Gentian Violet

Rambling which led to a post about feminism

2013-04-20T20:35:00.003+05:30

I'll jump straight to the subject matter of this post, which is....
which is...

which is...

I guess I'll just start rambling, since there seems to be no subject matter :-|

I've been learning driving...if sitting in the driver's seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turn white, instead of actually steering it, and braking at the slightest of flutters in the traffic around you can be called , er, driving! Anyways, it's becoming less stressful and more enjoyable with every passing day.

I've already endured 5 shouted abuses, and 106 disdainful glares from male co-drivers on the Indian roads in my 15 hours spent in the drivers seat so far. Hah, I am sure you can't beat my stats :D Also, not to mention the, uh, *gentle* nudge on the arm I gave to a gentleman with my car. He was quite forgiving about it, so no worries there. I told you no one can beat my stats!

After reading this post, if everyone I know refuses to ride in my car, I'll understand. I would too, in your place.

In other updates, reading about Beyonce's Mrs. Carter World Tour, has had me re watching a lot of her videos, since (sadly) she's unlikely to come to India anytime soon. And also because with the NEET results nowhere in sight, I have a lot of time to waste. Her presence on stage leaves me in sheer awe. Watch this video, if you have a lot of time to waste like me, in order to understand the woman, her prowess, and why feminism suits her so much.

And that brings us to the topic of feminism. Now this is a concept equally loved and hated. Look at these examples:

How difficult is it to understand that feminism DOESN'T mean not hitting a woman back if she hits you. If a woman is out to kill you, yes, you got to save yourself!

I have realized that many men, especially young Indians, have their views on feminism that are somewhat like this: "All women are b@#%$#s. They ruin our lives, they break our hearts, they take advantage of us whenever needed, and they are hardly the hapless beings they portray themselves to be. They always get the easy way out. And then they propagate this feminism! As if we don't have enough to deal with already! They are the last people who need any help in surviving. Because they trample all over us whenever they need to anyways!"

I hear you, I do, but feminism ISN'T about her, that woman who may have manipulated you, taken advantage of you, cheated on you, or whatever they did to you! No! I am sorry if some woman did something bad to you, but that doesn't change or take away what millions of women have to go through, around the world, everyday, at the hands of men.

Read this, and try to understand:


Source: here

You still don't think feminism is needed? Go talk to the next girl you meet, and ask her. No matter how educated and privileged she may be, if she is an Indian, she has probably faced sexual discrimination in at least some form on more than one instance in her life.

Anyways, here's what I need feminism for:

1. Being told, after doing well in a college viva, that it was probably only because I am female and good looking, and the examiner was male.
2. Being told, that it is every girl's duty to excel at household work, while it is derogatory for a male to do the very same household work.
3. Having been eve-teased and groped even before I turned 15.
4. Being scared to use public transport when I am well-dressed and alone.

These are just some of my personal reasons. I am sure millions of women around the world have millions of reasons why they support feminism, most of them much, much more serious than mine. Feminism is justified, and needed. It's time for us to understand and accept that, and stop cracking jokes on the subject.

Moving on, here's a couple of petitions for you to sign regarding the NEET PG case:

Petition 1
Petition 2

Let's all hope the end to this nightmare is near. And let's all hope it doesn't end with yet another nightmare.

I will continue my rambles in the next post, now signing off.

Let me know in the comments your views about feminism, and if you're a girl, any reasons why you may need feminism, or the reasons why you are against it.

My favourite cinematic moments

2013-03-20T23:46:00.002+05:30

I had a great day compiling this list and getting nostalgic about all these movies and watching a ton of YouTube videos. You, however, will need to have some time on hand to enjoy this list.

In no particular order, for your viewing pleasure:

1. "Nobody puts baby in a corner" - Dirty Dancing

The first video is a very poor print but the only one with the dialogue that I could find. Patrick Swayze walks in, pulls Baby out of the corner, mouths the now very famous dialogue, and then goes on stage to make a speech about how she has made him a better man.

For the actual dance sequence, here's another video, better quality. I can't tell you how much I love watching this sequence on just random days and how happy the song makes me. Jennifer Grey (Baby) dances like a dream, and of course there's Patrick Swayze, and do note the moment in the video when he jumps off the stage and proceeds to dance like a God. Need I say more?

2. "I carry your heart" - In Her Shoes

Randomly saw this movie on TV one day, and that's the first time I heard this poem. Unforgettable moment, she does read it very well. Somehow the only good video of this on youtube cannot be embedded.

Click here

3. "And my fear is..." - Stepmom

This has to be the greatest tearjerker ever written in cinematic history. It's definitely my favorite. And yes, never fails to make me cry. The mom who's dying, the stepmom-to-be who's scared, and how they reconcile with each other and their fates. Here they are discussing their daughter's wedding day in the future, when only one of them will be there with her.

4. "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how" - Gone With The Wind

What a thing to say, and what better hero to say it, and what better heroine to say it to! ;)

5. Simba is born - Lion King

One of my very best childhood memories is watching this movie in the theater. Definitely a very special movie. The animation in this particular scene is very grand and awe - inspiring, in true Walt Disney tradition of old.

6. " You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain" - The Dark Knight

The movie that garnered a massive fan base and reached legendary status, starring probably the most loved villain on celluloid in the past decade.And what a fabulous scene. The stuff great superhero movies are made of.

7. "Take off your shirt" - Crazy, Stupid Love

In an equally hilarious and endearing scene, a drunk Emma Stone is determined to sleep with Ryan Gosling after finally breaking up with her not-worthy boyfriend. Of course, any scene where Ryan Gosling is told to take his shirt off was definitely going to come on to this list. Also, if you saw both the videos at the start of this list, you will immediately understand the Dirty Dancing reference :D

8. "I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her" - Notting Hill

A scene which always gets the audience rooting for Julia Roberts. I mean, come on, doesn't it melt your heart? Don't deny it. I also quite love it when Hugh Grant says "buggered" in that perfect English accent.

9. "You see things, and you understand. You're a wallflower" - Perks Of Being A Wallflower

One of the best movies I've seen recently. You know when you watch something and immediately develop this warm feeling and a tiny smile? This was that scene!

10. Boombox scene - Say Anything

You wake up to your boyfriend standing outside your window trying to make up for a fight...like that. <3

11. "The point was I had a sister, and she was fantastic" - My Sister's Keeper

This line has always stayed with me, as has the movie. Family drama and tragedy at it's best.

12. "I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore" - Twilight

There's no denying that some of the lines Stephenie Meyer wrote were very good, and at times those lines actually didn't get butchered by Rob and Kirsten. Anyways, poor acting doesn't stop me from liking the movie. It's irrational, but when you like something, you just do.

Hope you liked my list. And let me know about your favorite scenes in the comments.

Taking stock, post-NEET

2013-03-19T23:14:00.001+05:30

It's been 16 weeks since I gave the NEET. 112 days. Almost one third of a year. No signs of the results coming out anytime soon. Seems surreal to sit and take stock of the number of days that have gone by and the number of useless things one has done with them.

And to think that an entire batch of medical graduates around the nation has been in the same state as me for the past three months; first robbed of a good two months of studying by the preponement of exams, then subjected to a torturous wait for results which have been indefinitely postponed, and an endless series of dates in the Supreme Court with no verdict in sight. I've been happily living in oblivion for the most part, but its finally getting to me. And with each day one steeps a little deeper into self-doubt and misery.

And of course the flow of well-meaning questions from people never stops, always reaching the same exact point: "And what are you doing these days?". Sigh.

To all you well-meaning people: I don't have the energy to answer and explain to you the complicated status of my professional life at the moment. And I don't need to see the judgmental look on your face at the end of my answer.

Anyways, what have I been doing?

Rediscovering myself. Making myself happy. Taking a vacation. Overdosing on romance. (Only in literature and movies, of course. Real-life romance still remains a daydream). Working, and quitting. Sleeping till noon. Earning money. Exploring new music. Shopping. Devouring novel after novel. Forcing myself to watch TV. Learning Paediatrics. Getting better. Getting fitter. Watching Hindi daily soaps.

Living the good life, apparently.

Seems I don't have much to complain about. Clearly the past few months haven't been a total waste. But I think there's only so much time a medical student can go without studying and without sleep deprived nights.

There, I said it.

In the past 6 years I've trained myself, against my will, to live and breathe in all those tomes of medical textbooks all the time. To keep giving exams on repeat. To have my head swimming with diseases all the time. To never have too much time on hand. To never have nothing to do.

So, being suddenly faced with months of nothingness, is downright absurd. The past three months have been weird. Anomalous. There's a strong undercurrent of unease. Like something's about to go terribly wrong. Like this isn't what I am supposed to be doing. That this will all turn out to be a huge prank and then disaster will strike.

Because this isn't how my life was supposed to be. No, not yet. I can't digest so much happiness and so much laziness. Too much of a good thing can kill you. So I'm pretty sure I'm dying soon if the results don't come out.

Never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually starting to miss those textbooks.

Oh, well.

Let me know what's happening to the rest of you, in the comments.

Source: here

10 reasons why I love Taylor Swift

2013-01-21T19:49:00.000+05:30

Yes, I am actually writing this post, with this title. I know. Announcing this to the world is, well, almost like coming out of a closet or something. That's just how controversial and loved and hated, all at the same time, Taylor Swift is.

Anyways, without further ado, here's my 10 reasons:

1. "This is the golden age of something good and right and real" - Taylor Swift, State Of Grace.

2. "We're on the phone and without a warning, I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard" - Taylor Swift, Jump then fall.

3. "All those other girls, well they're beautiful, but would they write a song for you?" - Taylor Swift, Hey Stephen.

4. "You are the best thing that’s ever been mine" - Taylor Swift, Mine.

5. "Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox eating days? / Always a bigger bed to crawl into / Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything / And everybody believed in you?" - Taylor Swift, Innocent.

6. "I can't decide if it's a choice, getting swept away" - Taylor Swift, Treacherous.

7. "Good girls, hopeful they'll be, and long they will wait" - Taylor Swift, Sad Beautiful Tragic.

8. "I don't know how to be something you miss" - Taylor Swift, Last Kiss.

9. "Taxi cabs and busy streets, that never bring you back to me" - Taylor Swift, Come Back, Be Here.

10. "In your life you'll do greater things than dating the boy on the football team, but I didn't know it at fifteen" - Taylor Swift, Fifteen.

And here's some more:

11. "I know I don't always say the right thing at the right time or speak up when I should, but I write it all down. I get my guitar and a pen and all of a sudden, I have a chance to say exactly what I meant to say in real life." - Taylor Swift.

12. " I'm 23 now, but I never stopped jumping up and down when something wonderful happens." - Taylor Swift

13. "I also don't think you should ever take life so seriously that you forget to play." - Taylor Swift.

I mean, how can you not love someone who writes like that? The girl writes like a dream. Quality lyrics are so tough to find in music these days. When was the last time a song made you genuinely smile? And more than just quality lyrics, there's this endearing honesty and innocence in her songs, and somehow, if you've ever been in love, you'll find a Taylor Swift song that is your story. If not, the girl will definitely be writing it in her lifetime, sometime.

I agree she hasn't got the best vocal prowess in the world, but she's learning and improving, and hey, she can sing better than I can, and that's all that matters to me! And she is a wonderful person, she actually wears clothes, she makes millions of girls around the world laugh and cry and fall in love with her everyday. And she writes like that! 'nuff said!

However, if you're still not convinced, here's 10 more reasons for you. These should really clinch it:

1. "He is a loser, he's a bum, bum, bum, bum" - Britney Spears, Criminal.

2. "California girls / We're unforgettable / Daisy Dukes / Bikinis on top / Sun-kissed skin / So hot / We'll melt your Popsicle" - Katy Perry, California Gurls.

3. "Who owns my heart? Is it love or is it art?" - Miley Cyrus, Who Owns My Heart.

4. "Young hunks, taking shots/ stripping down to dirty socks/Music up, gettin' hot / Kiss me, give me all you've got" - Kesha, Die Young

5. "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don't cha?" - Pussycat Dolls, Don't cha.

6. "Come here, rude boy, boy; can you get it up?" - Rihanna, Rude Boy.

7. "You got that hot shit, boy ya blessed/Let me feel up on your chest" - Nicki Minaj, Va Va Voom.

8. "Who run the world? Girls!" - Beyonce, Who Run The World.

9. "I'll just strut in my birthday suit and let everything hang loose" - Bruno Mars, The Lazy Song.

10. "All those other boys try to chase me, but here's my number, so call me, maybe?" - Carly Rae Jepson, Call Me Maybe.

Get the picture? I don't want to hear songs about sex and boys and alcohol and partying like the world is going to end. Ugh. I don't want catchy beats. Give me sappy lyrics and fairy tales anyday. Atleast they make me smile. Yes, Taylor has written some childish and teenagerish songs as well, but I swear even those songs had more substance than all these other ones topping the Pop charts.

I once read a comment on one of her video's. It went like this: "You're living in the age of Taylor Swift, you just don't know it yet." I completely agree. Most of you reading this probably don't know about the girl's achievements at her young age, or her astounding commercial success, or her crazy fan following. I don't even care if she has a hundred boyfriends which she changes every month, as long as she writes an album about each of them. That's how greedy I am for her songs. I know after ten years she is going to be the biggest superstar I knew and loved and grew up with.

I'll end this embarassingly fangirly post with this video, which may help you understand the Taylor phenomenon, and which makes my post seem quite dignified by comparison.Please note that the girl in the video is a TV actress and a famous person in her own right and not just your next fan.

And of course now all of you know who to never, ever, ever make fun of around me, like, ever! :P

My week in quotes

2012-12-27T23:58:00.002+05:30

From the movie Beasts of the Southern Wild :
(I'm sure no one who reads this blog is going to like the movie)

1. Miss Bathsheba: "The most important thing I can teach you? You gotta learn to take care of people smaller and sweeter than you are."
2. Hushpuppy: "When I die, the scientists of the future, they're gonna find it all. They're gonna know, once there was a Hushpuppy and she lived with her daddy in the bathtub."

From the book Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel:
(The book was a wonderful combination of weird and lovely)

1. "In addition to the knowledge of history, we need the understanding of art. Stories identify, unify, give meaning to. Just as music is noise that makes sense, a painting is colour that makes sense, so a story is life that makes sense."
2. “Fiction and nonfiction are not so easily divided. Fiction may not be real, but it's true; it goes beyond the garland of facts to get to emotional and psychological truths. As for nonfiction, for history, it may be real, but its truth is slippery, hard to access, with no fixed meaning bolted to it. If history doesn't become story, it dies to everyone except the historian.”
3. "They settled in one of those great cities of the world that is a world unto itself, a storeyed metropolis where all kinds of people find themselves and lose themselves. Perhaps it was New York. Perhaps it was Paris. Perhaps it was Berlin."
4. "English's drive to exploit the new and the alien, its zeal in robbing words from other languages, its incapacity to feel qualms over the matter, its museum size over-abundance of vocabulary, its shoulder-shrug approach to spelling, its don't-worry-be-happy concern for grammar-the result was a language whose colour and wealth Henry loved."

From the movie The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey:

1. Gandalf: "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure"
2. Gandalg: "The world is not in your maps and books. It is out there"
3. Gollum: "If Baggins loses, we eats it whole"

From the book Memoirs of a Geisha:
(Turned out to be a touching love story rather than the, well, memoirs of a Geisha.Quite enjoyable reading)

1. “He was like a song I'd heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.”

2. "I could no more have stopped myself from feeling that sadness than you could stop yourself from smelling an apple that has been cut open on the table before you.”

From the movie Coraline:
(The animation makes you all wide-eyed, the characters tug at your heart strings, the elements of horror fill you with trepidation but not terror)

This movie doesn't really have any quotable quotes, but here's one:

"It's not real scientific, but I heard an ordinary name like Caroline can lead people to have ordinary expectations about a person."

If anyone actually read all of the above and reached this part, hello to you! And yes, if you're wondering, this probably was the best week of my life! ")

P.S. Thank you for everyone who took the time to reply to the last post. It was good to know something about each of you that, well, wouldn't be so obvious otherwise; when using conventional modes of getting to know each other.

Back with a lot of nonsense ")

2012-12-23T20:23:00.000+05:30

I never thought I would ever let silly things such as life interfere with my writing. Life is supposed to just inspire the writing, hai na? But it did happen. Life did come and interfere. And then the fatigue just caught on. Which then progressed into sheer laziness. Which may have metamorphosed into a writer's block, you know, except that I'm pretty sure those things are entirely fictitious. Because if you are a writer, then you're a writer, no blocks whatsoever. But that's just my opinion.

So what transpired in the interim?
Exams, and studies, and studies, and studies, and books, and deadlines, and exams, and studies, and...

Oh well, after exams there were other things as well: Books, and bad movies, and weddings, and family trips, and babies, and weddings, and social engagements, and music, and doctors, and fake smiles, and weddings, and cakes, and ....

You get the drift?

I should really have some set agendas in mind before I start writing a post, but I never do. So then I get to the middle of the post and insert a totally useless stanza like this one.

But what I'm basically saying is that I'm here and I'm alive, but I just don't feel too talkative. My brain is snoozing, this month. Yeah, it does let out a contented buzzing sound. Only no one except me has heard the sound, as yet.

Aha, and my new favorite pastime during exams was stalking celebs on twitter. Instead of studying. But the moment I actually made a twitter account, all of them just became boring. I swear, at that exact moment. So now my account is dying a slow and lonely death. So please don't follow me on twitter or anything.

And you know how every every single thing becomes extremely tempting during exams, and the moment the exams get over, all you ever do is laze around on your sofa? Does that happen to everyone or is it just me?

Also does anyone else's CPU give them electric shocks? Mine does, currently. No pun intended.

And has anyone ever sprained (strained?) their neck due to over-studying? I HAVE! And it is such a pain in the neck!

...aaaand that completes the list of five random things you didn't know about me. Yes, I was counting. And yes, I cheated in the counting. You're just gonna have to live with that.

Okay, let me make this random thing no. 5: I never cheat. Ever. This was the only exception. I promise!

Now, your turn. In the comments, people. Give me five things I don't know about you. Go anonymous, use pseudonyms. Or well, your own name. Truth, fiction, fantasy, anything. Just make them good. And maybe we will have a fun post out of it next time.

Till then, bye bye. ")

Edit: Forgot my comic.

Source: savagechickens.com

What is it about the rains?

2012-07-23T08:51:00.002+05:30

(Note: This post is basically a really long conversation I had with myself. However, if you ARE reading it, and it isn't raining outside where you are, do not forget to click here, turn up your volume, and let it play in the background while you read)

Rain at the Window by ~magoscuro

What is it about the rain that makes one so happy and lonely and eloquent, all at the same time?

Rainy mornings send sparks of anticipation down your spine, with a tiny secret smile and a light restlessness surging through the body. You cannot deny the feeling that something wonderful is about to happen to you, soon.

There is just something about the cool humid air lightly touching your face, carrying with it those drops of rainwater, and the smell of wet earth thick in your nose, that slows down your heart, exuding an air of calm, and simultaneously takes your mind into an overdrive of sensations. You're thinking all these millions of tiny little thoughts, all so separate and unrelated and yet all intertwined and tangled up; a mess, which you would love to roll about in forever.

There's something that pulls you to the window to look at the world in shades of gray and green, with deep, pensive eyes. Something that makes you want to be so in love and also entirely alone, and just stand still, in time, at that window. No life, no chaos, no deadlines, no rules; no big dreams, no promises, no broken hearts. Just you, your heart, and the rain. And stillness.

The stillness, it lets you concentrate on the pitter-patter of falling drops on the tin roof outside; on the water droplets sticking to the glass panes and then dripping down, slowly, and falling off; on the green leaves on the tree outside, shivering under the barrage of water; and on the lone man walking down the street hugging a parcel to his chest and slouching under a broken black umbrella. All these details, which you would otherwise be blind to, suddenly just seem to draw you in, while the sound of the rain lightly haunts your conscience.

Just what is it about the rain, that makes all your life disappear while it falls, and makes a whole new universe unfold around you, while you look on with the over-awed, uninitiated, eyes of a newborn? What is it that makes all those details in the rain so much more important than your life goals and pressing chores and the next deadline waiting to be met?

And then as soon as the rain stops and the sunshine starts streaming in, it's like you wake up from your dream, and lose all memory of what happened, and go back to the mundane robotics of everyday! It's like some dark magic! Witchcraft! Sorcery! It's like a dream that was given to you only to be woken up from, or a blessing that was given to you along with a fixed, cursed ending.

I can never win, with the rains, try as I may. I can never make them stay. I can never make myself remember and retain how they made me feel. And believe me, I try. I try with all my might, little as that may be. But life always takes precedence in the end, and, sooner or later, the sun always comes up.

Hmpf.

I guess I never will know what is it about those danged rains... till the next time they come around to my window. Then, once again, I will attempt to solve their mysteries.

2012-07-09T22:51:00.000+05:30

Jane Eyre: Book Review and Quotes

2012-07-05T23:22:00.000+05:30

Now see, all my friends probably think I am in hibernation, studying with a crazed obsession or something. But what I HAVE been doing, while cozily cut-off from the word, is reading Charlotte Bronte's classic, Jane Eyre. It's been like a secret sin which I am now owning up to. Also, that is one book ticked off my list.

Talking about the book - it was long, and winding, like most classics are. It was also thoroughly enjoyable, a very much heartening romance, which had much more depth and emotion as compared to Jane Austen's light-hearted and simple tales. The first half of the novel is more of drama, with social commentary and even some elements of a horror story, but as the story advances, it becomes a story of human nature and perseverance, and religion and societal values. But, at the end, more than anything, what you are left with, is a wonderful love story. And a truly filmy one as any good novel would demand, of course.

I felt some minor uneasiness at how religion seemed to rule the lead's, and in fact, all the character's lives, but then, again, that is a reflection of England in those times when this book was written, and the Author's personal beliefs.

Anyone who likes reading, and has a taste for Classics, this book is highly recommended. I am now gleefully looking forward to watching both the TV mini series, and the movie.

Now on to the most important part, some of my favourite quotes from the book:

1. "When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should – so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again." - A very young, and truly amazing Jane Eyre, early on in the book.

2. “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.”- Jane.

3. Rochester: "Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation."

Jane: "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

4. "I must, then, repeat continually that we are forever sundered: - and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.” - Jane

5. “Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour ... If at my convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?” - Jane.

6. “Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns."

7. “They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. "Oh, comply!" it said. "Think of his misery; think of his danger — look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair — soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?" - Jane.

8. “Am I hideous, Jane?
Very, sir: you always were, you know.”

9. “Mademoiselle is a fairy," he said, whispering mysteriously.”

10. “I loved him very much - more than I could trust myself to say - more than words had power to express." - Jane.

11. “You, Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own.”- Mr. Rochester

12. “When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart.”- Mr. Rochester.

13. “You are my sympathy - my better self - my good angel; I am bound to you by a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely; a fervant, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you - and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

14. “You are going, Jane?"

"I am going, sir."

"You are leaving me?"

"Yes."

"You will not come? You will not be my comforter, my rescuer? My deep love, my wild woe, my frantic prayer, are all nothing to you?"

What unutterable pathos was in his voice! How hard was it to reiterate firmly, "I am going!"

"Jane!"

"Mr. Rochester."

17. “Reader, I married him.”- Jane.

:)

Home

2012-07-04T11:39:00.001+05:30

Growing up, home was a crowded place. So many people; so many adults, so many children. So many girls.

We children lived in an alternate universe. The adults did all their adult things, while we played, and laughed, and cried, and ate and slept, and told stories, and heard stories, and played "ghar-ghar" endlessly. We went to the library in droves, and lived for the Sunday Morning cartoons on Doordarshan. Home was all we knew.

Home was where you always had your parents. They were often busy, but they were also always there, somewhere, around, and nearby. And that was all we needed to know.

Home was where Mom told us bedtime stories. Highly anticipated and eagerly awaited, those stories were what shaped us and molded us, I think, in retrospect.

Home was a lot of schoolbags, and lunch boxes, and water bottles, and brown paper covered books. Home was also where we lined up to get our hair braided in two braids with ugly green ribbons wound into them every morning.

Home was long waist length hair, well oiled through the week, and washed on Sunday Mornings.

Home was our favorite Sunday Mornings, with TV, and no school.

Home was reading every story in the English textbook in the summer vacations itself, before school reopened, and skipping all the poems.

Home was the shoe flower tree in the backyard, and the jamun tree in the garden beyond. Also, the squirrels, birds, flowers, fruits, chameleons, insects, fruit-stealing-men, jamun-collecting-escapades, and everything else that came along.
Home was space, and sunshine. Large, large windows, with the sun always streaming in. Wintry morning chills, and the perfect view outside the windows. Sitting over the window sill, your feet hanging down the grill, in the pouring rain. Home, was gorgeous.

Home was love, and family. Sunday lunch on the floor, and then dinner, and stories, and joy. Home was pressure-cooker cakes and spaghetti meals and steaming pav bhaji. Hot food, matke ka paani, that was always home.

Home was pouring milk into the kitchen sink and hiding rotis behind the dustbin.

Home was adopting stray kittens and puppies and making them sick with unhealthy food.

Home was where butterflies frequently flew in and honeybees sometimes tried to build hives.

Home was also awkward birthday wishes, and squabbles, and tears. Home was cat fights and shouting matches and temper tantrums.

Home was fighting against destiny and then accepting it.

Home was where first pets were brought and loved and lost. Home was where Barbies and Amar Chitra Kathas were collected and treasured and eventually given away.

Home was sisters' tête-à-têtes, late into the quiet of the night. Whispered conversations, shared philosophy, and muffled giggles.

Home was the chaos of the evening when Daddy came home, the quiet of the morning when Mom bustled in the kitchen. The shouts in our ears when we slept away the summer holidays, and the light poking our eyes when our blankets were pulled away.

Home was snuggling under blankets in the AC on summer nights. Home was rented VCRs and very fairly divided "foreign" chocolates.

Home was being afraid of the dark, forever and ever, and then one fine day, just becoming unafraid.

Home was solace, and solitude, and peace, and comfort.

Home was also the groaning swing, and crumbling ceilings, the peeling paint, the leaking taps, and the squeaking doors.

Home was religion, and home was principles. Home was knowledge, and education.

Home was where we left our nests, and flew away, as our parents watched proudly.

And home is where we assemble, ever so often, and then everything is just the same.

Home is home, and there's only one of it's kind, the only place we will ever call home.

Why do we fight?

2012-06-11T18:41:00.001+05:30

For the first time ever, this blog is going to see a post written for solely one purpose.

Venting.

Be warned, and stay away.

Growing up, I was always someone who prided herself over not fighting with anyone, not indulging in cat fights. I always wondered why girls around me fought so much. But then, things were simple back then. I never cared about anyone or anything so much, as to fight, I suppose.

(Though there was that one incident in primary school, a fountain pen war. Don't know what that is? Let me explain. It involves blotting ink over each other's faces (you and your enemy) and white school uniforms, then bursting into loud tears in a classroom full of 100 students, then being reprimanded and sent to the washroom to clean up. And the most embarrassing part? Having to go to the wash room with your then arch enemy! And being the only one in floods of tears! Oh well. I think it's time to stop talking about repressed childhood memories)

Moving on to adulthood, how is it that we always find ourselves in a constant struggle for one-upmanship? We're always gossiping, backbiting, taking advantage, backstabbing, fake smiling, putting on shows of friendship, competing, killing, climbing the ladder, and trampling over people. We're cursing and howling and abusing and slapping and disowning best friends and swearing lifetime oaths of enmity. Think, look around, we are, most of us. We always are. In some way or another. And most of us enjoy it. We call it being 'street-smart'. The poor few who don't, are just thrown to one side and left in that corner. With a lot of fake smiles coming their way. And a couple of pitiful "Oh, she's so sweet!"s to boot.

What I fail to understand, is that how does the person you once thought would be your BFF, turn into a person you can't see eye-to-eye with about even one single thing? I mean, HOW does that happen? What happened to the person who was there in their place before? What happened to the person I was five years back? What happened to that long phone call years ago when we both cried into the handsets and helped each other deal with life's troubles? What happened to the pinky swears? What happened to fighting with the world, for each other? What happened to always having a friend you can count on? Sigh.

I've recently gained a highly cynical world view, and am starting to doubt whether real, uncluttered, friendship without agendas even exists anymore. There's nothing much going on to renew my faith, right now.

I think in the end, we all fight because of one root cause. We all want to be loved, and appreciated. (It's either that, or money. Let's work with the former, for now). And we're ready to do anything for that little bit of love. In the process, we forget that we are cancelling out our original cause, by fighting and doing all that we do. We become unworthy of that same love.

John Mayer once sang: "If you want more love, why don't you say so?".

We should all just say so.

On another note, more unwanted gyaan for you: The best way to judge a person, if at all you want to, is to see how they fight. (Of course, there's also that ancient piece of wisdom, "Judge a man by how he treats his inferiors". But I think the piece of gyaan I just discovered is much better).

Judge someone when they are fighting. You're angry, ready to fight, guns ablazing, you want to prove your point, and insult the opposite person, at all costs. That is the best time to forget all your etiquette, dignity, and basic self-respect, and start hurling every swear word you know at whatever person/thing you choose to bestow them upon. People lose all sense of what's happening, and what's being said, what's being done, they lose perspective. What no one realises in the heat of the moment, is what they are doing to themselves and the opposite person, by fighting. The slightly sensible ones, tend to regret everything that happens during a fight, later. But by then it's done, and irreversible.

Losing yourself to anger is by far, the ugliest thing a person can do. Never fails to show the very, very worst in that person. There are few who can keep a sensible head in place, and fight/argue with some rational logic and without letting their anger get a hold on them. And even fewer are those who choose to walk away from a fight.

I have profound respect for all such people. Sadly, they are a very, very rare species.

And what about me, in all this, you ask? Well, I have my highs and lows. Best moments and worst. Sometimes more of the worst. I am never afraid to apologize, though. That's what keeps me sane, and going.

Also, sometimes it turns out all you need is a blog, to keep you sane and going. Spout things out on poor unsuspecting readers. In-house therapy. Always works wonders.I am now finally smiling after a long, draining day.

For you (loyal readers, who never fail to lift up my spirits), I quote, once again, Taylor Swift:

"I love you like I love sparkles and having the last word. And that's real love."

On that blog-happy note, this is goodbye.

:)

My list of books to read before I die

2012-06-05T15:33:00.000+05:30

Compiled from various internet articles, bestseller lists, and your recommendations. This list is a work in progress. I am publishing it here for those of you who may be interested. Of course, it only consists of books which I have not yet read.

Entering medicine has dampened my once voracious appetite for fiction, and this list will push me to keep reading good literature, in the little time I can afford, which is all otherwise spent trolling the internet and watching rom-coms.

In no particular order:

1. A Room With A View, E.M.Forster
2. If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things, Jon McGregor
3. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
4. Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham
5. 1984, George Orwell
6. The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
7. A House For Mr. Biswas, V.S.Naipul
8. Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Rilke
9. Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
10. The History of Love, Nicole Krauss
11. The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro.
12. Mein Kampf
13. The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
14. To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
15. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
16. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
17. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
18. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
19. A Song Of Ice and Fire (series), George R. Martin
20. The Longest Trip Home: A Memoir, John Grogan
21. The Complete Calvin and Hobbes, Bill Waterson
22. A Short History of Nearly Everything
23. Brief History of Time, Stephen Hawking
24. At Swim-Two-Birds, Flann O'Brien
25. Atonement, Ian McEwan
26. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
27. Kafka On The Shore, Haruki Murakami
28. Fifty Shades Trilogy, E L James
29. On The Island
30. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
31. Water For Elephants, Sara Gruen
32. The Hunger Games, Susan Collins
33. The Scent Of Rain And Lightning, Nancy Pickard
34. Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace
35. A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway

36. And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos- John Berger
37. Unbearable Lightness Of Being, Milan Kundera
38. The Night In Lisbon, Erich Maria Remarque
39. The Shadow Lines, Amitav Ghosh

40. The Sea, John Banville

Pointlessness

2012-05-02T16:20:00.000+05:30

Statutory Warning: I want to write today, but I don't have any clear topic in mind, so I'm just going to run with it. Expect a lot of nonsense and many pointless sentences.

Trying to strike a balance between everything you want to do, and everything you're supposed to do, is so difficult. And I seem to spend almost all my life caught up in this struggle.

New word I just read:
'schmaltzy': Excessively sentimental.
Hah.
(No, that cannot be used to describe my writing style. No! Why would you suggest that?)

I'm finding I don't really miss my college or internship too much. And I'm finding that sometimes, I actually enjoy studying. That occurs more often than not when the studying is to be done without deadlines, but sometimes it's the killer deadlines that make all that studying fun. Both have their own charm, so to say. (Yes, here I am, waxing eloquent about mundane things such as studies).

Having watched Avengers, I have two things to say: 1) Mark Ruffalo, you have a brand new fan, and, 2) I am thoroughly bored of the let's-destroy-this-great-big-city-and-all-those-tall-towers-with-these-huge-ugly-monsters routine that Hollywood keeps repeating in every movie climax (D-wars, Transformers, etc.) (Yeah well, D-wars was a Korean movie or something, not Hollywood. I know!) (Yes! I saw it! Stop staring!).

Funny pointless drawing from here for your entertainment. I placed it in the middle of the post for no reason.

Then I went and saw Vicky Donor. Let me tell you all about that.

It was better than quite a few Hindi movies, that much I can say. The lead, Vicky Donor, has a sperm count of '110 million' or so I caught in the movie, while the normal sperm count is 20 million. So he is an Aryan male, the man of mans, etc. So far, so good. My favorite character is Vicky's Punjabi mom. As the movie progresses, and as Vicky keeps on donating his sperm and blessing more and more infertile couples with babies, however, I grow more and more restless.

I start thinking about how the babies will all have his genes and then about how this is such fertile ground that can lead to consanguinity and inbreeding and mess up the genetics of the entire human race and so on. Yes, I tend to dramatize things a lot. Basically, my mind takes a wild scary ride. And at the end of the movie, we are shown that there are a total of 53 babies, born with Vicky Donor's sperm, who come together to celebrate the infertility clinic's 25th anniversary. And all, all I can think of, all that is running through my mind constantly, is this: "What if the kids' families became friends at this stupid party, and then they grew up, and what if some of them wanted to marry each other? How is this sperm donation thing even legit? Oh God. Why did I study medicine? Now I can't even watch a movie in peace..."

Then I reach home, it's almost midnight, and yet I HAVE to sit up and start researching sperm donation rules and regulations, just to reassure myself that such things aren't happening in the real world out there. It seems every country has different sets of regulations and sperm donation banks and agencies also follow their own rules. Also there's no mention of any such rules and regulations in India. So then I just go to sleep.

In other updates, I've been spending my days listening to the Bee Gees song Stayin' Alive. I may be a bit late in discovering this song, I know. It's just one of those songs that's been made solely to get stuck in your head and then stay there forever.

Here's some gyaan you didn't ask for:
It's funny how man is so proud of even his smallest achievements, and seems to forget about how much more there always is, to be done, and to be achieved.

And then some observations about myself:
I love spending days all by myself, switching off my phone, talking to no one, cutting off from the world, studying at my own pace, or not even studying, cooking, reading, watching bad movies. That's the good life. Also, I am lazy. Even while playing games on my phone, I am lazy. The games I like to play don't require me to do much work. Anything which requires even a wee bit too much of brain usage, I just get rid of it or ignore it. For example, people's birthdays. I never try to remember them. And sometimes, I even see their birthdays on Facebook and don't wish them. I mean, what's the point, right? I hope you get me. So now you know from whom not to expect birthday wishes on your birthday. That's done then.

I can't remember anything else I want to write about.

I do remember a question I want to ask. This is for all of you who like reading. If you had to recommend one (or three) books I should read before I die, which would they be? You have to let me know. I could be dying tomorrow! LEAVE A COMMENT!

Bye bye.

New perspective

2012-03-07T21:23:00.000+05:30

This has been mainly an internship chronicles blog this past year, and yesterday I completed the last day of my medical internship. (At this point, we all shall stop whatever we are doing and get up from our chairs and do a mini-jiggly-crazy dance. 20 secs. Yes! Good. Everyone should dance in honor of me completing my internship!)

It's been a memorable year, in more ways than one, that much I can say. And no, I am not shutting down this blog, this isn't a farewell post, so stop worrying about that.

This is just a post which has no direction, as of now.

But a few things I have realized this last year. Kind of like acquiring some new gyaan, and looking at the world with a new perspective.

Glasses by ~Bardouv

For example, I learnt that nothing quite matches the feeling of simple satisfaction you get after a long day at work. But also that not all people get that feeling.

That one should always turn to chocolate in times of need; on bad-hair days, and otherwise.

That friends are often overrated. People grow up and change and drift apart. They fight and they hold grudges and they bite. However, at times, you do make that genuine, unconditional, plain and simple friend, who is your friend for absolutely no reason or purpose, other than being a friend. Don't forget to hold on to that person.

That sometimes, not pushing yourself to your limits, and just doing what pleases you, also works wonders. That it's too much effort to spend every waking minute being hard upon yourself.

That talking, in general, to anyone, about anything, is not really my thing.

That being taught well is a privilege you don't often get, even after five and a half years in medical "school". So those rare teachers that you come across, one should remember to respect them and to thank them.

That there are two ways you can command respect from the people around you. Either you force them to give it to you, by virtue of your seniority, or you earn it, by virtue of your knowledge and conduct.

That even after all my pessimism, at the end of the day, I love my profession.

That writing, is my thing. My person. My backup. My hiding place. My safe place.

The best part about last year about last year has been this blog. .

That reading good poetry is one of the greatest joys in my life. It's almost miraculous how some arrangements of words can be so beautiful.

That in the end, very few things matter. But knowing what does and what doesn't, that's the clincher.

That time wasted, doing what you love, is never time wasted. Yes, that thing people always said, it was true.

That sometimes in life, we discover too late the things we truly love and the things that truly matter. And yet, there's enough joy in just the discovery itself, to make everything okay.

That, when things get bad, it's best to just turn off the lights, curl up under a cozy quilt and sleep everything off.

That, you never know when, and where, and how, you may bump into people who will change the entire course of your life, in a matter of time. And that you can never be prepared for them.

That there aren't really many pre-emptive measures in life, they're there only in medicine.

That anonymity and fame, can never both be acquired together. Sooner or later, you have to choose one.

That everyday is a new opportunity to be better.

That nothing in the world is quite like a good love story.

That being able to ignore people is a superpower like no other.

That it takes bravery to be able to sing like no one is hearing, and dance like no one is watching.

That I am not very brave, except with words.

That I can turn any post into a long philosophical ramble, with no head or tail, and publish it here.

That people will still be around to read this kind of stuff.

That I am bad at closing lines.

That....well...that's that.

The women (in music) are here!

2011-12-20T21:04:00.000+05:30

Since a long time now there has been a dearth of good female musicians, the key word here being good, across various genres of music. International pop music was dominated by female artists who seemed to be in the business solely to sing along on auto-tune and make videos in skimpy clothes (or so a friend has told me many times).

I mean, of course there are good female voices out there, but most of the time they're just turned into and/or drowned out by the cacophony of manufactured pop acts out there, with plastic faces, singing meaningless party lyrics and grooving obscenely in videos, while repeating variations what is known as 'the pop chorus' - which basically includes some random rhyming words. (Katy perry, Britney Spears, Rihanna, Miley Cyrus, Nicki Minaj....and well many more I don't care to find out about).

And now, well finally, finally, this past year, I have found female musicians I truly admire. With real talent, powerful vocals, meaningful lyrics, and looks that no one cares about, these women have broken into the music scene and changed the current scenario, and won many hearts and ears.

To start off the list, there is only one woman I must talk about, Adele. I mean, her voice has to be heard to be believed. And such powerful lyrics to go. Wiki tells me her latest album 21 has spent 11 consecutive weeks at number one in the UK, the longest ever by a female solo artist on the UK albums chart.

Adele

With 'Someone like you' I think she just outdid herself. I don't think heartbreak and vulnerability has ever been described better in a song. Don't let her vocal range put you off though, some may say she screams a lot. I happen to like the screaming. But this particular song has a couple of versions where she has varied pitches. I doubt there are many artists who can do that kind of a thing.

She hasn't even come up with that many videos for her songs, most of them are just live recordings of her singing in that magnificent voice. Other songs I would recommend are 'Rolling in the deep', 'Set fire to the rain', and 'Daydreamer'. This lady is made for great things, is already a legend in her own right, and I cannot wait to hear more of her music, while of course, listening to her older songs every single day.

Florence + The Machine

Then we have yet another English artist, Florence and the machine. She first shot to fame last year with their song 'Dog days are over' and to be honest, I didn't like her too much then. But now, with 'Shake it out' she has my full attention. With fantabulous lyrics like 'I am done with my graceless heart/ So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart' I don't know why I should listen to any of the other pop trash out there. Her music has been variously classified as 'mystical pop' or 'rock' and well I don't care much about the classifications.

I have been exploring more of her music, and I realize all the critical acclaim she is receiving isn't unwarranted. 'No light, no light', and 'Leave my body' are other songs by her you should check out. Though all her music may not appeal to me, there is undeniable talent here.

Lana Del Rey

Another singer I have discovered just a couple of days back is Lana Del Rey. So far, the only thing I know about her is that her music is ethereal and addictive. Listen to 'Video Games'. I haven't been able to stop listening since a week now. Don't get distracted by how she looks. She is the only good looking singer on this list. That track however may not appeal to everyone with its lazy meandering pace. Other tracks you should check out are 'Born to die' and 'Blue jeans'. This singer is just starting off, but there is something special here, no doubt about that.

Last on this list is the very (in)famous Lady Gaga. She has single-handedly transformed the International Pop scene, bringing in good quality music, infusing a new lease of life into music videos, and changing concepts of fashion forever. High time you stopped making fun of her and started respecting her. Have any doubts about her vocal prowess and let the song 'You and I' dispel them. I don't think I will ever be able to get over that song. Her music, in general is very get-stuck-in-your-head type and very danceable-to. And who doesn't love a great dance track? Her other songs I would recommend are 'Bad Romance', 'Telephone' and 'The edge of glory'.

Lady Gaga

Her lyrics may be obscene at times, but I assure you they are never dumb. Sample this: 'I don't wanna think anymore/ I left my head and my heart on the dance floor' (on Telephone). She doesn't look that good but hides the fact extremely well with her various get-ups. She has created an identity and an image for herself, which helps a lot to set herself apart and succeed in the otherwise sick frenzy of female pop artists out there. For that, I admire her. And well, as she herself proclaimed in one of her songs: 'I'm a freak, baby' (on Bad Romance), maybe we should just accept that and move on. Her videos are always such brilliant works of art, though often bordering on unwatchable. But listening to her music always feels good. In a bad way. Yeah.

Do let me know if there are any female artists currently making music that you really admire. Here's to hoping more of good music and more of female dominance over this world. Hah. Ladies and gentlemen, sit up, and listen. The women are here.

Conversations from Psychiatry

2011-12-07T20:17:00.001+05:30

I have only a short post for you, since I only attended parts of my already short Psychiatry rotation.Other than that, do let me know what you all have been up to, how are your rotations going, and for my co-interns, how bad is the exam fever?
--------------------------

An ongoing discussion about various ways in which funds can be used by the department.

J: Sir, we can get carrom boards in the wards for indoor patients, some entertainment for them. Both the side rooms are empty only most of the time. We can keep it there.
Y: Yes, that's a good idea, but who will take responsibility for taking care of the carrom boards, that is the question.
P: Oh yes, always good to entertain the patients. Tell me, is the TV in our ward working?
J: Yes sir, the one in the male ward is working, the one in the female ward isn't.
P: Okay, don't you people want to install a treadmill in the ward? Let's get a treadmill. All you junior doctors can work out on it, patients can work out on it, good for everyone.
J: <Says nothing>
J: (trying again) We should get some games for the patients to play and pass time. We can get something like playing cards.
P: Yes, let's get them Tarot cards.
Me: <mouth hanging open>
J: Sir, the psychotic patients will make predictions with the Tarot cards and become even more psychotic.
P: Yes, that should be great.
J: (looks at where I am sitting) All you interns, please go sit in the next room.

{J=Junior Doc
Y=Unknown in pyramid
P=Senior doc
Me=Bottom of pyramid}
-----------------------------

Intern: (Shouting in the ward for a patient) ABC, ABC... ABC kaun hai?
X: Haan ji, yahaan hoon.
Intern: Aapka khoon nikalna hai, chalo so jao.
<proceeds to collect blood>
Intern: <handing over a bulb> Issme Urine collect karke table pe rakh dena.
X: Theek hai Doctor sahab.

<Intern goes and starts studying>

<After some time>

Sister: INTERN, INTERN!!!

<Everyone gets scared and looks at each other>

Intern: <bravely gets up and goes out> Yes, sister. Kya hua?
Sister: <gives murderous look>Why did you collect the patient's relative's blood? And Urine also!!!
Intern: But, but, I was calling for the patient, and he came!
Sister: But, don't you know admitted patients are in hospital clothes?
Intern: But...
Sister: But what?
Intern: <shuts up and goes to collect the patient's blood now>

{Yeah, this story wasn't even related to psychiatry. But it happened during my Psyche rotation. You will have to just grin and bear it.}
-------------------------

I have had this love-hate relationship with Psychiatry since I joined MBBS. As a subject, it has always fascinated and intrigued me to no end. All the oppurtunities the field brings, to people-watch, and psychoanalyze, and counsel (which very ironically I think I would be good at, believe me or not!) had me in this excited state for a couple of years, and I seriously thought that this is what I would get into. But then, my family explicitly forbade me to even consider this an option, and gradually I realised the field is very sidelined in India, with most people looking down upon Psychiatrists as well as their patients.

But then, I was faced with an even bigger problem. I could not find a single Psychiatrist who would command some respect, in the professional sense, and in the way they conducted themselves. I found no one I could look up to. And I looked. But all of them seemed to have issues. When they came and conducted lectures for us, the lectures were huge embarrassments. None of them seemed to treat their own profession with respect and/or like a science. Disheartened, I gave up.

I know, I'm probably sounding like a demented snob right now. But I have nothing else to blabber about so bear with me. I eventually decided Psychiatry would not be a good career choice for me.

But then, during this rotation, I think I may have finally come across a sane Psychiatrist who commands some respect. Not too sure though. Let's see.

I love you, blog.

2011-11-19T11:19:00.001+05:30

Writing by *dybern

Yes, this post was written just to say that.

I love you, blog. You're the most amazing thing I got.

You always know how to set things right, and you help me whenever I feel lost. You let me say whatever the hell I want to, no judgement. I don't know what I would do without you. Life just wouldn't be the same. So if sometimes I don't talk to you for days on end, you shouldn't worry. I can never desert you. And I would never desert you.

Like Taylor Swift once said, you're the best thing that's ever been mine.

Thank you, blog. I love you.

Tearing through the night (Part III)

2011-10-30T19:30:00.000+05:30

- Written by Dr M.

Tearing through the night (Part I)
Tearing through the night (Part II)

After much manipulation and struggling, when Dr M managed to pull down the cervix, he saw a full thickness tear on the left lateral cervical wall, along the whole of the vaginal part of cervix, about 5 - 6 cm in length. He had never seen a cervical tear before in his life. Definitely not a full thickness one like what he was seeing. He now wonders for a while how he can repair the tear in his current situation. The cervix is no more continuous, no more cylindrical. Tear is too small a word to describe the magnitude of the injury. Rupture can come close, perhaps. Dr M demonstrates the tear to the nurse and explains to her that repairs of such injuries should ideally be done in the OT, with anesthesia, good light, proper retraction and most importantly, by an obstetrician. He then tries to just pack the vaginal vault, and wait for hemostasis, but the patient continues to bleed profusely. She must have bled at least a liter of blood by then. She looks pale, shivering, pulse 90 and thready, but BP is stable at 110.

Second pint of RL is dripping through the small blue scalp vein now. The nurse becomes presyncopal looking at all the blood and sits down on the floor. This is the second time she has become dizzy that night, as the patient continues to drench many a dupatta with blood. The nurse once again asks anxiously, the same question that she has asked multiple times that night: "Sir, you will be able to stop this, right?” Dr M's answer to that has now changed from a strong and confident 'yes' to a small, hopeful 'yes'.

He requests the nurse to call the senior in-charge, it is 12am. After repeated pushing of the redial button, the senior answers the call, and Dr M explains the situation and says that he can attempt to close the cervix but he may not be successful and without proper retraction it would be very difficult. Dr M gets the green signal. But then, he already knew he would, which is why he had called the senior at this hour. Who would not allow a repair at this stage, when the patient is actively bleeding to the extent of going into shock, at midnight, and at a place from where transportation to a higher center was impossible? Dr M just required this permission so that he was in the clear if anything went wrong, and he got it. Perfect timing, he thinks. Dr M is now relieved.

Dr M jokingly asks for a gown. He is amazed when they actually bring one. He changes his gloves, of course the gloves are also being reused after 'autoclaving'. As he puts on the gown, the lights go out. A single tube light at the patient's head end starts to ionize the gas inside it. This still means it is dark at the working end of the patient. Dr M always carries a torch in his pocket; it has other uses as well. This was not the first time the torch had come in to save the day. Few months back it had helped in a taxi delivery at his parent hospital. Dr M uses the needle holder to remove the No 0 chromic catgut, holding the round bodied 3/8th circle needle. He rubs the 40cms of the thread with isopropanol based solution and keeps it aside. The peon holds the torch, the nurse holds the Sim’s and AV retractor, the assistant holds the sponge holder and volsellum attached to the torn ends of the distal most cervix, the mother-in-law holds one of the patient's leg onto her chest while the other leg is held by the patient herself.

Dr M still isn't able to visualize the apex of the tear as the retraction is insufficient, he can barely see the tear at all. He adjusts the retractors again and asks the nurse to hold still and give fundal pressure to cause descent of cervix; it works to some extent. He takes the sponge holder in his hand and gives the first bite to the anterior end of the tear, exchanges the sponge holder for the volsellum and finishes off the first suture with three throws. As he starts to readjust the retractors and forceps, the assistant pulls on to the volsellum too hard and unknowingly takes a part of cervix along with her. New bleeding point. Luckily this is easily visualized and closed with a single interrupted suture. Dr M continues to toil, trying very hard not to shout at the nurse. How does one not learn how retractors are to be held, he wonders. After the second suture, Dr M's right hand starts to ache. He had fractured one of his metacarpals in a boxing match few days back, remembering that match brings back good memories. After the 5th suture at the distal most part, there is no more active bleeding. It is 1:00am now. The patient hasn't passed urine and her bladder feels empty on bimanual exam. He orders a pint of NS after the RL and then leaves, saying "We will wait for 15mins to confirm hemostasis".

As he waits in the gown sans the gloves, he chats with his colleagues about the events that ensued. They make him realize that he has forgotten about the infant, and that feeding hasn’t been initiated. They wonder for how long the infant can survive without the first feed. The mother is hypovolemic and in too much pain to begin feeding. There is nothing he can do at the moment. Dr M looks down at his brown leather shoes, there are blood stains over them. All his attire is in shades of brown that night. Auburn colored pants, dark brown belt and buff brown shirt. He is regretting not clearing his shoes from the path of blood.

He goes back to check on the bleeding, there is none. To be safe he wants to pack it with tampons. Tampons this time are recovered from the floor. They are previously used ones, and have been soaked in phenol and then Betadiene. Phenol came into the picture when the nurse confused phenol for Betadiene and poured some over them instead of Betadiene. Dr M is forced to use those phenol drenched tampons anyways, since he has nothing else to pack the vault with.

Dr M is reminded about the Pepsi he had bought by the peon. He goes to the refrigerator located in the dispensary and has half of it. 20 minutes later the tampons are removed and they are soaked in blood. So they start exploring again. Dr M decides to take few more stitches even though the patient begs him not to. Every time retractors are placed she winces in agony. Two relatives are now required to hold her down. Dr M picks up the catgut, it has dried up and there is no more solution left to wet it. With great difficulty he maneuvers it through the tissues in spite of the great deal of friction. He applies two more sutures and that’s as far as he can go. He knows for a fact that a 100% hemostasis will require going up to the apex, something that is out of the question in his situation. So he stops. There is still some minimal bleeding for which there is nothing he can do except pack the vault again, with used tampons and cotton ie. He allows moving the patient out of the labor room and prompts her to initiate feeding, and starts a pint of DNS as well. The infant takes up feeds well. Dr M removes the gown which he was told will be reused in the future. He doesn’t ask how it would be washed or sterilized, he knows the answer. As everyone retires to their beds, Dr M goes back to his cell phone, searches for causes and prevention of cervical tears. He wants to know if he went wrong somewhere. Turns out there was nothing much he could have done to prevent the tear, except maybe he could have been harsher to the nurse and assistant for their fundal pressure practice. Another breath of relief and then Dr M too retreats to his bed at 3:30am.

In the morning, his alarm will ring at 6:10am but he is up a few minutes before that. Soon he goes and checks on the patient. Subjectively she is fine and so is the infant. He can't examine her without the nurse present. She is sleeping, so he goes off to stroll in the farms nearby, looks at the sunrise and thinks to himself "This is a day that follows a night of no losses, no regrets. It was a great night, perhaps the best till date".

When the nurse wakes up, they go to examine the patient. The packing is soaked in blood but that is it, no active bleeding at all, and the most satisfying part is that she has passed good amounts of urine. The infant too has passed both urine and stools by now and OPV is administered. Dr M writes puerperal orders and generous analgesics and antibiotics to cover all the infections he can think of. He waits for the senior doctor to arrive and give him the thumbs up to leave. He gets done with one bottle of Pepsi and opens the other. At around 8 am, another patient in labor comes in. Gravida 4 this time, with contractions every 5minutes. Within half an hour she is done delivering, very uneventfully that too. Very vanilla. Good for the patient, as there isn’t a single unused piece of equipment left at the centre. Between then and 10am, two other patients come in with vague complaints, then turn out to be UPT postive. Coincidence? Whenever Dr M thinks about coincidence, the words of Dr Sheldon Cooper flash before him: "Coincidence is for those who don't understand the law of large numbers".

Tearing through the night (Part II)

2011-10-29T20:30:00.000+05:30

Tearing through the night (Part I)

The new nurse panics and requests Dr M for a referral or to at least call the senior in-charge. Both are politely denied. Another dose of Nifedipine goes in, and the increase in duration and frequency of contractions is reassuring. Dr M at this point consults his colleagues. But he has already decided to accelerate the events of labor. He thinks about artificially rupturing the membranes but then decides against it and is fixed on only stripping them for now. He starts creating a partograph of the data he has gathered. Graph makes it obvious that the labor is progressing normally, but what bothers Dr M is that it will take another 2-3 hours at this rate. By 9:45pm, the cervix is fully dilated. Dr M now approaches the relatives, explains the high risk and the chances of poor prognosis to them, and that referral is required urgently. Of course, he knows very well that they will not agree to it, now that she is so close to delivering, no matter how near the referral centre is or how the grave the patient can become. The same was presented in writing and without hesitation they signed the high risk/poor prognosis write up. A grin appears on Dr M's face, it grows in size as he turns away from the relatives and walks towards the patient. Dr M is now getting all the action he hoped for at the start of the night.

Dr M swabs the perineum, albeit not liberally on account of limited betadiene that is left, introduces two fingers and gleefully strips the membranes off the lower uterine segment.

Back at his table, Dr M is approached by the peon who offers him food from his own house. By the time Dr M realized it was time for food, everything around had closed down, so he had been prepared to fight the MMC that would eventually come to trouble him. But of course Dr M couldn't turn down such an offer, so he agreed to eat with the peon. They were joined by the nurse and another assistant. During dinner conversations it became known that the assistant was asked to come over by the nurse as she had been present in a number of deliveries at the centre. Dr M didn't mind. He was open to any help he could get, but none that would interfere with his autonomy.

After dinner, Dr M goes out to get others and himself a bottle of Pepsi. The general store is a 5 min walk, but has closed down by then. The shopkeeper is there however, and recognizes Dr M. Turns out he had come in the late afternoon that same day with his son who may or may not have swallowed a coin, to the centre. He opens the shop; Dr M buys two bottles of Pepsi, a liter each. As Dr M walks towards the health center, he is greeted by many who invite him into their homes. It is an auspicious night, a night of celebrations. That is another reason why Dr M wants to hasten the delivery, besides him being bored of repeated observations of course. The fetus could be born on this auspicious night if his efforts are successful. Not that he cares when it is born. Yes, Dr M referred to fetuses as 'it'.

Back at the centre, he can't find anyone. He grabs his stethoscope and rushes to the labor room. Stripping has worked. Labor pains have accelerated, membranes have ruptured and liquor is clear. She is getting contractions every 2 minutes lasting half to a full minute. Prior PV exams had confirmed vertex presentation in occipitolateral postition. On PV now, head is well flexed and internal rotation has occurred. Her contractions and efforts to bear down forcibly are disproportionate to the outlet provided by the perineum, as a result of which caput is evident over the occiput even before crowning. The assistant starts applying fundal pressure. Dr M instructs her to stop, but she continues anyway. The mother was getting exhausted and crowning wasn't occurring. She had already taken many a hit from the peon and assistant. Dr M, though violent by nature himself, contributed nothing to that. On the contrary, he asks them to stop hitting her. They slowed down. Dr M at this point expresses his concern that an episiotomy will be required. The nurse remarks that they aren't ready for it and that nobody has ever performed an episiotomy over there. So the labor continues in the same way and forcible crowning is achieved after which the neonate is delivered.

No cord cutting scissors or cord clamp is available. With a suture cutting scissors, the cord is cut and ligated with two ties. A female neonate is delivered at 10:30pm weighing 2.6kg with caput and acrocyanosis. APGAR at 1 and 5 mins were 10. Placenta was delivered 15 minutes later and it was evident that a segment of it was retained. Dr M inserts his hand inside the uterus and removes the retained placenta, and whatever clots he can discern. Bleeding still doesn’t stop.

He orders 4 misoprostol tabs and gives them orally to the patient. There are no other oxytocics available. Half an hour later, the bleeding still continues. Dr M once again introduces his hand to inspect for clots or placenta, none found. The uterus is well contracted and hard to feel on PA exam. Dr M now starts swabbing the vaginal walls to inspect for tears. Swabbing is done with cotton, as gauze is not available; this leads to strands of cotton fibers being stuck everywhere, on the vaginal vault, on the instruments, on the gloves, all mixed with blood. It is difficult to work in the bloody mess, but Dr M manages somehow.

Vaginal walls seemed intact after inspection. Only plausible option now was the cervix. What worries Dr M is the possibility of coagulopathy. There is nothing he can do for that and from what he has heard, the referral unit doesn't send help after 10pm, another thing that he had been informed of and had ignored earlier. When Dr M asks for speculums and retractors, the staff looks at him as if he had spoken in an alien language. He instructs them to get all the instruments they have along with a veinflow, RL and Foley's. They return with two instrument trays, a scalp vein, DNS and nothing instead of a Foley’s. Apparently those are all the obstetric instruments they have. Dr M searches for an RL and startsa pint. He inserts a Sim’s and an AV wall retractor and can now see the cervix. He tries to teach the nurse and assistant how to hold them, and fails. With great difficulty the cervix is held with a sponge holding forceps and a single volsellum. There is no other atraumatic instrument available. Small tears are found on the anterior and posterior cervical walls. On swabbing them, none bleed actively. Dr M starts walking around the cervix with the sponge holder and is shocked to his core with what he finds over there.

Tearing through the night (Part III)

Tearing through the night

2011-10-28T22:35:00.000+05:30

Today I present to you a medical tale, in three parts, which was sent to me yesterday via email by someone who calls himself Dr M, in response to my call for guest posts. He sent me a short profile about himself when I requested it:

Dr M is a medical intern at a Government hospital in a metropolitan city of India. He is slightly obsessed with all things medicine, and socially inept otherwise. He loves taking risks and is known to frequently take leave of rational thinking. He often seems to lack a sense of self-preservation. He used to sketch well in his childhood, but later gave up on sketching as he thinks no one in this world is worth sketching anymore. He also feels that the need for love and the need for food are complementary to each other, so he stuffs himself with a lot of food in order to balance out his need for love.

After enjoying reading the story he sent me so much, I was more than eager to publish it. The story will be published in three parts, one part each day, starting from today.

Warning: People outside the medical fraternity, read this story with caution. It is full of difficult medical terminology and gore, and might scare you off doctors for life.

Tearing through the night: Part I (by Dr M)

At a distant peripheral health center in an Indian village, it’s 6 in the PM and Dr M is in-charge tonight, alone. Desperately hoping for some action in the seemingly boring night shift ahead of him, he happens to overhear the staff talking about a woman admitted in labor. He doesn't say anything, finishes off with his dull patients and quickly checks on the patient in the labor room without the knowledge of the nurse. A 25yr old, second gravida with contractions 30 minutes apart in no distress at all. With this brief information, he says to himself "There is still a lot of time to while away".

He goes back to his chair - a comfortable blue reclining chair with adjustable height which also rotates. He plays with the height and rotation, changes his moment of inertia, observing the change in angular velocity. His thoughts jump to the unification of electromagnetic and weak forces and how it was explained on the basis of energies at different speeds of rotation. These flights of thought are interrupted by patients, again. Routine injury cases, nothing to do. Reassuring them that their injuries are nothing serious never worked, and eventually he was forced to yield to their perceived need for a parenteral analgesic.

He looks behind him, realizes that the patient will be pricked by a used needle, sterilized only by dipping in spirit for the amount of time allowed between two patients asking for the same drug. He also realizes that there is nothing more he can do. The patients know for a fact that Dr M is here only for this one night, and their tone of voice reflects the confidence in their demands and the lack of trust in Dr M. Maybe they will realize their mistake when they contract HIV and the source is unknown, he thinks with a shrug. Unlikely even then, he knows. Dr M prescribes with a heavy hand, going against his principles, and calls the next patient to the chair.

Amidst all this the nurse comes in and takes the sphygmomanometer and walks away, Dr M knows why, or at least he thinks he knows. The nurse comes back, keeps the apparatus in place and goes back to her chair, but then comes back once again in half a minute and in a low voice says "Sir, a patient has been admitted, she is in labor. At admission her BP was 160/80 and it is still the same. What should we do? "

Dr M raises both his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead to give a look of concern, one that shows him looking startled. The forehead gradually clears as his eyes close, and all that can be seen through his glasses are closed eyelids that appear smaller than they actually are without any activity underneath. He is listing in his mind the problems the patient could have, and what he is supposed to do, as he gets up from his chair and approaches the patient. The thought process continues as he grabs the BP apparatus and walks hastily with the nurse towards the labor room, while the other hand supports the stethoscope hanging around his neck. Some would not even call this patient a patient, thinks Dr M. They would argue that pregnancy is a part of normal physiology and not a deviation from it. Well, for all those, the pregnancy in question was no more normal, and she was now a patient by all definitions, Dr M thought to himself with satisfaction.

As he nears the patient and starts securing the BP cuff around the patient's right arm, he hopes the BP would be actually elevated and not an error on the nurse's part. The mercury is at 170 when he starts hearing the taps. Dr M is delightfully distressed even before the taps; he had already felt the pulse even as the mercury rose to 160. He informs the nurse, in a pseudo-forced tone, a tone that would not divulge his joy, that the BP was 170 over 100 millimeters of mercury. Dr M asked the nurse if there was any Aldomet or Nifedipine available. On receiving a negative response, he went back to his desk and wrote a prescription for Nifedipine 10mg. The patient's husband took the prescription in his hand and tried to read what appeared to be something scribbled in a flow. Dr M explained to him why that drug was required and its urgency. Also scribbled in the prescription was Hydralazine and MgSO4, which Dr M explained the husband, had to be checked about for availability only, and not to be purchased as of now. Dr M then goes back to the patient, this time with a full formed set of questions in his head.

After about 10 minutes, the husband returns. By now he has gathered that the patient has conceived after 11 years and has had no antenatal care till date, with her first delivery being at home. She had an uneventful current pregnancy except for the bilateral swelling of feet that comes and goes with various factors that the patient hadn’t paid attention to. Dr M is told that there are no sterile, packed needles available when he asks for them, and is told to use ‘autoclaved’ ones instead. Dr M lets out a sigh on hearing this, not because of the non-availability of sterile needles, which he had expected, but because he hears about the so-called ‘autoclaved’ needles. He uses an 'autoclaved' needle and places the capsule under the patient's tongue, instructing her not to swallow it as a whole, all the while hoping his instructions weren’t going to vain. He checks his wrist watch, the two arms of his watch were apart by 2/8ths of a circle and the hour was 6th. He wore this same watch all the time, felt incomplete without it, and yet he maintained it poorly. Dr M elevates his right arm to visualize his watch again, this time noting the FHS, as, unsurprisingly, the Fetal Doppler at the facility isn’t working.

Dr M informs the nurse that the FHS is 130, and tells her that he wishes to do a PV exam. 2FT/O/engaged/intact is what he jots down on the paper over which he decides to record his findings throughout the course of labor. The nurse seems tense, and informs Dr M about a referral center that has dedicated labor services and an obstetrician, 10 minutes away from their centre. Dr M had already anticipated a concern for referral and was prepared with a confident explanation against the same. He wilily imparts only selected information to the nurse about the implications of the case, so as to ensure she does not bother him too much. She then asks if the senior in-charge should be informed, and is quickly dismissed once more by Dr M. Finally she asks if Dr M had conducted a delivery before and if he could handle this one. On hearing an affirmative reply to the last question, the nurse informs Dr M that she will be leaving and another nurse will come for change of duties.

It is 7:15pm now; the new nurse comes in and informs Dr M that she has had very little experience in delivering. She walks with Dr M as he enters the labor room again; he records the BP and renews his faith in medicine on noting that BP is 130/80, FHS 120, P 90. As the nurse tries to monitor the patient, Dr M soon realizes that she doesn’t even know how to record BP, and has no idea what the normal range for BP is. And here he had been thinking that he would learn from her the palpatory method of recording BP that he had always wanted to master, since she seemed to know it well, at first glance. Now Dr M can feel his hopes getting crushed. He then takes over the apparatus with resignation and operates it, all the while explaining to her how to record BP.

Another PV exam record reads 2FL/1/engaged/intact in Dr M's paper with a BP of 130 systolic. He goes back and orders slow sips of water to the patient. Between half hourly exams Dr M fiddles with his cell phone, browsing the net, chatting, and getting advice for further events which were to be expected. In fact his phone was irreplaceable to him and he had gone great lengths to get it back. This was, as he understood, the reason for his sanity over the past few weeks given one of his vitals was not available to him. A repeat exam at 8:45 gives him a scare. BP is 150/100.

Tearing through the night (Part II)
Tearing through the night (Part III)

The Nairite's guide to rural posting

2011-10-27T22:57:00.000+05:30

1. Attend your rural posting at Ganeshpuri. Take those twenty days off from your year of internship and whatever it is that you're doing with it, to attend this posting. It really won't make any difference in your entrance exams, but it will make a lot of difference in your lives.
2. Pray that you have great batchmates. You'll be living with them for twenty days, and not having a good batch sucks. That said, it is very easy to bond with almost anyone, including the weirdest alien in your class, during these 20 days of your rural post. So give it a shot. You may just acquire a brand new set of friends.
3. Don't run home on the weekends. Takes out all the fun from the posting!
4. Go for early morning walks, to make the most of the best weather in the day and the fog. Though I wasn't posted there in the summers, so I can't say how the weather will be in summer (from what I hear it's unbearably hot in the daytime during summers).
5. Every night, climb up to the terrace and watch the stars. If you're a girl, throw the guys out of their hostel so as to get access to the terrace.
6. Places to visit: Usgaon dam, river nearby, bridge in the market, Vajreshwari temple, hot water springs, Akloli kund, Gorad village for Warli painting, Great Escape water park near Parole, and Mount Mandagni if you have suicidal tendencies.The village is a great place to buy some Warli merchandise.
7. In the midst of all this, do not forget to attend your postings.
8. While at Ganeshpuri you will experience a new high in the quality of drugs available, at Parole you will experience a new low in the quality of drugs as well as medical care available. Experience both.
9. You will get a chance to sit in the ART OPD, I think this is the only time you get this opportunity in internship. You get to see follow-up cases of HIV patients, deal with their complaints, learn about the side-effect profiles if various anti-retroviral drugs.
10. If a certain pan-chewing MO asks you to take off your apron (female interns) tell him to take a hike.
11. You will get many opportunities to learn a lot of new things, don't waste them.
12. Cook often, if you posses any culinary skills. Otherwise, eat at the local restaurants.
13. Go snake spotting. Also revise how to treat snake bites before you do the same.
14. Go with the mobile unit for medical camps to obscure, untouched villages.
15. Experience personally the Indian people's belief in black magic, till date, as a working cure to all disease.
16. Learn the way of life in a village. Wait for hours for ST buses, stuff yourself into share-e-rickshaws, have random conversations with old ladies you are very likely to meet, and do everything slowly and without a care in the world. Forget that you live in an instant age, for once.
17. Ride the bicycle everywhere, if, unlike me, you do know how to ride one. Easiest and best mode of transport you are likely to find.
18. Do not try to find cake or cheese or butter in the village. All attempts will be unsuccessful. Ice cream, though, you are likely to find.
19. Do not forget to look for fireflies. You will definitely find one. Or tons of them. Depending on your luck.
20. Go with old friends for this trip, or make new friends. Either ways, it will be a memorable affair, that, I promise you.

Movie Review: Drive

2011-10-02T10:28:00.000+05:30

Drive tells the story of a man we know only as 'Driver' or 'Kid' (Ryan Gosling, of Half Nelson fame). Driver is a man of very few words, with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth, and a wide eyed non-judgmental look at the world most of the time. He works as a getaway driver for criminals, as a stunt driver for the movies, and also as a mechanic at a garage. He mostly does what his boss tells him to do, he gives his criminal clients a strict 5-minute window period to avail of his services, and he performs his stunts with unnatural nonchalance and precision. He also has a liking for an ugly silver jacket with a scorpion on the back.

Soon, Driver meets his neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan), eavesdrops over her and her son in the supermarket, plays staring games with the son, and well, begins to fall in love with the neighbor (or so we're told). Driver continues to behave like an innocent child who doesn't really know how to react or what to say in a situation like this. There's a scene where both the leads just keep smiling alternately at each other, for at least 5 minutes, and though you laugh initially at all the sweetness, you just wish someone would get on with it.

The entire first half of the movie plays out with minimal dialogues, a captivating background score, and a slightly irritating song called A real hero playing multiple times throughout the movie, each time while Driver is doing stuff which the director thinks would make him look like 'a real hero'. The first time especially, it just ends up looking super-pretentious. Every time Driver opens his mouth and actually says something, it comes as a slight shock and an achievement, since he looks like he is incapable of uttering any words.

Though nothing much is really happening in the movie in the first half, everyone seems to be overstrung, both the people on-screen and those in the audience. We know something is going to happen, so we watch and wait. I spend most of the time trying to guess which psychiatric condition Driver has.

Soon enough Irene's husband, Standard, is released from jail, and comes back into their lives. He is in trouble and is being blackmailed by some goons. When Driver realizes that Irene and her son are in danger, he decides to help Standard out in order to save them. But, things start going wrong, and that's when you sit up in your seats and start enjoying the movie.

There's a scene when half the theater jumps out of their seats, which signifies the start of the second part of the movie with its uninhibited violence. Thus begins a series of kills, and every time a person enters the frame from that point on, you can't help but hold on to your seat and wonder how he is going to die. The violence, the sheer amount of controlled and ruthless rage which Driver displays, and the novel ways in which people are killed without the use of firearms, is, according to me, the USP of this movie.

Driver manages to look devastatingly terrifying, which is a wonderful contrast from his innocent wide-eyed look in the first part. There's a sequence where he wears a mask and kills someone on the beach, it is so brilliant, you should go watch the movie just for that sequence. There are also two brilliant car chase sequences in the movie, likely to leave you open mouthed with awe.

Ryan Gosling acts fabulously well, and so does most of the supporting cast. Carey Mulligan does nothing much but stare at Driver. This movie isn't good or bad, it is an experience, and one I think you should have. Don't expect entertainment, don't expect a sweet romance, don't expect an action movie with a hero who punches everyone and then gets the girl. No. Expect something different, and, in it's own way, beautiful. You'll be glad you watched this movie, if nothing, just cause you got a change from our regular fare.

Rating: 8.5/10.

Date a girl who reads.

2011-09-22T00:12:00.000+05:30

I found the most perfect quote ever. EVER.

Quote by Rosemary Urquico.
Quote found here, sent to me via Sunrise.

Source: here

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes." -Rosemary Urquico

Nasbandi and Indian Chemists and... other stuff...

2011-09-14T00:06:00.000+05:30

I have been setting aside a LOT of stuff inside my head with the tag "has got to go down on blog" for such a long time, that I've started forgetting all those stories and the details that go with them. So, without further delay, I'm just going to try and put it all down in this post. Here goes.

Location: Casualty Department, Tertiary Hospital in Mumbai.

A young man walks in, almost runs in, then sits down, panting, and and tells us: "Mujhe nas bandhi ka operation karwana hai". We all stare at him, pretty amazed (at least I was). I turn around, to check with the MO, and confirm whether he really does mean what I think he does (that he wants to get a vasectomy done!). The MO asks him, "Are you married?" He says no. Then the MO asks him, "Who told you to get this operation done?" He says he figured it out by himself, after watching the Govt. ads on TV, which said that you get paid by the Govt. if you volunteer to undergo a vasectomy. He said his sister was very ill, admitted to a private hospital, and he was falling short of Rs. 900/- for her treatment. She was his only sister, he wanted to save her, so he decided that undergoing a vasectomy would be a good solution. I don't think the ad explains the actual implications of the surgery. Anyone seen the ad? Then tell me what it shows because I haven't seen it. Embedded below is an ironic as well as hilarious video regarding nasbandi that I found while trying to search for a government ad video on the internet.

Anyways, the man didn't seem to realize that undergoing this surgery meant that he would not be able to have a child in the future. He just seemed concerned with the monetary compensation he would get. We sent him away, telling him this wasn't an option for him and that he should probably get his sister treated at a government institution if he wanted to save some money.

Location: Casualty Department, Tertiary Hospital in Mumbai.

An old lady is brought in on a wheelchair, transferred from a peripheral private hospital. She comes with reports of deranged RFTs and S. Creat at 8.3. She gives a history of irregular, unsupervised intake of NSAIDs and other Ayurvedic medications over the past two years, to treat her joint pains and some form of arthritis she supposedly had. The medicine registrar on call cites her chronic intake of NSAIDS as the cause for her renal failure. Makes me think about the tons of patients we subscribe NSAIDs to rampantly, everyday, with or without indications, and without thinking about the dangers of a situation where a patient may start self prescribing and abusing those very same NSAIDs. After all, how difficult can it be to read a drug name, ask the drug dispenser what it is used for, and, upon hearing the magic words 'pain relief' start popping it as and when your fancy arises after obtaining it from your friendly local chemist!

Location: Ob/Gyn OT, Tertiary Hospital in Mumbai.

A patient is taken up for an emergency LSCS, she was already in labour when she came to the hospital...I was posted in anesthesia and I just cannot remember what the indication for her LSCS was. Sorry about that. So anyways, she was wailing and screaming loudly the entire time inside the OT, everyone there was distracted because of her, and this while another surgery was going on in the same room. She had to be given her spinal, twice by the housie, I think the first time it was unsuccessful, thanks in no small part to her screaming and thrashing around. Then, when she didn't stop screaming at all, even after two attempts at a spinal, the senior anesthetist came and asked them to give it for a third time before starting the surgery, just to be safe. Inspite of this, the patient continued her voracious wails of "Aaaaaaa....owwww....majhyaa aai la bolva...aaaaaaeeeeeee" ("Owww....get me my mother...please...aaaaaeeeeeee") at a shocking volume, and atleast 20 people gathered to watch the spectacle. Finally, the obs people started the surgery in all this confusion, it was an emergency after all.

About 10 mins into the surgery, the patient seemed to be calmer, and had taken to just calling out for her aai in a normal voice as opposed to screaming. Now the much-more-visibly-relieved-looking-anaesthetist asked the patient, hopefully: "Aata tumhala dard kami jhala na?" ("Has your pain reduced now?") to which the patient (whose uterus was about to be cut open, may I remind you!) who had so far not given up on her incessant wailing, replied: "Ho, aata jara kami aahe, pan tari pan majhya aai la bolva!" ("Yes, now my pain is relieved, but you must still get me my mother!") At this, the 20 people who were inside the OT spontaneously burst out laughing at the same time, many of them shaking their heads in disbelief. I suppose the wonders which mothers can make happen in this world have no bounds! And I am sure that was the noisiest day ever in the history of that particular OT.

Location: ANC OPD, Peripheral urban health centre, Mumbai.

A young handicapped pregnant patient comes in. She seems to have a deformity in both lower limbs. She doesn't even use a wheelchair, she crawls in with the support of her hands and knees. Her mother accompanies her. We find out that she is unmarried and is now about 8 months pregnant. The patient refuses to take anyone's help to get onto the examination table, and shouts at the doctor for trying to help her. When after several attempts she's unsuccessful, her mother and the doctor try to help her, but it's still not possible to lift her onto the high set examination table. Finally we get her to agree to lie down on the floor of the room and get examined. When asked why she didn't get married, we find out that the father of the child is also handicapped, and he is also unemployed and doesn't have any family to look after him. So they chose not to get married. The patient's family is currently looking after both of them. And it is understood that they will have to look after the baby as well. When advised a visit to an obstetrician in a proper hospital, since this was just a health centre, the mother says she cannot afford to take her daughter by a taxi to any hospital, and the daughter being disabled cannot travel by any other modes of transport available in this city. The patient then crawls out, after telling the doctor haughtily that she need not prescribe any medications because she wouldn't be taking them, and then bursts into tears while leaving. Her mother plans to conduct her delivery at home itself with some local woman's help. I cannot even begin to imagine what it would feel like to be in that patient's place. The entire episode left me pretty dumbstruck.

Her one story just seemed to highlight so many issues in the country - lack of proper rehabilitation or a support system for handicapped people... the handicap-unfriendly public transport system... societal bias against handicapped people... poor reach of healthcare services to the people who need them the most... unemployment... motherhood outside marriage... and I don't know what else!

I'm still reeling from the shock of this story here.

Okay, I have forgotten the rest of the stories. Yes, there were more.

Anyways.

On another note, today's feature in HT Cafe 'Is your chemist the drug-peddler?' was quite interesting, informative and amusing. Being all three at the same time is definitely an achievement. Reading that article reminded me of when, about four years back, I was suffering from some kind of a UTI, and had already taken two courses of medications from my family doctor, with no great relief. I was a lost kid in my 2nd year MBBS at that time. So then, the third time I went to the doctor, he got irritated by me I think.

He wrote my prescriptions, and told me to get one particular drug from the chemist and sent me off with a wide smile. I went directly to the chemists' from there, and gave him the prescription. The chemist read it, gave me a long stare, then got the meds for me. He asked me whether he could keep the prescription. I was mildly surprised, but didn't think too much, gave it to him, and went home. At home, I opened up my brand new, hitherto-untouched pharmacology textbook, and looked up the drug the doc had prescribed. It was a tricyclic antidepressant! With embarrassment I now realised why the chemist had wanted my prescription. I felt angry and insulted, and got up and threw the entire strip, untouched, into the dustbin, and vowed never to go back to that particular doctor! Thankfully, my UTI resolved soon enough so I didn't need to either ways. But this reminds me that the chemist at that time was a good one, who did his job well. And he probably thought I was a teenager with issues. Oh well.

On yet another note, being posted in PSM (Preventive and Social Medicine) is taking its toll. I thought that working in the branch would actually involve practicing some preventive and social medicine. But I am starting to doubt whether the PSM people even practice medicine at all. They just seem to occupy themselves with being lazy, supervising the interns, making us run the dispensary and do all sorts of other clerical work, being humongous pains regarding attendance and (god-forbid!) dropped tablets, and incorrectly treating patients. Let's just hope this trend isn't really as generalized as it is appearing to be.

So. I think that was about enough to make a blog post. Entertaining or not, you tell me.

I will now head off to bed. And to yet another day of new stories to tell you people.

Book Review: The Host by Stephenie Meyer.

2011-09-02T00:10:00.000+05:30

I really can't write reviews. But I have desperately wanted to write this one for a long, long time now.

First things first, if you be a Twilight hater, don't judge this book just because of it's author. This book has a very intriguing story to tell, which has nothing to do with the Twilight series, or even vampires for that matter.

This story unfolds in a universe where earth has been taken over by an alien race, called Souls, which inhabit humans and live as parasites in their bodies. The humans are called hosts. Before you start imagining aliens with superpowers and multiple limbs and spaceships and what - not, please stop. This book is nothing like the usual science-fiction fare out there, which is lapped up by many an over- eager geek (including me). Oh no. The book tells, in fact, a most memorable and moving love story (ladies, are you listening?), and it involves nothing about radioactive aliens and genetically mutated offspring, rest assured.

It is a unique combination of science-fiction, romance and drama. I love me some drama.Of course, it has its own dose of sappy lines. And I found I didn't mind them that much.

Do try to ignore the prologue if by any chance you get bored by it. Do not, I repeat, please do not give up on the book, just because the prologue and the first couple of chapters seems boring.

We get to meet Wanderer (Wanda) first, she is the alien, the Soul. I have to say hers is the most idealistic and most humane fictional character I have ever come across in a book. How ironic then that this character should actually be an alien. You get to know her better as the story progresses, and you come to love her, like everyone else in the book seems to.

Then we meet Melanie, she is the host whose body Wanda has been given to inhabit. When a Soul enters its host, it starts anew in the host body, the host's mind having been erased out. The Soul is supposed to be in complete control of the body. However, this does not happen with Wanda, who, when she wakes up in her host body, discovers, soon, that her host, the original owner of the body, Melanie, is still alive and present inside her head! This leads to a unique situation, and forms the plot for the story.

Melanie is portrayed as a fierce, independent, and beautiful woman, a survivor, someone I would love to become like one day.

Melanie loved a man, Jared, in her lifetime. The way she sees him in her memories, which Wanda now has access to, makes Wanda fall in love with him as well. Messed up, I know.

Unable to control and extinguish her stubborn host, and unable to control her own strange desire to see Jared, Wanda, along with Melanie of course, sets out in search of the man they love.

Go read the book and find out more about this story....

I love the way the author portrays the human race throughout this story, as seen through the eyes of an alien. It just shows people, in general, in a whole new light to me. And I love the flashbacks in the initial part of the novel, that is all I kept reading for, in fact.

This is a wonderfully told tale, though a bit slow at first, with many unforgettable characters, hateable villains, and tear jerking moments. I have read this book five times, and I wept at least a little every time. And I am not such a sap, in general. I swear.

I love that this book doesn't have a tall, dark, and handsome hero, who sweeps in to save the girl and to save the day. Oh no. This is the two heroines' book, all the way.

All the human characters (both male and female) in this book are flawed, and amazing, and lovable, and well, human. I love the author for creating them.

And then we have Wanda, the alien, who's almost flawless. Another victory for the author here.

Somehow, through this book, the author makes me value being a human, something I never even thought about before!

Judging by the number of times I have used the verb 'love' while writing this review, I think you can gauge how much I, err.... love this book. I am so glad I own this book, and I look forward to reading it many more times in the future, curled up and happy, knowing it will always satisfy my need for romance and drama, and leave me with a warm happy feeling and a satisfied smile every time I read it.

Thank you, Stephenie Meyer. A 10/10 and a huge hug for you.

Some quotes from The Host:

1.“I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.” - Ian.

2. "Something I've never seen in all my lives. I'm staring at...hope." - Wanda.

3. "I won't erase you, Melanie" - Wanda.

4. "My house, my rules" - Uncle Jeb.

5. "Eight full lives. Eight full lives and I've never found anyone I would stay in a planet for, anyone I would follow when they left. I never found a partner. Why now? Why you? You're not of my species. How can you be my partner? It's not fair. I love you." - Wanda.

6. "You and I won't lose each other, I will always find you again. No matter how well you hide. I'm unstoppable." - Jared.

7. " It's a strange world."
"The strangest."

8. Ian: "She is. Melanie is a very pretty girl. Even beautiful. But pretty as she is, she is a stranger to me. She's not the one I... care about."

Wanda: "It's this body."

Ian: "That's not true at all. It's not the face, but the expressions on it. It's not the voice, but what they say. It's not how you look like in that body, it's what you do with it. You are beautiful."

9. "You never know how much time you'll have." - Melanie.

10. "We girls have to stick together."-Melanie

11. "Right now, if I was given the choice between having the world back and having you, I wouldn't be able to give you up. Not to save five billion lives." - Jared Howe to Melanie Stryder.