Few Fragrant Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:29:00 +0000

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.....

The Pursuit Of Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 29 May 2011 06:47:00 +0000

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)

Seven Minutes...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 18 May 2011 18:03:00 +0000

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.

Bring In The Expert....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 12 May 2011 16:11:00 +0000

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.

Catharsis

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Tue, 10 May 2011 18:14:00 +0000

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.

They Are Playing My Song.....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Tue, 03 May 2011 17:04:00 +0000

Every song has a memory.....

Every time I listen to the songs of Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na I feel teleported to my first year PG days. Circa 2008 when the movie had just released and the songs were a rage. The songs remind me of the lovely days I spent with my friends....staying in the dinghy musty "Call Room" on our duty days (that is the day we were on night duty at the hospital), attending calls in the hospital in the dead of the night, to save a life, or bring a new one into the world and such. Eating at the call room, bitching about our new seniors. Or going to the marine drive in the dead of the night to grab an ice cream and sit by the sea. Those were the first songs I had received on my then new phone via Bluetooth and I listened to them while travelling, while working and even falling asleep...Those songs remind me of travelling at the door of the train, feeling the wind on my face and in my hair. The songs are still a rage in my personal collection and I am never tired of listening to them.

Such is with Dil Chahta Hain, circa 2001 when I had just joined MBBS. The movie was about coming of age, of 3 boys Akash, Sameer and Siddharth. And in a strange sort of way, the same year I too went through a similar coming of age when I became, from a bound to and sheltered at home college girl a hostelite medical student out in the world almost by herself. I remember watching this movie on a large screen at our first college festival and the songs still remind me how awed I was by the movie and by the whole college crowd. and being in college, studying what you always wanted to.

Every song has a memory; every song has the ability to make or break your heart, shut down the heart, and open the eyes. But I’m afraid if you look at a thing long enough; it loses all of its meaning
— Andy Warhol.

I still do not understand the last line of this quote, and its relation to the first two lines. But I love this quote, it says what I feel deep in my heart

He, She...and It

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 19:20:00 +0000

He is the husband, she is his wife and it is the husband's camera

He, she and it are on their way to a party somewhere in the evening. He stops on the way, picks it up and takes a shot of the Mumbai University Building. They walk a few steps and he again picks it up and takes another shot, form a different angle of the same university. She is a bit impatient to get to the party. After some 5 or 7 shots of Rajabai Tower, University taken across the Oval maidan, she has totally lost it.

She: We are getting late for the party

He: Wait I am taking some great shots. What a structure, man!

She waits for a few minutes

She: (sighs) I wish you would take half as many pictures of me.

He: (oblivious vs ignoring) Look at this classic shot! See the lighting? Amazing!

She: Wish you were half as interested in taking pictures of me!

He: (Pulls her cheeks) I will be sweetheart, when you are 200 years old.

Thankful.....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 18:19:00 +0000

Of course I am thankful and grateful for a wonderful life, family, husband, career etcetera . This list is for those smaller things in life for which I am really thankful

Khakra
I am thankful to Gujarati women of yore who came up with this recipe to probably do away with left over rotis and equally thankful to the modern Gujarati women who sweat it out to make these khakaras for sale for mortals like us. I have survived on this snack for over 10 years now. While in the younger hostel days the adventurous variations like "Pav bhaji" and "Pani puri" flavoured made good tea time accompaniments, now I choose the routine plain or methi flavoured. Now a days often it makes up for a missed meal, to buy time till the next one.

Mobile Phones
Sometimes I wonder how we even lived so many years without this one. I still remember the rainy days during my childhood when we would wait for mom to return from work hoping she is safe, wondering where she must be, pacing by the window. Or the hostel days, rushing to the phone hoping its from home, waiting at the public telephone booth for a turn to make an STD call. Mobile phone has suddenly made it all easy...from locating the spouse on railway platform to short messages from the brother abroad saying I'm fine. And I am not talking of the fancy gadgets. A simple phone is all I want (and have) and need.

Continuous Supply of Electricity
One of the few pleasures of living in a Metro... no load shedding. Having lived for a short while in places where electricity has been conspicuous by its prolonged absence makes me value this resource and wastage of any form irks me.

Books
I am glad good things in life come as paperbacks and hardcovers! And love my parents for building a small neat collection for me. And I hate myself for having lent a few of my books to people, no one returns a lent book. Only a fool lends a book. Greater fool is the one who returns it.

There is lot more I am thankful for and that will follow soon enough.......This one post deserves a part 2

The Mourning

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 12:50:00 +0000

Being an anesthesiology resident in the Obstetrics and Gynaecology OT at Nair Hospital was no mean job. There was the routine OT list, the emergencies and the cranky surgeons and sometimes even crazy seniors to handle. But the job has to be done, right and that too with a smile, and we did it.

December 2009, while the routine OT is still on, we get a call, 'Emergency Laparotomy for an unruptured ectopic gestation in the fallopian tube' which means an emergency surgical exploration of a lady who had conceived, but unfortunately the fetus was outside the uterus in the fallopian tube. Fallopian tubes are the tubes which transport ovum or the embryo from the ovary to the uterus. I went to the waiting area to see this lady pre operatively. She looked distraught and strangely familiar. I could not place her, but she was familiar nonetheless. She was past 35 years, and had undergone a tubal recanalisation surgery few months ago. I noted down the rest of her medical history, did a quick physical examination and explained the surgery and anesthesia to her. She knew her baby could not be salvaged, being in a place where there is neither nutrition nor enough place for her baby to grow. The whole point of the surgery was to save her life, lest the tube rupture.

After taking her consent I did something I had never done before, I asked her a question that was too personal-- the reason why she had undergone a recanalisation surgery, or a surgery that involves reversal of a tubal ligation. The answer was obvious... she had undergone a tubal ligation which is, for all practical purposes, a permanent method of contraception. Then for some reason, she wanted to have a child again so late in her life. I was curious to know the reason.

"I lost my son to brain cancer" she said with a few tears in her eyes.

I was starting to figure out why I knew her.... still I persisted

"Where was your son admitted and how long ago did he die?"

"He was here, at the same hospital... He passed away last November"

"His name was Aditya? I asked her to which she did not reply but broke down into tears instead. I did not pacify her, I broke down with her too into a discreet few tears.

I remembered Aditya very well. He was a 10 year old boy operated for a malignant brain tumour and had died in the ICU a few months after the surgery. He had died while I was posted in the ICU and was on duty. And he was probably the only patient whose death and the suffering prior to that had affected me so deeply, probably because of his tender age. I remember having shed a few tears for him after seeing his grandmother break down once in the ICU. She was the one who mainly cared for him, with his sister and mother visiting on and off. While I cried for him when he lived, I somehow did not mourn his death when he died in my arms, in front of my eyes. And I mourned for him the day I met his mother once again, a year after his death.

Being doctors who see death and suffering so often does make us tough but some incidents like these do break our tough outer layers and touch our hearts and make us cry.

Disclaimer: The kid was not named Aditya. The name has been changed to protect the identity of the child and his family.

Get your story published in The Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul – Indian Doctors at BlogAdda

Finally something from me...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 16:52:00 +0000

Out of the ICU, into the OT (for the past 2 months, and gladly so) I am......ICU is not me, I did not exactly detest it, but nonetheless, I was not myself working in there day in and day out. OT is my home ground.

Of course, after I joined back the OT I have lost a noticeable amount of weight running around the hospital and have started noticing the number of grey hair on my head. But I am back to being myself..in many ways I cannot describe.

Other day in the recovery room, a patient was not doing too good post operatively. exactly the things I don't like in a patient post femur neck surgery...unstable blood pressure, low saturation. I was attending diligently to each complaint from the staff nurse in the recovery while managing my emergency cases in the OT. That was yet another day with missed meals and all the signs of a busy call. At the end of the day, after finishing all my work, the staff nurse came up to me and said very softly, "You are too good Varsha. I was comfortable here in the recovery room just because you around handling that patient and attending to each of my complaints. I am impressed, and now I am your fan!"

Suddenly, this makes all the thoughts of grey hair and the missed meals very insignificant....

This Precious Life....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 04:48:00 +0000

On Thursday night, A called his wife M from office, and told her he will be home late. Few hours later in the middle of the night a stranger called M and told her that he had admitted A, to the hospital with multiple injuries. Few hour later, in the morning, doctors declared to M that they could not save A and he was no more....
Life is so unpredictable.... In the 3 years of their married life, A and M would have made so many plans for their future. A name for their child not yet conceived, the dream car to buy from their funds saved, so that A can use a car to travel to work instead of his bike, the place where they want to build their retirement home. She had probably cooked his favorite dinner that night. But he never came home to relish it. Fate had some other plans for them.....

Life gives you cruel surprises. I guess, we must live each day like its probably the last day of life. Never leave home or go away from your loved ones with a frown or some harsh words...lest you never return to make amends.

Cool...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 14:34:00 +0000

The temperatures in Mumbai are swinging between 18 and 28 degree Celsius...and Mumbaiites are freezing already! The hardly ever used winter ware is out to use!!

The coldest place I have been to is Chandigarh, in early December of 2007, when the temperatures were in single digits. And the open and green city has coldest breezes blowing at night....grrr. Compare that, and the Mumbai winter feels mild and soothing...

I yearn to sit curled up in a blanket, with a book in my lap and a mug of hot tea in my hands. Wow, thats heaven. Husband for company would even be better.

What DO Men want?

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 17:12:00 +0000

sGo to www.myntra.com and check out t shirts for men! Also visit the
largest community of Indian Bloggers at BlogAdda.com

Incidentally my 100th post, thank you!
Never imagined my 100th post will be anything more that "Yay my 100th post". But no, Blogadda has some plan for me! So I put on my thinking cap and though....

I believe that most men want
To be heard out...
....about the day they spent at work, job hiccups, boss bitching (yes you heard that right).

Gadgets...
....need I say more?

To be looked after and even pampered, like their moms did...
....clean home, warm food, hot tea and all they want at hand. With minimal effort. Or just a bit more than minimal effort (lets be fair to them)

A Strong Woman...
....who can fight her own battles. A silly scared girl may be cute (I said MAY be) to some, but most guys want a woman who is strong independent and not a sissy.

Peace of mind...
....no nagging and a mom and wife who can stay with each other with love. Each one has a special place in his life that cannot be replaced by anyone else

To be loved and accepted...
....unconditionally, with the the bald head, with the pot belly and with the sometimes small pay packet.

Freedom...
....to fart, burp, sneeze at any time of the day, in the confines of his home.

Happiness...
....in the eyes of his partner and children.

Appreciation...
....of all that he does for his loved ones. The efforts and the sacrifices.

I am sure there is lot more, all the men out there, tell us what you want. We want to hear you. Women out there, tell me what more men want!

Movie Day

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 16:45:00 +0000

Today was a movie day

First I watched The Lives of Others on UTV World Movies. German movie set in the the late 80s. Excellent movie about the life in East Germany and how it was controlled by the "Stasi". Great direction, casting and screenplay. Read reviews here and a full spoiler story here. Absolutely loved the movie.

Now watching Haapus, a Marathi movie on television. Another nice movie. Reviewed nicely here. Sorry I am bad at reviewing movies, so will pass.

But will highly recommend the movies....

Happy Diwali

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 17:14:00 +0000

Go to www.myntra.com and check out Myntra Diwali Offer. Shop for Rs 500
and get Rs 500 off on your travel with Cleartrip! Also visit the
largest community of Indian Bloggers at BlogAdda.com

I love what Diwali does to the world around!!

Diwali is like a splash of colour on the otherwise sepia landscape of life. The otherwise crowded vegetable market suddenly has dozens of rangoli vendors and earthen lamp vendors. Colourful lanterns made of papers, thermocol, plastic, cloth adorn the bamboo stands. Young of boys run around selling small colourful sky lamps on wooden stands. Chinese rice lamps, electric lights flood the market from nowhere. Local grocery shops also double up as vendors of these special diwali items, diwali sweets and fy faraal, ubtan packets, chocolate and dry friut boxes
I love what Diwali does to the city....faraal shops and stalls, diwali sales. What I do not enjoy much is the noisy crackers. But this year somehow there seem to be less of these. The financial crunch? Possible. But I do love the pretty ones that fly high in the sky and burst into a shower of lights! Last year we had been to marine drive to watch the crackers, this year I watch from home....

This Diwali the cook in me who was comatose for the past two years stirred a little. So she made chivda a week before Diwali, tch tch, wrong timing. Did not last till Diwali. The cook then dreamt a lot and went back into the state of coma. The artist in me who was long dead stirred back to life and bought all possible rangoli colours. Then she also got small cheap plastic boxes to store the colours and methodically stored shades of reds in red boxes, yellows in yellow boxes and like that. Then she made a small not too artsy but neat rangoli outside her home. Then, after laxmi poojan, she went into the state of oblivion. This is what Diwali does to me!

Wish you all a very happy, peaceful, prosperous, fun filled and safe Diwali

This is How You Do NOT Bake a Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 11:36:00 +0000

The Do's, everyone will tell you them, here are the don'ts that I have learn't the hard way, i.e personal experience

1) Don't bake till you have at least once seen someone bake either in real life or on TV or an authentic video. Small Things like how to fill, grease, flour and line the pans are very important.

2) Before you start out, have all your things together. The cookware, the spoons, whips, ingredients, measures....everything in place. My routine cooking is very intuitive. I start cooking, then walk around the kitchen, gather stuff and ingredients while I am cooking and that works fine for me for my roz ka khaana. NP claims I am a great cook, which I believe he says to convince himself and to gear himself to a lifetime of my radioactive cooking. (OK, I am not that bad, but not great either, a little better than average is quite where I am). But baking requires a little more effort than your routine cooking. At least in the beginning. So be well prepared.

3) Read the recipe carefully. Trust those from good books. Sites I am not sure. Cooking blogs are generally good, but do not go by the pics. Awful stuff can look awesome in a few fancy photographs. If a recipe seems complicated, please stay away. Use your intuition before you cook. This is presuming you are a newbie like me (since you have reached so far). Start with simple things first. Like a basic sponge cake.

4) Follow the sequence, yes. But do not take things THAT seriously. Like at the fag end of the recipe they will tell you to drop the mixture in greased and flour dusted tin and put it in an oven preheated for x minutes. No one will tell you that the tin must be greased and dusted before you begin. And by the time you are done the oven better be pre heated. Once the batter is made, it must be baked soon. Leaving it out for long will result in cakes that do not rise enough.

5) The tooth pic/knife/fork test, again do not take it SO seriously, the way I did. Kept poking my cake so often that it looked like a pock marked cake by the time it was fully done! BTW also beware, opening the oven too often during the innumerable fork tests is not good, the heat is lost out.

6) Prepare small portions at the oust. Expect some wastage and failed experiments before working out exactly how much heating your portions, your oven need. My first cake had a charred crust and rest was fine after I literally tore off the crust. Second was absolutely tasteless and charred mess. Third was too dense and sweet but overall not bad. Fourth attempt a year later with previous gyaan was much better but past "burns" made me poke it too often and my cake collapsed and got dense as the poking spoiled the top and let the air inside the baking cake escape.

7) Remember, Fahrenheit and Celsius were two different people with contributions to science similar yet different. So read carefully the temperature stated on the recipe and carry out appropriate conversions. Your oven may still need different temperatures so watch your cake get baked, this is not the time to watch that silly reality show on TV.

8) Finally, whatever you do, whether the outcome is a good cake or a damaged cake, your kitchen will end up smelling like heaven (that is how I imagine it smells), of course unless you char it way too far. And do not get discouraged, its really not rocket science, baking cakes, only practice makes one perfect. So happy trying.

The Irony of Life

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 19:34:00 +0000

When I am busy and neck deep in work, I look forward to being home and setting a lot of things in my life right (read cupboards, kitchen, papers) and giving time for shopping, parlour and my self!

Now I am home but unable to do any of that!! Thanks to conjunctivitis.... No going out in public places....contagious disease. No cleaning cupboards ....one more reason to procrastinate, that I do not wish to contaminate my clean clothes with adenovirus stained hands. Only thing I did religiously was cook.....breakfasts maafed to oversleeping but dinners and lunches, yes I cooked. After real long time.

I must save the recipes of all that I tried.....

Short Story......

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 17:47:00 +0000

Ek haat se do, aur ek haat se lo......likewise ek haat se I wrote the admission paper and doosre haat se wrote the discharge summary of that lady. Not just figuratively!

The lady came with an unbelievable heart rate of 16 beats per minute! And she was talking! Quickly I gathered her history, saw old charts, on duty intensivist came running and we were all set for temporary transvenous pacing. How excited I was, hoping I will be allowed to perform pacing. While the patient's relatives were trying to understand the implications of pacing, especially the financial ones, I sat down to write the admission paper. While I was doing that, the relatives had made their decision and wanted to move the patient to a charitable hospital. So after finishing the admission, my co started filling the discharge summary! Shortest ICU stay ever, with the lowest heart rate I had seen in a person, ever!

Hebra's Circle

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 10:02:00 +0000

Not related actually, Hebra's circle is something related to scabies (ouch, sorry) but then, cannot think of another terminology for these 'events' that happen in a circle. Like the other day, I was thinking about a 'character' I knew from one place about 2 years ago. The very next day, I actually see her at the most unlikely place. Then I was thinking of a blogger who shifted elsewhere and was wondering why she had still not mailed me her new url. Only to find later, four hours later to be precise, her mail in my inbox. Cool eh? So I think of something, and that thing happens, to complete this circle of sorts.

While I was waiting at the bus stop today early in the morning, saw a man alight from an auto. He was in his early thirties. His father (I presume from his age) dropped him, took a turn and went back in the auto. So I presumed (I love presuming things) he had dropped his son to the stop on his way somewhere. What struck me was the extreme thinness of this person. And the fact that his clothes hung about him like a sack. And the fact that earlier in the morning I was appreciating the uniforms of all staff nurses in the ICU and noticed one of them had visibly slimmed after she had her uniform made. Needless to say, she was the junior most on duty. Circle hmnn! Coming back to the slim man, either he was wearing 'handed over' clothes of someone healthier than him. Or had lost 20kgs in his clothes. Later possibility seemed unlikely, he did not look so sick. So, after his father left, he went away from the stop somewhere and a few minutes later, was back with a burning cigarette in his hand. Now nothing pisses me off more that people smoking at public places. Last time my friends and I had met someone like that at a coffee shop, one of my pals had politely told him that the smoke was bothering us and he very apologetically went to another table away from ours. He continued smoking, we cannot stop that, but at least he had the courtesy to keep away. I am not the kind who can tell people that they are bothering me. Not in so many words at least. So I silently tolerated his smoke. But not without giving him dirty looks. Passive aggression! I was also hoping his bus comes real soon, so that he has to drop his cigarette while he has just started smoking. His bus came, when he was almost through the whole cigarette, most of which I choose not to inhale. Prior to boarding the bus, the man dropped his cigarette on the road and did not bother to stamp it out. The bus left and the cigarette was left behind smoldering on the road, people carefully avoiding it. I was tempted to go and snuff the life out of it but refrained....not sure if it would be OK for the sole of my footwear! Plus did not want it to seem like I had thrown that stub! Eew.

Damn it, I hate people smoking on the road and public places.

Meter Jam

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 10:13:00 +0000

Auto, Taxi...you love them , you hate them, you swear at them yet cannot do without them.....

I hate it the most, to ask for an auto ride from Parle east to west. What makes it worse is that I get an auto after at least 10 have rejected (with 7 giving tchs, like I have asked them to try skinny dipping down the Mithi river) Late at night, I understand. But duing the day?! Whats the problem? Traffic? Its everywhere. Plus more traffic is more income, so why complain?!

Another pain is the airport. Try taking an auto from the Airport. To anywhere. Big pain Once a fella fought with me because he had waited 3 hours in the queue and got a "minimum bhada". The other one, when I took him to Ghatkopar from the airport whined that this was way too far, he had waited 3 hours in the queue! Uh?!

I have reduced my auto rides the day the fares increased. Walking is good for me anyway!

But still, I do agree, we cannot do without them. Atleast I cannot. Since I do not have my own vehicle yet.

While we do blame them, there are nice guys too. One kaka near my home I particularly like. One day while on our way to Kurla terminus Nagesh forgot his bagpack with his laptop and SLR camera in the auto. When we realized, the auto had left already. But this kaka, returned back to give us our bag when he saw it in his rear view mirror.

For me, meter jam is almost always on. Bus or a walk. Auto for emergencies only.

But I am game for August 12th, yes!!

Finally Done.....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 08:27:00 +0000

Got admission for secondary DNB in Anesthesiology at Nanavati Hospital, Mumbai. Yay. Work starts from August 2nd.

So now that means...

...no more "what nexts" for 2 years.
...small but steady income for next 2 years.
...Mumbai for next 2 years.
...busy for next 2 years.
...uncertainty postponed for the time being

Its Not Me....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 18:49:00 +0000

...because never have I been filled with any kind of hatred. Leave aside the amount I feel today. Someone tried to hurt my spirit.....suffocate it. The damage was slight, reparable but unforgettable. Unpardonable.

There are these moments.....

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 07:24:00 +0000

...when you are so tired, dying to hit the bed. And when you do, you realise you are too tired to even fall asleep!!

...when you wish you could change the direction in which your life is drifting....

...when things go so well you wonder whats wrong!

...when things go so so well that you need to pinch yourself to know its real.

...when things you are confident of doing well screw up royally and what you fear you won't manage goes fantastically well

...when you wished you looked in your photographs as nice as others look in theirs!!

...when you wished you could shed in a night the pounds you gathered over a year....aargh

Passed...

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 19:19:00 +0000

...my DA exam with 68.66%. First in my class :)

I know it doesn't sound nice but I must thank many people for my success

Nagesh......for being OK with me staying far during my prep leave, for encouraging, for tolerating my tears and many months of tea and toast for breakfast especially when I overslept post calls or post late night studies.

Mom....for encouraging, being my stress buster and tolerating my moods.

Ma In Law....for good wishes, for hey prayers, her support when I was studying and busy neglecting home duties, for tolerating a student bahu

My teachers for guiding, mentoring even scolding and moulding...

My HOD Dr. Iyer and Prof Dr. Indrani for their encouraging feedback during the vivas. Facing the DNB interviews in front of a gang of 4 strangers I realize how important it is to have a familiar face during vivas and times of stress....

My buddies Aditi and Nitin, my partners in studying, my partners for dinners, lunches, teas and for chillaxing during times of stress....

My buddies Kshiteeja and Rashmi for dropping in for destressing, for encouragement, for help during exams in many ways that are beyond words....

Smt. Anagha Lele, Aditi's mom for sending tasty home cooked meals every day for 2 whole months to ease our hostel stay and make it tolerable!

Mumbai Dabbawalas for getting us on time our lunches :D

I may have missed some names now and will edit the post when needed!!

Dissppointment

noreply@blogger.com (Varsha) — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 17:50:00 +0000

Over the past 7-8 years I have developed this knack for handling vivas, its a challenge for me to have one better than the last one. Post ending exams, prelims, university exams......

Today was sort of antithesis, a viva, rather an interview which was not upto my "Varsha Standards". My DA exam viva was good, rocking good actually. This was rock bottom!!

Hope I do better next time.......and seize the next opportunity