Thursday, December 31, 2009

What Did you Do this YeAr ?

It's the morning of the Last Day Of The Year [as it shall henceforth be known] and I'm wondering where the year 2009 went?

I'm trying to recollect what I did, what I achieved, and try as I may my mind is a blank.

What did you do this year?

How did You make a difference?

Did you make a difference?

I think that is the scariest part...

Are you the same person you were last year?

Or did you evolve, perhaps defeat your vices?

Did you conquer you temper, kick that butt, throw the last bottle of bozze into the bin and never buy another?

Were you kind and compassionate?

Or did you leave that puppy with the broken leg out in the cold because... well there are so many such pups how many can we save?

Did you at least save the one you knew about?

Did you?

Did you try to improve your relationships with people?

Did you try to be honest with them?

Being honest is so hard. One never knows how someone else will respond does one?

Did you realise the perils of gossipping?

Did you try to see the good in people instead of bitching about their dark shades?

Did you try helping someone get ahead?

Even if it is in a goal you yourself want to succeed?

Did you give your shivering watchman a cup of tea without him asking?

Did you stand by your beloved in their times of need?

Even if they pushed you away?

Especially if they wanted to be left alone? No one really does you know.

Did you love them better than ever?

Even when they cursed you?

Especially when they cursed you.

Did you say what was on your mind and mean it?

To those who matter to you anyway.

Did you clear things up with people?

Doesn't it feel great?

Think, think of all you did, all you want to do and all you are capable of doing.

Then do it.

Think of what you are, what you really want to be and what you Can be.
Then Be.

Happy new years!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

What DO women want?

Disclaimer : Feminists needn't take this post too seriously.

Saw What women want[Mel Gibson, Helen Hunt] for the upteenth. I just let movies play in the background sometimes, just so it feels like I'm not alone at home.

So anyway, I wondered...What do women want really? So naturally compiled a list!
Not all of you may want this stuff but some of it, sometimes...I'm sure!

- A home, just ours.
- Flowers [always, for no reason!]
- Calorie free Junk food.
- Better nooky [thats right.]
- A better figure [slimmer/fuller as applicable].
- To be less hard on ourselves.
- Someone [not our parents] who loves us just the way we are.
- Someone who supports our career choices, even when we're unsure ourselves.
- Someone who's loyal no matter who challenges us.
- Help around the house.
- Appreciation for managing a career, a family and a home.
- Equal help in doing the same.
- Less pressure to be perfect. No pressure, more like it.
- A real friend. The kind who always has our back.
- No grey hair/signs of ageing.
- No body hair [apart from head whereupon it should be plentiful.]
- A partner whos nice, with a hint of spice!
- An expression of what they mean to people.
- Honesty.
- Sincerety.
- To not have to judge any and every person they interact with.
- To not be judged all the time.
- To not have messy family affairs thrust upon them.
- To have their kids realise their mom's love them more than anything in the world and only want whats best for them.
- No menstrual cycles, or menopause. They both suck.
- Spontaneity.
- The time to weave day dreams.
- Style.
- Clothes that look brilliant on us.
- Heels that cause no long or short term pains whatsoever.
- To be pampered, to be coddled and to not have to be tough all the time.
- To not care if the in laws treat one like their own daughter or not. We have our own parents you know.
- No pain during childbirth. C'mon women are alone there, other than the drugs, nothing helps really.
- Someone who loves us to notice when we're tired or headachy or PMSing or cranky and make us a hot cup of tea/coffee. without us saying a word. Yes...we do want mind readers.
- Actual confidence. [Pretending is one thing...]
- To drink and not have people raise their eyebrows.
- To have sex before marriage and not have our character and morals questioned.
- A good night's sleep. Without an alarm.
- To not have to haggle with every vendor possible.
- For our past not to matter.
- For our education to matter more than our skin tone. Our looks.
- For our kindness to matter more than our ability to flatter, manipulate and etc.
- hugs. Sponaneous ones!
- Chocolate.
- To have a star named after us.
- To be taken care of when we're sick. [Not by a nurse in a hospital.]
- To be able to focus when driving.
- To be able to show our weakness, our anger, our frustration, our grief.
- For every kiss to remind us of our first :) [ok I made that up, its just me.]

Among other things... :)

Friday, October 16, 2009

HaPpY DiWaLi!

Dedicated to my Mother , Father and Sister. All my childhood friends, to childhoods, to being with one's family... to sweets and savouries equally~~~!!!!

There is a nip in the air...almost the same as last year...but my smile's not as wide as then because this year I'm missing my family a great mom, dad n sis. My own.

The lights are fewer, there are fewer people in the market, even fewer fireworks [which is good, please keep the sound works to a minimum...they scare humans and animals alike.] ... there's no rush at the sweet shops owing to know what, you have a tv at home!

But the lights are there, the weather is cooler and children as as enthusiastic as they were last year...its still my favortie festival and no matter how much i may deny it, this year too I will make a rangoli...

I've already done the cleaning and washing and reorganizing...right down to the fish tank.

I'm missing the wonderful smells of mathri, besan ka laddoo and namakpare and sev that mom used to make after we went to bed, after all her other work was done at and my sister would lie in bed and I'd plot how to get my hands on some of the goodies...sometimes we'd go and ambush her anyway... I was always anxious that everyone would eat them all up and then what would be left for us eh?

And on the day itself, every year, every single year...we wore new clothes...lit candles, stood in prayer, mom made a whole tablefull of goodies [snacks] to serve to all the visitors [ mouthwatering kachoris, dahi vadey, namkeen, chholey bhaturey, paneer gravy, pulao, ...we sometimes made tiny rangolis outside the door. We couldn't wait to meet all the people and their kids...we also couldn't wait for them to go [usually around 1030pm] after which the four of us would set out to one of our family friend's place for the diwali party where the women would all be lookin fresh, beautiful, the dad's would be wearing kurta pajamas and drinking and playing cards [bad].

The kids would all be fresh, lighting up crackers in the balcony secretly [not allowed in dubai]...mostly
We would eat, drink and be merry [and fret a bit about school the next day. ]
I wish I could be a schoolgirl again , if only for the festivals. For a chance to be with my family and friends from childhood again.

Happy diwali all of you who read my blog and all of you who have stumbled by!

A few ways to make this day more enjoyable! :

Please don't count calories and grumble.

Please don't light sound crackers because they scare animals and have the power to deafen any species.

Keep your pets close by give them a small closet to curl up in :o)

Don't be petty about giving gifts or recieving them. Everyone cannot afford to be luxurious.

Of course always be kinder than necessary...everyone we meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Ghor or not, I like this kalyug!

The other day I walked out of a satsang meeting. Ok I wouldn't have gone there in the first place if I didn't like what the Founder said on TV. An educated lady she spoke with ease, confidence and most importantly, logic and common sense.

But she wasn't there at that meeting was she now? No...there was literally a line of old biddies sitting on chairs and lecturing.

"Is this just kalyug [new age] or ghor kalyug? [there are levels you see, and this is the worst!]"

Other old biddies around me mumbling and shaking their heads...ghor kalyug...tsk tsk.

She then went on to reteirate all the things that were wrong with todays world.

How doctors left 2 foot nails in people's legs.

How the race for money is that of rats.

How relationships mean nothing anymore.

How children didn't listen to their elders.

It was a dog eat dog world out there.

Not to mention the overpopulation issues.

Blah de blah de blah.

I walked out because ...Maybe it is ghor kalyug, but I found there were many, many things in this ugly world of ours worth liking. Frankly I would rather live in this ghorly kalyugged world of ours than anywhere else...even 50years ago!

Women are, for the most part, [legally] not slaves anymore.

We have the right to make choices.

We can choose careers.

Choose our lives first.

Choose whom and when we marry.

Choose to keep a maid and not do all the housework ourselves.

Choose day care over leaving our jobs.

We can go out for a cup of coffee at 12am if we want.

We [all] have the internet.

We are more educated than ever before.

We are becoming use that education to benefit ourselves and society.

We are teaching our children to think for themselves instead of following our lead blindly and
repeating out mistakes.

We teach them to question everything, even us.

We teach by example.

We stand up for what is right.

We prefer spirituality over religion. Or we're starting to anyhow.

We're being more health conscious, exercising, being fitter.

We're realising that coffee has benefits! [selfish i know! But i must, I must defend my coffee!]

Our husbands no longer stand by and watch their wives unfairly mistreated by their

We have google!

We also have blogger :oD !

We have STD calling at 50p/min!

We have, in other words, better communication options...we just need to be better at communing

As for the over population issues...

I think its a good, no, great thing...that we have cures for old age ailments and fewer babies die in infancy and childbirth...far lesser maternal mortality too. We no longer have to die of TB or Leprosy or cholera or pneumonia! [to name a few].

I'd rather see people live and practise contraception to control the population...than see it in check because we have no means to treat illnesses effectively.

What do you live about our ghorly kalyugged world? Do tell!!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Good hands Bad feet!!

Dedicated to Nikhil and Sapna didi, who try to catch me when I fall.

We never permit patient attendants to enter the closed doors of the OT [operating theatre]mini OT [for minor procedures and such] ... mostly because it is a privilege and they will undoubtedly freak out and doctors don't like being watched while they do their work, its a cause for anxiety see?

However pioneer that I am, I broke that rule too, just once and just recently.

An 8yr old boy came with 2 deep cuts on his buttock. His father brought him and he really needed sutures. Of course that freaked him out and he kept on insisting v.cutely that he was fine and just needed a band aid or something. Cutely i insisted otherwise too. He was an intelligent and Therefore I knew would also be a difficult kid. So I bribed him and allowed his father to be the one to hold him down in the minor OT while I sutured for all I was worth.

Look, adults are OK, but the idea of pinning a child down by strangers who scold him and threaten him while someone in a mask and white coat does God only knows what to him seems barbaric on some level even if it is for their own good. I know if I was sick I'd want my parents there holding my hand. [or back or bottom or whatever.]

So With much coaxing and listening to the nurse growling thinking I don't understand Malayalam about how I thought of myself and didn't know anything. Mumble grumble. Simultaneously calming the father as well, i proceeded to suture his bottom. It's lots easier in kids and he needed some 14 stitches.

I'm not a sadist, don't get me wrong, but I love suturing. My hands look amazing doing it. which is saying something because usually I'm dropping things and spilling liquids and breaking stuff with them.

8 sutures in, I was lost in my happy place of 4-0 mersilk and scissors and needle holder...a beautiful music played in my head and I was at peace with the world, repairing someone, so tender and fragile...ah...

Where was I? oh yes, By the 9Th suture, the father said..."Doctor's work also requires delicate grace and artistry doesn't it? I've been watching and it's...mesmerising...".

I couldn't help it, I started laughing and laughed gleefully till my stomach ached. The nurse and father both looked at me, nonplussed...

"Did I say something wrong doctor saab??"

"OHhh no. I just wish some of my friends were here to hear your words...You see, I'm known in my circle for being butterfingers and for falling down. If they heard you, they'd probably laugh too...! In fact, just two daya back, We went to this bakery to get an eggless birthday cake. After much searching we managed to get one...and the area was good, posh, but the road and foot path not so smooth and I was wearing heels. We got the cake and my friend wouldn't let me carry it...SO I pretended to be hurt and said - hey I do stitches everyday, I have good hands!- upon which she felt guilty and offered the cake box to me...

I hesitated in taking it...She said 'no no, take it, you're being senti's OK, you carry it...' ,but I didn't take it...instead I said...'no, it's OK, your hands maybe good but my feet aren't as I'm wearing heels...'-'that's what I should walk easily na..."

"Ah...I see...but honestly it doesn't seem like that right now to me dok saab.", said the patient's dad laughingly. Probably thought I was joking too.

Bizarre ain't I?

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Uski Rukhsati

Uski Rukhsati.


"Still no movements from the baby?", I asked the would be mother at 8 months of gestation.

"No, and the doctor before you said the heartbeat is getting slow also...whats going to happen? Am I going to have surgery?", asked the 27yr old primi [first time pregnancy] anxiously.

We shall call her Zarin.

"Let me see, but don't get scared, don't worry till we have to because your worrying is bad for the baby ok?",I cajoled.

"Ok but you see please...and please check my Blood Pressure...the nurse was here earlier and she told me it was 160/100mmHg and I am ok...I feel fine so I don't see how my B.P would go so high. Please doctor...?"

"I will do all that and more, but I want to give you ten minutes to calm down first ok? Now, fold your knees to relax your abdomen and I'll just check your baby's heartbeat ok?"

As I had trust issues, even with high tech machines like the CardioTocograph [fetal heartbeat monitor] I listened to and counted the fetal heart beat myself with the aid of my trusty stethoscope. The baby's heartbeat was there but lower, slower. Nowhere near the healthy 140 beats per minute it should have been and lesser than the previous night's 120 bpm. Now it was only around 100-105 bpm, something requiring immediate Caesarean section to deliver the baby but at eight months and suffering from IUGR [Intra Uterine Growth Retardation] would it survive? Not here for sure, it weighed only 1485 grams and the ideal weight for full term babies is more than 2.5kgs. Plus the reason for the IUGR had not been diagnosed yet, but we were to send Zarin for specialized ultrasonography in the morning.

She and her husband seemed so nice. She tried to lighten the mood, make conversation... "Are you married Doctor?"

"Oh no Zarin. Not now and I don't know when because I'm just not ready!", even the thought of marriage freaks me out completely.

"Why?? Ohhh You have someone don't you??", she squealed excitedly.

"Yeah...I do..."

"How long??"

"Five years."

"And you still don't want to marry him?? Why not?"

"It's not that I don't want to marry him...I do love him and will probably marry him one day eventually. But I want to be sure of him. I don't know if he can't live without me. I know I feel empty without him but I have career goals and so does he. We're happy and still comitted, you getting me? B.P's ok Zarin, nothing for you to worry about. 140/90mmHg, sleep will help lower it further and we'll give you something for your anxiety ok? "

"I think it already must be true...or else you wouldn't be with him for so long would you? Plus men aren't as expressive about their feelings as women are...but once you are married and leave him even for a few days...he will call you to come back! My husband did...!"

"I don't know Zarin. But when I do get married I will find you and tell you how it worked out ok? Now get some rest. I'll be here all night and will come hourly to check on you and your baby. You know the drill, you feel anything bad you call me stat ok?"

"Ok, thank you doctor! Good night!" One couldn't stay detached from a patient like that. A person like that...



"Prep the patient, get the OT nurse, Room 4 patient needs an urgent LSCS [Lower Segment Caesarean Section] baby will be shifted to Fortics NICU [Neonatal intensive care unit.]."

It was the end of my shift and as I said goodbye to Zarin and wished her the best for her surgery, I wondered how it would go. Turned out the baby was very sick with a chromosomal defect. Generally with these kind of major genetic defects, the fetus is spontaneously aborted three months into gestation, but this pregnancy continued too far. The spaces in the baby's body were filled with fluid as we had found out on the ultrasound that morning. Brain cavity, abdomen, chest, lungs. There was kidney failure added to all that. Chances were slim, for survival. But we had to try our best.


As I relieved the evening shift doctor I asked him anxiously about Zarin and her baby.
"He was born alive, but didn't cry. There was a huge swelling on the right side of his chest. He didn't he was intubated and put on a ventilator and taken to the NICU. He lived till around 4:00 PM. Then he went. Mother is fine, depressed but physically ok."


"No.Just lying there."

So there I stood, out side Room Number 4, with my hand on the door handle, my heart racing and my face burning. What would I say to this lady? I knew nothing I said could comfort her. I didn't know how to start.

Step forward.
Step back.
Step forward.
And enter.

"Hey Zarin, how are you doing?", I said with a dull smile.

"Oh hello doctor...I am ... are you?", she responded with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"I'm ok. Let me examine you just a moment..."
Physically she was fine.

"Ok...any your... abdomen?"

"I can't feel that pain Doctor. Mere dil mein itna dard ho raha hai. ", she replied, sadly.

"I...know, I heard. I'm so sorry for your loss. What...if you would like to talk...what happened?", I ventured cautiously, knowing she hadn't cried but needed to. She was quiet for a few minutes. I took a seat next to her.

"Do you think it was my fault?", she asked quietly.

"NO. Why would you think that...?!", I replied aghast... This was the last thing she needed on her mind.

"The nurse in Kashmir said that something was wrong internally. Meri saas ko lagta hai ki shaadi se pehle hi mere mein koi problem thi, koi she is regretting her son's marriage to me."

"Your Saas needs to go out and educate herself. And you need to quit bothering about what an illiterate woman lets out of her mouth. Aap toh padhe likhe ho, you know better. Don't let her get to you. Abhi aapko yeh sab nahi sochna, abhi aapko bus theek hona hai. Samjhe?", I was incensed on Zarin's behalf.

As if daughter in laws didn't already have to hard enough. Working to keep everyone happy including the husband. With everyone ready to misunderstand her and sulk at the drop of a hat. Including the husband.

"Maine dekha tha usko. Ladka tha na...meri shakal thi, poori. Ussey bahar le ja rahey they, toh dekha tha maine uska chehra. Woh dekh raha tha mujhe. Maine dekha. Maine dekha...."

I reached out quietly and gently rubbed her back, before she started to get passionate.

"Din bhar woh Us doosre hospital mein tha na...NICU mein. Mere husband they uskey saath. Main baar baar soch rahi thi, phone kar rahi kya hua, kaise hai...kareeb 3:50pm pe mere husband yahaan aaye...bataye ki mere bachche mein kitne tube aur pipe lagaein hain, uski kidney bhi fail ho gayi hai, uske sir mein, pet mein, chaati mein paani bhar gaya hai. Apne aap woh saans bhi nahi le pa raha hai. Mujhe, pata nahi kya hua....humein laga tha ki shayad bahar aayega duniya mein toh khuda ko manzoor hoga uska jeena...par aisa lag nahi raha tha...", her voice cracked, as did her composure...

I sat silently, watching her face, my hand on her back, trying fultilely to sooth her...

"Main apne aapa kho baithi aur maine bola...maine agar khuda ko manzoor nahi hai uski zindagi toh kyon zabardasti usko tadpa rahe ho? Kyon itne pipe, itne tube, itne machine? Azaad kar do usko, in bandishon se buri kar do ussey...chale jaane do usey...usey jahaan khushi milti hai...mujhse nahi dekha jaata aise... phir 5 minute baad hospital se phone aaya ki woh mar gaya. M-Mera bachcha mar gaya...Aisa laga jaise woh mere liye ruka tha...Duniya se apni rukhsati ke liye meri izazat ki raah dekh raha tha...Ab samajh mein aaya ki maa aur bete ka kya rishta hota hai...ab samajh mein aaya mujhe...", she finished, sobbing into my Lab coat.

And try as I did I couldn't stop the tears burning my own eyes and overflowing. I couldn't stop them and so I cried, albeit quietly, as I held her and helped her cry. I let her cry and didn't tell her to stop. Most unprofessional of me on many counts but she was alone. Her husband wasn't around...

"Maine dekha bhi nahi usko...usko husband ne dafna bhi diya hai...mujhe dekh lena chahiye tha...mera husband bahut ro rahey they...abhi woh ghar gaye hain, bahut dukhi hain."

"Haan...shayad aapko dekh lena chahiye tha... Lekin aapne toh dekha haina...aapne toh uski aakhon mein dekha hai...jab woh tha, zinda tha...vaise hi yaad rakhiye.", I said..trying to console her. But my words sounded hollow and empty to my own ears. I knew there was nothing I could say that would help. I had done all I could.

I didn't have a child. But I had my dog. She and I were buddies and she was the reason I was able to live alone, in a city like Delhi. She was the one who came to me when I was sad, she was the one who waited for me to come home from work everyday. She was not just a dog for me, she was my little girl, my baby and I knew I wouldn't last a day without her. When she was sick I couldn't sleep. I know the analogy is poor, but I love my dog no less than I love the members of my family. That is something they don't understand really and it no longer matters. Point is...I would shatter if anything happened to my little one.

That Zarin was still alive and breathing in and out...seemed miraculous to me.

She had been given a tranquilizer, but it had not kicked in. She cried and somewhere along the way she fell asleep in my arms. I dared not move. Why wake her and bring her back to this living nightmare? Sleep was better. I don't know how long I held her. I don't know how long I cried for her. I should have been used to this by now. I was usually so detached...from such situations but she seemed alone and so lost. My conscience didn't permit me to leave her.

The next morning she was better, having tea. Upon hearing my shift was ending she started to cry again. I left her my Mobile number and home address, again completely against protocol but at this point she didn't need a doctor. She needed someone to talk to.

She was discharged that morning.

I left for home.

********************************************************************************** EPILOGUE:

That night I went to bed with tears in my eyes.

I went to bed because I couldn't stop those tears and there was no one in my life who would understand those tears. I couldn't understand them. Couldn't stop them.

I dreamt I had a baby girl, with my boyfriend's big, kind, chocolate caramel, round eyes and my thick black eyelashes. I don't remember her face as clearly now, but I still see her eyes, her lashes.

I knew my dream would fade, in hours or days. I would forget I had such a dream, had a baby. But mine was a dream...

Could she? Forget that glimpse, that sliver of her baby's face, his eyes?

I would pray for her. Pray she had many, many beautiful, healthy this one would seem like a faraway dream in some long lost time.


Sunday, September 06, 2009

September Tapes.

September Tapes.

Theres a crazy fire in their eyes. Them with the Aks and other assorted weapons. They're baby faced, trying to disguise their age under thick stubble. But they don't need to. The madness in their eyes says it all.

It seems clear there is no reasoning with these people. They're following dictates blindly. Eyes shut, mind shut even tighter. Happy to oblige if it means they appear powerful with the guns, rifles, bombs, dusty jeeps,ability and freedom to kill at will.
No respect for women. No compassion for children. No feelings for humanity existing outside the brotherhood. For it is a kind of brotherhood. Isn't it?

Is it really? There are those amongst the brotherhood who feel opressed. There must be. There have to be. Who else will cause a revolution? Who will rebel against a solitary insane leader and the apparently infinite blind followers? There have to be some among them with a conscience, with a heart but most importantly with a mind of their own. The ability to distinguish between right and wrong.

There has to be someone.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Oh, it's er...ok. [aka, when did we become blase about saving lives?]

So last night the Almighty saved a life via me.

This woman came with poisoning, almost comatose. So I inserted a Ryle's tube, pumped her stomach, flushed the gastric contents. Then started and iv, flushed her system, gave her injections to make her pee, gave her the antidote and sat by her bedside all night.

When she arrived I rushed into action and didn't cough even once in the 2-3 hours it took to stabilize her [Yes, i have the ornery flu.]

All in a day's work.

By morning she was awake and asking for tea.
When the family thanked me, for "saving" her life, I was er...nonplussed, to say the least. I didn't know what to say, because it didn't seem like a big deal to me by then, when I heard what she had taken, with my actions I knew she would be ok, eventually...physically anyway. [please save your opinions on what you think of people who attempt intentional self harm for my upcoming post later on. Not here.]

[I suppose they , the family, didn't know, or didn't believe us till she actually sat up and started talking. ] reponse to their thank you lies in the title of this post...
" no, yes, its, hmm...I didn't really do anything you know, it's know" and looking skywards, indicating Him, whereupon they nodded, in what I hoped was understanding.

Bizarre aint' I?

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Turn me into pink mist.

NOTE : Pink mist is basically how the bomb squad refers to you when you blow up. There are many other definitions as well, as per google. The reason I wrote on this phrase is because it isn't often that we come across a beautiful word for something gory and ugly. I am not suicidal or depressed or anything of the sort!!

Turn me into pink mist dear God,
and make me forget.
The horrors I've seen
and never let me see
what lies in further store for me.

Turn me into pink mist my friend,
I cannot bear it anymore,
the blood, unfairness, backstabbing and gore.
People being one thing to your face,
behind it meaning much,much more.

Turn me into Pink mist buddy,
No one listens anymore,
Everyone thinks they're perfect,
Other's opinion's matter no more,
We talk to ourselves, content in ourselves.

Turn me into pink mist God,
What is the point here?
We save lives, they die someday,
but do they learn?
Life's important lessons?

Take me into your arms my Lord,
Or teach them life is not too short
nor long, the trouble lies not in it's length.
We don't know when in fact,
it is going to end.

Take me into the wind my friend,
they still don't learn each moment counts,
still are rude and impolite,
compassion seems so far, far away.
And for those who are ...

trying to grow in your image,
they're are mocked, Fingers pointed,
unappreciated, laughed at, scorned.
Turn me into pink mist my God,
It hurt's to be different, ignored.

Blow me into your miracles God,
the rain, wind, grass, sun and snow.
I have no strength what you see
[is just for show.]
take me into your arms, give me respite.

I cannot fight anymore.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Do you Believe in heaven?

"Do you believe in heaven honey?"

"Sure...Not sure what it is exactly though..."

"What's your idea of heaven?"

"Hmm...I think it's where we are at peace after we die you know? A place of justice, joy and rest after all this toil on earth. What about you sweety? I know You wouldn't ask unless your non stop working mind already had an answer ready..."

"Silly man. Silly but smart. Yeah...I've been thinking about it awhile...", I was lost in thought again...

"Lost world...tell me...", he said squeezing me gently.

"Well...I think heaven is moments..."


" this moment...When we're in each other's arms, at peace with each other and talking about heaven."

"ok...and...go on...", he prodded.

"It's when I apologize to my father for yelling at him, tell him I love him and never ever meant to hurt him...and him saying it's ok...just think before you get angry or shout next time."

"You apologized? I'm so proud. Thank you. " He said kissing my cheek.

"Well it was easier over googletalk...", I grimaced, ashamed of myself.

"'s always hard admitting one is wrong. I know you can't live without your parents talking to you. What else...heaven I mean..."

"Well...there's raindrops tapping on my window...or watching a stormy sea with the rain creating ripples in the green blue water..."

"Sounds heavenly..."

"Add some hot coffee and conversation to it..."


"You eating so much, and so heartily...whatever I cook for you...that you have to undo your jean's button..."

"Well you rock the kitchen!"

"Only for you babe. And mom and my sister too...Dad doesn't notice so much..."

"Tell me more..."

"Well there's the times my sister talks to me like we used to before time, age, ego and people came between us. When she hugs me if I'm crying or takes my side because no one else is getting me... when we're sister's again...those moments."

Squeeze squeeze squeeze. "She'll come around...she loves you too..."

"It's when you say the right things at the right time...which is not often...but eventually you do...and those moments make me feel everything is going to be fine, instantly."

"I know...sometimes I don't get what to say when...I'm sorry hon."

"But when you do say something, later, you're right."

"You're just biased. You get angry and now you say you like it."

"Well you're're not smooth, you're human."

"What else?"

"I think it's heavenly that there's someone on earth I actually trust. And I know...I've taken forever to...get down to it...Longer than most people do...but I trust you...and you've proved yourself...time and again..."

"You are a toughie..."

"I think it's heavenly that even if you don't understand my point of view about something, you listen, you do I...I think it's amazing that we think alike on so many points...and I think we have enough difference to keep the relationship lively.'

"You must be referring to our fights!"

"Well yeah...and I think the part when we make up...that's heavenly too."

"Go on..."

"I think it's heaven when a patient comes in severe pain, in the middle of the night and I give them medication, and literally watch their pain disappear...and their amazement...that moment when they feel relief is heavenly..."

"Always the chubby doc."

"I think it's heavenly when my dog greets me at the door every morning...or the way she looks into my eyes with pure love...and loyalty. I love how , when I'm around , she doesn't listen to anyone else...doesn't have eyes like anyone else..."

"Hey I do that too...but discreetly!"

"I know...those moments I catch you looking at me...heaven...You asking me to make you my perfect drinking it, looking at me, nodding to indicate it's good...heaven. point is...heaven is right here...all around us...!! We just miss it..."

"I wish I was as good at expressing my thoughts as you. How did you end up with a lallu like me?"

"You may not be as good at words, but you are part of my heaven...You are my heaven."

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Does a Picture really speak?

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. I don't know about all that, but I would like to find out :o) These here are two pictures of me. [DUH]. Give me 5 words to describe them/it, the person you see in it. Read the other's words and don't repeat. Be original, after all, man has more than one facet and a woman more than a hundred [Ok, so I made that up.]. You're all writers, bloggers...Use your adjectives ;o)


Well, these are probably the most honest pics of me ever, without thinking, without posing, and at a time when I'm trying my level best to become better...I need to know how I am right now, from the perspective of an objective outsider.

Monday, July 13, 2009

The road not taken indeed.

This post is in fact a reply to Solilo's post here.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

-Robert Frost, The road not taken.

I took the road less travelled by in my life. In fact I'm currently on its rocky path... It's not easy... I didn't know it would be this hard, but had I known also, I would still have taken it, because it's the only way to grow. To achieve one's highest potential...its the only way.

And it's a long road,

It's often lonely...but you learn to be your own best friend.
It's rocky but that only makes you overcome obstacles.

It's twisted but that only makes you realise that honesty and straight-forwardness are the easiest way to go.
It's scary, but that only makes you more and more fearless in all your doings, makes you brave enought to stand up for whats right. For yourself and for someone who isn't as brave.

It's got potholes in it...a lot of potholes, but they only serve to make you more resourceful and have faith, that where there is a pothole, there's also a ladder nearby to climb out of it.

There maybe a few like minded travellers out there, and they will pull you along when you get tired, they will remind you, how amazing it feels, to make it, all on your own.

Yes, for all its pain, the road less travelled is the only one worth taking...

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Breakfast in five!

So my better half came home on his way back from work. So I made him breakfast in five mins... as part of a series of Quick 'n Easy recipes on my blog, I'm here to provide this too.

Scrambled Eggs on Toast :

Ingredients :

5 eggs
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
Cream- 2 tablespoons
Skim Milk - 1/4th cup

Method :

Use a non stick pan.
heat pan first
add small amounts of butter.
let butter fizz and bubbles form.
meanwhile you should have popped bread into the toaster.
And begin beating the eggs, salt and pepper in a bowl with a fork.
When the butter is hot and eggs are beaten , add the eggs to the pan.
watch the base of the eggs. When they start solidifying, push the eggs from the edge to the centre in a straight motion. keep pushing eggs this way. when they are half cooked, add the cream, push eggs around again and then add the milk. let cook on low-medium flame.
by now the bread should have popped out, cut, spread butter.
Add the slightly moist or dry now [as per your taste[ on top of the bread and sprinkle pepper and serve~!
Tastes best with piping hot coffee :)

Thursday, July 09, 2009

The Women who give the good ones a bad name.

There are these women I know. And then there are these simple men.

These women I know entice these men. Ensure them that they cannot be the same, even whole, without them. They talk sensuously and sexily. They throw in numerous innuendoes, fling around the three most sacred words in the history of humankind... I love you.

To some guys, these three words make their world swivel and spin and turn all bright and rainbow-like, to some guys, these words are all they've been waiting for. They feel like a dog who's spotted a rainbow.

Even after months of conversation, on many levels, months of teasing, moments of emotional intimacy... these women after all the sweet talking, claim to be just friends...once these guys tell them of their feelings.

Then these guys are baffled. What were the sweet words about? Did the i love you's mean squat? What about the online kisses every two lines? Were they just passing their time playing around with these guys feelings? Knowing that these are serious guys. Guys who take feelings, emotions, love seriously?

Then they Pretend as if they did nothing wrong in the first place. Like its quite normal to throw around these words. Like it's normal to tell guys everytime they're going to shower and indulge their visions of them in the same, providing morbid descriptions? Or it's normal to inform a guy everytime one's going to change one's clothes [going to strip babe, just a min, brb]. A guy you are merely friends with. Not Bf GF. Telling them their calls are a lifeline all the while not realising how statements such as these raise their hopes up several notches.

Then they go and shatter their hopes. Were these hopes unfairly raised? The only excuse these girls give is that this is the way everyone in their generation talks. I'm talking about a generatoin 5-7 years younger. They are ok with guys feeling them up, unabashedly sexually promiscous even before they reach 17yrs of age. This is all ok...with them. And then they complain that guys call them W****S and S***s. Not that the guys are entirely without blame.

But I digress.

Then these chicks, transform the formely simple guys into messes. Colossal Messes they cannot clean up, nor can they forget and certainly not forgive. They doubt every girl thereafter. And that ruins things for the girls who genuinely mean what they say. These chicks ruin it for all the "Good Women" out there.

How is that fair, how?

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Mirror mirror on the wall...who's the scariest of them all?

I forced myself to face my worst fear today. Yes thats me, horrified!

Let me explain.

Until nearly 7years ago, I was fairly good looking [read : Hot!] and smart and polished and basically I put effort into my looks and physique. I used to preen in front of the mirror and scope myself in everything that reflected light and myself. I was the epitome of vanity. You would've been too if you had guys falling for you left and right.

I was confident. Arrogant, even. [not proud, and certainly not so anymore.]

Then college happened. Misunderstandings, rejections, betrayals, loneliness, a sense of not knowing myself...

Then eating disorders happened....

Soon enough I began hating the reflection I saw in the mirror. So I did what seemed smart [read : Convienient] at the time, and sold my full length mirror.

I never faced a full length mirror...after that.

Yesterday I went and bought one....

After all these years, it seems to me, the smart thing to do, the only thing to do, is change what I see in the mirror. I couldn't do that until I saw what the mirror shows, the thing that scares the living crap out of it.

So I did.

I faced it.

And its helping already. Fitness first. Healthy foods in. All kinds of junk out. Daily runs a must.

You must think I'm so bizarre!!

This is me though...facing my worst fear...trying to make my biggest enemy my best pal.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

For the Children Of alchoholics.

Of late, there have been around me, increasing stories of alchoholics and their marriages to ordinary, naive, stupid, smitten women who don't have an ounce of common sense. Maybe their brains cease to function and that is why they cannot see beyond these smooth talking people.

My better half pointed out to me, that generally I'm a tolerant, polite, nice person who tries her hardest to see and show the best in people, Even in people I dislike. He and I were both surprised and stunned at my vehemence regarding alchoholics and addicts. He is against them being involved with a family member too...but not as violently as I am. He asked me if they weren't human? Didn't they too deserve happiness? A family?

I was baffled at my intolerance. After many, many conversations regarding this topic it turned out there was a damn good reason for my anger at addicts.

In my psychiatry posting in college, I admitted many addicts. Not one of these came of their own accord. Not one Admitted to a problem. Half of them had undergone deaddiction programmes before and currently relapsed, half of the rest were new and the other half referred from another hospital. Ask any of them the standard question of "what seems to be the problem that brought you here?" and there was a standard reply, " Nothing. These people think I have a problem, I'm totally fine."

These people were their family. Wives, children, parents, relatives. Who had seen enough and tolerated enough and tried enough on their own. Beaten up wives and messed up children. Broken homes, broken hearts, shattered souls
An estimated 6.6 million children under the age of 18 years live in households with at least one alcoholic parent. For more alchoholism related statistics go here.

They are human beings. No doubt. But they are ill. Ill in a way that, 95% of the time, they cannot help. Literally cannot help. Addiction is a sickness. Even a drop of alchohol after a Deaddiction programme, is enough for a relapse. They cannot help it, they don't know how to stop.

And while that doesn't make Alchoholics and addicts less human, they are still adults. It is their problem. If another man/woman falls in love with them, believes their claims which range as follows :

I only drink occasionally now.
Even one peg goes straight to my head and makes me drunk.
I have strong will power.
I will stop it for you.
I have stopped because of you.
Beer doesn't do anything.
I will change after marriage.
It's only because i'm lonely.
and etc.

...if other men/women are stupid enough to believe them because they are lonely, they want to feel loved, or feel they can "save" an addict or the addict is otherwise handsome/beautiful/charming/rich/qualified/smart etc...if these people are blinded in infatuation so much so they are willing to marry these addicts and live with them thats ok too.

What is not ok then?

It's not ok, when these people, this couple, decides to have children.
They have no right...when they are so messed and unsure of their own selves...that they don't know when they will relapse next...they have no right to bring innocent children into this world.
Two adults getting married is by choice. They can undo it, get divorced if the addict turns into a beater or abuser or relapses.
But children do not get a choice. They do not get to choose the family they are born into. They have to live with the consequences, with an addict as a parent.
The world is hard enough to live in as it is. Even with normal, well balanced is a hard life. Imagine how much worse it is with one or more parent who is messed up. Who are unstable themselves. How can they provide any semblance of stability for their kids?

To read about the suffering of children of addicts and alchoholics please go here.

Children are innocent and extremely sensitive creatures. They are dependent on us, their parents. To give birth to one, to make a baby, another human an enormous responsibility. A grave responsibilty. A decision that cannot be taken in a giggly, romantic moment. Carelessly. They trust us with their lives.

How can we betray them by bringing them into this world when we are so messed up ourselves? When we cannot guarantee that we won't touch a drop of booze or snort a line of coke or shoot something up our arms.

If a woman marries someone who is an alchoholic/ex alchoholic/relapsed/addict/ex addict/someone making smooth but probably false promises/still trying to recover/ etc etc...just for her own selfish reasons, imagined love or infatuation, then they have successfully taken the first step towards being a terrible mother.

If an addict, a known addict, even an ex addict with relapses etc, agrees to father a child...he is on his way to becoming a bad father.

The children of addicts don't respect their parents. Either of them. They grow up hostile and insecure among other things. They have a high chance of drug abuse themselves, apart from depression and social issues. They have few friends or many, many friends. They spend their lives dealing with these issues. Female children often end up marrying a man in their alchoholic father's image. In India Divorce is still Taboo. SO what then? They think children will solve the problem. So they reproduce.

Read more about the whole issue

There are no guarantees in life. Normal people may become addicts after marriage.
But tell me something...
Isn't there a huge difference, between choosing to marry someone you KNOW has a problem and marrying someone whose problems you know nothing of. After marriage their issues may come as a shocker.
But to knowingly "jump into a well?"...
How can a person do that?

The adults I don't give a damn about. They deserve their fate, they made their choices. But their unborn or soon to be born kids have no say whatsoever. They wouldn't make such a lousy choice. One that will fuck up the rest of their lives.

More about alchoholic's kids here.

Addicts are experts at deception. Experts. Smooth liars. They have to be. It's upto you to be wary.

Afterword: It makes my heart and mind sick. And since I couldn't sleep thinking about this, I blogged. And cried. For all those little children. The huge gap between posts was because I couldn't bring myself to write anything else. I had to get this out. I don't mean to offend anyone. I admire the addicts who remain clean. I know the courage it takes. Not everyone can do it. Thats the trouble.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

This is how I love.

Dedicated to the Stuart Little in my life.
[With all of the love a little Margalo is capable of.]

I love you so
that Tears in your eyes
cause mine
to blur too.

When you light up
and drag the smoke deep
My lungs turn to coal
my chest tightens too.

A harsh word from you
that cold shoulder?
breaks my tiny heart,
slaps my crestfallen face.

We meet when you please,
It hurts to have no say,
waiting is agony,
our time e'er constrained.

When I'm second place,
my feelings runners up,
To be less of a burden,
I know why your back aches.

I listen to you simply
because what makes you happy,
is always above all,
my joy lies in your laughter.

Haven't you realised yet?
I notice what matters to you,
your opinions mean the world
I listen, I notice, I do.

I yearn for a hug,
a loving look,
a playful nudge,
footsie under the table.

When you spend a penny,
it pinches my wallet.
When you have a cold,
its my nose that sniffles.

When you stand up for me,
I feel less alone.
When life is a burden,
you make me whole.

Your sleepless nights,
cause shadows 'neath my eyes.
Your troubled days,
leave me in great distress.

For me you are foremost,
what makes you happy
above me,my ego and pride.
Don't you see it yet?

Am I not worthy of
more than stolen moments?
Am I not to be put,
first, above all,sometimes?

I do not fear you dying,
your breath and mine are one,
I need not love you more
After you pass on.

I know you don't know why,
Maybe I will tell you
When your heart beats it's last,
mine stops ticking too.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Time and again!

Time for granted?

I hate people who take others for granted. I really do. Let me illustrate with digusting examples.

Scene one :

A couple loves the way you cook a particular dish. They specifically requested it when they invited themselves over to your place for dinner. Seeing as how they were only in town for a few days, you relucatantly cancelled your evening plans and got to work buying ingredients and cooking.[Of course, you were flattered and wanted to be paid compliments to your face which is probably why you bother in the first place.]

So you marinaded the chicken, chopped up about 20 onions, peeled what seemed like infinite cloves of garlic, lovingly powdered various whole spices and painstakingly cook your signature dish.

They are late. About an hor after they're late, you recieve an SMS [text] on your ever hungry mobile phone saying, " Hey we wont b able2cum, something else came up.sry."

I'll leave you to fume on my behalf...

Scene two :

Any girl knows that to meet her beloved, takes a lot of muss and fuss. One cooks their favorite dish. Aside of that one also has to clean up and make their home sparkle. [sloppiness is a very personal issue, one that should be kept hidden for as long as humanly possible.] But, harder than making one's home sparkle is making oneself all clean and shiny and pretty.
Sometimes one's Better Half requests specific favorite items of clothing. Which one has to wear. If aforementioned items of clothing are abesent from one's has to go buy them at a moment's notice. Booty calls also only appear effortless.

Let me be v.clear here...GIRLS TAKE TIME TO LOOK PRETTY. Or even presentable. It's not as simple as it looks. Legs are not naturally hair free and scents are not a part of us, especially not so strategically place. Bodies need to be washed and oiled. [We're not babies anymore and so bodies are not naturally silky and smooth.]

About an hour after we are ready and waiting, we recieve an SMS saying that they're on they're way now...and to not be angry.

Are you freakin' kidding me?

Scene three :

Very old family friends, people you respect, have been invited for dinner. Unexpected guests turn up at their place even as you are zoomingly cooking a hasty but tasty meal for this impromtu supper. Drinks in the freezer to chill. Seeing as how they are too polite to tell their guests they are in a bit of a rush and their guests too bored to actually bother CALLing before just "dropping by" as they were in the neighbourhood.

So one waits for upto 4 hours. that's right...till their guests decide to leave before they can finally make it. YOu are hungry, thirsty, pissed off. At least these people make it, even though its 10:00 PM.

And a good host despite it all.

Scene four :

You informed your maid that you have to leave for work early tomorrow and she promises to come at 11 AM. You wait till 4 PM. and then finally believing that they've taken the day off, you leave.

The next day they inform you they did indeed come at 5 PM.
When you get upset and angry at their...[*unable to find the right word please help*]... they don't bother apologizing. And you can't be rude or yell at them because they're 40 years older to you!

Which is worse people? They all made me seethe equally.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Two ways to go.

There can be two ways, that I know of, to view things.

When someone is better than us, in which ever way, we can :

-either emulate them and be what is admirable or
-we can resent them, hate them, hurt them and become ugly.

When we're low, when life is going in the exact opposite way that we foresaw for ourselves, we can :

- Look at those below us, far worse than we are, and feel good about ourselves or
- we can look at those above us and feel even more frustrated.

When we're feeling cocky, self satisfied and arrogant and someone points it out we can

-Think of them as a real friend who cares more about YOU than of what you will think of them or
-Feel hurt, Angry and Avoid them thereafter.

When we think we know it all, have it all we can :

-Look at those below us and turn into even bigger know it alls and thus impede our own progress or
-Look at those above us and realise how much we still have to achieve...look at the scope for improvement.

When someone treats us badly we can :

-Follow tit for tat and be just like them or
-Be the bigger person and learn how Not to be like them.

When someone we love dumps us we can

-Learn a lesson, from both our mistakes and never repeat them, never compromise with ourself.
-Call him/her/it names and get drunk and have unsafe sex with strangers. Then choose similar losers once sober.

When Mom / dad scold we can :

-Yell "I hate you!", sulk, not talk, not eat or
-Realise s/he's the only one in the world who will never, ever leave us or wish us harm. And Try to see the wisdom or their words 'cos take it from me, they're always right. [don't tell them I said so though.]

Pic courtesy Little Girl LOst. Thanks pal :o)

More coming up, in installments. Please give me lessons you have learnt.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Doctors don't get asked for autographs.

....It's true. We don't.

We stay up nights.

We ease your pain.

We don't sleep well, or in peace, ever.

We worry even after you leave.

We wonder if you'll feel better.

We wonder if you'll call and let us know you're better.

We OD on caffeine to stay alert. We sometimes need a pill to sleep in peace.

We refuse wedding invitations to be there for our patients.

We put our lives on hold, to learn more, to educate ourselves more.

We sacrifice our family lives, often.

We don't go out and party because we can't get drunk because we won't be able to treat you efficiently. Yes, we're geeky.

We sit by your bedside and wait till the pain subsides.

We never even hint that we want to go back to bed. We can't go, not while you're hurting.

We care.

We hurt when causing you pain too. Did you know that? The local anaesthesia is as much for us as it is for you.

We never let our anxiety show.

We never let out insecurity show.

We listen to you.

Without looking at our watches repeatedly.

We even put up with your sometimes Know-It-All attitude despite your ignorance or incomplete information.

We try to educate you, dispel your fears.

Even as we deal with our own fears.

We watch people younger to us getting married, having babies, being happy...and we still put our lives on hold till we can complete the chunk of our education.

We watch them and sometimes wish we were them.

We get out of touch with friends...often we live in our own world of medicines.

We wish you wouldn't doubt us.

We hate dealing with your distrust.

When we stand by your side to support you while you watch your stillborn baby, we fight to hold back our tears. We cry for your loss and pray for your souls after you leave.

We rub your tummies, we wipe your tears, we even clean your piss and vomit.

But its SRK or AB or PC whose autographs you want.

Dedicated to all conscientious Doctors around the world. And Janitors, nurses, sweepers and all medical personnel.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Wee Little Tale of Sneha.

The Wee Little Tale of Sneha .

"So who will make charts for the poem? I need one chart...", questioned the second grade Hindi teacher.

Two hands immediately shot up...the other students looked at their feet or their partners...

"Sunita, Sneha...But I only need one chart..."

"Please ma'am me..."
"Ma'am I'll make it better...!"

After a bit of rumination, the teacher relented "OK both of you can make it and I'll choose the one that is better."

Sneha didn't know whether to be pleased or nervous, so she was both. Competition made her extremely unsure of herself...well, she would try anyway.

"Here Sneha, you can take the pink chart, Sunita take this yellow one. I want them tomorrow, poem with a drawing next to it...remember the supervisor and headmaster may come to class and look at the chart so make it properly.", warned the teacher ominously.


"Daddy please!! I tried!! See those pencil marks ? I can't do it! And it has to be submitted tomorrow...the supervisor will see it and if I don't submit it, my teacher will shout at me!!", Sneha begged her father while looking beseechingly at her mother.

"You do draw well darling...", her mother said coaxingly to her husband who appeared to be melting.

"Hmmm...Ok. But what if the teacher comes to know?"

"No no...I promise I won't tell her! I'll say I made it myself! "

"Ok, give me the poem and I'll draw it. Fine way to spend a weekend. Drawing at work and at home!"


"Ok, show me the two charts...I hope both of you got them ready? I want no excuses."

"Yes Ma'am!", Sunita and Sneha both piped up proudly.

"Ok, first Sneha show me yours and then we'll see Sunita's work."

Sneha proudly [and anxiously] unrolled her finished chart complete with poetry written neatly and the drawing of the old woman depicted in it. She may not have had the perfect features but she was good enough.

"Hmm...this is OK. Nice...You did this yourself? Or did someone help you? Children look at you like it?"

"Yes ma'am...", echoed the little boys and girls in unison.

"Ma'am I did it myself!", said Sneha, coloring a little.

"OK, good ,now Sunita show me what you have made."

Sunita reluctantly opened her yellow chart towards the teacher.

"What is this Sunita?"


"This is to be put up on the drawing board? In front of the supervisor and the headmaster?! I didn't give you this chart to tear and dirty with your pencil marks! And the poem writing is so small I can't even see it! Do you think anyone will be able to read it on the board? And what is this drawing? How could you submit something so shabby??"

Sunita hung her head in shame.

So did Sneha.

The yellow chart was torn at the edges, probably in the bus ride to school. The light color of the chart paper made the grubby pencil marks stand out glaringly. The poem was written in an uneven hand, the lines travelling up and down, but not in a straight line. The drawing of the woman was poorly a child's hand. But they were children after all...

"Look class...See the two charts side by side? Which on is neater? more presentable? Which writing and drawing is better? Sunita's or Sneha's?", the teacher conducted an instant mini poll

"Sneha's ma'am...", the class pointed out in agreement with the teacher.

"So shabby".
Sneha watched a tear splash on the ground beneath Sunita.

Sneha's chart was immediately put up on the chartboard and the class oooh'ed and Aaah'ed over it.

Sunita's was in the large dustbin outside the class. For the rest of the day
Sunita remained silent.


"Come on get in line...walk straight to the bus.", the prefect scolded Sneha who was the last one to leave in her class.

"Just a minute I forgot my mother will shout at me.", Sneha needed to get back to class urgently while it was empty.

"Ok, but I'll be watching for you."

Sneha ran back to class, roughly unpinned the chart her father had made, from the board and rolled it. Unable to find the rubber band to hold it in place she just clutched it in her chubby little fingers and ran as fast as she could before anyone could see her and stop her.


"Beta didn't your teacher like the chart?", Sneha's mother asked as she saw her tired and grumpy daughter walk in the front door.

"She liked it, but the other girl's chart was better...and she made it herself..."

"'s ok need to feel bad."

"No...I am just feeling hot...and hungry."

Sneha could now take her afternoon nap in peace and with a light heart.


Afterword : Just so you know, this is a true story [not word for word] and till this date Sneha remembers Sunita, from her ponytail to her grubby hands and most of all she remembers the teardrop that dared to fall from her lowered eyelids and her head hung in shame.