I want something..actually a lot. And I don’t know what, when and how. I feel lost. Like never before. I feel clueless.


Finally, I say

I get really bugged when people invite me to read their blogs, send me facebook and e mails to read, like and join their blogs. They read the comments I write on their blogs.  But then are too self absorbed to return the favor!

Am I the only one who feels offended by this behavior? Is their such a thing called etiquette for the blogosphere? Or is it my self imposed imaginary bunch of rules?

Ps. I am on a long vacation, so not reading the blogs on my reader! But will catch up soon.



Trying blogger for android



As a kid, my brother had different ideas every day about what he wanted to be when he grew up. A truck driver, painter, clay idol maker… Any new thing he saw, he wanted to be that. I wasn’t like that. I always knew I wanted to be a doctor. Or a teacher. In fact more of a teacher than a doctor. Probably because my role model was my mom, a teacher. And I have always loved to describe anything in detail to anyone who cared to listen.

Then fate landed me in medicine, and I consoled myself that I could still teach. But somehow I had always thought that teaching kids in a school would have made me happier. The desire, adequately expressed to the family after 10th class itself, was nipped in the bud with many arguments which mainly included inadequate financial remuneration, lack of growth beyond a limit and that I was probably cut out for something larger.

I was, of course happy learning and later practicing  medicine. And forgot about being a school teacher. A few days back however, stressed with my exam, worried with the uncertainty in life and many such mundane excuses, I snapped at my dearest mom about how I would have rather been a teacher than a doctor. And no one had any business pushing me into this long uncertain alley! Talk about being thankful to the lady who believes in your talent, supports you in many ways through your education, including caring for the husband like her own son. (OK ma, I know you deserve an apology better than this!)
“You can still teach, PGs, interns and the students” she said with pride in her eyes.
“Well its not the same as shaping young minds. Like making a pot out of clay and such stuff” I said in retort and stomped out.

Then one day, I left my home keys at the hostel. While I was turning back to go fetch my keys, my dearest neighbor invited me over for a cup of tea and even offered me to camp at her place till mom arrived and opened the door. While I was enjoying my cup of tea, her daughters walked in and started regaling me with the tales in their school. Imitating their teachers, calling them names, enjoying the fact that some of their school mates are good at back answering their teachers which included saying “I’ll take you to court.” My head was spinning (yeah I was tired too) I mean, as a kid I have imitated my teachers too, but never did I have this amount of disrespect for anyone. Not even for the ones who couldn’t teach, were blatantly partial to some students and such.

I speak as if I’m so old, but with passing years, the respect we have for our elders is diminishing exponentially. More so for teachers, I noted. Mom was right. If I was a teacher to these students, I would have probably given up on them. If any one of my readers is teaching such children, my salute. I know you are doing a job for which no one is probably thankful. The students who do not know what they are doing, their parents who probably are lacking somewhere in imbibing the right values in them and sending them for tuition classes since they were gametes.

Thanks mom, for seeing the talent in me, for having a foresight which I probably would never have. And for many more things I cannot put into words.



Chit Chat

“You didn’t tell me or notice, so let me tell you. I believe I look very beautiful today”

“Hmnn, anything special?”

“Nah, usual. Nothing special”

“That’s why I didn’t notice anything different. You ALWAYS look beautiful”

“Right O”


Test Post

Just testing my new comment box


Grass is Greener

Young love, she smiled when she saw the couple sitting two tables across at the cafe. The girl, she called her Kitty, she had eyes like a cat. And by analogy the boy was hmnn Puppy? Cause he was looking at her with such puppy love in his eyes! OK not puppy love, it was a lot mature than that but yeah, something about him was so puppy!

The glistening rings on their tangled fingers were testimony to their recent engagement. And the way he hung on to each word she was speaking, with rapt attention, spoke of a new relationship too! Amazing thing, young love. She was transported back to 10 years ago when the husband too was like this! Attentive and addicted. Now conversations were there, yes. Lots and mature, sensible and silly too at times. But the silence was comfortable too. Life was like an old blanket. Comforting and warm, bit worn out and not too exiting. Yet you couldn’t sleep without it!

Puppy had a bag of gifts too, for Kitty. And Kitty looked amazingly excited about being there, basking in all the love and attention. She missed this adrenaline rush, at times. Ah, when was the last time she got a gift?! Honestly, did she need one now. Maybe, maybe not. But the charm of young love is….well it cannot be quite described. She smiled at Kitty and Puppy, busy in their own world, and then down on her manuscript. The peace and quiet in the cafe helped her work on her book at leisure. She looked at her watch. She had two hours before more people started streaming into the cafe, three hours to go before the husband was back from work. And four before her hungry kids were done with their games and activities.


She looked up from her table. A bespectacled lady was working furiously on a bunch of papers strewn in front of her, sipping cups after cups of coffee. She had been sitting there before they had walked into the cafe. Her presence was, hmnn something awesome. She was surrounded by an aura of sombre creative intelligence. Her table was messed with papers, her mop of her was tied into a messier knot on her head, yet there was some order to that mess! It was a clean mess, you could say.

Her new fiance was telling her some amazing stories of his life, about his dreams, now their dreams, but she was mesmerized by Ms. Messy for a moment. Her mind was shuttling between her man and Messy for a long time while she sat in the cafe, when another man walked into the cafe. He had an office briefcase in one hand, and a bag of groceries in another. He placed a quick pat on Messy’s head and stole a sip of coffee from her mug. And gave her a smile which said a lot, without saying much. She handed him a bunch of keys and gave him a smile which said “Hope you had a great day, I’ll see ya in a while after I have gathered my mess and ya thanks for understanding” without any words. He walked out and disappeared into a gate on the opposite side of the road.

Ah, mature love! She hoped one day, she and the fiance shared such awesome chemistry too. And as if reading her mind, Messy looked up from her papers, caught her eyes and gave a knowing smile.


I will miss you, child

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I met the sweet adolescent boy less than a year ago, when he had come for a biopsy under general anaesthesia for a suspected bone tumour. Like all children of his age, he was scared and anxious, yet surprisingly mature. The procedure was uneventful but for some reason, that boy’s name persisted at the back of my mind and I later learn t that what he had was an atypical presentation of leukemia, cancer of the white blood cells.  Soon he started coming to the OR for injections of anticancer medicines into the CSF, the cerebro spinal fluid.
Having gone through a painful bone biopsy without any anaesthesia, he was scared of the first injection. Here I got to do the thing I most love, counseling! Little did I know that a few words of comfort and a tight hand grip during the spinal would make me his most trusted anaethetist, and him my most favorite patient.
We would meet often, sometimes for IV access, intrathecal injections, and sometimes just to say hi. He braved many admissions including one in the ICU on a ventilator, knocked out with sedatives for 48 hours. Yet he was always full of optimism. “My dad’s going to throw a party when I get better. You please come!” He told me before his unfortunate, unexpected recurrence.
We all knew things were getting worse each passing days, but he was never low. Considering his age, he was definitely aware things were not getting any better. Yet he was never low and was prepared to fight back, with a great will to live. He always remembered every person he met in the hospital by his name. All anesthesia residents who did his spinals, the medical residents and consultants doing the rounds, the OT assistants and nurses who always held his hand during the procedures, day care nurses who gave him his injections, the OT front desk managers, everyone was his friend. He always had a cheerful smile for everyone. His optimism and cheer was infective. For the amount of suffering he was enduring, there was not a flicker of sorrow on his face nor any traces of it in his demeanor.
When I told him in July about my term in the hospital coming to an end, he was a bit sad. “Can you not extend your stay? It hurts a lot less when you do my spinals!” I promised him I will meet him whenever I was around. And I honoured it whenever possible. In mid July, when he gave chocolates to everyone in the OT for his birthday, with a special one for me and one of my consultants, we all prayed to God for his health and may he live to celebrate many more birthdays. While knowing that adolescent leukemia s have a bad outcome generally.
I last saw him in the first week of August. After that, busy with my exams, I did not speak to him or hear from him for a few weeks. Then today, I learn t from his mother he passed away after 2 weeks of hospitalization. I really wish I could have met him one last time. Before he breathed his last in his father’s arms 2 days ago.
When I called his mother I didn’t know what to say. The pain of losing a child is probably one of the most terrible things that should happen to anyone. She was in tears, yet thankful to everyone in the hospital who made her son as comfortable as they could.
Its easy to say, his death was probably inevitable, the future wasn’t exactly very bright looking. But no amount of rationalization can reduce the pain, the uncomfortable ache in the heart I feel when I remember his voice, his smile, his cheerful optimism. Having grown close to his family over the past few months only makes it worse.
You will be sorely missed, child! Very unknowingly you have taught me a few invaluable lessons in life, which I will never forget. May your soul rest in peace.


With the exams behind me, for the moment I have time for myself, my family, health, some important tasks and the blog!


The Final Countdown…

..has begun

For probably the toughest, the most difficult exam of my life. The exam where I have to remember, recall and present anything and everything in medicine that I have learn t in the past 12 years in front of four unknown people. And prove my worth to them in less than a few hours….



Marriage Matters

So far I believed Balika Vadhu was only on TV. Little girls getting married off at a young age was something of the past or in remotest of villages. Then I learn’t about two young girls in my neighborhood who have been “engaged to be married” since the ages of 7!

Thankfully, the girls’ in laws have “allowed” them to study. Needless to say, they are not allowed to meet their prospective spouses. This really got me thinking. I mean when you are in school and all young, it may sound like fun, to be betrothed. MAY sound to some, I repeat. But what happens when its actually time to get married?

Don’t we all have some ideas, some concept or some dreams about the kind of spouse we want to have? What if this person does not meet those criteria. And this is for both the groom and the bride… Do you still get married? Do you live with someone whom you cannot like, quietly- forced to like and even love them! What if the boy dies before the marriage? Does the girl become a “widow” without the marriage?

Then I laugh, when I think my married life must be such a culture shock to them, like theirs is to mine!
Married yet studying….
Married long enough to have 2 kids, yet happily studying…
Husband who doesn’t mind living at his sasural once in a while…


I’m Studying