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Drive Away…

Fiction, inspired largely by Sri‘s writing… Thanks dude!

Vasaiwali- Vegetable vendor, a lady, who gets her stuff from Vasai, near Mumbai. 

When she didn’t find the Vasaiwali again today, Megha was a bit upset. Since she had started buying her daily vegetables from her, there was no looking back. She had the freshest veggies in the whole of Parle market at a reasonable rate. She strolled in the lane, hoping she had shifted her stall to another place. And she did find her, walking with a bag and her empty wicker basket.
Megha tapped her on her shoulder  “Didi, I was looking for you!”
“Arey tai, I am sold out for the day….I was hoping you would come” she replied with a smile. “I’ll be here tomorrow”.
And she walked away, quickly disappearing in the crowded market lane before Megha could reply back.

Irritated with her luck, Megha walked to the Vasaiwali’s spot and shopped at the next stall which looked less crowded.
“Madam, new in this market?” one of the vendors at the stall asked while packing her purchase.
“No no” she said handing him a few notes and rummaging through her purse for some more change “I have shopped here for years now. My vasaiwali seems to be done for the day she muttered with irritation, half to herself”
“Vasaiwali? Which one?” asked the other vendor with a surprised look
“The one who sits at that stall”
“Madam!” gasped the stall owner, “She’s not been seen for a while now. We heard that she passed away, last week……” he muttered in a hushed voice.
“What, I just…..” Megha trailed off, beads of perspiration soaking her forehead. She grabbed her bags and walked away from the market for a breath of fresh air.

*****
“I wonder why this madam got so scared, good she bought our story though” laughed the vendor.
“Yeah, that Vasaiwali…let me teach her a lesson. Minus one more customer for her……”
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Happy Days!

After two long working days, you return home. 

Inbox opened after 2 days, shows 20 new mails, most being notifications about comments on blog posts!

This kind of stuff totally makes my day, eggs me on to write more.

Thank you readers! 

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Q and A

“Why do you love me?” she asked

“Hmnn…….for your money, which I will inherit” he said, still looking into his laptop

“C’mon, how do you know you will outlive me?”

“I’ll manage that….”

“Stop this nonsense”she said, a bit irritated

“Then you stop asking me these silly questions…”

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Restrictions..

She woke up in the middle of the night with a bad dream and a dry throat. She dragged her feet to the kitchen for a sip of water and found him gobbling sinful chocolate cookies the neighbor had sent over last evening and she had disallowed him from eating.

Ah, dieting……

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Wake up Love…..

She fell asleep on the couch, waiting for him to come home, to have dinner together.

 When she woke up, morning sun rays were all over the room and she was surprised to find herself in her bed, flowers by her bedside and smell of fresh tea and breakfast. Ah its going to be a lovely weekend she thought….and he came into the bedroom with a tray carrying the tea pot, cookies and cheese sandwiches, and a broad smile on his face and said…

“Honey wake up, I’m hungry…whats for dinner!”

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The Gift

zwani.com myspace graphic comments

Sneha was upset. With life, with the day… and with Saurabh. Mostly with Saurabh. In fact, just with Saurabh. For refusing to turn up on Valentine’s day.
 She was sitting in her clinic, toying with her pen stand, cursing herself for fighting with him, yet understanding how difficult it was for him to come to Ambala from Bhopal where he was at present. And she was angry with herself for being so demanding yet understanding. Practical yet foolish. And helplessly in love. She hated whoever that Saint Valentine was for coming up with such a useless hyped day. There were just a few of her routine patients who had come for their follow up. She tackled them all and was fiddling with the hair, replaying their conversation over the past few days.

“I cannot come dear, its the middle of the week. Its a working day!”
“Oh come on, your work and the world won’t stop if you do….I mean just come for a day!”
“And do what? Whole of Ambala knows you, we possible cannot go out. Unless you have told your folks about us…or you want to go ahead and do it!”
“You know I have not, and lets not get into that…there is a right time to do that and we have discussed it amply..”
“So dear, what am I to do there?”
“Oh think of something…I have to see you, its been long…..”
“Three months” said Saurabh “Not so bad”
Long enough to feel like a lifetime….she didn’t say that though.

“Maam, a new patient for you”, her assistant Bela chirped, breaking Sneha’s reveire.
“Now? Strange….. was there an appointment?”
“No madam, he just says its sort of urgent….shall I let him in”
“Hmnnn…OK, in a minute…”

She took a blank sheet of paper, and a deep breath. Get the thoughts out and let the sunshine in…..she told herself. She began writing some random list on the paper, trying to get away from the thoughts dancing in her head, when she heard a familiar voice

“May I…….”
“Saurabh!!” She was mildly shocked and astonished. There he stood in his handsome glory, his dimpled smile and travel ruffled hair. With his sack slung on his back and a single long stemmed perfect red rose in his hand.
“Did you really believe I would have missed this day for anything in the world?”
“I..uh…how did you come?when I mean….” she was too flabbergasted to make any sense
“I just wanted to tease and surprise you….” He came in and shut the door behind him. “Bela doesn’t know me right? Lets not confuse her doc!” he said as he held her gently in his arms.
Tears were streaming down Sneha’s cheeks as he lovingly smoothed her hair.

Next hour in the clinic flew like 5 quick minutes when he gave her a small gift for the day….to keep her going till the next meeting, whenever that would be. They had a cup of tea, shared a few laughs and took pictures to treasure for the days to come. After almost an hour, Saurabh reluctantly moved out…pained at the thought of leaving Sneha, and more at the thought of the long Ambala- Chandigarh- Bhopal trip back!

“Sir…..” chirped Bela as Saurabh was leaving, “You forgot to make the payment…”
“Oh, I am so sorry, how much will that be?” Saurabh asked with a disarming grin
While Bela was writing a receipt for him, Saurabh stole a last glance at Sneha…..to keep him going for the next few months.

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I want to write….


… But I am lazy yet supposedly busy!

….Brimming with ideas but yet not writing

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Ha Ha

Anaesthesiologist (Age 73 years),  Patient (Age 60 years). Ages of the surgeon, surgical residents and the anaesthesiology resident do not matter

A: Aunty, open your eyes, the surgery is over
No response from “aunty”

After a lot of waiting, and adequate pharmacological reversal of anaesthetic agents we gave up and sent her to the ICU with the tube in….

If I was Mrs. M I too would have kept sleeping…..

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The Pursuit Of Happiness

Whenever I am on call and free for dinner, NP and I manage to have dinner together at Khaasiyat. A small joint near Vile Parle Station, decent, value for money and yet safely close to the hospital in case I have to rush back for some work. We ALWAYS eat parathas there since NP has this habit of sticking to one particular dish at any place. The parathas there are amazing. The accompanying ma ki daal and chhole are good too.

So one day, we were sitting in their overhead cramped AC section and munching our parathas. Next to us were a gujju couple and another girl.

Girl: (ultra sweet, fake scolding) Jijuuuuu…take good care of my sister OK……

Jiju: Smiles, fiddling with his smart and expensive looking phone

Sister: He takes such good care of me……And provides so well for me. And I don’t want ANYTHING from him. (Pativraata tone). I am satisfied with just the flat he got us in Juhu (Just? and she’s just satisfied?!). I don’t want ANYYTHING else.

NP to me: I hope she wants atleast some sofas for the house. Waise after buying a flat at Juhu, I hope he has money left over for that.

Me: Shhhh

Sister (continues, oblivous I presume to me and NP and our conversation):  No diamonds, jewelery and stuff. This is enough for me, I am happy.

NP and I: (nothing was said between the two of us. We were speechless)

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Seven Minutes…

Yesterday was a long tiring day and by the time I had retired, it was rather late. Today was going to be a very long day, which necessitated me to rise early in the morning. To get a few more minutes to sleep in the morning, I had my long refreshing bath late at night. In the morning, with great difficulty I finally got up. Late but still a little sooner than I would have, since I had planned a lovely treat for myself in the morning. Skipped bath, had quick tea. Dressed. Since the OT was going to run for long hours, I knew my breakfast was going to be delayed indefinitely. And hence the plan for my seven minutes of pleasure.

I stepped into the kitchen, opened the box and carefully lifted out a ripe big mango. Few seconds to enjoy the fragrance of a ripe alphonso. Washed it carefully and patted dry. With a sharp knife I cut it into large pieces. The aroma of the fruit was heady and filled the kitchen. Carefully, I leaned over the kitchen counter (breakfasts on working days are seldom had sitting at the table) and relished the mango. Slowly at first and later with a gluttonous urgency. The pulp covering the seed, and later the pieces, all were gulped down in matter of seven minutes. And those were probably the most amazing seven minutes of my day. Rest of the day was a busy and forgotten about quickly. But those seven minutes in the morning made the rest of my day lovely.
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Bring In The Expert….

The fat one lay placid like a lake. Barely visible from her resting place. Lazy yet beckoning.  The thin one was more like a stream in summer, snaked her way down her place of rest. I studied both of them carefully as a few beads of perspiration streaked down my forehead. Which one? was the question on my mind.
I looked at the staff nurse who had all the armamentarium to secure venous access. The venous cannulaeof varying sizes, tapes, cotton swabs, tourniquet all neatly arranged on a tray. She was all set for a “Difficult Venous Cannulation” and had called me, the so called expert Anaesthesiologist for the procedure. She looked at me with a look that said….”Do this fast and for good, I hope I can trust you.”
Tourniquet tied, fist curled I tapped the fat one first. She was barely a blotch of blue and refused to fill up. Arrogance. And thats what made me want to cannulate her even more. The thin one was barely a blob under the skin of the inner side of the wrist. Yet she screamed “Try me” . “Nah I said, you shall take a small cannula while what we need here is a large bore. Fattie wins” The Fat one was nonchalant. “Here I come” and I took a bold prick. No flash of blood. Advance the cannula. No blood…..withdraw the cannula. Blood spills to the skin. “You rascal” I said. “The staff nurse must be pitying me the expert and mocking me at the same time. Or upset I shall now give up.” The thin one was popping out even more now. “C’mon. you are thin and crooked. I cannot see the rest of you after that blob where you dip deeper into the skin! Its a waste to even try you. Still I shall, now that I have a cannula in my hand and my image at stake”. Bold prick no. 2. Flash of bright red. Wow! Slide the cannula. Glides in effortlessly. Stretches the thin one on its way and wow, the vein is secured! Suddenly I’m the hero, who saved a patient from dehydration and more pricking and poking. 
Ah the joys of being an Anaesthesiologist! And the pleasure of cannulating a seemingly impossible vein. 




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Catharsis

Sue knew she was a brave woman. Her tummy hurt from the stitches, but she was OK as long as she didn’t have to turn. She looked slowly at all the faces around her…her mother, her sister and her husband. All of them were weeping shamelessly. But she felt like she was in some sort of a trance. Like she was watching some movie. She scanned the place. No, these were not her clothes, not her bed, not even her room. Not her carefully selected upholstery, not her jug of water……but the book was hers, yes, it was her book indeed. Chicken Soup for The Expectant Mother’s Soul……and the rest of the room blurred in front of her eyes. Tears finally streamed down her face as she wept for her new born who had just died.