Few Fragrant Flowers

Book Review: Normal People by Sally Rooney

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 26 Sep 2019 06:40:00 +0000

So after reading a lot of rave reviews for this book I decided to pick this up. Man booker long list and other accolades (well almost) made this a very attractive choice

It took me over a week to read this. It looks like a small read but it's intense. The story follows lives of Marianne and Connell who live in Carricklea through their High school into their college at Dublin. Their on and off relationship, their lives and interactions with other people around them. Without actually 'telling' the author has touched upon many issues in this book. Abuse, bullying, lack of conversation, friendship, love, suicide, depression..... Everything. There's a lot that the author has successfully conveyed through the story without actually saying and I understand why this book got so many rave reviews and recommendations

For me- it was fine. Slightly heavy given my life situation (two kids, busy job- enough on my plate already!)
That said, it's a great read. It really gets you thinking.

I'm back

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Tue, 17 Sep 2019 13:32:00 +0000

I think I should write more often!

Celebrations

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 29 Dec 2014 11:55:00 +0000

And the year end is around the corner. For someone who never really celebrated new year with great enthusiasm (read party, drinks and dance) new year now comes with a new attraction. The lil monster turns one. And celebrates her big day every new year. So now new year has a new significance for me.....

Time Has Flown By

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 17 Oct 2014 20:02:00 +0000

So fast! I cannot believe my doll is almost 10 months now- few months shy of a year. Last evening at a hospital, I heard the wail of a newborn and it felt like just last week my doll was that small. Just a few days ago I was supporting her neck. Was it not yesterday I was overjoyed with her first smile?
How fast time has flown....

Open Letter

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 18:30:00 +0000

You came home, my parents' guest. You hardly know me, we are meeting after almost a year. You see my baby, hold her....play with her. Fine.

Then you tell me, "She is so thin! Don't you feed her?"

I felt the need to be defensive, I claim she takes after her slim grandparents. I tell you how the doc says she is thriving well. Her growth is absolutely fine for her age. I don't give you a piece of my mind. Funny, I thought I would have given anyone who said that a long lecture. I didn't.

Because you don't know how many nights I stayed up feeding her by the hour. You have no idea how sore each part of my body was, coping with the stress. You don't have a clue how much I have fretted over her pees and poops, the color and frequency- all indirect evidence of adequacy of her feed. You don't know how it breaks a mother's heart when someone accuses her, directly or indirectly that she isn't giving her baby the best.

I forgive you, and I thank you. You have no idea of how much your supposed smartness can give some mother some blogging material.

Record the moments.....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 06 Jun 2014 14:47:00 +0000

I look at you as you sleep in my arms. Full after a meal, content. I land you down, you stir and open your eyes, express your displeasure at being away from me. I hold you close again and you close your eyes and smile.

Someday you will be too old to sleep in my arms, you will choose your own clothes to wear. You will eat your own meals with your own hands. How time flies- seems like just a few days ago you were this wailing milk guzzling newborn. I must cherish these days. They won't come back. I must record your smiles, giggles, wails and cries all in my mind.

You wake up.....we exchange smiles. I lift you high in the air, the way you love it. In my mind I try to record all the expressions and giggles.

And you spit in my face.......

Yes motherhood still rocks.

Redux

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 02 Jun 2014 20:10:00 +0000

After reading this article by Janice Goveas, I knew I had to call someone. Mother of my old dear patient, who left for heavenly abode almost 2 years ago. I had written about him the angelic boy with Acute Leukaemia, who succumbed to a very brave battle against his disease.

I had, in the course of his long treatment interacted a lot with almost whole of his family- mother, father, sister, aunts. When he passed away his shocked and devastated mother had called me and told me about his demise. After that I lost touch with her but I missed the sweet boy- especially on his birthday, the first anniversary if his death. Yet never mustered the courage to call his mother. Will it be the right time? I don't want to remind her of him, what do I speak?

It will never be the right time. A departed son who left behind 13 years of memories cannot be forgotten. Not in a year, or a decade or even a lifetime. He will always live in her heart, a wound that probably won't ever heal. So I finally decided to do the deed.

She didn't recognise me for around a minute or so and I didn't want to call myself her son's anaethetist. I just waited for her to recognise me. Which she did and for a moment she wasn't sure I even knew about his demise. After a few cursory exchanges we both cried for a few minutes. Words flowed effortlessly and I realised I was mostly listening and intermittently talking. She told me how much she missed her boy and her home was full of his memories. She and her husband had gone deep into soul healing philosophy and were struggling to live a normal life. They believed in life after death and were hoping to find their dear boy some day again. Their daughter was trying to get back to a normal life too. They had finally managed to get over a large part of the painful loss.

The conversation was lot longer than I had expected and though it wasn't easy I am glad I called her. I somehow felt much lighter after talking to her. An unknown lady, probably 15 years my senior and we met for a few months by chance. She has invited me to her place and she wants to tell me lot more about her dear boy. I think I shall pay her a visit, hopefully I can help her in some way by sharing the memories of her son's small journey with her.

My Doll

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sat, 31 May 2014 18:39:00 +0000

Dear baby N
Today you have turned exactly 150 days old. 150 days of having you in my life. 150 wonderful and happening days.

I may not have been my best all these days. Sometimes grumpy, sometimes angry...sometimes just plain tired. But always madly in love with you.

Alas its not the cozy picture of a sleepy Johnsons baby napping and a lovely looking mum kissing the baby. Its more like a howling baby who has finally slept and the zombie mom heaving a sigh of relief. Who makes these ads BTW. Nonetheless its awesome having you around..leave aside the extra fat pads and panda eyes.

I still remember the day you arrived. We were up whole night holding you... Coz you wanted to be held all night...no landing down. Obviously, you were all cozy inside least interested in meeting us. We had to do some chemical interventions to nudge you out of your peaceful aquatic habitat. We couldn't believe that two mad creatures like us had such a lovely baby.

Then came those nights you refused to sleep and kept the whole house (except your father the gifted sleeper) up and about. Then each lovely landmark- the smile, cooing, giggles...the vaccinations, night you slept through. So many memories, so many more to make.

Stay happy always.....

Love
Mom

Attendance

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 08 May 2014 18:46:00 +0000

Its been over a year. I have neglected this small space of mine. Yet again.

To make a quick update my life has changed, for good. Now I am a proud mommy to a beautiful girl, who came in our lives this January. She been the best gift I could have asked for. Since I learnt of her entry in our lives, almost a year ago- May 23 to be precise, I have been busy dreaming, reading mom blogs, learning baby stuff, buying pregnancy books...and trying to write a anonymous pregnancy journal!

Anyway now I am back, hopefully with a bang..... Hoping to write lot more

Lose weight in a week- No exercise, surgery, pills or dieting

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 02 May 2013 17:16:00 +0000

Right!
WRONG!!
So wrong, at so many levels!

On one side, we have this crazy epidemic of obesity amongst all social classes, masses and ages. On the other side, the crazy onslaught of books written to lose weight, kilos, inches, and the works. Clinics, doctors, dietitians, vaidyas, gyms, quacks who will all promise quick fixes and seemingly no effort involved methods. As long as you shell out the moolah, and indulge in the self damage.

GET REAL, WORLD

We all know

Nothing in life comes so easy
Things that come easy often come the wrong way
If its too good to be true, its probably not!

We also know

What food is not nice for us
What is good food
That we all need physical exercise

Yet, why do we all fall pray to these antics? I know a crazily famous "slimming doctor" who "dissolves people's fat" and puts them on super restrictive diets like lime juice, lauki juice, excessive water and cucumbers. Says you won't feel weak with this diet. Slowly "allows" you to start eating. The fallacy of this approach is so blaring obvious!
When someone drills in you you won't be tired, you either won't be (mind over body) or you won't acknowledge. And you obviously lose weight quickly, when you are on a liquid diet. And then you have to follow a life long of a ridiculously restricted diet, which you obviously cannot. So you agree, that doctor helped you lose all the weight, but you gained because you didn't follow the diet. You blame yourself, not the impractical diet for your weight gain. Doctor wins clients, you lose money, some weight and a lot of confidence.

I like the other dietician a bit more. One who believes in eating Indian, eating all you like but watching portions, timings etc.

More will follow in further posts!

NOTE: I'm not affiliated to any dietician, clinic, hospital, quack, et al

Sorry Guys

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 21 Dec 2012 14:56:00 +0000

Haven't been blogging. Nor reading blogs and commenting! I will be back. Currently busy with my new job..

Observations

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 05:27:00 +0000

My favorite saying, Man plans, God laughs!

I am not superstitious, but one funny thing I have observed..if I plan something and tell a lot of people about it, the plans soon get swept under the carpet. Don't know what's the reason. Or is it because I barely stick to my plans myself? Or do they really get jinxed?

Help

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Tue, 27 Nov 2012 17:39:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Tue, 16 Oct 2012 10:37:00 +0000

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.

New

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 06:57:00 +0000

Trying blogger for android

Choices

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 19:18:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 10:33:00 +0000

"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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 05:14:00 +0000

Just testing my new comment box

Grass is Greener

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 19:20:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 09 Sep 2012 19:46:00 +0000

I got a message few hours ago, saying my favorite, dearest patient is no more.

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.

Phew!

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sat, 08 Sep 2012 09:48:00 +0000

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...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 31 Aug 2012 20:28:00 +0000

..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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 06:08:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 21:16:00 +0000

Drive Away...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 18:03:00 +0000

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......"