doc act..

I looked up and smiled faintly at the man in front of me...“Your vasectomy was a failure”. I informed him.

I waited for some change in his expression...remorse...shame...guilt. No…nothing...he stared back at me blankly. Almost belligerently. My gaze shifted to the woman besides him...

She sat smiling...her...face was flushed...her eyes brimmed with tears...A lush woman...typical housewife...long oily hair braided. Thali...among the folds of her parrot green polyester sari.... kumkum on her hair parting.

I wanted to smile back gleefully, sharing her triumph. But no.... my doc act was supposed to be balanced, dignified, refined and detached. Especially detached.

I remembered her sitting and sobbing silently in front of me two days back. She had missed her periods. Her pregnancy test was positive. Her husband had already had Vasectomy surgery after the birth of their two daughters. He suspected her chastity... He was torturing her.

She was the wife of koman, a staff of mine. I didn’t like him. He was a trade union leader . Lean oiled body...sharply pressed clothes...oily hair... chandan kury on the forehead...arrogant mannerisms.
i had been surprised to know that he was couldnt read or write..had not gone to school..

I had heard of an incidence that had happened before I had joined the hospital. He had tried to molest a patient’s wife. The enquiry had failed to prove anything. The other staff was too scared of him to testify. A staff nurse, a born again Christian lady had volunteered to testify but didn’t turn up at the last minute.

It was rumoured that he had threatened to rape her.

“Don’t suspect you wife, the child is yours" I told him.

He stared at me. I stared back.

His eyes shifted. “OK” he told and got up to go. I wanted to tell him to be soft to his wife. But he would only become defensive. I smiled at her and told her to go home peacefully.

I wondered how she should have responded. Self-righteous anger?........... Self pity?

No she would go home relieved that her marriage was saved. She would spend her life caring for his aged parents..........cooking, washing, cleaning the toilets...Fasting & praying for him.

She would immerse herself in loving & nurturing her kids... TV serials... food.... She would become obese & middle aged.

I closed my eyes & wished her all the best. That was three years ago.

But, my wish wasn’t granted.

Few months back, she was brought with 70% burns to the casualty. She had done it herself in front of her husband and elder daughter.

The poor woman had shown her pride & protests the only way she knew. But how could she? I wondered. Why hadn’t she thought of her kids? I felt I could never forgive her.

Last week he came to see me. His new wife was with him. “Who will look after the kids?” He spoke to no’ one in particular.

Another smiling face.... lush body.... polyester sari...kunkum...Thali....
I smiled at her...calmly.....my doc act.......“Wish you all the best”. I spoke softly.

Mr moorthys family

Mr moorthy is 83 yrs old..a small thin man with a soft voice and pleasant manners. He comes to see me every month..
He has to travel about 83 km catching two trains..He has to start his journey at 6.30am and reaces home by 7pm..
He travels all this distance because he gets free medicines from our hospital..
He waits for me patiently if i am engaged in my LAB work or administrative responsibilities because I give him medicines for 30 days contrary to the usual practice in our hospital to supply free medicines for only 15 days..
Other doctors objected to my favoritism but they were quiet when I told them about Mr moortythy’s family.
.He comes with four note books in which I record my notes and the treatment given..
Mr moorthy has high BP, coronary artery disease, heartblock and cardiac failure.. in short he may die any day..
His wife is an active lady.. has the usual geriatric complaints… backpain, jontpains tiredness.. nothing serious..
His two sons aged 53 and 51 are mentally ... they also suffer from recurrent epileptic attacks..
they have no other children..
All of them needs to be on continuous medications..
Since he cant travel alone he brings his wife with him leaving the two retarded men at home.. alone..
They r not completely incapacitated.. they will take the food she has prepared for them.. and sit quietly for the age couple to come home..and it seems that the elder fellow looks after the young one..!!
The couple never fails to amaze me they have a little land on which they cultivate vegetables.. he gets some pension.. they have two cows.. the old man looks after them and his sons help him in the job..!
They never complain about their fate..they are always smiling.. he relishes the coffee she makes.. they tell me about the poojas and festivals they celebrated that week..she tells me about the food she had lovingly prepared for her sons that day.. ( she has to get up at 3.30am for that..)
I feel so much admiration for them. To put it bluntly the old man may pop off any day.. the family will be scattered after that.. both of them agree that their relatives will not be of much help..the sons will probably in some care home and she will have to go and stay with her brothers Family…
But they have made the best of the life they have.
.they have a comfortable home.. she prepares delicious food from their own vegetables and milk.. they often go on pilgrimages with their sons.. they share a beautiful relationship..
How many of us can boast of such an abundant life..?!
They came to see me yesterday and presented me with two saris.. I felt embarrassed.. I couldn’t possibly accept them.. I told them..id pay ..but they wouldn’t agree..
I was so kind to them and they wanted to express their affection for me....
I pointed out that it wasn’t as if I paid for their medicines.. I was only doing my job..
But they wouldn’t agree.. mr moorthy had himself chosen the saris for me.. dint ma’m like them..? they asked anxiously..finaly I thanked them and accepted the saris
But I felt disturbed the whole day.. as if I had accepted a bribe from the old couple..
The coarse cotton saris looked a bit odd among my refined silks, chiffons and cottons.
Last night i showed them to my husband.. he looked at them skeptically probably wondering why I had chosen such gaudy colours..
Then I told him aboutmoorthy and his special family..and about my guilt..
He smiled at me.. and told me to wear the saris often…. My heart lightened.. I smiled back at him..