Musings of a life less thought about

Strange New World. Chapter One: Baltimore

2011-06-21T05:41:00.002+05:30

Many of you already know but for those who don’t - adventurous me has been planning a whole new adventure for the past 6 months – which has kept me busy enough to keep me from blogging, socializing and being the human that I usually am.

The adventure in question was travelling half way around the world and go all over the country for half a year in the name of education - hence get financed by my cutie-pie Dad.

I am not going into the nitty-gritty of how I planned and planned till I dropped or how everything worked out or how excited I was when things did work out – as those things are meant for educational blogs and the other usual kind of blogs explaining how to succeed in life and the sort. I am not the sort who makes life easier for people just because they are lazy – so move on to some other blog (which I am sure there are plenty of) for such details. Mine is an enlightening blog where you learn stuff you could never learn anywhere else and that is why I have 38 followers even though I have posted just 10 posts in the past one year (Love you guys!). Hence I begin from the time I took my first step on the soil of United States of America – not in the hopes of achieving the American dream someday like every other immigrant taking their first step in U.S.A, but in the hopes of making this an experience worth killing for if not worth dying for.

JFK International airport, New York - I just kept repeating in my mind “New York, New York, New York” until I could get accustomed to the fact that the 14 hour HELL of a flight did finally get me to New York. Exit Flight and I literally screamed out New York – No, not due to excitement – It was so freaking unexpectedly cold that my mind decided to speak up. Have you seen that Russell Peter video in which he talks about the guy who farts in front of every plane that lands in India? Well, let me tell you something he did not say – in U.S.A you enter a blast freezer every time you exit a flight. It was supposed to be spring for crying out loud! After the dueling port of entry interview – where they determine whether you’re a terrorist by staring deep into your eyes for 10 seconds (which I passed with flying colours even though I was itching to stick my tongue out or make funny faces during the ‘duel’) I entered New York – and it was snowing – in spring. No jacket, no gloves and no scarf – I felt like a frozen chicken carrying three heavy bags. Cab ride to Penn station and until we reached Manhattan I thought I was in depressing, disgusting Mumbai (no offence) and then it happened. Empire State building came into sight, I realized the Persian taxi driver was playing loud trance music and we passed through Times Square, Fifth Avenue and all the heavenly places I have so far seen only sitting inside a cab – thanks to the weather. Train to Baltimore - on time, eventless and blah.

Jump forward a few days –during which adequate measures were taken to keep warm. My friend and I decide to explore the neighborhood of the best hospital in the whole wide world – Johns Hopkins, baby!!! – And for all those who think it is Harvard – you’re wrong.

All those House MD episodes when I wished I could be more like him and attend Johns Hopkins too – sigh – dreams come true! Classes were so good we felt like we would be Nobel Prize laureates had we graduated from here. For the first time things that never made any sense made sense – if that makes any sense. Everywhere we went – even when we were downtown shopping for groceries we had our Johns Hopkins IDs on – that is what visiting medical students do when in Johns Hopkins! We got ourselves Johns Hopkins sweatshirts and caps and mugs and everything money could buy. We were Johns Hopkins students and full of it – even if it were only for 3 months. For those of you who don’t understand, I have two words – Sour grapes.

Two months done and there begins hot, hot summer. I was born and raised in Dubai – so I used to consider myself well acclimatized to heat. But heat in U.S.A is unbearable! It is bright, hot, sweaty, sticky and I have to walk all the time! Unbearable. And I was hoping all this time that it would just get warmer! In addition to all this torture of summer you have to deal with half naked people running around or just lazing by in the name of getting a tan – the luxuries of having fair skin. If I did that I would look like a piece of charcoal, if I don’t look it already. But there was always something to smile about – if nothing, just reminding yourself of being in Johns Hopkins.

In between trying to save money, sketchy neighborhoods, eating cheap Chinese food, dealing with a frustrating landlord, cooking Mom’s recipes and cleaning bathrooms there were fun times like taking long walks to no particular place at 8:00 pm when it is bright and sunny, taking pictures of ALL sorts of people in Fell’s point, visiting Edgar Alan Poe’s grave, subway-delicious-subway, starbucks-heavenly-starbucks, rowing classes(thanks to a friend), sushi bars, awesome crepes, free KFC (thanks to a patriotic fellow Indian in U.S.) and movie nights. Work was not too time consuming or tiring, the hours were so considerate, professors so approachable and people strangely super friendly. The first time a person said ‘Hi! How you doing?’ in the street I almost asked ‘Do I know you?’ But then I remembered Julie Delpy’s dialogue in ‘Before sunset’. And since then you don’t think twice before ‘Im great! How you doing?’ Whoever thought I of all the cynical people in the world would be amicable in a society of super-friendly strangers.

Three months flew by too quickly, and more than anything I know my company helped me have fun, with a little assistance from my considerate work hours. Somehow I just don’t expect the same out of Chapter Two - pessimistic me.

Lessons for enlightenment:
1)There can be years when there is no spring – like 2011.
2)Make sure you have good company during your first month or be extremely good at making friends fast.
3)Do not forget - Strangers are super friendly – do not be flabbergasted or rude, I almost was.
4)Try to spend money wisely – the keyword being ‘try’.
5)Take loads of photos, glad I had my friend for that!
6)If you work hard there will be time to party harder.

At the end of Chapter One: Baltimore -
An experience worth killing for if not dying for : Mission Accomplished.

Next up Chapter Two: Chicago.

P.S.: Link at the bottom for commenting – super optimistic me. Sigh.

In rehab and deserving it

2011-03-13T19:34:00.002+05:30

Wow!
Almost feels like my first post!

It has been forever since I posted and I realized that when a friend happened to post on the “wall” of a very addictive social network, unaware that I am officially under rehab – FB rehab.

Hence this post
– very appropriate a beginning to another end, if you ask me.

So what is it about facebook anyway?
I generally do not use names but I don’t think Mr Mark Zuckerberg will be much affected by my blog – he must still be wondering why the movie on him didn’t win the Oscar.
Back to bitching about facebook - Pardon the language – the past one year has made me more frustrated at depression than my usual frustrated, depressed self.

Does my friends list represent my friends in real life –HELL NO!

Unfortunately, for one whole month I accepted friend requests from people who shared mutual friends. BIG MISTAKE –because there are people as dumb as and maybe dumber than me who add based on the same stupid criterion.
End result – a horny, non-descript, irritating pervert who has access to my photo albums and has a friends list solely comprising the female gender.

That required cleaning up – which though a tedious process, finally, was very satisfying.

And then began my one month of Applications and games on Facebook. Even though I never went around to Farming, fishing and cooking, I unfortunately did enjoy losing fake money gambling and killing people in the pretext of me being a mafia gangster.
Both of this lead to me adding to my friends list a number of jobless, juvenile, losers; very much like myself, from all over the world, with whom I have not exchanged one word of conversation. I don’t even know their names and yet, there they are on my friends list.

That required cleaning up - after my computer crashed thanks to me trying to buy a multi-million dollar hotel from the money I got from murdering a gangster high up in the hierarchy. Mafia wars cost me two weeks of time on the internet, 4000 Rupees and lots of energy.
Energy saved up for blogging, perhaps.

The friends list cleared and kept in perfect condition, one fine day I just happened to look through people I was at least acquainted with on my friends list and I just realized what a hoax the whole thing is. I just went on to count the number of people I actually talk to. Those who know me know that I don’t talk to many people. I am not a friend who keeps friends - Probably something to do with my inherent laziness.

Anyway, I realized that those who mattered are not on facebook or have deleted me as a friend because of the bitch I have been to them; because friends that matter think facebook is important enough to let others know I am not a friend anymore, but not important enough to keep in contact through.

So here I am with friends in my Facebook who I barely talk to, snooping around in pictures of people I don’t even know, learning about gossip I don’t even want to know, putting up photos after much restriction knowing fully well my family will be viewing them, adding long lost relatives - who I have no idea about - to my friends list because I am obliged to, when I realize somewhere along the way what Mr Mark Zuckerberg wanted out of Facebook (other than the money) was completely lost in my case.

Maybe it is because I am not friendly, maybe it is because I am not sociable enough to enjoy the functioning of a social network, maybe it is because I am being a hypocrite in hating hypocrites because I am as hypocritical as a hypocrite can be, maybe it is because I was bitchy enough to make my friends delete me from their friend list. But whatever it was I was addicted to Facebook and frankly I had no right to be.

Hence I am under rehab.

P.S.: Wishing you all a very belated Happy new year!

P.S.S: In case you are wondering how to comment - it is the light green bubble near the title of the post - and this is the hopeful me hoping that is the reason I have no comments yet.

Commitment coming clean

2010-06-29T22:12:00.003+05:30

Hi.
My name is Commitment.
I am here to come clean.

I don’t consider myself to be a negative word.
It is quite frustrating how I have, since forever, almost always been associated with negative actions
- Committing suicide, committing a crime, committing a mistake... But even in all this darkness I always had one beacon of hope – the role I played in a relationship.

But of late some people are taking this away from me.
I know I haven’t been the best of words.
I know I have been misused by many.
I know how I have unintentionally caused pain to many.
But I consider myself to bring forth promise into people’s lives, not terror.
I bring the promise of a new life.

I really don’t know when commitment and committing transformed to a word to be phobic about from being a word to cherish, a word to look forward to.
I was supposed to bring stability.
I was supposed to be the word of obligation, of trust, of not looking back because what I bring is only hope for the future.

Somehow something went wrong somewhere.
People all over the world are terrified of me.
They are terrified of using me in their sentences, terrified I might make an appearance in their conversations, terrified I might be their future.
What is it about me that people hate?
Is it the lack of change I bring forth in their mundane lives?
Is it the fear of looking back and missing freedom?

I have been used in so many negative aspects it is so easy for me to hate myself. But I love myself only because of how I bring people in love together forever.
And some people are out to ruin me.
These bunch of fools know they are in love but hate me because they don’t understand the happiness I can be capable of.
Here I am trying to come clean before you pin all the blame on me.

I am not responsible for pain and sorrow – you bring that upon yourself.
The lack of me in your lives will make you lonely, if not today then tomorrow.
Someday you will wish you had me earlier when you found the right person and had used me then instead of losing love because of your irrational fear of happiness.
This is me coming clean –
I am awesome only because of my role in bringing people together in happiness eternally.
The pessimists might think I am lying and that my thorns prick their balloons of artificial bliss.
The optimists look for rosy bushes all the way.
But the realists are the ones who understand me, the ones who know that without the thorns the roses are just not for real.
The realists know that I am for real – the raw deal.
I am what life is all about; I am why life is worth living; I am the hope for a tomorrow worth waking up to.

I wish somebody would stand up for who I am.
I wish somebody would tell these fools what I could bring into their lives.

I wish somebody would help stop this terror so that I might not be driven to ‘committing’ suicide.

This is me, Commitment, coming clean.
Now you know my side of the story.

Sinful fun

2010-06-20T12:02:00.004+05:30

I have missed this.
I have terribly missed puking out my thoughts here.
But of late there just have been too many random thoughts zo0ming in and out that I am just not able to pick on any of them to actually puke!
And for a brief period I did consider the idea that I might not be too good at this – thanks to some people.
What matters is – I think I’m back! Just give me a few posts to warm up though.

I visited Europe!
Yes. It happened.
I went to Paris, Rome and mainly moved around in Netherlands.
Well, there isn’t much to discuss about my vacation except that it was awesome while I was there.
But now that I am back each and every moment there seems like a dream or maybe even a farce.
Lesson learnt: when something is too good to be true – it isn’t true!
If you can’t understand – don’t try, it is one of those random thoughts zooming by.

I thought I’d type out a few lines on one of my thoughts in Europe – a non-descript person did ask me if I would blog on it, but that has nothing to do with me blogging on it. If I were to follow the opinions of certain people my blog and I would have absolutely no self respect. And yes, my blog does have more self respect than many people in the world.

I am not very enlightened in the case of religions and their teachings. So if anybody out there knows more about this please do comment and share the enlightenment. Anyway, while I was in Europe we went to innumerable churches and places of worship. We also had lots of fun – lots of it. During one such fun day I was wondering if the fun I am having is actually sinful in the eyes of the Big Guy. Well I must say my thoughts weren’t clear but I clearly remember voicing my thoughts – big mistake.

So I was wondering why most religions consider activities of recreation, that people my age might succumb to, sinful. And I was thinking so hard I couldn’t come up with any other conclusion than – maybe the Big Guy just doesn’t like us having fun.
But then that seemed mighty wrong.
He would never do such a thing – would he?
Maybe it is because he wants to teach us about self control.
Well, that seemed very plausible.
But I don’t understand the whole self control prison. Most of the time, we just confine ourselves in these little boxes not even letting our best thoughts break out wondering if it might be morally correct.
Some religions are more confining than others; does this mean that some people have more self control because of the religion they practice? Does this mean that they have more trouble expressing their inner most primitive being because of the fear of sinning?

This post, honestly, is not my piece of cake. I really dislike the idea of blogging on this. Bu it happened to be one of the clearer thoughts I have been having – and yes I am trying hard to get my brain to work more, I think not blogging has made me an easy target for making a fool out of for the last few months – if that is possible!

Anyway continuing my line of thought – moral obligations keeping us from committing a crime are ones that I totally understand. But somehow, somewhere I think the Big Guy just went overboard while trying to make us good people. Now we are, in a way, suppressed people.
And suppressed people are ticking bombs.

Another thought that hit me was that maybe these ‘sins’ are fun because they are sins!
Humans, disgusting creatures as they are, tend to have a rush when they do something they’re not supposed to do. I honestly think men have this rush more than women considering the number of cheating husbands and boyfriends. But that is beside the point. Maybe it is because of this rush that some sins have become fun.
And if that is the case I have a wonderful idea.
We should make things like being generous, helping those in need, being truthful, sins. Every time a person wants to have fun (which basically always) they’ll commit sins and since these sins are actually not sins we will actually be doing something great for the society.
I know we have a long way to go.
But keep an open mind and actually think about it – it might work.

I think it is time I stop typing, before I commit blasphemy – or did I, already?

Spellbound

2010-06-16T16:44:00.002+05:30

I read Les miserables when I was a child. I always thought it was mesmerising - one among the unconquered beauties of literature.
I came across this song very recently though - the lyrics have literally blown me over.
I couldn't have expressed my thoughts in a better way.

I'll blog soon. Sorry to keep all of you waiting.
My excuse - I just got back from my Europe trip!

I DREAMED A DREAM - Les miserables

There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dream to shame

He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he'll come to me
And we'll live our lives together
But there are dreams that cannot be!
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

*SIGH*

Nothing short of brilliant

2010-04-19T19:20:00.001+05:30

I stumbled across this about a year back. Somehow it slipped my mind then. I came across it again today and I decided to share it. I think it is plain brilliant.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it?
It makes you so vulnerable.
It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that
someone can get inside you and mess you up.
You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor,
so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different
from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...
You give them a piece of you.
They didn't ask for it.
They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and
then your life isn't your own anymore.
Love takes hostages.
It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the
darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends'
turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.
It hurts.
Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind.
It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.
I hate love."

- Neil Geiman

Critical criticism

2010-04-15T09:47:00.002+05:30

This post is about a new theory I am formulating. So in case you did not like my post on my theory about conquering depression ‘Happily sad’ I shall save your precious time and ask you to read no further.
On second thought, since you are the ones indirectly responsible for me formulating this theory, I would prefer it if you read on.

I have not been blogging regularly for a long time now. The last time I did consider blogging a part of my daily routine was probably a year back. But the number of followers that I still have makes me believe I am still not too bad at it.
One of my recent posts was one in which I had put much thought into. It is very rarely that I can actually control my thought process to derive a conclusion. This particular post was a result of one of such rare phenomenon. Hence it was only human to actually believe that my post was nothing short of incredible. And much to my content many of my friends and followers thought so too. It was after a long time I was actually satisfied with something that I had blogged about. And then someone whose opinion matters a lot to me mentioned how it was quite obviously a terrible post. This is precisely when my theory took birth.

Humans unlike what most people consider do not yearn for praise. On the contrary, I am of the opinion that they yearn for criticism. Until recently I was of the opinion that all man wanted was acceptance into society. But put some thought into it and you will see this could not be further from the truth.

No matter how much praise or lauding a person may acquire a single word of criticism can make him wonder hard about what went wrong. And this, unfortunately, for a perfectionist like me can consume every thought. It does not matter that hundreds of people love what you have created or accomplished, it does not matter that people look up at you, what matters is – one person thought it was nothing short of shit. If criticism was so critical, doesn’t it make one wonder if praise and acceptance are critical at all?

You might argue that without the right amount of praise and positive encouragement eventually a person might give up. But I think without criticism a person will definitely give up trying to do better. Now, addressing the issue about ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ criticism – I am of the opinion that all criticism is clearly positive. It merely depends on how the person in question handles it.

The criticism I received from one person about my post could have been ignored but most people I know would wonder more about it more than about the praise. It is as if we are waiting to be criticized. I could have given up blogging thanks to that person’s point of view – but that is my choice. What course of action I choose to follow is solely my choice. I can either try to get better at what I do or I can give up concluding I cannot outdo myself anymore. The point is criticism is neither ‘positive’ nor ‘negative’. It is the person’s outlook and action that makes it ‘positive’ or ‘negative’.

In conclusion, I would like to state my theory: Humans crave for criticism more than praise because it decides their next step of action. And criticism is neither positive nor negative – it is just a realistic statement that forces one to crash down to reality and wonder which course to take – to try again or to give up.

In short, the critical nature of criticism is often forgotten. It is possibly the most underrated thought evoking form of communication that has ever existed.

My weapon

2010-04-15T00:52:00.005+05:30

This post is especially dedicated as a warning to the person who told me my last post ‘sucked like all the rest of them’. I would also like to dedicate it to any frustrated overbearing moron who tries to irritate me in the future.

I am armed and dangerous.

Three days ago I was posted for evening duty. I hate evening duty. It makes me cranky the whole day. The torture of waiting for non existent patients for two whole hours, putting my social life on hold for sitting in a dinghy health centre, walking back to hostel to find all your friends have already made plans excluding you and most of all waiting the whole day for evening posting to begin so that it can come to an end – I really have my reasons for hating evening duty. The day in question was similar. I was cranky the whole day and when my friend offered me a ride back to hostel I thought something was going right – finally. Well, I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Due to unforeseen circumstances he had to drop me off at a junction which was a five minute walk away from my hostel. I cursed myself for my brilliant decision but decided it isn’t that big a deal since my day had been terrible so far anyway. I decide to call my ‘support system’ for company and Voila! My phone battery is dead. One minute in to the walk and all the streetlamps go off – power cut. So here I am, after an exhaustingly terrible day standing alone in the middle of a ‘notorious’ street in the dark with no phone to call anyone in case of emergency.

As any other person in my shoes would have done I started cursing out loud. I was unsure whether to continue on the walk or to stay put. But a weird idea similar to ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss’ made me decide to walk on with the help of occasional light cast by the headlights of cars zooming by.

Two minutes into the walk and I see the silhouette of a guy walking towards me – very unsteadily. And then I hear him speaking aloud to himself – A drunkard.
When God decides to have fun and enjoy putting you through shit, He makes sure He goes all the way!
I can’t cross the street because suddenly the cars seem to be zooming by faster and the drunkard had very obviously noticed me. That is precisely when my brain started working in amazing ways. I put my hand into my bag and fished out the closest thing to a weapon that I had – My stethoscope.

I start swinging my stethoscope rowdily – and I somehow felt wildly similar to a cowgirl with a lasso. The drunkard in all his stupor must have felt the same because my current ‘avatar’ had made him stop in his tracks. He looked like a mouse cornered. He started looking around for a way out while I was charging in his direction with my stethoscope swinging wildly! With no other choice but death he crosses the busy street clumsily, horns blaring from ever car on the street and I just couldn’t help but laugh.

I had scared a guy using my stethoscope. Whoever would have thought of the stethoscope being such a fearsome weapon? The point is that necessity is the mother of invention.

Now, I always have my stethoscope with me – even when I go to the mall!

Happily sad

2010-04-09T02:22:00.003+05:30

I just figured out what is wrong with the world!

Well, there are quite a few things wrong with the world, like females being females and incapable of reproducing without the help of males who are shamefully categorised into the same species as us but… – I sincerely apologize for that burst of emotion. I do not know where that came from. As far as I know myself, I am not a feminist; I hate all sexes alike (for those wondering: male, female and the in-betweens).
I guess today is just one of those ‘anti-men’ day.
Getting back to the point of the post and putting an end to my pointless banter – I figured out what is wrong with the world.

What is wonderful about me figuring out what is wrong with the world is that I also know how to solve the problem! I know you know I am a genius but this time I have really outdone myself. In case you have not figured it out already the root cause of all the problems in the world is in one way or another related to depression. When a person is depressed he not only harms himself, he decreases his productivity and more often than not harms others as well – maybe unintentionally, maybe not.
So this, in short, is what is wrong with the world.
Everybody knows what it is like to be depressed and everybody in their own selfish little way have caused harm to the world thanks to their depression. Figuring out this problem, however, does not need a genius to rack his brains. The real problem lies in solving the problem and not discovering its existence.

Being a doctor (Wow… I love saying that) you would expect me to prescribe a solution as simple as anti depressants to every human in the world. But anti depressants are a sham – they just make the brain squeeze out happy juices so that we tend to mask our depression. But masking depression leads to being depressed about being depressed, hence forming a vicious cycle.
The real solution, however, lies in being happy about being depressed!

I know it may sound weird but put those narrow minds at rest and broaden the horizons of your thoughts. Last night I was talking to a friend and I realized I have been in and out of depression for so long I am no longer depressed about being depressed. And that is when I decided from now on I am going to be happy about being depressed. The power of the mind is so often underestimated. For a determined person, set to solve the most disturbing problem in the world anything is possible.

Hence, at this very moment, I proudly proclaim that I am, indeed, happily depressed.

Being depressed is nothing to be depressed about. It is a part of life – one that makes the world stink. Try and enjoy it because when you do it disappears. So I hereby free you from all those depressing thoughts about depression. Live it, savour it, treat it with the same amount of fervour as you would treat passion and you will learn depression is just a way of life. It has been perceived in the wrong manner for so long that nobody now knows how to deal with it anymore.

So you enlightened few needn’t ever be depressed about being depressed. Go on and be happily sad because there isn’t any better feeling in the world than kicking depression’s ass!

P.S.: My ‘happily sad’ state has moved onto euphoria. Please forgive the nonsense.

My new prefix

2010-04-07T20:43:00.000+05:30

It has been four long and happening months.
And that is exactly what this post is about.

December: I went home to study. I sort of tried to study and that is what matters. The month flew by. It is funny how you take small comforts such as homemade food on the table right on time and being woken up by a person rather than a jarring alarm for granted. I attended a wedding too. In short it was like a vacation, the only “tiny” difference being that it was actually my study holidays – but that isn’t much of a difference anyway.

January: I returned to my hostel a couple of days before my Final MBBS universities began – to settle in. I settled in pretty well – me and my friends went shopping and took extremely long coffee breaks.
The exams: It just kept getting worse. And the first exam was just average for me – meaning the details of the last exam is not worth typing down (not to mention how it put me into a never ending state of depression!).
Of all the exams one in particular changed my life – Surgery Practicals. Not only did I call up my sister during the noon break and tell her I am not planning on giving the afternoon session (Thank God I don’t put all my thoughts into action!), I also changed my idea of a dream job. I always wanted to be a plastic surgeon but this exam changed it all – now I have no idea what I want to do in life, again (Applause please!) – I am working on it though, sort of.
The only thing that kept me going during the torture period was the thought of having that much revered prefix to my name in less than a month.

February: I tried my best not to think about the upcoming results and I succeeded quite well. Home was fun, fun and lots of fun. Shopping with my sister for Valentine’s, disasters in the kitchen, getting sloshed with my sister and her husband, late night karaoke sessions made life beautiful again!
During this beautiful period I decided to boost my ego a little bit by taking the TOEFL. And it certainly did. Yours truly managed a score of 118/120 after sleeping through half of the listening section. I don’t mean to brag (*false modest look*) buy how many people do you know who can manage that? So, now I have a brand new reason for you to continue reading my awesome blog – it might help your language skills!!
Results: As always I was late in figuring out that the results were out (even after most of my friends changed their FB statuses to include the newly attached prefix). My results were better than expected (since I expected not to pass!). Anyway, the point is I passed with flying colours and I am, finally, after four and a half years of laziness, procrastination, fun and frolic a DOCTOR (Standing ovation please!)

March: My first month as a doctor was fantabulous. I was posted in a little heard of rural area with nine colleagues and we had a blast. Work was fun and avoiding work was even more fun. Late night walks, bonfires, barbeques and life threatening rock climbing – it was adrenaline all the way. At the end of the month all I could wish for was more of the same.

April: I am back in hostel for my last month in this city. I will be transferring home next month to complete my internship living with my currently lonely, soon to be engaged sister. As of now, work is scarce and boredom rules. I am trying to manage an anorexic look but being a glutton doesn’t really help. Also considering a trip to Amsterdam in the near future and continuing my further education in the U.S. – but that is still being analysed and re-analysed in my ‘Ideas that can change my life for better/worse’ workshop.
That is all that’s happening in my happening life. And with that I come to an end with banter – buckle your seatbelts because I have a few enlightening posts coming up!

Sinner or not

2010-04-04T16:48:00.002+05:30

I have a splitting headache.
I am pretty sure it is because of my incurable insomnia (again).
My insomnia is not helping my studies either.
So I am going to try and keep this post short.
More importantly I am going to put my thoughts across – but honestly, from past experience, I do not have any hope whatsoever of doing so.

Today I was giving some thought to the seven deadly sins while I was waiting for God Morpheus to come and bless me with slumber.
This is not the first time I have thought in depth about the seven deadly sins. I have done so quite often ever since the movie Se7en released. But until today it was about why there are seven and what else could be appropriately added on to the list. Today, I wonder what doesn’t fit.

BREAK

Ha! Guess what? This post was supposed to be finished and posted more than four months back. Until some no-respect-for-literary-geniuses-at-work-morons conveniently interrupted my thought process.
Now I shall try and complete this post – the key word in this sentence being ‘try’.

I still have a splitting headache, I still suffer from insomnia and but I do not have any more exams round the corner (posting about that soon!). So I guess the circumstances have not altered much. For those of you who do not know what the seven deadly sins are, the list is as follows:
Sloth
Envy
Pride
Lust
Wrath
Greed
Gluttony

Now this list disturbs me.
And what disturbs me most about this list is (as expected) ‘gluttony’.
I am a glutton.
I love food. And I love food more when I am the one eating it. And like any other glutton more often than always I end up over eating. But this post, unfortunately, is not about my voracious eating habits. Out of the seven sins there are two which make a person happy. And I think these two do not deserve to be among the seven deadly sins.

Sloth leads to unhappiness because you don’t bother to live life and find happiness.
Envy makes one unhappy because you are too busy dwelling in others' happiness.
Pride makes a person, sooner or later, unhappy when demoralising reality strikes.
Wrath is unhappiness directed in a channel of anger and hatred.
Greed is unhappiness because you forget to enjoy the joy in the world and always want more to achieve happiness.

But, gluttony makes a person happy because food is a form of pleasure to a glutton and it never disappoints or destroys his happiness.
And, lust makes a person happy because (no matter what you may deduce about me from this) sex as an act has never caused unhappiness to those who enjoy it.
This is deduced taking into consideration that high cholesterol, hypertension, heart disease and sexually transmitted diseases are preventable with proper measures (ahem!)

I have given much thought to this and I cannot reason out why something that provides pleasure (even if overdone) can be a deadly sin! Gluttony and Lust may be considered a form of greed by many but I vehemently oppose this notion because a greedy person is never ever happy but a glutton is happy while eating even if momentarily and lust too provides pleasure at specific ‘heated’ moments. Even if these “sinners” crave for more it is only because they have experienced true happiness! And since when did the search for happiness in a place where you have already experienced it become a sin?

Hopefully I haven’t gone ahead of myself this time and have typed out my thoughts in an understandable manner. In short, as a glutton, I personally take it upon myself to oppose the inclusion of gluttony in the seven deadly sins (Lust just got a free ride).

Maybe this is just my being in denial about being a sinner!

Home Sweet Home Sour

2009-11-07T00:54:00.004+05:30

I was home.
That is my excuse.
I know I was ‘planning’ on blogging daily.
But I went home.
I think it is a very excusable excuse.

I had to ‘renew’ my visa.
For those who do not know, I am an NRI (Non Resident Indian – for the ones who have always had trouble with abbreviations). Well I am not exactly an NRI because I am residing in India currently but technically I am not.
I was born and brought up in a country were being born and brought up in the country does not make you a citizen. That is pretty weird according to me.
I was in this country for 16 years of my life. This country is still what I ‘significantly’ refer to as home. And sometimes I feel foreign in both India AND this country. I guess that is what qualifies you as an NRI – feel foreign everywhere.

Well the point is not that.
The point is that the point is actually forgotten.

Let me try beginning again.
I have a residence visa of this country and had to have it renewed so that I can continue to be an NRI.
I took a ticket home.
I got a health check up done to rule out infection by a particular ‘notorious’ virus – which is apparently mandatory for a residence visa (I wonder why!).
I got a passport size photo taken.
I got my visa renewed.
I took a ticket back to India (which is also home, I guess).

So now after a week at home I have learnt that:
I am still an NRI residing in India – which is still confusing.
I am not infected – yet. (applause please)
I still have the skill to look like a stranger in my passport size photos.
Food is all I need to be happy.
I can gain the weight I lost in five years in five days.
People change.
Cities change faster than people.
And most importantly:
Home is sweet when you arrive and sour when you depart – still.

Next time I am home I’ll be a doctor – I think that is cool and more importantly… scary.

Face lift

2009-10-25T09:22:00.001+05:30

If you have not noticed the obvious as yet – I have changed my blog template.
Please notice.
And now is when you will be filled with immense emotion at the thought provoking and breath taking template I have chosen for this enlightening, awesome and truly ineffable blog of mine.
(applause standing ovation please)
Thank you.

If you have failed to follow the basic steps of admiration described above – try again.
If you still fail – keep trying.
If you think this template is mediocre – do not comment.
If you think this template is breath-taking – do not leave without commenting else I will track you down and hack you to death!

Frankly, I think the template is not that splendid.
It is morose and I do not like my blog to look so gloomy.
But I love the rain and hence think it is appropriate.
Also there is just too much space on the right side. I keep wondering if something is going to pop up and surprise me – so far nothing has.
You have to agree it is better than the boring black template I had previously!

I spend quite a lot of time on this last night and hence was able to sit a night-out due to the guilt-trip associated with wasting time not slogging two days before an exam. Wish me luck for my exam tomorrow!

I happened to stumble upon this picture.
It brought back a lot of exhausting emotions against babies.
For those of you, who do not know my perspective as far as little human beings are concerned, please refer to my exclusive post on ‘Babies’.

All I could think of after seeing this picture was –
Nobody wants the irritating baby.

Dumb courage

2009-10-23T19:30:00.001+05:30

I like the idea of blogging daily.
But not everything we like is likely to work out.
From my 22 years of life I have figured out that very few things that we like actually work out.
So I do not think I can blog daily – but I will try.
I have an important exam coming up on Monday.
I have started slogging but I do not think my usual 12 hour cramming routine will help this time – it is too late already.
Wish me luck!

This post is about fear, courage and intellect.
Most people consider fear a negative emotion.
It is drilled into minds of the youth that being fearless is rewarding.
I completely disagree.

So many people take things worth wondering about very lightly. They do not spend any time pondering about things that are waiting to be pondered about.
Fear is one among them.
I fear a lot of things in life – some worth fearing and some foolish.
I do not think being fearful is cowardly.
In fact, I am of the opinion that being fearless is plain dumb.

Fear is absolutely necessary for survival.
If I were fearless, I would be jumping off cliffs into roaring seas at the slightest excuse. The result of which is very obvious – death.
Fear is a feeling of impending doom and if it were not present we would be wiped out from this planet.

According to legend, there were plenty of such fearless sects in this world many of which we have read about in books and remained in complete awe of.
One among them would be the very popular Spartans.
Spartans claim to fame was their fearless nature – for those who have never heard of the Spartans, I strongly recommend reading Greek history or maybe even watching the movie 300 starring Gerard Butler (drool!). Even though the movie is a bit overdone on the ‘fearless’ bit I think Gerard Butler is totally worth watching it for!!
I am terribly sorry; my line of thought is fleeing from fearlessness into the strong arms of the sultry Gerard Butler (sigh!)
Well, the point is that Spartans died young.
It is sad but they did.
Their courage was their curse.
They almost always died young – the one thing to blame being their almost inhuman fearlessness.
I am sure most of you think living life to the fullest means you face your fears and come to terms with it.
But there certainly should be a limit.
A completely fearless person would unfortunately be dumb.

We fear so that we can survive.
We live in a big bad world and if we did not fear, survival would be out of the question. And courage is not something that should be completely awed.
A moron would be courageous because he would not think of the repercussions of his courageous actions! A fearless person, accept it or not, when risking his life, is momentarily acting against basic animal instinct – which is to survive. And hence he can very well be branded as being momentarily insane.
Courage is wonderful to read about.
Fearlessness is definitely inspiring.
But there is one thing that fearlessness and courage requires – that is the status of ‘nothing to lose’.
Unfortunately, life is something that is at stake.
So if you think life is worth putting at stake and that life is not something that will be ‘missed’ when lost, go ahead and be fearless.

I do not think we must live in fear of everything. If that was the case we would not live at all, but certain amount of fear is necessary to save our lives.
Being smart is being fearful at the right time and of the right things. By being smart you fear what you should fear and survive.
After all life is the ultimate sacrifice.

It would be awe-inspiring to hear someone say ‘I live life in the edge today because that way I would never regret not living my life to the fullest 20 years from now.’
But the question is if you live life on the edge today and just stumble over would you not regret not having a life to live 20 years from now?

I am not a coward.
I am not dumb either.
I fear. I live.

Emotional Sex

2009-10-22T23:40:00.002+05:30

This is one of my recent conversations with somebody worth having a conversation with. Feel free to comment on the weird nature of my conversations.

Conversationalist: Hey!
Me: (indifferent voice) Hello.
C: (ignoring my indifference) Guess what?
Me: (very indifferent) I don’t know and I don’t care.
C: (unable to ignore my indifference any longer) What happened?
Me: (making things difficult for everybody) Nothing.
C: (playing it safe) Okay.
Me: (frustrated at my inability to make things difficult) Okay? Okay? Did you just say Okay? What is okay? (My voice is turning shrilly)
C: (confused) I don’t know. What do you want?
Me: (need to make things more difficult) YOU call ME up and ask ME what I want! As if you are ready to give me anything I want. You’re so full of shit.
C: (accepting defeat) No, really. What is it that you want?
Me: (marginally satisfied) I don’t really know.
C: (trying to sound comforting) What happened?
Me: (satisfied) Nothing. I am just feeling horrible. I wish I could just cry and cry till my tears ran out.
C: (utterly confused) Why?
Me: (likes the attention) I just want to get rid of this multitude of emotions within me. I need to get rid of it all. I just want to weep my heart out.
C: (tinge of fear) Are you okay? Do you need help?
Me: (anger rising) WTF?!
C: (foot in mouth) I mean do you need my help.
Me: (satisfied) Yes and that is why I am talking to you!
C: (happy with his presence of mind) Okay. So you want to cry?
Me: (can’t make it so easy) No. You are not even listening to me.
C: (confused) Huh? I thought you told me you want to weep till your tears ran out!
Me: (improvising) Not exactly. I just need to vent my emotions. I think even laughing would help. I wish I could laugh till I grew breathless and my cheeks hurt. I wish I could laugh so hard I have tears streaming down my face.
C: (wants to kill himself) So basically you just want tears?
Me: (decides to act as if I did not hear that!) WHAT?
C: (foot in mouth) Nothing. I have the perfect solution for you!
Me: (baffled) You do?!
C: (proudly) I sure as hell do!
Me: (confused. This is new!) Did you become a genius in a minute? How can you know what I want? Even I don’t know what I want!
C: (incomprehensible tone) You need sex. Screw you!
BEEP.

He hung up.
It took me a minute to realise and come to terms with it.
He hung up telling me to go have sex.

I think it is a very enlightening conversation.

I deserve this – I am loving it!

Nobody speaking Really

2009-10-21T15:49:00.005+05:30

A lot of people all around the world are realists.
I am one among the aforementioned.
I like to believe the above statement.
But believing is not being.
So to be a realist I must ponder over it – like a realist – and that is exactly what this is.

I just watched ‘Roman holiday’ again.
I like love stories that end the way this does.
My friends think I am depressing for the very same reason. Some think I’m a sadist. I am not depressing, maybe a little sadistic but definitely not depressing.
I feel I am being a realist.

Did you know there is a word ‘Realistically’?
Somehow the word seems very weird to me.
A realist is supposed to perceive things as they are – as in, they perceive things in their real form. I was of the idea that the adverb form describing the way realists perceive things would be ‘Really’. But then when I started typing out this post and the word that got typed out by my much smarter subconscious mind was ‘Realistically’.

Now ‘Realistically’ is quite different from ‘Really’ – according to the awesome dictionary in my head which always comes up with meanings much more comprehensible (for me) than any dictionary I have referred to till date.
‘Really’ is real – the facts as it is, the true form of everything, the ultimate raw deal. There is nothing to do with the thinking brain as far as this word is concerned.
‘Realistically’ is not raw – as a matter of fact it is the exact opposite of raw. It is something that has been thought over and over about. It is like rational, logical and practical and all the horrible words people use to make people do what they do not want to do.

I do not like ‘Realistically’.
In fact, I hate ‘Realistically’.
I like ‘Really’.
What I want to be is a person who speaks ‘Really’ and not ‘Realistically’.
But nobody speaks ‘Really’.
And that makes me nobody.
But I believe speaking ‘Really’ is worth being nobody for because I would rather be a nobody who speaks ‘Really’ than a somebody who speaks ‘Realistically’.
Somebody in the above statement refers to Realists.

And hence I have come to terms with my opinion of realists.
I do not want to be one of them.
I almost hate them.
I would rather be nobody than be them.
They are just a group of pessimists with a really bad excuse.

So much for believing I was a realist about 5 minutes ago.

Inscrutable ambiguities

2009-10-11T20:45:00.003+05:30

There are things I can’t figure out no matter how hard I try.
These are called the inscrutable ambiguities of my life.
This post is about them.

I figured I have bored my loyal followers on the road to enlightenment enough with depressing, miserable hopeless posts. If I try a teeny-weeny little more I think I can push everyone of you to commit suicide. And then I would have no followers.
I do not want that.
So here goes.

1) In a class of about 200 students a Senior Professor of Medicine cracks a ‘joke’ which makes you want to murder him for the crime of brutally killing humour. And to your utter horror, friends who used to pass snide remarks at bad jokes a year back are roaring with laughter. And you wonder if you didn’t really get the joke. But then you realize they are just buttering up his ass royally to lick it later – leisurely. What I do not understand is do they actually think he is going to note that they didn’t laugh at his bad joke? Do they actually want the poor professor to live in the illusion that he has cracked a good joke – just to embarrass himself somewhere else in front of someone else? Do they actually think laughing at his jokes will help them pass their exams? My limited intellect fails to answer these questions. You are welcome to help me.

2) We had a beach party recently – for the graduating batch. The male gender was dressed like they were going fishing – shorts, T-shirts, flip flops and the sort. The female gender was dressed for a homecoming – dresses, make up, stilettos and the sort. So here we were, a batch of 250 students who have been seeing each other for at least 4 years now, looking like we came from two different planets. What is it about the same species of animal that make them behave so distinctly different? Is it because guys want to have a nice time without bothering about how they look while girls are too vain about how they look? Or is it because guys don’t really have to look good to impress girls while girls have to look a perfect ten for a guy to even consider her worthy of a glance? And who were we trying to impress after 4 years anyway?!

3) What is it with rock and people in the age group of 15-30? Is it some sort of a switch that goes on when you become an adolescent? Is it the lyrics? Or does just the music and living it make life easier for people who have most on their minds? Does rock really help? I never listened to rock until I was 12, until I had my first crush! I still love rock and I still have insane troubles in my life. I guess I'll move on to Enya or Yanni when I’m around 35. Most people I know have a similar story to tell. I think it is the lyrics but I need confirmation. So if you think you can tell me for sure the reason please do let me know because at least then, the day my children (God forbid I have any) start listening to rock I will know for sure they are living their colourful lives to the fullest.

4) This is the ultimate inscrutable ambiguity of all inscrutable ambiguities – why do I bother? Why do I wonder about these minute details which nobody else even notices? Why do I spend time pondering about the most insignificant of things? Is it because I am jobless? But I am not really jobless. I have lots work in pending. Is it because I don’t want to do the work I have in pending and enjoy thinking about nothing at all? I know most of you might not be able to answer this and help me out here. And hence this the most inscrutable ambiguity of them all.

That is all for now – this post was not meant to make you laugh. It was just meant to save you from the terrible throes of sorrow and suicidal thoughts. It is food for thought…or thought for food (whatever!)

It is just another cranky insane post.

Glimpse of reality

2009-10-11T20:37:00.002+05:30

We make decisions all the time.
Some decisions change our life completely.
Some decisions don’t change anything.
Sometimes those decisions that change our lives completely couldn’t be more wrong.
Everything goes wrong thanks to one moment of stupid insanity.
Everything you stood for, everything you are, your whole world just crumbles in front of your eyes.

Some people make your life.
Some people leave memories in your life.
Some people are your life.
Sometimes your choice of people couldn’t be more incorrect.
And even though you know fully well what you are doing can hurt you in the long run, you do it anyway because at that moment nothing else really matters.
One fine day when you are alone it matters.
Life seems like it is a farce.
None of the people who mean more than your life to you will matter.

In the end it is just you.
Everyone runs away from a burning house.
You don’t have anyone – not even those who you lived for, those who were your very first priority, those who meant everything in the world to you.
You only have yourself.
And if you hate yourself you don’t even have that.

Sometimes being invisible is the only solution – disappearing from everything, leaving everyone behind and just floating away to somewhere called nowhere.

Time heals everything.
The mind is like any other part of the human body (not bone though) – it heals but with scarring. The wound is always there if you look closely, healed but not the same as before.

I have always given love no more thought than it deserves.
I have always and still think it is an illusion.
But trust… it kills.
What I don’t understand is how it is humanly possible to forgive millions of times and still continue to trust.
Does that make a person foolish?
Or does that make the person gullible?
Or does it make the person immature?
Or does it make the person a pushover?
Or does it just mean the person does not know the unwritten brutal rules of “love”?

My life is like that of any other normal girl my age.
I just tend to think a lot – even though I try so much not to.

Sometimes you make the same wrong decision so many times you just don’t realize you have another choice. That maybe you could make life better for yourself.
Sometimes you just don’t realize what is best is to be happy and not miserable.
Sometimes different people do the same horrible things to you and you start believing that maybe the fault is yours rather than that of all the different people around you.

No one is going to be there in the end.
You go alone.
If you want to sacrifice your life or go through pain for someone let it be for your parents because they are the only ones who will not let you do it even though they deserve it.

In the end it is just you.
You have to live with yourself.
Live with yourself even if you don’t like who you have become.
Live with yourself even if you don’t like what you have become.

Dedicated to that someone out there just to let you know you are not alone in this.

Yellow bulb

2009-10-05T03:10:00.003+05:30

Imagine this.

2:30 am - All lights are out in this particular hostel room except for one frustrating flickering yellow bulb. A Surgery textbook is open and the chapter ‘Breast’ waiting anxiously to be devoured. A 22 year old female is sitting on her bed wondering what exactly she is supposed to be doing.
She does not want to read Breast because she does not really find it appealing at this very moment. According to ‘somebody’ she should be blogging because she finally might have the ability to create a masterpiece today (her breath-taking ‘blah blah’ skills seem to have finally impressed). The only setback, unfortunately, is her mind which is currently a squeaky clean slate – cleaner than any slate that has ever been called a clean slate.

I am not afraid of the dark but I get this feeling that somebody is watching me when I am alone, especially at night. It has been there since I was a little girl. In the beginning I used to be certain there was somebody watching. I have even tried catching the culprit red handed. But then, as years went by, I have decided not to care.
If nobody is watching me – Great! I knew I was paranoid anyway.
If somebody is watching me – Great! Enjoy – Whatever is your cup of tea!

The flickering yellow bulb is not frustrating me anymore.
It actually makes the room look very dramatic – like something out of a thriller movie in the 80s. I am waiting desperately for the thrill to arrive in all its splendour.
Just like in the movies when the background music stops, the shot is taken from behind the actor, you know something is about to happen, you can feel the hair rise at the back of your neck, a much awaited chill runs down your spine and you can feel the cold sweat in your palms with your fingers clasped tightly into fists. BOOM!

No BOOM.
No chill down anyone’s spine.
No cold sweat.
No fists.

It is still just me, the chapter on Breast, the flickering yellow bulb and my squeaky clean slate for a mind.

I wish I had more time to actually enjoy the beauty of the world around me more. Most of the time I am so engrossed in the implications and repercussions of something that might not have any implications or repercussions that I fail to fathom the sheer beauty of it that may very well be staring straight at me.

Take for example this yellow bulb.
These are the thoughts that I have had about this bulb:
Why is this bulb flickering?
Is there a loose contact?
Should I try fixing it?
Should I switch it off first?
Will my hands start sweating?
Will I get electrocuted?
Should I wear rubber slippers?
What if nobody finds me after I get electrocuted?
Should I just switch it off and go to sleep?
Why is it so yellow?
Is yellow light really bad for my eyesight?

I wish I could just stare at this flickering yellow bulb and not think of anything even minutely disturbing. I wish I could just look at it and appreciate the beauty it has. The beauty I can appreciate if I put my mind at rest.
Right now I know I can at least try and succeed in putting my mind at rest and appreciating the beauty of things.
What scares me is tomorrow.
Tomorrow, being the day when I see no beauty in anything.
Tomorrow – the day when all that I can see will be disturbing facts and figures; implications and repercussions

This is the biggest flaw of a complex mind.
The wondrous wonder that God created – the human mind.
It is too complex to appreciate simple things without interference.

The yellow bulb just died.

Get a life!

2009-09-26T23:21:00.001+05:30

More than six bloody long months since I blogged last.
I disconnected my internet connection as a part of my ‘final year slogging’ routine.
Last night I decided I’d continue blogging and post them later on – ‘later on’ being when I get over this phase of my life which could, quite appropriately, be called ‘living hell’.

Past six months in brief:
It is my last year in college and day after day I am becoming more aware of how the past four and half years in medical school have been such a waste because I seem to not know anything about anything. My ignorance scares me – in addition to scaring my professors, my family and my future patients.
College sucks.
Lovelife was, is and (to my absolute relief) will remain as Rembrandts very aptly put it in the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. theme song ‘dead on arrival’.
Birthday was spent as a glutton.
Depression is rampant.
Bickering is infinite.
Sleep is the only solution – which is scarce, thanks to being an insomniac.
Life, basically, has come to a standstill.

Past six months – not worth blogging about.

My imagination, however, has not let me down.
Very often I think of many things to blog about.
Don’t seem to remember any now.

What I would really like right now would be to ‘get a life’.
It is a phrase that is so often used amongst the ‘cool dudes’ as a derogatory comment towards ‘losers’ that until recently I didn’t really think about what it meant.
Now why would you tell somebody to ‘get a life’?
Obviously it is sort of a piece of advice.
Get a life because you don’t have one and badly need one or maybe because you don’t have a functional or satisfactory ‘life’.
It would be similar to telling someone to get a laptop instead of a PC or to get a microwave instead of an oven or to get a room instead of…
On second thought cancel off the last example – it is inappropriate.

So I need to get a life.
Not that I don’t have one already.
I do have a really slow and a constantly malfunctioning life which obviously needs to be either replaced or renewed.
Replacement is my only option because, frankly, I do not believe in recycled material. No matter what you environmentalists think, recycled material is second hand material.
And I like first hand.
Second hand is unbearable even if it was ‘first handed’ by me (weird thought).
So it is a complete no to recycling this existing life.
I should get rid of it and then get a new one.
Now the question is whether I should get rid of this life before getting a new one or should I try out the new one and make sure it is properly functioning before getting rid of this life.
The logical option would be the latter.

So currently my plan is to think of ways in which I should get rid of this life I have while looking out for a new one.
Meanwhile you people can fill me in on where I can get to shop for cool lives – be warned I like it when I have a lot to choose from.

P.S.: Sorry folks, I have just realised that I have completely lost my marbles.

Blood red, Red blood

2009-03-05T12:25:00.001+05:30

I am not a person anyone would call not nasty.
I am also not a person anyone would dare call nasty.
This maybe because either people are too terrified to call me nasty imagining the nasty things I might do to them if I find out what they called me or maybe because I am a neutral person – not too nasty but still sort of nasty all the same.
I like to think the latter is true, even though I like the idea of people being terrified of me.

Whatever you have read till now in this post is pure bullshit.
It has no relevance.
Now read on for the bullshit that I don’t think is bullshit.

I am not a hypocrite.
I am not a coward.
I was always sure about the certainty of the above mentioned two statements – until recently when a casual conversation during lunch made me think twice.
This has disturbed me, terribly.

I am a non vegetarian.
I like vegetables.
I love fruits of all sorts.
But basically I am a non vegetarian.

I have never considered myself to be an activist against cruelty toward animals.
I have never been particularly nasty towards animals as such – I think I am nastier towards babies than animals.
A few days back my unit mates decided to take a break from our anguishing lives and have lunch together.
It was a disturbingly enlightening lunch.
For one, I confirmed the fact that I love clear soup way more than any other sort of soup.
My unit mates realised my stomach’s enormous capacity (blush)
I figured out I can talk against cruelty towards animals while eating chicken and still sound reasonable – I think that is quite a talent.

My unit mates wanted to go fishing – fishing for fish.
I thought it pretty cool until they mentioned about hunting.
And then I clearly remember me asking an extremely dumb question (which does not occur too often) – I asked whether they actually killed animals during hunting.
I wonder why I asked that.
It is clearly one of those dumb blonde questions.
The last thing I want is to transform into one of those.
Maybe I asked the dumb blonde question because I was planning on joining my unit mates for their venture and the thought of me having to kill animals seemed pretty difficult to carry out.
I guess I was just confirming their barbarism.

I do not mind eating what is served on my plate.
But when it comes to having their blood on my hands, when it comes to actually taking away their lives – I think that is crossing a thin line somewhere.

One of my unit mates went on about how deer are awesome catches and how their eyes look awfully innocent as they take their last breath.
This is what I refer to as pure brutality – killing for entertainment.
I think talking about killing an animal and then about how wonderful it looks makes you very little different from a serial killer.
Of course my unit mates do consider me a hypocrite – eating chicken and talking about how horrible it is to kill animals.
The point is I did not kill any of them – it might not make much of a difference to you, but it definitely does to me because I do not have blood on my hands.

And then came the topic about how there are hundreds of people out there getting their hands bloody just for me to eat what I eat.
Well the point is I never asked them to kill and maybe if they stopped I would stop eating meat too – I think.
This makes me a coward.
It makes me a coward who wants others to get their hands dirty to satisfy my needs.

I realised I could never take life out of any living being – if that makes me a coward and a hypocrite I guess I will have to live with it.

I thought I would find it difficult to eat chicken after the disturbing conversation.
But I am fine – still a non vegetarian.

The point is my hands are still not bloody.

Jinxed

2009-03-05T12:18:00.001+05:30

AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!

Have you ever felt like you have been jinxed?
If you have I think you will understand the first line of this post.

The past one month has been the most ‘unhappening’ month of my life.

1) I get posted in a creepy unit.
But I dealt with it.
I mean it was pretty nice towards the end.
It was like a challenge trying to piss them off but not piss them off.
I liked it – especially the last week.

2) Interclass happened.
Last year I could not participate in anything thanks to me being in the stupid “Students’ council” – which ruined my life.
I was hell bent on putting my head into every damn competition this year.
But alas! I’m jinxed!
I am not a sour loser – but there is a limit to which I can accept that I suck!
Not a single prize so far.
Even the teams that I have cheered for are ending up as losers.
I am like the ‘bad luck charm’.

3) Home plans
I decided to go home since there is no point in me declaring myself the biggest loser of all time in college.
But obviously – it can’t work out either, can it?!
My sister has medicine posting and my mother thinks I will burn down the house if I stay home alone.
End of home plans.

3) Blog dumps
I have not had one of those blogging sprees in a long time when I post three to four posts a day.
Not that I have not had ideas to post on.
Today I decide I am going to sit and type it all out and quite as I expected, my internet connection conks off. So I type it all out and save it for posting later – which is God alone knows when!

And how could I forget, half my laundry went missing last week.
Every salwar kameez has either the salwar or the kameez missing.
I am running out of ideas to mix and match.
I broke two pairs of sandals in the past week.
I have a strong feeling I am going to break a bone soon.

My life officially sucks!

I have a feeling it is going to get worse.
Probably I am going to hit a dump in academics too.

Bring it on!!!

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!
(Always wanted to use this dialogue somewhere – those of you who think it is not befitting the situation can please go and shoot themselves!)

P.S.: To all my followers (especially the new ones) – you guys are the tiny specks of dust reflecting miniscule rays of sunshine in this utter darkness I find myself lost in.
Thank you for nothing.
Don’t you dare stop following me!
I’ll hunt you down and blow your brains out.
I still have my bazooka.

Sorry, I have lost it.
I will post more nonsense soon.

Unnecessary necessities

2009-03-05T12:16:00.000+05:30

I had started out this post before the previous one.
But something came up.
I tried typing out this enlightening idea a couple of times.
But something kept coming up.
Today my mother asked me why I don’t blog so often anymore – I think that is a definite indication that it is high time I finished posting this.

Since this thought came to me weeks ago I am not sure whether I can put it across as horribly as I usually do – so pardon me if I am too clear.

I think Plato was a wise guy.
I know most of you think the same about Plato.
The only difference being I actually thought about whether he is wise or not whereas most of you take it for granted that he was a wise guy.

‘Necessity is the mother of invention’
This was what led me to the conclusion that Plato was indeed a wise guy.
The first time I heard this quote it came along with a story – I do not have any idea how true this story is but now I do know its significance.
The story was about how a student of the philosopher who does not know how to swim is taught that necessity is indeed the mother of invention by trying to drown him.
When I heard it for the first time I thought it was pretty stupid to carry out such an extreme act just to teach a student the truth behind some nonsensical quote.
One week back somehow I got to think about it after a long time and enlightenment dawned – yet again.

Nothing is as much a necessity as survival.
The only true necessity every human has is to make sure he stays alive.
And when survival is put to question the human mind takes on challenges and overcomes impossible obstacles.

If the philosopher tried teaching the student the truth behind the quote by drowning his friend instead and expecting him to try and swim to save his friend, the student might not have risked his life for his friend.
Hence no invention would have been made due to the mere lack of necessity.

The ultimate necessity which drives us, one step at a time, is the simple desire for survival.

I may very well invent something or complete tasks never accomplished by myself in the past for sheer entertainment or for helping out somebody I care for. But the truth remains that the effort put in for the same task would be definitely lesser than the effort put in if it was my survival in question – if it was a do or die situation for me.

In the end, it all comes down to simple facts.
The fact remains that we can deal with life without luxuries.
The fact remains that we do not try hard enough for anything unless our ass is on the line.
The fact remains that we can deal with any dire circumstance or loss, we can afford to experience pain but we can never entertain the idea of not giving our best shot before accepting death.

Humans, we will always remain the same.
- Selfish for survival.

Nothing drives us better than the fear of death.

Lovey-dovey gobbledygook

2009-02-20T21:17:00.001+05:30

I cannot believe I actually missed posting on Valentine’s.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than enlightening people on the grossly over rated feeling of undying love and I let ‘the day’ pass by without even thinking about posting once, all credit to my awfully boring yet busy life.

So I am going to post on it now.

For those of you ‘Valentines’ out there who have no sense as to the nonsense behind the February 14th, this blog takes great pride in enlightening you with the fact that you celebrate by coochie-cooing shamelessly the death of disillusioned young martyrs
– For further details ask the all knowing google or you can also resort to wikipedia (where you get to read what smart people want you to read).
If you think I actually went through the trouble of researching on the history of Valentine’s Day for the sheer pleasure of enlightening you with its insignificance – you are mistaken because I have not become so jobless (as yet!)

Frankly, I have nothing at all against Valentine’s – personally.
I have celebrated quite a few – I have had my share of memorable ‘moments’ with bright red wrapping paper, red roses, boxes of chocolates, midnight calls…
I am not sour.
I just think it is immature.

I know of people who think it is immature only because they are single.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are lazy to go buy gifts.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are awfully jealous of the awesome expensive gifts their friends have received and they have not.
I do not belong to that group.

I think it is immature because I actually think it is immature, not because I am sour.
Personally, I think it should be celebrated by kids – such immature crap is very typical of them (if you are unaware of my feelings towards miniature human beings kindly read my post on Babies)

Valentine’s is pretty much like Friendship Day or Mothers’ Day or Fathers’ Day – not only do I almost always forget it, I honestly think it is pointless remembering it.
You ought to value friendship everyday of your life – tying a stupid ugly band around your wrist is not going to strengthen any bond.
As far as Mothers’ and Fathers’ Days are concerned – children walk all over their parents every day of the year, one more day of it is not going to make much of a difference. If anything they will laugh at your sudden change in character if you don’t walk all over them.
The last thing I want to hear is my mother asking me whether I am feeling okay when I tell her I love her on Mothers’ day.

So here we have a couple Mr A and Ms B.
All they do is fight – which is quite ordinary for any couple.
At midnight Ms B starts crying and making a big fuss about Mr A not calling her up to wish her at the stroke of midnight. After a couple of hours of struggling not to mention about Mr A’s affair with hot and sexy Ms C, Mr A finally manages to get Ms B to give him a break (because after all it is Valentine’s)
And then comes the complaining about how the gifts were a disappointment, how dinners were missed, how dates were not kept, how the first Valentine’s was so different from how it is now, how things have changed, how everything is a humongous disappointment only because some fool somewhere decided February 14th was supposed to be dedicated completely to the person you have disillusioned yourself into believing you love.

Valentine’s is just an opportunity for:
- females to make a fuss
- cowards to propose
- single losers to feel lonely
- rich people to throw around money
- others to save money for gifts that go down the drain few years down the lane
- communication networks and greeting card companies to make a lot of money
- And the rest of the world to drown in the illusion of love.

I think it is immature.

If you believe you love someone, drown in the feeling everyday – you really do not need Valentine’s.
If you are not currently under the delusion of love – thank god.

History mystery

2009-02-18T23:02:00.000+05:30

“In 90% of cases a correct diagnosis can be made with the help of a well elicited history alone”.

Two words – that is all I have to say as a response to this overtly over used statement in Medicine.
You can use your imagination to figure what those two words might be.

Almost a month since my Medicine posting began and I have learnt that histories elicited always has loop holes – always! No matter how many times you go over it and think of the wildest questions to ask, the history is never ‘well elicited’ – which I think is precisely why histories don’t really diagnose 90% of cases.

For my first case discussion I had a patient who clearly explained to me about how he came to the hospital with cough and nothing else. But apparently he came in so breathless he was blue. I asked a hundred times (and I am not exaggerating) about whether he had breathlessness – the answer was always ‘No’.
But on the day of my case presentation when the doctor badgered him about whether he had breathlessness the ‘easily manipulated’ patient completely agreed on having breathlessness which left me with a history worth zilch.

Incorrect history with chief complaint gone wrong – when you have this on your hands it is quite specifically the right time to commit suicide.

For my second case discussion my history was ‘incomplete’ because I did not elicit the history of the exact pattern of ‘waxing and waning’ of the fever the patient had when he was admitted nine months ago. I was apparently supposed to get the day to day, hour to hour history of the fever he suffered from nine months ago. I really do not understand how the patient is supposed to remember such useless (to him) details about his fever when me, being a doctor, cannot remember when I had my last bout of the flu.

Incomplete history leading to inability in reaching a diagnosis only because of the incompetence of the doctor eliciting the history – if you have already committed suicide, do it again.

My third case discussion was a classic. I got a patient who has been suffering from jaundice for the past 30 years and a hernia for 15 years. He had a good memory. My history had everything in it – everything to the point I even mentioned (how, when and why) he scratched his butt every single time he did.
Apparently my history was ‘irrelevant’.
The line between ‘irrelevance’ and ‘incomplete’ is so thin that it really does not exist. It exists only for doctors who are hell bent on giving you a hard time in posting.

Irrelevant history that deviates attention of the doctor from the real complain leading to incorrect treatment modalities – if you have already committed suicide twice, do it yet again.

My fourth case discussion is yet to come, Parkinsonism – in a week's time.
I have faced the consequences of eliciting an incorrect history, incomplete history and irrelevant history.

I honestly wonder what it is going to be this time.
Frankly, I don’t really give a damn.

Mind your Mind

2009-02-04T22:56:00.009+05:30

Today – bad day.

But I think I am actually getting used to it.
Days are so bad nowadays that even though the next day is worse I don’t seem to actually notice or compare.
The only thing that would really surprise me is if a ‘good day’ came along out of nowhere – wishful thinking.
The idea of a ‘good day’ sounds ridiculous.

"Stop the bickering, you fool" – Didn’t I just take those words right out of the tip of your tongue?! I am a mind reader too now - 'awesomeness unlimited'.
I have noticed that my blog has two new followers.
I think it is coincidental how my blog attracts followers when it is least active and wards off followers when I actually post daily.
I don’t believe in coincidence – so I think it is the lack of posts that attracts followers.
That would be pretty dumb.
But then, people are dumb.
I am glad I have new followers – end of story.

I am going to keep posting – you can’t bribe me out of it!

I have noticed how unenlightening my blog has become – depressing!
Now this is not because I have not been having any enlightening thoughts of late – on the contrary, I have been having plenty.

A week back I was forced to imagine my mind – as a result of someone telling me to mind my mind.
Those of you who have been regular followers would know minding my mind is nothing short of an ‘impossible’ task.
This, precisely, makes quotes such as ‘nothing is Impossible’ and ‘Impossible is a word in the dictionary of fools’ gibberish as far as I am concerned.
Because:
- Minding my mind is impossible
- Minding my mind is not ‘nothing’
- I am not a fool.
So I was imagining my mind.
Scientifically, I think, nobody has been able to localize any particular part of the human brain to be the ‘mind’.
The mind is not the brain.
In my opinion, it is like the soul-body relationship.
A relationship in which the brain plays the role of the body in which the mind is the soul – making 'the mind' something we want to believe in even without seeing it.
That is where the teeny-weeny problem comes in.
My imagination does not like things that cannot be visually linked.
Hence I came up with this image for the mind.

Now this image is pretty childish – it is definitely not scientific and I don’t want it to be philosophical.
It is simple – that is all that I am concerned about.
The simplicity is what impresses me – because I think the more complex things are, the more farther from truth they are.

My mind is like a series of doors.
One door leads to the next.
I am unaware of how many doors there actually are.
A stranger is not let in even through the first door.
But an acquaintance might find his/her way to the second door.
Each door opens into a little information about me.
Every friend opens a couple of doors and either stays put or moves further on.
As they move further, they get to learn more and more about my mind, along with me.
No matter how far I let people go there is still a long way till we reach the last door.
All I know about myself is the information that I have from letting people reach the point they have. I know nothing about the information I shall receive at that door which I have not let anyone open yet.
The farther I let people in, the more I will know about myself and my mind.

The only way you can learn about your mind is by letting people into it.

What I am trying to figure out now is what lies beyond the last door?
Eternal happiness, peace, bliss, heaven, redemption – all sound nothing short of hypocritical and unreal to me.

I have a feeling what lies beyond the last door is purer than all of the above mentioned
– It is insanity.

The day the dam broke

2009-02-02T19:38:00.002+05:30

I hate final year.
I knew I would not like it.
I knew I might hate it.
But now – it is different.
I know I hate final year.

It has been about ten days since final year has begun – feels like forever though. Final year has provided the following to me in ten days:
1) Free electroconvulsive therapy for my hair to make sure it permanently stays at a strict perpendicular angle to my scalp.
2) Dark circle enhancer to make sure my eyes look like they are disappearing into monstrous black holes.
3) A hunch (thanks to my college bag which contains the ‘essentials of Clinical Medicine’) that would have made Quasimodo look like Prince Charming next to me.
4) A mask like face that would put any patient suffering from Parkinsonism to shame.
5) A mind that is so disoriented that I take more than 30 seconds to respond to a question asking me my name (because I am too busy trying to figure out the ‘medical significance’)
6) All this in addition to the 7:30 am to 8:30 pm schedule after which we are supposed to read every possible book of Medicine and become enlightened overnight.

The day I landed here I was welcomed with the marvellous news of my being posted in Medicine under a Professor who is pretty famous for his ways.
I did not think much of it at the time.

For a person with an imagination as wild as mine I express very little in public. I have always kept my emotions in check – maybe that energy is what is transformed in the form of my wild imaginative skills. As of now, my imagination is on vacation.

Each unit have six people posted. Three out of six have already broken their dams – me being one among them. I hate admitting that I shed tears because I know for a fact that this will only result in satisfaction, if not sheer delight, from the people I am posted under. I do not understand if it is their sadistic nature, frustrated lives or blown up egos that infuriates me the most – all I know, as of now, is that rage is very closely associated with the colour red. Red is the only colour I see when I look at their faces.

It might do me good down the lane. The torture might result in me trying harder – but there is only so much a human can tolerate. I am fast approaching the limit. One of my unit mates has already gone into severe depression and almost had a breakdown a few days back. I wonder when my turn will arrive.

But one thing is for sure – I sure as hell will not let it show to them. I will not knowingly satisfy their sadistic whims. It is going to take them more effort to make my dam break again.

I miss blogging.

If anyone out there had a doubt if I were crazy, I assure them – I definitely am crazy now.

Now who is laughing?!

2009-01-15T16:03:00.003+05:30

It is me!
This post is to let all my dedicated followers and comrades on the path to enlightenment know that I have had the last laugh.
I – referring to me – the Enlightened one.

I have received my next award!!
(Everyone is requested to applaud at this point. You also have permission to give me a standing ovation. It would be even better if you would get up on your chair and affirm with utmost sincerity my sheer awesomeness.)

Thank you. Thank you.

Now for my acceptance speech:
*drum roll*
This award is dedicated to the fool who stopped following my blog. You are lucky I don’t remember who you are. I sincerely hope you are enjoying rotting in hell. And if you have not noticed, I have 13 followers - again! So no one really misses you.
Ahem!
Thank you once again, I couldn’t have done it without you!

It is called the ‘Brilliante Weblog Premio Awards 2008’ – pretty brilliant name.
And for those of you who can’t wait to get a look at it:

Now I have to nominate seven people who are worthy of this splendid award.

1) Arjun: I don’t know if you have received this award already because I am sure you win quite a few. This is my gift to you.

2) Tys on ice: For making complex issues seem simple at hard times, you deserve way better than this.

3) Sandeep Balan: Again – In the hope of him finishing his ‘Blonde’ story.

4) Keyzer Soze: Again – In the hope he will keep posting and not give up on the blogosphere.

5) Genesis of Oblivion: Again – In the hope of him accepting my first award!

6) Kapila: As an aid for her to believe in herself and realize she is truly brilliant.

7) Another blogger: She is awesome - Can I award myself again?

Well with that we come to the end of yet another truly enlightening, marvelous post by yours truly…

P.S.: For the visually impaired blog readers – there is a poll being conducted in this blog. You are requested to kindly vote so that your voting rights are not withdrawn.
The last I checked there was just ONE vote – very disappointing.

My name is Bufoon

2009-01-11T15:12:00.003+05:30

As I have already mentioned in my post ‘Username’ my name is pretty unique (strange, weird, funny).
I do not complain.

For the fools out there, no my name is not Buffoon.
For the Buffoons out there, no you do not share your name with me.

I recently stumbled upon this site dedicated to the science of Numerology.
The site not only defined you based on a number derived from weird mathematical functions applied to the alphabets in your name and your date of birth but also gave a list of lucky numbers for the day.
I wonder what I am supposed to do with my set of lucky numbers:
- write so many posts?
- cut off my toes/ grow more to match my lucky number?
- repeat it continuously like a chant?
- wear the same number of garments?
- get the same number of piercings?
- get married to a person chanting the same number?
- get married as many times as my lucky number?
- get the combo meal from McDonalds with the same number to avoid indigestion?

An additional feature also compared my Numerology results to those of celebrities.
Wow!
Is that not wonderful?
And I cannot begin to explain how special I feel to be just like Sir Elton John.
I wonder if they took into account his ‘Sir’ for the Numerology.
I wonder if my celebrity will change if I add my ‘Dr.’ prefix which will soon be attained.
I don’t want to try – Elton John is so much more comforting than the many beasts out there in the celebrity world.
So what if he is gay, he is talented and knighted!

And then I began to wonder what if they had Bollywood celebrities on the site.
But then since almost all of them ‘change’ their names to unpronounceable jumble of letters which bear a slight resemblance to their original names, thanks to numerology, I guess all of them have the same set of lucky numbers.
The lucky numbers won’t be of much help then, would it?
The luck is supposed to help with competition, but if all the competitors have the same numerological character and lucky numbers they would not be so lucky after all.

And then my wild imagination came alive – very fatal.
It made me wonder what my numerological character would be if my name was Buffoon born on the 29th of February 2009 (for those of you who have a negative I.Q. I would like to remind you that 2009 is not a leap year and hence will not have a 29th of February)
And my Name number (which is supposed to relate to how I express myself in the many experiences of my life) and my Personality number (which is supposed to relate to my outlook on personal relationships, career opportunities etc) is 1 – meaning I am a born leader.
I might be a little weird – but I think this is pretty lame.
Buffoon – the born leader.
Tell you what, why don’t you name your child Buffoon and we shall see if this actually works out.
Do we have a deal?

Free! Free! Free!

2009-01-11T13:49:00.001+05:30

Bullshit!
Nothing comes for free in this world.
You think not?
Well, think again – if you have trouble thinking, I shall help!

Humans are selfish creatures – I hope all of you know that by now.
Even when a person is performing a ‘selfless’ act he is almost always thinking about the recognition, gratitude and mostly the peace of mind he will receive from doing the ‘selfless’ act – courtesy Joey (F.R.I.E.N.D.S)
Now if you think Joey is not the ‘smartest’ person around to quote in this regard – we need to meet in person and you better come ready to be shot by a bazooka!!! (Oh! I love it).
Hence there is no selfless act.
Humans are selfish.
There is nothing free in this world because no one wants to give you anything without a little bit of something for himself.

Let us go through the ages chronologically and the various ‘free’ things we receive:

Birth: We are born into this horrible world at the price of dealing with terribly cold temperature of 25oC as opposed to the nice warm 37oC of the womb to satisfy the wants of two strangers who want a little stupid toy to play with – since they are sick of playing with each other.

0-5years: The so called selfless love of parents comes with the humongous responsibility of making them happy. The horrible guilt of depressing them if we do not live up to their expectations because they love us so much!
School is even worse – not only do we have to pay fees but also pretend to listen and understand what they try so hard to teach us.

5-10years: School is horrible as usual. It is definitely not free. Friendships take more from you than give, in terms of ‘sharing’ toys and other gizmos which you could have all for yourself if not for the so called friends.

10-15years: As far as boyfriends/girlfriends are concerned we all know they are all but free! Dating bills, gifts, rising phone bills plus heartache, headache and ear ache.
Friends become more synonymous to back stabbers. And the few good friends that few ‘lucky’ ones seem to have drink off your wallet – always.

15-20years: Nothing much changes from high school days except for the ‘friends circle’ increasing in size in proportion to the size of your wallet. And the heartaches keep getting worse if you have not learnt your lesson and stayed off relationships.

20-25years: Try and find a job to earn money to live in this ‘nothing is for free’ world.

25-30years: The ultimate sacrifice: Marriage. No comments as to how free that is.

30-Death: Life gets worse from bad until it finally ends. Thank God for that.

Lessons to be learnt:
1) If anybody offers anything for free – they are lying; these people must be interrogated and made prime suspects in every case of homicide in the world.
2) Free does not exist.
3) If a person asks for something for ‘free’ it is safe to regard him/her as being foolish.
4) The stuff you get free when you buy something is almost always crap!
5) If it is not crap then it is something that is very, very addictive.
6) Don’t bother trying to be selfless – it is a lost cause.

Laugh else I will shoot you

2009-01-05T15:54:00.004+05:30

What is happening to the world?!
That is a rhetorical question – please do not attempt to answer it.

The economic crisis does not concern me – yet.
So I am not interested in talking about salaries and expenditure.
To hell with how much money you make – it sure is not satisfying you, and my bet is it is a matter of utter dissatisfaction for me too!

Here I am, depressed as hell.
Look at my posts!
Two posts on negative emotions – this is really bad.
And the fact that none of you, I repeat, NONE OF YOU faithful ‘followers’ pointed it out makes me wonder what sort of depressed, lonely, frustrated buffoons I have for followers.

I also noted today that the number of followers I have just went down by one.
Whoever this person might be is definitely lucky because I can’t seem to remember who it is.
Now, I am pretty sure the ‘ex-follower’ is under the false impression that he is more enlightened than me and does not need to follow my posts anymore to attain enlightenment – well you, Mr Negative I.Q., are a fool - that is enlightenment, for you!!
My blog and I are much better without you following!
And you shall rot in hell for ‘de-following’ my blog – unless, of course, you decide to follow my blog again.

Now I know what the rest of you are thinking.
“This lady has gone bonkers. She is totally out of her mind. She is so desperate for followers. Maybe I should not follow her.”
Well, you know what – go ahead.
You will rot in hell too!

Sometimes I think I must become a clown – I definitely look like one.
My nose has the same bulbous end and if I have a cold it turns red too - but it gets leaky, I wonder if clowns have leaky noses.
My depression seems to be depressing my parents.
Hence I am no longer depressed now.
And nor am I going to post depressing posts.
I am going to try and crack you up – so you better laugh!

I was wondering what would really make me laugh.
And all I could think of was making someone slip on a banana peel.
I know it is pretty sadistic – but that would definitely make me laugh.
I wonder if that is okay for a doctor.
I wonder if a badly injured patient would make me laugh – that would be really disturbing – for the patient, of course.

So what makes you laugh?
If I were in front of you right now with a bazooka (I love the sound of that - bazzoookaahh) threatening you to laugh at my posts, would you?

I have always wanted to say ‘Hasta la vista, baby’.
I hate the ‘baby’ bit though.
Maybe I will modify it to ‘Hasta la vista, moron’.
I never liked Arnold though – I think he did the world a favour by quitting movies and joining politics.
Maybe that is why people keep voting for him – because they are so grateful they don’t have to watch him ‘trying’ to act anymore!

Well, whatever it may be, the point is simple:
You’d better laugh at my posts!!

Self worth

2009-01-05T15:28:00.001+05:30

There are certain moments in life which make you wonder about yourself.

Every three years I get reminded of how worthless I am.
It first happened when I was fourteen.
I had won a national award and was very content with myself.
At least until my academic performance went below what I considered to be my standards. But then I managed to pick myself up and fared well until I passed out of school. I fell sick and I fared badly in my exams for entering into medical schools in the country. I managed to get through one but not my dream college.
This was by far the worst let down in my life – until a few days back.

I love what I learn.
Even though I bicker at the amount I have to study, I really enjoy learning what I have to learn. I have always been an honours student in medicine.
And even though this year was filled with too many extra curricular activities, I was pretty sure I could do a good job.
But I did not.

I have passed into final year.
I have not failed in any subject.
But my marks have made me question whether I am of any good at anything at all.

Now I know this is pretty stupid.
I hate people who bicker about their marks.
But this is not about the marks; this is about me being good at what I have chosen as my profession.
I used to think this was my forte. No matter what, I could do well in this.
But apparently that is not the case.

I question my self worth – for those who have not figured it out already, I am undergoing the symptoms of moderate to severe depression.
I have tried out all possible ways to get out of it.
Chocolates, shopping, hugs, tears, food – even exercise, apparently exercise releases serotonin which curbs depression.
And I do want to get out of this state.
More than anything I want to get back to college and start working hard to prove to myself more than anybody else that I am good at this.

But the human mind, I tell you, it enjoys the feeling of helplessness.
It enjoys feeling weak and depressed. It requires courage to stand up and move on.
It is easy to preach, easier to use big words and philosophy.
But when you are the one in the dumps you jus keep falling over and over again.

It is like this little rat gnawing at the back of my head.
A voice calling out and reminding me, every single time I start to forget, that I am not supposed to be happy – that I am a good for nothing.

I hate this state I am in.
I know there are many of you out there in the same state I am talking about.

This post is just to let you know, you are not alone.

I will get through this.
No matter how many times I have to pick myself up, nobody is going to tell me I am a loser.

Frustration

2009-01-02T18:05:00.003+05:30

Frustration – the state of being frustrated.
I always liked the word ‘frustrated’.
There are some words in the English language which can convey its meaning without the help of a dictionary. I think there is a tad bit of frustration in the very mouthing of the word ‘frustrated’ – I think the R’s take the credit for this.

This state of being frustrated, I think, is one which can very well be fodder for thought.

Frustration arises simply from a circumstance when one is reminded of his helplessness. The more helpless you feel, the more you want to vent the emotional build up due to your helplessness – some turn it into depression while others into anger.
The depression is usually associated with long standing helplessness whereas the anger is, as is usually associated with anger, one which arises without thought.
The only difference in anger which arises from helplessness is that it is directed at not one person in particular. It is directed at lots of people, circumstances, choices, sometimes oneself – it is directed at everything that can be blamed.
And slowly this anger is directed at not only those who might have been responsible for the state of helplessness but at everyone.

Frustration is frustrating for everyone.
Not only does the person hate being the way he is – helpless and thwarted, but also everyone who comes across a frustrated person seem to catch the ‘disease’.
This disease spreads unless you have in you immunity against it.
This immunity which helps protects you from acquiring the disease called ‘frustration’ can be of two types:

1) Accepting your current state of helplessness as a part of what one often refers to as ‘fate’ and letting it be. This can often lead to depression – the long standing effect of helplessness. These people accept defeat too quickly. They do not believe their beliefs are worth believing in.

2) Fighting your helplessness and not accepting defeat. Only a person who accepts being thwarted can be thwarted. It all lies in the mind. There are two ways of fighting your helplessness:

- You deny it. You do not give up and keep banging your head against the closed door which was once an opportunity. This is called being in a state called ‘denial’. I feel sorry for these people.

- You accept the fact that the opportunity is lost and form a Plan B. A plan that can very much lead you to the very same goal. And there is always a Plan B waiting to be constructed.

I am not entirely sure if there are more ways to immunise yourself against frustration. I have not given it much thought.
I decided to post on frustration because of three reasons:

- I was frustrated because my father wanted to watch the news. The other TV is no longer working and my mother did not want me to go back to bed (all I have been doing is eating and sleeping). I really do not understand the obsession fathers have with the news channel!
My Plan B worked though – the details of Plan B are however beyond the scope of this blog because of its sheer ingenuity.

- I was frustrated because I have been experiencing a little difficulty in communicating with a couple of my friends (The reason being already mentioned in my previous post – New Year resolutions!)
In this case I am sure time will work its wonders and I just have to wait.

- I watched a movie about a boy becoming a man of religion not out of his own accord, only because of what is supposedly read in his horoscope. The boy was clearly frustrated. I felt sorry for him.
His Plan B was not very creative and hence was not successful.

I love blogging – gets rid of frustration!

First post of 2009

2009-01-02T17:00:00.001+05:30

The New Year has been unexpectedly good to me - so far.

On New Year’s Eve my brother in law asked if I wanted to host a show on TV.
I am not too proud of my conversing skills in my mother tongue.
Now I am basically a very proud-of-myself type of a person.
But this is something I know I suck at.

According to most of my friends my Malayalam makes me sound like a fisherwoman.
I have not been able to comprehend what it is that makes me sound like a fisherwoman. I remember asking one of my friends once what a fisherwoman actually sounds like (for insight) and she told me told me to listen to myself because nobody could do it better – this was most certainly not comforting.

Not that I have anything against fisherwomen.
I think they are awesome people who work very hard for their living.
It just disturbs me when my imagination runs wild and I picture myself in a fishing boat with a stethoscope around my neck.

So when my brother in law asked if I wanted to host a program for a Malayalam channel, I did what every female with a little remaining self respect would do – I refused.
Next thing I know I am explaining to my sister why exactly I do not want people all over the world discussing about my fisherwoman Malayalam accent.
She is pretty manipulative – she is my sister, after all.
Three hours later I find myself agreeing to host the program in English – the power of manipulation.

So I woke up at 8:30 am on January 1st – this is nothing short of miraculous considering the state I was in when I passed out at around three (I think). I spend five hours at a studio doing what they told me to do. It was not so bad actually; they thought I was a natural! Misconceptions – I tell you.

So after finishing off in five hours what they expected would take double the time, I walk out with money I had absolutely no scheme of earning.

And oh I almost forgot, ever since December 31st all I have been eating is KFC – I think it has something to do with me eating KFC when the clock struck midnight.

So the New Year has brought me:
1) Unexpected unbelievable amount of money,
2) Two hours of time on television – maybe more,
3) A secondary career option on screen if I ever succeed in validating my primary career option of becoming a doctor,
4) KFC for every meal,
5) Early rising tendencies.

I think that is not bad for a beginning. And if there is anything to what they say about the whole year simulating the 1st of January – I am going to be so glad.

But I still hate my friends for making resolutions about not spending too much time on the Internet – I can’t wait for them to break free of the shackles of New Year resolutions!!!

Last post of 2008

2008-12-31T23:50:00.001+05:30

Happy new year to all of you!!!
Hope the New Year is filled with joy, prosperity and all the wonderful sounding words that the millions of greeting cards wish the New Year is filled with.

I do not believe in New Year resolutions.
Nor do I believe in a new year being a new beginning.
I do not believe anything much changes on January 1st 2009.
I think this day only marks the Earth successfully completing one revolution of the Sun and if the year was counted from April, The Fool’s day may very well be the beginning of a new year.
I apologize for being what Mr Scrooge was for Christmas.
This is what I think of new years.

The point is everyday can be a new beginning and a year can begin from any day you want it to begin from – changing the year from 2008 to 2009 is not that big a deal.

I sincerely hope all you readers have a great time in 2009.
I will be a final year medical student – meaning I am not sure of how often I will be able to post.
I shall try my best to keep enlightening all of you.

Keep reading – be it 2008 or 2009…

Infidelity

2008-12-31T23:48:00.001+05:30

I watched a Malayalam movie about 4 or 5 months back which made me re-think my stand on infidelity. The movie was ‘Ore kadal’ by Shyamaprasad. It is based on a Bengali book which goes by the name of ‘Herrak Deepthy’ by Sunil Gangopadhyay.
I have liked all of Shyamaprasad’s movies till date and as far as Sunil Gangopahyay’s books are concerned – I have been dying to lay my hands on any of them. Many of his books have been made into movies by Satyajit Ray – I think that is self explanatory.

The story revolves around a stark contrast of four characters.

The hero ‘Nathan’ is a well educated economics professor who loathes attachment – among all the characters in the story this is the one I could relate to the most. The reason he loathes attachment of any sort is only due to fear of loss. And an illiterate, poor and innocent wife of another man guides him out of his cocoon with the power of love. I have not been able to comprehend his change in character towards the end which portrays him as a man madly in love. I do not believe people can change so.

The heroine ‘Deepthy’ is an illiterate lady belonging to the lower middle class society. Her life is about as normal as any other lady in her strata of the society – until she falls prey to temptation. She is a woman who is too unsure of herself to argue with anyone’s wants or needs. She submits to dominance. She falls in love with the pleasure she derives from a man other than her husband. Her feeble mind haunts her when she becomes the mother of his child and this eventually drives her crazy.
After a couple of years she is ‘treated’ and ‘cured’.
But by then Nathan realises he cannot live without the love that can make a woman go literally crazy. The movie ends with Deepthy deciding to stay with Nathan – when her purpose of visiting him was to murder him – again depicting how indecisive her nature can be.

Other than these two characters, there are two other very strong characters – Deepthy’s husband and Nathan’s ‘friend’ Bella.
Deepthy’s husband is a man who wants nothing more than to live a normal life. He loves his wife but does not express it exquisitely. He loves his family. He is a good father. Here we have a man who represents a majority in the Indian society. One who does not want to accept anything out of the ordinary and will go to any lengths to bring his life back to its ‘ordinary’ state.
Bella is Nathan’s friend. She does not believe in attachment but she does believe in love. She was raped by her uncle and cousin when she was too young to even know what rape actually means. Her son died of starvation when she was an adolescent. She has been through a lot of pain in her life and she wants to live only for the moment. She does not look forward to the future nor does she care for the past. She loves being alone but unlike Nathan she does not run away from love.

Infidelity to me was always something that was associated with the ‘cunning’ or ‘smart’ ones. I always thought cheating on one’s partner required one to be shrewd. But this movie changed my outlook. I have now come to the conclusion that infidelity can be committed by those who don’t really know what they want, those who are unsure of themselves, those who submit themselves to others’ wants.
I am not of the opinion that they are less to blame.
I am not of the opinion that what they are committing is less of a sin than those who do it knowingly.
I am not of the opinion that ‘love’ of this sort should be forgiven.
But the movie was enlightening.

I did not know that helplessness can be the cause of infidelity.

Frog Prince

2008-12-30T13:28:00.001+05:30

If you do not already know, let me let you know – I am an ardent fan of fairy tales and animated movies. This, on the contrary to what you may believe as true, is not because I believe or expect something of the sort to happen in my life. I love these stories and movies merely for the fact that they make me feel good – always.

I am pretty sure all the fairy tales are just twisted forms of reality. This post is going to be about by ‘real’ form of the Frog Prince.

For those of you who do not know the story of the Frog Prince let me enlighten you.
There are three forms of this tale existing that I am aware of. I personally like the Grimm’s version.

1) The Grimm’s version:
It begins with a princess, who is extremely spoilt and all she does all day is play with her ‘golden ball’ by tossing it up and trying to catch it. Since she is a retard, one fine day, she fails to catch it and the ball falls into a spring. There she sits and weeps – again because she is a retard.
Enter hero of our story – the ugly frog.
The smartass frog makes a deal with the retard princess and she agrees to let the frog eat with her, sleep with her and accepts the frog as her true love if the frog gets her ball back. Now the retard princess is pretty shrewd because she has no plans of keeping her promise. And hence, once she gets her ball, she runs back to her palace.
But she forgets, the hero of our story is not just an ugly frog – he is the smartass hero!
So the frog finds his way to the palace and reminds the princess of her promise. The king overhears their conversation (sneaky king!) and tells his daughter to keep her promise at all cost – the king actually makes his daughter sleep with a frog!
After three nights of the same old routine of eating form the same plate and sleeping on the same bed, the frog miraculously transforms into a handsome prince… and the rest is history.

2) The slightly modified version:
In this version the story remains the same until the frog comes to the palace. But in this version, the sight of the ugly frog and the thought of sleeping with him infuriates the princess and she flings the frog across her room. THUD!
Now, the retard psychopathic princess gets back to her senses and realizes she does not want to be a murderer; and she definitely does not want the animal rights activists hounding her. So she apologizes to the poor injured frog and kisses it.
The frog miraculously transforms into the handsome prince and he explains to her about the curse which she just broke. On his way out of her room the king sees them and Ahem! The rest is history.

3) The fairy tale version of the fairy tale:
I hate this version because it has no emotion in it.
It really has no ‘masala’.
And this is the version most of the children today know – which makes me hate it even more.
In this version the princess is this wonderful, loving, generous, meek creature who will do anything for anybody. One fine day while she is taking a stroll she sees this ugly frog weeping near a spring. She asks the frog what is wrong and he tells her he wants to be kissed – wtf!!!
Now since the princess is so wonderful, loving, generous and meek she kisses the ugly frog. The frog transforms into the prince and he asks her to marry him. The princess obviously does not know how to say ‘no’ to anybody so she agrees. The rest is history.

So that was the enlightening bit.
Now for what I deduce from these tales:
I believe the frog here represents an ugly man who is not worth much.
I believe he does not transform into any handsome prince.
I believe after spending three nights with him the princess falls in ‘love’ with him or after kissing him she falls in ‘love’ with him – probably he is amazing kisser.
And once you fall in love even an ugly frog can look like a handsome prince – because according to my very favourite Shakespeare, love is blind.

Hence there is no curse as such
– Unless you consider being born as an ugly, poor man a curse.
The miracle is just love.
Love breaks the barriers of riches and beauty in this tale.

I think my deduction is pretty awesome.
Let me know if you agree.

Then the tag came along

2008-12-30T13:14:00.005+05:30

I have been planning on posting about certain specific subjects of interest (MY interest) for quite a few days now. But something or the other just seems to come up.

Now, this tag has come along.
Not that I have anything against tagging but the idea of answering questions about myself does not hold much interest for me.
So this tag is being answered for the ‘pleasure’ of my readers alone.
And for the first time I am posting more for my readers and less for myself – this being a very generous gesture should be acknowledged by all.

A humongous Thank you to Keyzer Soze for tagging me – it is an opportunity to make my blog almost as versatile as yours. But there are no hugs and slaps on the back attached with this thank you! I am going to try answering this tag as much to the point as I can – God help me!
I hope it is not boring.

Here goes:

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:

I do not have many scars to boast about. I wish I did though. I have even considered self mutilation for more scars – scars make one look more dangerous.
Of the ones I have here is how I got them:

1) A 5 inch long vertical scar near my left knee:
I was about twelve or thirteen when I got this one. I was into practising acrobatics on my study chair then – which made my chair more of a rocking chair than a study chair. One particular afternoon, I had placed my chair right in between my bed and my cupboard so that I could ‘restrict’ entry into my hiding place. The study chair served as the gate. After I made sure nobody was interested in entering my territory I tried slipping in via the space between the back of my chair and the bed, I did not know there was a nail poking right out of the back of the chair. The more I tried to slip out of the tiny space the worse the wound got. Finally, my mom rescued me – so much for ‘restricting entry’. I was too stubborn to get the wound sutured after getting the tetanus shots. I went for my singing classes the same day and ended up howling rather than singing.
Well, I miss my chair.

2) A 3 inch long horizontal scar on my left shin:
This is a mysterious scar. I was playing around with my uncle and the next thing I know is a stinging pain and unstoppable bleeding. I still wonder how I managed to hurt myself because we were not playing with anything that was sharp enough to cause the wound. This time I was too stubborn to get the sutures AND the tetanus shots. I am glad I did not die of tetanus.

3) A funny looking circular scar on my left knee:
I fell about a year back. I am a klutz. Nobody saw me fall – I think.

4) A curvilinear scar running halfway across my right hand middle finger:
This story has already been blogged about in ‘The middle finger’. In short, it was all thanks to a pedestal fan I tried saying ‘Hello’ to. Four deep stitches, eight superficial stitches, an elephantine dose of anaesthesia, a tetanus shot which immobilized my left arm for 3 days and one month of not being able to use my right hand has taught me to be rude to pedestal fans.

5) A smooth double scar on my scalp:
Now you must be wondering what a double scar is. It is acquired with much effort when there is a pre existing scar and you get a wound almost right on it again.
The first scar was thanks to my super dumb status when I was 3 years old. I still cannot believe I could have been so stupid then.
My mom had left me on a swing and first I tried swinging after letting go of my left hand.
I was quite successful.
Then I tried letting go of my right hand.
I was still successful.
And then, I think, I imagined myself to be Superman.
I let go of both my hands. And to my delight, just like Superman I went flying. I landed with a thud.
Apparently I was quite a brave child and did not wince even once when the ten stitches were sutured into my scalp – I wonder if my then empty skull had anything to do with it.
The wound which made it a double scar was deeper. I was about ten years old and I had committed the grave mistake of tickling my elder sister (along with irritating the hell out of her). And so, she tried tickling me. I am not ticklish. Her efforts at tickling me made me mock her.
I overdid it. I slipped. I fell.
I hit my head at the edge of a table and did not know I had hurt myself until the blood was pouring down my face.
My sisters freaked – they thought I was going to die!!!
Stitches again, this time I had to try real hard not to wince because I had to keep up my image of being the ‘brave girl’ – I tell you living up to others’ expectations really hurts!
I had a birthday party to attend that evening. I loved the attention. I hated looking like an Egyptian mummy.
And hence two head injuries sealed my future of eternal insanity.

Most of the other scars I have painfully attained have faded out.
I really want a scar across my eyebrow – been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl.

2. What does your phone look like?

I think it looks like a phone. I think you will also think it looks like a phone.
I have three phones as of now – one Nokia 6125 flip which I rarely use, then my college phone a Nokia 6610i and thirdly (my personal favourite) an orange Nokia 1100.
I use them interchangeably according to where I am going, who I am going with and what I feel like carrying with me.

3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?

My hostel room is where I currently stay, so I think ‘my bedroom’ can be considered synonymous to my hostel room.
- The walls are filled with bright pink and green chart paper cut into circles and stuck randomly – some of which have fallen off
- Ten of my favourite birthday cards that I have saved over the years
- A couple of photographs of myself, family and friends over the course of the past ten years.
- Lots of posters some with hot men and some with wild animals on them. And then there is one particular poster with babies that I am not too fond of but got as a birthday gift.
- A couple of inspirational quotes and a couple of funny ones.
- And I hang my innumerable handbags on my wall.
That is about it.
The image in this post has my wall in the background - 'My middle finger'

4. What is your current desktop picture?

Currently it is a black and white picture of my darling, Kurt Cobain and his guitar on a couch.

5. Do you believe in gay marriage?

I believe in following my beliefs. Since I am not gay this puts me in a tough position. I think every gay person should follow his belief and go get married if he/she wants to. I do not believe in it nor do I plan on following it.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?

I want to eat to my hearts content.
I want to sleep until I no longer feel sleepy.
I want peace of mind.
I want to find nowhere (more than anything else).

7. What time were you born?

11:50pm on 12th of September 1987.

10. Last person who made you cry?

I was under the overbearing and excessive influence of alcohol. I do not know what or who made me cry. I jus know I was bawling out loud and threatening to murder God.

11. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

I love all Givenchy perfumes especially Organza Indecence and Extravagance d'Amarige.

12. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like in the opposite sex?

Hair colour – should be salt and pepper. I know it is weird but I love a teeny weeny little bit of grey in otherwise dark hair.
Eye colour – I think I like brown or maybe grey.

13. What are you listening to?

Right now I am listening to ‘Hole in my soul’ – Aerosmith. The last song was ‘Hallelujah’ – Rufus Wainwright. The next song is ‘Rape me’ – Nirvana.
Do not be judgemental.
I love my music – if you don’t it is your fault, not mine.

14. Do you get scared of the dark?

Until my eyes get accustomed to the darkness I feel uncomfortable, not scared though. I was never scared of the dark, even as a child. I do not like the idea of not being able to see and having to feel my way around in the dark though. I have an awesome sense of smell and hearing which certainly helps– I think the credit goes to my high myopic eyes.

15. Do you like painkillers?

Painkillers are usually associated with pain, so I am not sure if I like them.
I like the colour of Brufen.
I had to take suppository painkillers around five years ago – it goes without saying what I felt about them. They gave me a real tough time; it was way better bearing the pain than shoving those slippery tiny rockets up my ass.
I have had Tramadol (an opiate derivative) twice in my life. The first time was quite a trip but the second, unfortunately, did not have any of its usual ‘much-looked-forward-to’ effect.

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

No, I am not.
I have never been.
I don’t think I ever will be.

17. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

This will be a never ending answer if I try too hard to answer it.
Right at this very moment, I feel like having a Mc chicken along with one of those yummy apple pies from Mc Donalds.

18. Who was the last person who made you mad?

Not a person – My university examinations did drive me mad though.
I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself. I was so angry at everyone.
I am glad they are done with.

19. Who was the last person who made you smile?

The last person who made me smile, I think, was the same person who tagged me. Something he said a while ago made me smile, I can’t remember what exactly.
Food always makes me smile by the way!

And hence I complete this task!
It has been a very long and tedious process.
I tag Genesis of Oblivion – I want to know how much more similar we can get!

Three days

2008-12-28T19:54:00.002+05:30

Thanks to the remarkable advances in the means of communication today, many a times one tends to know better about people he has never met in his life than about the person he lives with.

I am good friends with quite a few people I have never met; some of them I do not plan on meeting - ever, while some of them I look forward to meet.
I spend four days at my hometown in India recently.
It was wonderful to be home.
I usually get bored easily at home, but this time it was different – I always found myself in a position where I had something to do, somewhere to be, someone to meet…

This post is about the time I spend with Mr S, from my point of view.
I wonder if he will post his point of view.

Day 0
This is the day I left Mangalore – destination Trivandrum.
I did not sleep the whole night, was busy cleaning up the post examination mess, packing and most importantly partying.

I had breakfast which did manage to make me momentarily happy until I remembered the ‘waiting list’ status of my 16 hour train journey and the impending trekking trip hunting for a pair of trousers for my brother in law as an anniversary gift in a shop located right in the middle of an extremely disorganised construction site.

The trekking trip was not fun – thanks to the extreme difficulty I was facing trying to keep my sleepy eyes open.
The waiting list status became an RAC seat.
I had no idea what that meant until my friend explained RAC meant I was supposed to share the lower side berth with a stranger.
The journey was almost uneventful except for the fact that I was surrounded by under-fives. There were six babies in my bogey – and I am not exaggerating.

Sometimes I really wonder if there is someone up there trying to teach me a lesson.
I hate babies more today, if that is possible.

Day 1
I reached Trivandrum at 5:30 in the morning – sleepy but mentally as sound as I can be expected to be.
I was supposed to meet S at nine thirty, but my being human led me to sleep till ten thirty. I met him at eleven.

I realised the following:
- Photos can lie, but not much.
- It is not easy to make a conversation in person.
- People sound different in person.
- I hate silence.
- Jobless girls waiting for hours at ice cream parlours for their dates to arrive distract men who do not have the power to make conversation with a friend they know for the last six months.
- Not everyone likes eating ice creams from cones – I did not know that!!!
- I hate being aware of someone judging every action of mine, makes me self conscious and I freeze.
- Tastes in music can differ to the point that the argument can never be settled – ever.

It was quite enlightening.
So I met S again in the evening.
This time we went to a lighthouse.

I realised the following:
- Impressions made on first meetings can be wrong.
- With time the conversation becomes easy.
- It irritates men to have to walk 200m due to lack of parking space.
- It is difficult to climb a ladder with a bottle of water in one hand.
- I am STILL scared of heights.
- The fear of heights can be overcome with the help of scenic beauty.
- I love letting my feet dangle, sitting on top of a lighthouse.
- Silence is not so bad after all.
- The water sparkles more just before sunset.
- There are people alike me who enjoy making faces for photographs.
- Climbing down a ladder is easier than climbing up one with a bottle in one hand.
- Pre planning sucks.
- The first meeting may very well seem like not the first meeting.
- Light houses are beautiful, awesome, amazing, lovely, marvellous places.
- Traffic in Trivandrum can be a real pain thanks to people deciding to celebrate God-alone-knows-what (not Christmas) on the roads.
- Returning home late on the first day back can also be a pain.

Day 2
Next we met on Christmas. Christmas eve was spend hogging with cousins and family. S came home and stayed home for more than 4 hours before we decided to go to the zoo.

I realised the following:
- My mother can talk for hours with friends of mine with whom I have difficulty carrying on a decent conversation.
- My sister has inherited the same trait from my mother.
- It takes time to decide where to go out to in Trivandrum because there are very few places that may serve to be interesting.
- My house can be interesting.
- The art gallery in Trivandrum is awesome.
- I appreciate art – I did not know that.
- The zoo is humongous; even if you are walking at a brisk pace it takes more than half an hour to see the whole place.
- I am not fond of birds and primates; there are other people like me.
- The King cobra in the zoo looks like a dark python and moves at a pace of a sloth.
- I am fond of snakes and reptiles.
- Lions pee on you if they get angry.
- If S had not tried to be a hero, both of us would have been peed on by a lion.
- I do not like the idea of getting peed on.
- S would love to be peed on by a lion.
- Animals have a tendency to get perturbed by my presence – I wonder why.
- My presence in the zoo was responsible for all the animals being extra active and putting on a good show to all the people who visited the zoo that day.
- The roads are empty on Christmas.
- Reaching back home earlier than what is expected is considered mysterious.

Day 3
This was my last day at Trivandrum. I finished my packing in advance because the shortcomings of sleepless nights due to packing were still fresh in my mind – Day 0.
S and I decided to go grab a bite for brunch. We ended up going to the museum.

I realised the following:
- I am usually fond of museums but not all museums.
- The Trivandrum museum is very disappointing.
- My sense of direction is still at its worst.
- I do not enjoy observing stone idols which are 600 years old.
- I enjoy observing table cloths, trays and ‘royal chairs’ which are hundreds of years old – they really look funny.
- I lose my appetite after a disappointing museum trip.
- Even if the museum is disappointing, the conversation can keep you animate and interested.
- Homes which have been transformed into tiny eat outs are beautiful.
- I love Italian food, even if it is for brunch.
- Pizzas can be dissatisfying and soups can be impressive.
- Not everyone has a horrible sense of direction like me; S always knew the way back home – which was a relief.
- Saying ‘goodbye’ sucks, it is better to say ‘see you later’.
- I had an amazing time at Trivandrum, thanks to a friend I met for the first time three days before my departure.

So next time you are planning on meeting up a friend you have made thanks to the world wide web or other advances in networking – make sure you keep an open mind. The first few hours might seem like hell but then it keeps getting better.
Thank you, Mr S!!!

Community Medicine

2008-12-28T01:23:00.003+05:30

I have been ‘expected’ to study Community Medicine since my first year of MBBS.
Community Medicine, also known as Social and Preventive Medicine or Preventive and Social Medicine is basically everything under the sun.

- We are expected to know about all the diseases in the world – Their significance, prevalence, symptoms, management, prevention. Basically, almost everything about the diseases is ‘within curriculum’.

- We are expected know all about pollution, noise control, measuring humidity, temperature, environment and all its influence.

- We are expected to know about all the insects that can spread any disease known to man. Their morphology, how many legs they have, how many pairs of eyes they have, how we can differentiate them from some other unheard of insect. And as far as their names are concerned – it is Greek and Latin – and I mean it, quite literally.

- We are expected to know how high the roof of a factory is supposed to be, the measurements of a sanitary toilet, the requirements of a sanitary well, how to build wells, how much chlorine to add to purify water and what pesticide has what effect on which pest.

- We are supposed to know the nutritional requirements of every age group and every sex (male/female/in betweens). We are supposed to know the amount of calories in all sorts of food items – half of which I haven’t even heard of. Pulses, fruits, vegetables rich in particular vitamins and minerals, of which we are supposed to know those that are cheap and those that are not cheap!!

- All sorts of national programmes that have been implemented for the prevention and control of every disease in the world, when it was implemented, its objectives, who it caters to and what it has achieved till date – which is usually nothing much.

- Every organisation that is working for the betterment of the human species, what they have done, who they have collaborated with and why they do what they do not actually do.

Community Medicine is not an easy subject.
I like the subject though.
We are expected to learn from a book written by a very learned lady, Dr. Park.
It is an amazing book. It puts me to sleep sometimes, but I think she has done an awesome job with a subject like Community Medicine.

Now this post is not about the subject. It is about my university exam which I gave on December 5th.

I tried cleaning my room on the 3rd of December and then forgot to dry my hair after a shower – this in my world means sure shot monster cold.
Monster cold struck on 4th December. I had miraculously run short of my cetrizine supplies. Cetrizine is my sole hope for survival, my hero in times of distressing leaky nose. At eight in the evening I decided I was fighting a losing battle and got a couple of tablets of a first generation anti histamine – which has proven sedative effects.

I have a very weird system.
Sedatives don’t really work on me.
I have to be given elephantine doses of anaesthetics for them to take effect – which is quite a pain – again, literally.
So while taking the anti histamine the sedative effects were the least of my concerns, even considering that I had finished reading only one chapter for my exam the next day. Half an hour and the words seem to be blurring.
I wake up at four in the morning – my elder sister’s extreme concern about the exam I was supposed to give the next day irritated my beautiful slumber. I learnt the next day that I told her I had actually charted out a time table and was timing each page – Yes; I have the uncanny ability to lie believably ONLY when I am asleep.

At eight in the morning, after almost twelve hours of deep, dreamless sleep, I woke up – sneezing.
I still had the freaking cold.
I had an exam to write in two hours time.
And I had read one chapter.
I had read that one chapter pretty well though, but considering it contributed only four marks out of sixty I had every reason to freak out.

And so, I freaked.

After half an hour of freaking which includes cracking my knuckles a million times, biting my already cut nails, walking back and forth like a mad woman and screaming out in a language I do not understand myself; I calmed down.
I had breakfast.
I read two random pages from the text which has around 750 pages and got dressed.
On the way, while walking towards the college examination hall my friend tried to teach me.

Most of the questions were totally unexpected according to those students who spend 23 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds of every day slogging.
I could not have been happier.
I am not a sadist – but I cannot imagine what I would have done to myself had I sat up all night and studied to attempt an ‘unexpected’ paper.

The prayers and the good luck worked.
Thankyou!

Guess who is back?.. like duh!

2008-12-27T02:31:00.006+05:30

I am back.
The universities killed me.
I am sure the prayers and the good luck worked because I seriously cannot imagine my condition had I been left in the land of the dead.
So thank you everyone for bringing me back from the dead.
Now I am alive and I have so much to blog about I do not know where to start!

But first, it is time for me to deliver an acceptance speech.
I WON AN AWARD!!!
It has been about 4 months since I started blogging and this is my first award – I think you should think it is quite an achievement!!!
I know the thought of my blog winning an award might sound hilarious to many (including me) but it is nothing short of awesome to be handed over this distinguished privilege from tys on ice – Thanks for making my comeback from the land of the dead so full of life.

Now tys on ice thinks I am funny – a thought to think over.
He also thinks I do not give a damn about what others think – on second thoughts, maybe I should not think over the thought.

Now for the AWARD:

This award is given to a blog that invests and believes in PROXIMITY - nearness in space, time and relationships! These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

Yes I won it.
I know it is hard to believe.
I found it hard to believe myself but deep down inside, at the apex of the left ventricle of my heart I know I deserve it.
I know I am boasting – but I have every right to.
Those of you who have a problem with my not so modest ways can go eat their sour grapes and think about the cacti up their anus.
I hate modesty – to me modesty is nothing short of betrayal.
I shall post about this soon.

And now for the eight I have the POWER to bestow this blessing upon.
I really feel like a fairy god-mother today – a young, beautiful one would be more what I have in mind though, I hate the idea of looking old and haggard while dressing up Cinderellas to look like beauty queens.

And the Cinderellas (in no particular order) are:

1) Keyzer Soze: He let me know about me winning this award. He is a medical student too. One among the first blogs I started reading regularly. I have loved almost every single post of his because it is quite obviously straight from his point of view with no added complexities. He has variety unmatched in his blog – ranging from fiction to personal entries to lyrics written by him. He deserves this award way more than I do.

2) Genesis of oblivion: He is a very young blogger - One who has encouraged me at every step of my blogging period. I am glad he took my advice and started blogging. It is wonderful to see someone who is very alike you express views that might very well be yours in different words.

3) Juxtaposed blogger: A blog I came across pretty recently. He has been a friend of mine since school and I never knew he had a brain until I started reading his blog. Well, apparently his brain is functioning pretty well.

4) Kapila: I am not usually the sort who loves reading fiction in blogs. But this girl can write! I love her short stories because they are always so dramatic. I hope to see more coming!

5) Sandeep Balan: Another blog I came across recently. I love his short stories too. His posts are so descriptive many a times I have felt like I have been to places and met the people he writes about. You make my untamed imagination come alive.

6) Jane Turley: I have just one word to describe this blog – AWESOME! She is a housewife with two sons from England with a fetish for chocolates and Mr Bond. I think her blog is super cool and full of life. I would love to be able to write like her.

7) Sy: I have been a regular reader of this blog ever since I started blogging. He is also British, a recent Dad and a very regular blogger. Hilarious would be an understatement as far as this blog is concerned. His posts always lighten up my day.

8) Nurav Yednap: He has always been one among the very few people I acknowledge as being really smart. He does not post too often. But I love the way he conveys his message in words that are indirectly direct.

So now that we have our Cinderellas and I am back to being jobless at home for holidays in Dubai I shall keep the posts coming regularly and at a fast pace.

P.S: My friends and family have noticed I have been acting a lot weirder than usual recently. Apparently I have gone crazier. So I guess my posts will be wackier than usual. Sorry for the inconvenience – not really…

Until later...

2008-11-25T20:35:00.000+05:30

I just happened to look at the calendar today.
And I see it is the 25th of November, Tuesday today.
I wonder why I did that though because the days and dates never bothered me much.
But right now I think it should.

My universities start on the 5th of December.
This means I have just a little over a week to cram into the little bit of grey matter that I do have in my thick skull the entire portion that has been taught to us over the past one year.
And I have not used my grey matter for quite a bit now, so I probably will face some starting trouble.
I did plan on starting earlier - but I fell ill two days ago (hence no posts!)
I believe it is better late than never.
So I am going to start now – which is late; and not later – which is never.

Do wish me luck.
And if you do believe in Him and only if you are in good terms with Him, put in a nice word or two for me.
I have been good to you, have I not?!
I will let you know if it did help.

This is my fifteenth post in the month of November – not bad at all for a month I planned on not posting on!
My universities go on forever in December.
If I am not mistaken I think I should be released from the shackles of third year medicine, once and for all, by Christmas.
I shall try my best to post some time before that – but no promises!

Be good (evil laugh) especially to people who deserve it.
And keep commenting and re-reading my previous posts.
You never can get enough of enlightenment and who knows what wisdom lies hidden between the lines!

I will miss posting – I don’t know if I will miss you readers though, I wonder if there are any readers.

Until later… never mind!

Crushes and missed rushes

2008-11-25T20:32:00.002+05:30

The past few days have been more fun than I expected it to be.
I did not expect it to be fun.
And it was fun.
Hence it was more fun than I expected it to be.

I have had my share of heart breaks.
Maybe I have had more than my share, but I have had my share – that is for sure.
I have been responsible for quite a few too – some that I am proud of and others I am not too proud of.
But I do not regret any.
I am not bitter about love.
I just think love is a belief and a big deal is made about something which is not that great a deal anyway.
If you feel like reading about my thoughts about love, I have already posted them – ‘love blossoms, love continues and love wilts’.
‘Love wilts’ is my favourite among the three – that is pretty evident.

This post is not about love.
This post is about what I have missed in the past couple of years.
I miss having the rush of a crush.

If you have ever had a crush you would know exactly what I mean.
And I am talking only about crushes here
– Nothing about ones in which you dream about love, marriage, children’s names and old age.
– Nothing to do with film stars, rock stars, models or super stars.
– Nothing, whatsoever, to do with family, past or future.
That sort is pretty depressing.
If you don’t know what I am talking about it is my pleasure to enlighten you with the symptoms of the ‘rush of a crush’ syndrome.
1) You have butterflies and the whole animal kingdom in your stomach every time X looks at you.
2) Your throat always becomes as dry as Attacama desert (that is the driest desert in the world – not Sahara – I know I am smart!) every time you try talking to X.
3) You just can’t seem to talk sense to X. You know you are babbling nonsense and making a fool out of yourself but you just can’t help it.
4) You keep waiting for some sort of response from X; a message, a phone call, a date… anything.
5) Songs tend to remind you of X.
6) You start worrying about what X might think of you.
7) You hate that you are not the only one who seems to have ‘feelings’ for X.
8) You sing more often.
9) You spend more time in front of the mirror.
10) You spend hours thinking about what you will wear and what you will say when you meet X – none of which turns out the way it should.
11) You want to call X but you don’t want to look desperate.
12) You can’t help but answer the call at the first ring when X calls.
13) And you know the rest….

I think everyone has suffered from this syndrome at least once in their life.
You suffer from it usually when you are an early teenager.
The funny thing is – I miss it.

I miss having those lame crushes.
I miss making a fool out of myself.
I miss trying to hint at someone how much I like them.

Until a few weeks back I would have laughed at the thought of missing ‘making a fool out of myself’.
But now I realise how nice it actually did feel then.
We grow old too soon.
And I know more than half the people my age are ‘done’ having ‘lame crushes’.
They are probably on the lookout for that special thing called ‘love’ – no comments.
A couple of years from now I will be nothing more than a boring old hag married to a boring old man.
And then, I know for sure; I will miss having crushes – even more.

As weird as it may sound, I don’t really care who my crush is.
What I miss is the feeling associated with having a crush.
I think it is like an adrenaline rush which keeps a smile plastered on your face.
Even the thought of it makes me feel ‘alive’!

So I think it is high time I starting making a ‘fool out of myself’ and had a few ‘lame crushes’ because as far as I am concerned – I don’t have anything to lose!
And if you are not ‘committed’ as yet, I think you should too – because I am sure you will miss it soon.

As silly as it may sound - It is crush time folks!

P.S.: For all those who are ‘committed’:
- If you are in ‘love’ and happy – good for you.
- If you are in ‘love’ and unhappy – I did try to warn you!
- If you are not in love – I honestly feel sorry for you.
Being single is more fun than you thought it to be!

Gullibility

2008-11-22T17:19:00.002+05:30

One of my loyal ‘followers’ on the path to enlightenment (even though he doesn’t quite like the idea of following me) asked me to post on gullibility.
Now you might be wondering whether I have reached that ‘zenith of enlightening others’ where I start receiving ‘requests’ from followers on subjects to enlighten – I wish it were true…
But the truth remains that you couldn’t be further from the truth.

He asked me to blog on gullibility because he thinks I am gullible.
But that does not matter as far as this post is concerned.
I am posting on gullibility not because he asked me to, it is because I could not think (at the moment) about anything else to blog about.
This post is about what I think about gullibility.

First (as always) about what the word means to me.
Gullible – I think it is a funny word.
It reminds me of gulls.
We used to have plenty of sea gulls during winter in my school back home.
I do not think gulls are gullible though.
They always make it a point to poop only on people – either on their ‘washed and neatly tied’ hair or their on ‘clean and well pressed’ uniforms.
I have never had a sea gull poop on me.
Not that my uniforms were not clean or my hair not washed.
I think it was because I was like them – not gullible.

I do not mind being gullible actually.
It serves as a nice excuse every time you make a fool out of yourself.
They can always blame those who took ‘undue advantage’ of their gullibility.
And the gullible always have some sort of a ‘mother figure’ somewhere around the corner. A friend/relative/partner who is ready to fight against the crime committed against the poor gullible soul.

I take pity on those who trick the gullible though.
They really need to get a life.
I mean, if you know a person is gullible then the fun is lost.
If you want to trick someone or play a prank choose those who are as cunning as you are, they offer much more satisfaction.
What is the point in making a fool out of a gullible person who everybody already knows is easily tricked?

I would never tell anyone not to lie or trick.
Not that if I tell people not to, they will stop – they won’t.
But I would not tell people to stop lying or tricking people even if they would listen to me – I know that sounds very sadistic and I am not a sadist as such.

I think most people get over their gullibility with time.
Lie to them a million times, make a fool out of them another million times and if they do not have that ‘mother figure’ around the corner they are bound to pick themselves up, wipe their tears and brush off their wounds themselves – and then they won’t be so gullible after all.
This is, of course, only if they are not idiots.
Idiots who are gullible are hopeless.
They should be left alone.

So lessons to be learnt:
1) If you are gullible and know so, get rid of your ‘mother figure’ (if you have one) and face your trickster yourself – you will learn from your mistakes.
2) If you are gullible and an idiot, get yourself a ‘mother figure’ as soon as possible (if you do not have one already) or stay away from almost everyone.
3) If you like playing tricks and lying, don’t do it on idiots:
- There might be a ‘mother figure’ waiting to break your bones.
- It is no fun, really, because everyone knows how simple a task it is – get somebody who is not an idiot to play your tricks on.
4) If you like playing tricks on idiots - you are a loser!
5) If somebody tells you that you are gullible but you don’t think you are, understand they have gotten away with something.
6) If you are gullible and don’t know that you are, you would not know right now either, so this lesson really does not matter.
7) If you think being gullible is cute – I have no comments.

Somethings and small nothings

2008-11-22T01:15:00.003+05:30

I think this blog, for the past few days, has been a mirror to my multiple personality disorder! Almost every alternate post has been deep, profound and philosophical while the others have been weird and plain stupid old me.

I am not a great fan of philosophical stuff – unless I am the one writing, of course.
I mean no offence, whatsoever, to those who love reading deep and profound stuff – even I do it at times!
This post is going to be about why people tend to think ‘deep, profound and philosophical’ stuff.

People read and think about philosophical stuff when:

1) They realise how cool grey hair actually looks on people and desperately need some pronto to look intellectual and wise!

2) They realise they have grown old and still really don’t know anything about life – which nobody really does by the way.

3) They have exams coming up and have a lack of comic books to read.

4) They have exams coming up and anything other than ‘thinking’ and ‘studying’ makes them feel guilty.

5) They don’t have a life.

6) They get dumped by their friends/partner.

7) They realise they are gay/bisexual.

8) They realise their partner is gay/bisexual.

9) They realise all their friends are gay/bisexual.

10) They lose their only source of income/job.

11) Their only source of income sucks the life out of them.

12) Their boss is gay/bisexual.

13) They realise their partner has been only as faithful as they have been.

14) They realise their partner has been less faithful than they have been.

15) Their neighbour is earning more and has a better car.

16) Their neighbour’s wife/husband looks better than their partner.

17) Their neighbour is gay/bisexual and has been making advances.

18) Their neighbour is gay/bisexual and has been making advances at their partner.

19) Their child asks them if they are gay/bisexual.

20) Their child is gay/bisexual.

21) They have nothing better to write/think about other than homo/bisexuality.

I am going to stop now.
I think I lost my train of thought a long time ago.
I need to stop before causing any further damage to the readers.

The last kiss

2008-11-22T00:20:00.003+05:30

I am not a person who is easily impressed.
I take pride in that.
I am a critic by birth – critical about everything including every small fault in me.
This has made me a perfectionist.
My friends say it is because I am a Virgo, I think it is because I like giving people a hard time.

I don’t like listening to new music.
I have listened to the same set of songs by Aerosmith, Nirvana, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin and the sort since a very long time. The ‘youngest’ bands I have heard, probably, are the Goo goo dolls, 3 Doors down and Linkin Park…
Maybe this is because I get what I want from music by listening to these same songs over and over again…

A few minutes back I was listening to the song ‘Last Kiss’. It was written by Wayne Cochran and the song is more than 45 years old. There have been many versions of this song, but the one by Pearl Jam pulls a certain string deep inside somewhere, every single time I listen to it.
The lyrics are very simple, no big words, nothing metaphorical; it is plain – straight from the heart.

I have never really ‘promoted’ any movie or music in this blog so far – and I do not plan to either. Today, when I was listening to this song again for the nth time, I felt like blogging about what it means to me.

Very few people find themselves in the dreaded position of being directly/indirectly responsible for somebody’s death. Some of them might not dread it – they might have done it with intention, while the others are tormented by it.
What is worse is when that person dead is somebody you really cared for, someone you loved.
They all say the same thing:
1) It really is not your fault…
2) Maybe his/her time had come…
3) God takes away those who are dearest to Him…
4) You must move on…
5) Time will change everything…

The truth is none of them are true.
- It really is your fault – but you can’t do anything about that. Only, if you had been able to tell one last time how much you cared but you did not or you could not and it is way too late now.
- What ‘time’ are we talking about here – Why was it not ‘your time’? Why was it not ‘my time’? Why should I have been an instrument in this ‘time’ business?
- And who decides who is dearest to God?
I hate it how people make the dead sound so much like a saint when they were just like you or me. They had their faults, but those faults were not of any significance when compared to the love we had for them. They were no saints and it is not right to make them sound like someone they were not!
- It is easy to tell someone to move on. But it never happens in a second or a minute or a day or even a month. Moving on with life is so difficult; sometimes people remain scarred for life.
- Time does not change anything. You might think lesser about the dead each day but this certainly does not mean the wound does not bleed every time you think about them.

Grieving is such a difficult process sometimes one tends to wish he did not have anyone to grieve for.
Everyone knows nothing remains forever – yet we wish it does.
That is why the human race has not died out as yet – hope.

I shall become a doctor someday; I shall be responsible for a lot of lives – every single one precious to somebody.
Many a times a death signifies the end of more than one life.

P.S.: Listen to the song if you have not yet
– ‘Last Kiss’ by Pearl Jam.

Dedicated to a friend I shall forever remember,
Merlin Elizabeth Thomas (1986-2005)

Boredom

2008-11-20T23:32:00.004+05:30

I think boredom is a much underrated feeling.
Everyone hates being bored.
Everyone wants to conquer boredom.

I yawn a lot, even when I am not bored (something about me being blessed with hypotension).
Currently, I am bored – meaning I have been yawning more than usual. I have been yawning every five minutes for the last five hours.
My facial muscles are aching from the over activity.
And I got around to wondering why I am bored.

1) People feel bored when they have nothing to do.
This is not the situation I am in right now.
I have my universities starting in two weeks – which means I have much more than you can ever imagine to be doing!
But I think if you belong to these people who have nothing to do, you are so damn lucky.
You can just laze around and do nothing, eat, watch people, eat some more, think how stupid people are, eat again, dream about knights/ladies in shining armours, eat some more again, go for a drive/walk/swim/whatever, eat, eat and eat…
At the end of doing everything you can do you might have a tendency to feel bored - again.
Then it is time to think of all those people who are dying to have time to kill like you do.
Those people who are dying to have five more minutes of sleep, or half an hour more to study.
That is when you realise how lucky you are to have all the time in the world for yourself, how you can do anything you want to do or do nothing at all.
And then boredom does not feel so bad at all – it does not for me at least.

2) People feel bored when they have the same thing to do, over and over again.
Now this is where I am right now.
I have just one thing to do now – study.
I have become a nocturnal creature because I can study only when people sleep.
And I tell you, there is nothing more boring than studying when people are snoring.
I pity people who have the same routine day after day.
I do not believe in a completely different day everyday – routine is good, but only to an extent.
If it is the same food on the same bench with the same person at the same time everyday then it becomes like living the same day for years and years.
There will be minor changes but the routine remains the same – life becomes less worth looking forward to, and you become bored.
This boredom is like a terminal disease.
You need treatment immediately.
And the treatment is ‘change’ and no hospital offers this treatment better than Mother Nature herself.
Do whatever you feel like doing:
- if you feel like quitting your job – do it
- if you feel like getting new friends – do it, nobody can have too many friends.
- if you feel like leaving the country, going on a holiday – do it.
Never let your life bore you because there is nothing worse than letting your life control you rather than you controlling your life.

3) People feel bored because a certain someone or something is missing.
This is seriously sad.
This affects those people whose entire life has come to revolve around just one person or one thing and when that one person or thing is no longer there (everything comes to an end eventually) then life loses meaning.
Life becomes boring.
All I have to say to these people is: ‘Get a Life!!!’
You are the most important person in your life.
And no person or thing has the right, as you do, to make your life boring!

So much for being bored.
Sometimes unexpected things come out of being bored – like this blog post!

If not this then what?

2008-11-20T18:47:00.002+05:30

I have written about how wonderful my college is in ‘fist for fun’.
I have written about how unforgettable medicine can be in ‘fingering’.
I have written about how gifted we, the medical students, are in ‘mathematics’.

This post is about my ‘career options’.
I came up with this list during the couple of months when my college had a small tiff with the Medical Council of India and decided to ‘de-recognize’ us.
During that period of time I dreamt of a life beyond this drudgery.
But, my dreams were short-lived.
I guess I will end up becoming a doctor after all.
I reached this conclusion after considering the following options:

1) Chef
I can cook – I think every glutton should know how to cook.
I love creating ‘yummy’ from ‘eww’.
The aroma of spices, the beautiful colours and the taste…
I love food.
I think I can become a wonderful chef with a tad of training and a lot of self control.
The self control is to make sure I don’t eat up everything.
And I do not believe in self-control as far as food is concerned.
So withdraw option ‘chef’.

2) Lawyer
I love proving my point of view.
I love making my bullshit seem unbelievably believable.
The only reasons I did not choose this career is because:
a) I always get caught at lying if I know I am lying.
b) I cannot imagine how they can actually learn all those horrible ‘section numbers’ and ‘articles’.

3) Author
I still want to be an author.
The only problem is I do not have anything to write about.
As of now, I have decided to write the first student-friendly, funny and interesting surgery text book (after about twenty years).
I need to come up with a nice name though – do give me suggestions.

4) Teacher
As I have already mentioned, I like the idea of sharing my bullshit.
But I know for a fact I can never become a teacher.
This is because:
a) I hate small human beings (especially ‘babies’)
b) I cannot express myself too well, as mentioned in my post ‘teacher’, my sentences have a tendency to go on forever, with a lot of punctuation.

5) House wife
I love the idea of just sitting at home and I am a cleanliness freak so I think I will make a good house wife.
But I need to earn a living.
I cannot live off pocket money for the rest of my life.
Since I hate children, I am sure I would feel lonely at home alone.
And if I do have children, being locked in the same house with them will be like living a nightmare.
Cancel option ‘house wife’ immediately.

6) Soldier
If it is anything like how they show it in the movies, I would love to become a soldier.
I am not very patriotic but I am patriotic enough.
I don’t like the idea of war though.
Anyway, if I can become a soldier, I want to become a male soldier.
Since I am not a man (as of now), I think I will have to call off this idea too.
And I am not interested in undergoing a sex change operation.

7) Saleswoman
I can be manipulating.
I am known to be manipulating.
And I can go on talking forever.
But I hate saleswomen.
They nag a lot.

8) Business woman
I guess everyone likes to make money.
My mathematics skills suck worse than that of a 5 year old though.
I cannot manage my accounts even if I had a scientific calculator.
And I am supposed to have the sort of hands in which money never stays for more than a day.
I guess business would be synonymous to bankruptcy in my case.

9) Scientist
I love their hair dos.
And I think my I.Q. is not so bad either.
But I cannot waste my life on something someone a hundred years from now will take credit for.
And I have heard scientists make boring company.

10) Journalist
I am very nosy.
I like the idea of appearing on T.V. or having my name on a newspaper.
I am good at getting people to talk.
But somehow, no offence meant to the journalists out there, I think they are always the people in the sidelines.
Most people only bother about the matter or the news, not about the person who got it.
And after watching the movie ‘Up close and personal’ I gave up the idea.
The last thing I want is to become anything like Michelle Pfeiffer.

11) Astronaut
I really want to sing two songs in space:
a) ‘What a wonderful world’ by Louis Armstrong.
b) ‘I’ve got the whole world in my hands’ a slightly modified version of the gospel song.
I have a feeling this one is slightly far fetched – even for me.

12) Preacher/Priest
I love preaching.
I think it is pretty obvious from this blog that I love preaching.
But I am not too sure about the ‘higher power’ myself.
So I wouldn’t be too good at it.

13) Magician
This idea came into being thanks to ‘The Prestige’ and ‘The Illusionist’.
And I love all those shows on AXN.
I would rather like becoming a witch than a magician – perform real magic (but I doubt its existence).
I am quite a klutz though – which rules out all possibilities of becoming a magician.

The only other profession I can think of is Medicine.
As much as it might seem to disgust people, I do love the idea of cutting up people – of course, only to make them better… (evil laugh!)

I don’t think the ‘nobility’ associated with becoming a doctor ever interested me.
I just like the idea of giving hope to the hopeless.
And there are a lot of hopeless people out there.
Dr. House made me fall in love with it more.
I am not fond of any other ‘medical T.V. shows’ though – No, not even Scrubs.

So, even though I hate the number of extremely heavy, boring and undoubtedly student ‘un-friendly’ textbooks we are supposed to learn from, I guess I have to finish two more years of this drudgery to start cutting up people.

I am pretty sure I am going to take this profession into a new dimension.

The designer

2008-11-20T18:10:00.000+05:30

I was just reading my blog (I do that at times – helps refresh the enlightened status) and I realised how serious my posts have become, other that the Ally again post.
My blog is literally screaming for change.

This post is about my first serious thoughts about committing murder.

As you all may know by now from the posts ‘the beginning…’, ‘licking ass’ and ‘my middle finger’ I was the college editor last year (unfortunately).
From day one, the only task I did not look forward to was the college magazine.
But the tasks you seem to run away from always seem to get to you faster.
It began with the hunt for a designer who was:
- within Mangalore.
- ready to take orders from me and do things as I say.
- ready to offer quality work dirt cheap.
It was quite an impossible task.
But we found someone in no time, let us call him X – I should have been suspicious then but my belief in the goodness of humanity got the better of me.

A colleague from the editorial board accompanied me during our first meeting about the budget and other boring stuff.
I hate to admit this – but I liked X then (maybe because he offered us stuff to eat).

We spent one month brainstorming – at the end of which we were quite satisfied at how things were going according to plan.
The next month was for designing and printing – it was May 2008.
Undoubtedly, this was by far the worst and the best month of my life so far.
It was the best because adversity is known to bring the strangest of people together in a funny bond called friendship.
It was the worst because of the adversity – X.

Now I shall list out the reasons why I forever shall hate this man:
1) He made me miss my meals.
2) He is a male chauvinist.
3) He enjoyed making fun of me in Kannada unaware of the fact that I understand bits and pieces.
4) He made me cranky at everyone.
5) He made me scream at his nice assistant every day.
6) He was forever coochie-cooing with his wife/girl friend/boy friend/whatever.
7) His mobile had an irritating ring tone.
8) His mobile rang whenever I was trying to explain to him some detail.
9) His fifteen minutes equals 4 hours.
10) He always told he would be back in fifteen minutes.
11) His ‘tea-breaks’ went on forever.
12) He worked for barely twenty minutes in the 5 hours we used to spend daily in his dinghy office.
13) He felt my cutting classes and missing attendance was insignificant enough for him to go for ‘fifteen minute’ breaks.
14) He blamed us for not getting the matter on time.
15) He worked fast but his work was horrible unless we spelled out each and every detail of the designing.
16) He loved the word tomorrow.
17) He was superstitious about working on certain days of the week.
18) He took days off to celebrate ‘his’ political party’s victory.
19) He used to treat me like I am the one being paid and not the one paying.
20) He knew we needed his work badly and made complete use of it.
21) He saw our magazine as an opportunity for his accounts manager to improve upon his designing skills.
22) He found it very difficult to understand the word ‘now’.
23) He was responsible for many among the editorial board members failing in our first internals.
24) His fifteen days for printing went on to become more than a month.
25) He scrapped our ideas without letting us know about it.
26) He made me an insomniac for more than a month.
27) There were days when I walked more than 2kms back and forth from the place because the walk used to calm me down.
28) He thought his warts were some sort of luck.
29) He was the laziest man on Earth.
30) We had to pay him almost three lakhs for our blood, sweat and tears – the only consolation being at least it is not our money.

At the end of two months and just after we had given the magazine for printing we came up with the idea of murdering him.
The plan was to hire an assassin with the money from the fund.
We dropped the plan because we needed the magazines.

I harbour the dream of breaking all his bones till this day.

Madness

2008-11-19T21:11:00.001+05:30

Veronica decides to die.
It is a beautiful book by Paulo Coelho.
This book has inspired me to write this post.

It is amazing how we consider madness as being strange when being mad is as simple as being one’s true self.
I love the way Coelho explains how being mad is just believing in one’s own world and not being able to express it satisfyingly to others.
It made me think because the truth, stark naked, is so shocking.

No person, neither you nor I have the right to question one’s belief.
And when one cannot express what he believes in with words that make sense to us, we call them mad.
When we do not believe in what they believe, we consider the majority to be normal and label the minority as mad.
Just because the majority suppresses themselves and the minority does not.

Does believing in God certify to be called madness?
Does feeling God certify to be called madness?
Does feeling a person who nobody other than you can see certify to be called madness?

It is funny how thin the line between being normal and being called mad is.
I wonder if there is a line.
We have to mould ourselves every second of everyday just to look normal according to some set of social norms that almost everyone despises.
Are we not all hypocrites?
How many of us have done everything we have felt like doing with no restrictions whatsoever – none of us.
And if any of us have dared to, I am sure the person would be termed as being mad.

The price we have to pay for appearing normal, the price we have to pay for not being labelled as mad is to curb our feelings and desires – to go against the one thing we might believe in.

And this makes us no different from hypocrites.

It is funny how people keep telling how they ‘hate’ hypocrites and there is nothing worse than hypocrisy and being someone you are not.
The truth being, everyone is a hypocrite – nobody is what he/she appears to be.
Every single person has hidden desires and dreams.
Every single person has a hidden world of fantasy where he can do as he pleases.
Every single person dreams of a place where he is not bound by rules.
But few realise that what they are asking for is as simple as being mad – as being themselves for once in their lifetime.

I respect those who are labelled as mad – because they have the courage to be what they are. They are not hiding.
They believe in something which is true for them – who are we to question their truth?

Every person is mad – I know that may sound funny to you but it is not funny for those who have been through hell after being labelled ‘mad’.
Why are they made to suffer for it while we are not?
Is it because we know how to curb our desires?
Is it because we are hypocrites?

‘Madness’ is such a relative term – it is just not right to treat it with brutality, it is not right to treat it at all.
If it were not for these so called ‘mad’ men we would not have some of the most beautiful pieces of art, some of the most heavenly pieces of music, some of the most astounding facts called science.
Just because we do not believe in something they do, does not make them mad.
The question of being in a majority or minority should not arise here.

I would rather be labelled as ‘mad’ than become a ‘hypocrite’.

Ignoring ignorance

2008-11-19T03:30:00.003+05:30

I do not believe ignorance as being bliss.
At least at this point in my life, at this very moment; I do not believe so.

Ignorance can never be bliss.
Knowledge is the path of truth.
Truth makes one free.
Freedom is heaven.
Hence knowledge is the path to heaven.
If knowledge is the path to heaven how can ignorance be bliss?
If this were to be true knowledge is supposed to lead to ignorance – which is definitely false.

Ignorance may, however, lead one to believe in experiencing a state of false bliss.
But if it is false then it is temporary.
It is temporary because the truth always prevails.
And if it is temporary bliss is not bliss after all.

There is only one thing that frustrates me more than ignorance.
It is ignoring ignorance.
Only the ignorant ignore ignorance.
And what is worse is the ignorant consider themselves not ignorant.
They actually think what they rant about is right even when they are effectively told otherwise. And there are always other ignorant ones who support their kin.
It is a brotherhood stronger than many known – the brotherhood of the ignorant fools.

The first step towards being not ignorant is accepting that you are ignorant.
And then you move on to wisdom – bit by bit.
So in reality there is only one form of absolute ignorance and that is ignoring ignorance.

Absolute ignorance is in believing that you are not in the slightest bit ignorant at all.
Nobody is all knowing except Him (if you do believe in Him).
And as long as nobody is ‘all knowing’ it stands to reason that everyone is ignorant about something or the other.

It is true I have quoted myself as being enlightened many a times in this blog. But enlightenment does not mean reaching a state of being ‘all-knowing’.
It merely means knowing about something – anything.
I maybe enlightened on the origin of the universe.
I maybe enlightened on the purpose of life.
I maybe enlightened on how to tie shoe laces.
The ultimate enlightenment is never procured.
Because when you do obtain that level of enlightenment you understand how little you actually do know.

Do not ignore the ignorant.
It may be frustrating to bring them on the path to enlightenment.
They may be adamant about their knowledge being far superior to that of yours.
They may question every bit of knowledge you have obtained with much a lot of difficulty.
They may not treat your wisdom with reverence, they may even mock your being knowledgeable.
They will, for sure, question it.
But you must know that is why they are the ignorant.

To conclude, I repeat what is written right below the title of my blog.
I am not all knowing as the less knowing claim.
I only know more than everyone else.

It's Ally again!

2008-11-18T18:22:00.004+05:30

Seems like people love reading how weird I am.
The awesome response to my last post on 'My Ally McBeal moments' has led me to post some more.
So here goes.

These moments however are quite original as the hallucinations have never been featured in any Ally McBeal episode I know of.

1) Hammering

This happened sometime in the beginning of this year.
I do not remember which month exactly – but I do remember I was under a lot of stress at the time.
I had a deadline to meet for the magazine publishing and time seemed to flying.
The designer (I shall post about him soon) was giving me a very tough time.
I slept for only about three to four hours a day.
And the ultimate ‘stress factor’ was me not eating much thanks to lack of time.

I had my medicine clinical postings going on.
For those of you who do not know – medicine posting is one of the most trying postings and I am not too fond of how boring it gets at times.
We were supposed to present cases everyday to a professor who would then discuss the case – sometimes at length and sometimes in brief.

On this particular day I was extremely cranky.
The only reason I attended posting was because the professor who was supposed to take class for us was known to finish it off quickly and let us be.
I reached posting at nine fifteen – I had gone to sleep at around five thirty.
No breakfast as usual.
The case was taken by some irritating ‘know-it-all’ the previous evening (talk about heights of joblessness!). It was a pretty straight forward case with no complications and not much discussion required.
The professor arrived at eleven.
I was fuming.
The case presentation seemed to go on forever with the professor interrupting at the end of every word of every sentence.
The presentation came to an end at noon.
The professor discussed the case for another fifteen minutes and then took the attendance register.
And that was when ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ asked a doubt… and then another… and then another.

It happened.
I got a humongous bright yellow hammer from nowhere and I started hammering ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ with all the strength I could muster. The ground started giving away and I kept hammering him into the depths of some sort of molten earth underneath.

The next thing I know I feel faint.
I guess all the hammering made me tired.
I steady myself on the patient’s bed and tell the professor I am not feeling too well.
Attendance was taken and the class was adjourned.
And believe it or not - ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ was blasting away his doubts even after the class was over.
I pity the professor.

2) Diced balls

I have nothing against men.
I have nothing against single men flirting in good faith either.
But when the flirting becomes uncivilised, it is unbearable.

This happened two weeks back during my exams.

There is this certain post graduate who has a reputation of flirting with all the female students posted in the same unit as his.
I was posted in his unit.
This post graduate is nothing short of being a ‘dickhead’ as in he does not have a brain, only a dick. His eyes are always fixed at a point much lower than the face of the female he is talking to. He walks in a very well planned manner so as to brush past every female’s body. He, in short, is like almost every other man – except he does what he thinks and gets caught at it every single time.

I hated him from the very first ‘encounter’ and have been quite successfully trying to avoid him since then.
This was until he came for invigilation during our exams.

Two hours into the exam and I needed an extra sheet.
He gives it to me looking at the same fixed point.
Dickhead.
I ask for another sheet.
Same fixed point again.
Double dickhead.

Most of the post graduates were ‘helping’ students who asked for ‘help’ during the exam. Some of them were writing down answers for them.
I would rather die than ask him!

I ask for another sheet – now I would like to point out that I am very good at writing ‘nothing’ in a lot of words and also my hand writing is very spaced out, hence so many extra sheets. It is not because I know much.
He hands over the sheet.
He leans forward.
I lean backward.
He asks me if I need any help with an extremely disgusting smile on his face.

And then it began.
I had two of those extremely sharp but tiny knives with me.
I did some extremely complex and inexplicable movements with my hands.
I dropped the knives and picked up a small porcelain bowl which was on my exam table – all within nanoseconds.
I made sure every diced piece of his external genitalia (which was now in air) fell into the porcelain bowl and handed it to him with a smile.
Bon appetit.

He asked me again if I needed any help.
I croaked out a no even though I really could have used some help.
There are moments in life when you wish you had the power to make hallucinations real – I experienced that moment then.

That is all for now.
Do comment and let me know if you have had any similar experiences.
I will post more soon – but for now this should quench your thirst for weird stuff.

Minding the mind

2008-11-18T12:11:00.002+05:30

The mind is a beautiful piece of art – like a painting.
I compare the mind to a painting after much thought.
It is difficult to compare something as deep and profound as the mind to anything, yet somehow, a painting seems to be almost perfect in its similarity.

Mixtures of a definite set of colours make millions of colours come alive in a painting. And little dabs of these million colours make what is a beautiful (if done with care) representation of reality or imagination. But the essence of a painting can never be understood by merely looking at what is seen, there are always hidden meanings – which make them mysterious and appealing.

Mixtures of a definite set of emotions make millions of feelings come alive in a mind. And little actions resulting from these million feelings make what is a beautiful (if done with care) representation of life as we know it to be. But the essence of the mind can never be understood by merely looking at what is shown; there are always hidden meanings – which make them mysterious and appealing.

Very few understand the true potential of the mind. More often than always it is let free – which supposedly facilitates the inclusion of new dimensions in life.
This couldn’t be further from the truth.
The mind is a weapon far superior to any weapon known to mankind.
If it is untamed it may act in or against our favour.
But if tamed it always acts in our favour.

A person who can tame his mind is someone who can acquire anything in this world.
A tamed mind can make you feel whenever you have to or want to feel.
A tamed mind can make you completely different people by choice.
A tamed mind is like a treasure which can never be opened – a treasure none who try can completely fathom.

Imagine feeling happy whenever you wanted to feel happy – no matter what circumstances you may find yourself in.
Imagine feeling aroused whenever you wanted to – without provocation of any sort.
Imagine understanding each and every action of yours with utmost clarity and defining it in advance removing any possibility of regret.
That is what a tamed mind can achieve.

It is control.
A tamed mind is control over oneself to feel as he pleases, to be whoever he wants to be, to never be completely understood by anyone but himself – because no two people can have the same mind.

Having multiple personality disorder is like a tamed mind gone wrong because having different personalities is suggestive of superiority of the mind.
But to control these personalities and to have them segregated according to time, place and person is the characteristic of a mind which is in control of its state of being superior.

Tame your mind -
Think before you mix those definite set of emotions.
Think before those millions of feelings are generated.
Think before acting on those feelings.
Think before your actions make your life.
Think about what you think.

The tamed mind is far superior to any emotion, feeling or action – it is superior to life.

Try to feel what you feel – so that you can feel it whenever you feel like feeling.

The mind is a beautiful instrument.
Understand yours before trying to figure out others'.

Two-timing

2008-11-15T09:55:00.000+05:30

I know what two timing conventionally means.
Here I am not referring to the same.

For the past few days – during and after my internal exams I have come to feel the compelling need for having more than 24 hours a day.
I keep lamenting about how things would be so much better if I had one hour more or maybe a couple of hours more.

After much thought I have realised time management does not work – ever.
What would work in its place would be what I call ‘two timing’ or ‘split timing’.
If we could be at different situations at the same time then we would have time for everything!!!

I think Hermione did something of this sort to attend two different classes at the same time in Harry Potter – now that I would call a complete waste of the awesome ability to split time.

If I could split time I would always make the ‘sleepy me’ stay in class while the ‘whacky me’ can go to the beach or party.
And this would particularly come to use at that last one hour before exam (those who are into ‘only the day before’ studying will totally understand).
Split the time and voila! You can have as many hours as you want – since you can split time more than once.

I (at times) am not a selfish person so I have thought about how it can help others too!

- A new mother can put this good use – she can take care of her baby herself and go to work and kick her husband’s ass at earning more at the same time.
- Newly weds can have extended honeymoons and enjoy their new ‘life’ partners while splitting time going for work and earning money to file a divorce.
- The few special people out there, who are extremely talented (like me), a ‘king/queen of all trades’ can pursue more than one career and become millionaires.

So it is a win-win situation for everybody and I bet there are plenty of people out there who dream of this ‘split timing’ just as I do.
Now the question is how can we split time?
We can only if we knew how to.

I have the solution to that too
– am I not awesome?! (Only affirmative responses allowed)

The solution to discovering how to split time is to ‘work towards it’ – bet you did not know that!
If we all join hands and make it our sole purpose in life there is nothing that can stand in our way to finding this solution.

So I think everyone should give up doing whatever it is they are doing because whatever it is they are doing does not seem to be helping much in the search for the answer to the only question that really matters - ‘how to split time’.

Together we can.
Yes, we can!

Going bald

2008-11-13T13:11:00.004+05:30

Bald is good.

I am not too fond of my hair.
I know of many people who think my hair is so ‘lively’ and ‘thick’.
I think it is a messy load of unruly keratin fibres.
I have always hated the idea of growing my hair long.
I mean it is nice to look at – but who wants to manage it?!
And here I am now trying (quite unsuccessfully) to grow my unruly hooligan keratin fibres for God alone knows whose benefit.

The last time I had to grow my hair was for my sister’s wedding.
This was because I was supposed to look like a girl – which I apparently did not.
Every one of my ‘grey haired’ relatives thinks having short hair is the same as undergoing a sex change operation.
According to them short hair can mean only one thing – Man.
I tell you – women of yesterday’s era have not had enough exposure to what is down there.

There is more to being a woman than having long hair!
There are other ‘things’ that speak of our feminine nature in a bolder voice.
Why don’t people just be bothered about those ‘things’?
Leave the hair alone!

According to the grapevine, only prostitutes and widows shaved their heads. And I shaving my head might lead myself to be mistaken for belonging to one of among the above mentioned ‘groups of people’.
This is hilarious.

Prostitutes were made to shave their heads as a punishment to the sinful life they have chosen – but today prostitutes live a life only as sinful as almost every Tom, Dick and Harry. The only difference being they earn for their ways of living.
I have not come across many prostitutes in my life but I doubt many of them have shaved heads nowadays.

I have no idea why widows were made to shave their heads – maybe some form of displaying their sorrow – weird!
And as far as being mistaken for a widow is concerned – it is a chance I am prepared to take.

I have always wanted to go bald – shave my head.
I always wanted to have a shiny head.
A head that can actually feel rain drops falling on them.
I had decided to have it done after my school years.
But then my mother and sisters manipulated me into believing that I would look terrible – now that I think of it I really do not understand where from ‘looks’ came into question!

I keep managing to chop off more and more each time I get a ‘new look’. The last one was one step short of shaving my head.
That implies this time I have got to do it.

I think it is pretty strange girls do not feel like shaving their heads around here.
The climate is so humid and sticky.
If I were born here I would have always had a bald head.
I mentioned shaving my head to one of my friends a couple of days back and her response made me think.

She told me to go ahead but to keep two things in mind:

1) My university exams are coming up and we have professors from medical colleges all over south India coming to evaluate our intellectual prowess. Unfortunately, these fools who do not know much tend to pass judgements based on appearances. And a bald headed girl with a nose piercing and multi coloured contact lenses is not what they classify under the ‘smart ones’ rather I would be classified under the ‘totally weird and waste of time’ category which is synonymous to ‘fail without question’ category. So wait till after the universities.

2) People are jobless. They love finding stuff to gossip/bitch/make up stories about – this is especially true in college. After Britney shaved her head and some bird brained actresses changed their hairstyles to get a different look – shaving one’s head has come to mean ‘failed relationship status leading to depression and low self esteem’.

This could not be further from the truth because:
a) I am not in any sort of relationship for it to fail.
b) If there was ‘a relationship’ I would be more than happy to end it and hence would never be depressed.
c) Nothing and nobody can bring upon me a low self esteem. If there is any person on earth who truly thinks she is awesome – it is me – and this stands to good reasoning too.

So here I am – frustrated.
Frustrated because I cannot do what I want to.
Jobless people and stuck-up professors have started deciding what I do with my life.
I wonder where I went wrong.

Should I just go shave my head and not give a damn?

oBAMa

2008-11-09T05:40:00.006+05:30

Firstly – I am thoroughly disappointed with the response to my previous post.
I thought I could expect feedback as to which was your favourite post so far.
I think it is not much to ask for after posting 50 enlightening posts!
I received two comments!
If I had a heart that could be broken, it would be.

Secondly – I know I have not been posting for quite a few days now.
It does not mean I have stopped!
How many times do I have to assure you – I am not going to stop!
I have not posted because I have my university internal assessment going on and my final universities starting in the beginning of the next month.
And even though I would like to believe it to be untrue, the truth remains that a medical student has to work hard to get that damned MBBS degree.
So, this post will be short.

Obama made me think.
I like the guy.
He fits the job requirements pretty well.
1) He is very charismatic.
2) Whoever writes his speeches does it very well and he does make one believe he believes in what he is speaking. Plus he knows how to deliver a joke – even if it is not him who made it.
3) He seems to be smarter than Mr Bush – but then almost every human would satisfy this requirement.
And then there was the ‘history in making’ bit.
Everybody enjoys when history is made.
And being on the darker side of the 'complexion scale' you get free with every purchase of ‘Fair and lovely’, I especially enjoyed Obama winning.

I enjoyed it – that is about all.

I know of students in my college who rooted for his presidency.
I know of friends who prayed for him.
I know of friends who kept changing their Facebook status updates for Obama.
I know fellow Indians who are currently residing in India – the ‘youth’ of India – who don’t know the name of our present Prime minister.
I know of fellow Indians who check the voting results of America but do not know who the election candidates in India are.
I know of fellow Indians who ‘wish’ they could vote for Obama but have never in their worthless, ignorant, phony lives cast a vote in India.

I agree United States of America is a super-duper power.
I agree the president of USA might be the most powerful man on Earth today.
I agree this president being black might be something that excites everyone’s search for anomalies.

But I am an Indian and no matter what anybody has to say about anything at all, Obama winning this election will only serve in exciting that ‘search for anomaly’ in me – nothing else.
As far as I am concerned an Indian election is far more important to me because I am an Indian in India.

If you are an American it would be completely human for you to take the interest you have taken in this election.
The question is – How many Americans vouch for Indian election candidates?
Have minorities never stood as candidates in Indian elections?

I am not an extremely patriotic person or one who does not believe in globalisation.
I have a slight problem with Indians who want to be Americans.
You are what you are – the Americans don’t have a problem accepting who they are nor do most of the other nationalities in the world.
Why then do we, Indians, who have a country which actually requires its citizens, have such a tough time being Indians?

I am glad Obama won.
But that is the end of the story.
And I think that should be.

I found this picture pretty nice.

And then came 50...

2008-10-31T12:47:00.001+05:30

This is my 50th post.
I unfortunately do not have anything enlightening enough to mark this as an extremely enlightening 50th post.

So I guess it will be just another 50th post.

I am extremely grateful to:
1) Myself
2) My wild imagination
3) My weird ways
I could not have completed this Herculean task without the three of you.

All the followers of this blog – Thank you for taking interest in enlightening yourself.

It gives me great pleasure to know there are at least a handful of people (‘hand’ful of ‘people’?!) who bother about such trivial matters such as enlightenment.

And if you have never commented on this blog till date – please do.
If you are jobless enough to be reading there is no harm in being jobless enough to be commenting.
And I am not judgemental as far as people are concerned
– I know everyone is an idiot.

I ask one favour in return for all the wonderful, awesome, enlightening posts I have written so far.
I know it is very difficult to decide but I would like you to let me know which post you liked best – so far (I am not much into telling the future)

Keep reading.
Happy Halloween.

Mathematics

2008-10-31T12:11:00.004+05:30

Mathematics and I always got along well.
And then I turned sixteen.

When I was fifteen, Mathematics and I were inseparable.
I remember crying myself to sleep the day after my Mathematics board exam because I did not see a two mark question and hence did not attempt it.
I ended up getting a 98 on 100 – the two marks being lost on the question I did not attempt thanks to my impaired vision.
And then I changed.
I think hormones had a role – but I am not sure.

Mathematics and I started having horrible fights.
I just couldn’t give Mathematics the attention it was seeking.
We became bitter enemies.
I hated Mathematics and Mathematics hated me.
My twelfth Mathematics board exam was a nightmare.
And thanks to my score in Mathematics my otherwise brilliant score became not so brilliant after all.

I chose Medicine because I thought this would be goodbye to Mathematics – forever.
Apparently I was very wrong.
I have statistics this year in Community medicine.
I thought it would be plain old ‘find the arithmetic mean’ and simple addition and subtraction.
Today I realised my enemy is back.
And it is more monstrous than ever.

But I also realised there are people much worse than me.

My unit mates are among the brightest in the class.
But it seems they are not exactly the brightest bulbs when Mathematics came into the picture.
I am not the only one with Mathematics as a bitter enemy.

3x3 became 6
3+3 became 3
3+2 became 6
9x0 became 9
1/15 + 1/70 became 1/85
One of my friends ‘forgot’ how to divide
Another does not know how to use tally marks
– His six in tally looked like ‘IIIIII’
Half of them do not know what log is – forget using a log book.
The other half does not know how to use a scientific calculator.
The summation symbol looked like an E gone wrong to many.
And at the end of the class one of my ‘brighter’ unit mates asked the professor how many marks statistics accounts for in the final exams.

We are learning to become doctors.
One week ago we were made to re decorate the museum.
I wondered if we were taking an interior decoration course.
Now we are being made to solve mathematical problems.
I honestly do not know what to wonder.

We chose this stream because we were good at science and terrible at Mathematics.
We really suck at it.
As Po (Kung Fu Panda) would say we really 'suck in the history of sucking' – as far as Mathematics is concerned.

It takes me about five seconds to figure out change at groceries and auto-rickshaws (and sometimes I am right).
I can roughly calculate and check whether I will pass or fail after an exam.
I can count in 6 languages (till 10 at least)
I can convert numbers from the Indian (lakhs) system to the Western (millions) system.
I can remember dosages for medicines.
But that is about all I want with numbers in my life.

For the future generation – Dear children, do not commit the mistake my peers and I have already committed. Maintain your peace with Mathematics because no matter where you go, what you do – it will find you!!!

My Ally Mc Beal moments

2008-10-26T19:48:00.003+05:30

Those of you who have watched ‘Ally McBeal’ would know what I am referring to as one of her ‘moments’. If you have not – you should!

If you have no idea as to what or who Ally Mc Beal is:
1) It was a series which I watched on Star World about five years back.
2) It is about this weird, extremely single and desperate lawyer – Ally, and her weird friends (I love John, I hate Billy, I love Richard).
3) It was funny – in the weird sort of way.

Now, Ally used to have these moments of extreme weirdness when she hallucinates stuff – mainly visual but also auditory.
Even John used to have many of them.
Here are a few incidents when these have come to play in my life – and I am not making this up!
Do comment if you have had any such incident – I will not be judgemental.

1) The Song.
This is basically John’s hallucination – Ally borrows it.

I had a debate recently.
I have posted the gist of it – ‘Thought for food’
The finals dawned upon us without much warning.
It was seriously an unwelcome surprise.
I do not usually get nervous at public speaking events – I usually have complete confidence in my ‘bullshitting’ skills.
But that day it was different.
I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do – parliamentary crap.
Just before the event began I ran out of the auditorium.
My debate partner must have thought I lost it – but then she already knows I am weird and she is on the weirder side of life herself.
I ran to the ladies room and just stood there in front of the mirror.

And then it began – the Ally McBeal moment.
The music began –
“tuntun tun tuntun, tuntuntun tuntun, tuntun tun tuntun, tuntuntun tuntun”
And then it grew louder.
And I knew I had to start dancing.
I began doing those wonderful moves John does best.
Two minutes of grooving ‘John style’ and I know I am ready.

I walk back.
My partner is not there.
She comes in after a while.
We begin.
We win.

2) The Resonating Bell.
This is John’s hallucination – Richard tries borrowing it.

It was a normal day in class quite a few years back.
We, the back benchers, were not listening – as usual.
It was one of those ‘cricket years’ when we girls were perfecting our unskilled cricket skills. We used to play cricket every recess – using an aluminium foil ball and one of our thickest textbooks as a bat.
I was not bad at it.

During class, one of my friends throws an eraser at me.
Being as ‘into cricket’ as I was, I lift up my text book and *smack*
The eraser goes flyin.
The eraser hits the ceiling fan.
The eraser changes direction.
*smack*
The eraser hits the teacher right on her face.
Two words come out of my mouth unintentionally - “holy shit”.

At first the teacher is confused.
She has no idea what hit her or where it came from.
Being as stupid as she was, I hoped she would think the eraser dropped down from the heavens. Apparently, she was not that stupid.
She asked who did it.

Enter Ally McBeal moment.
In the beginning it was one of those small clanks Richard’s hallucinatory bell made.
“clink clink, clink clink”
And then it struck.
The resonating bell sounded magnificent.
“Dong, Dong, Dong, Dong…”
I knew I had to do it.

I stood up.
I told the teacher my friend was trying to pass me the eraser and it ‘accidentally’ struck my textbook which I was trying to pass to the girl seated behind me. And then it hit the fan which was responsible for the eraser hitting her smack across the face.
She was confused.
I swear, for a second she actually looked at the fan.
She told me to sit down and not to pass my textbook around.
Well, she was stupid.

3) Shrink me.
This incident occurred about two years ago when I was ‘going strong’ with my ex-boyfriend- let us call him X.
This is entirely an Ally hallucination.

As couples usually do, I had a tiff with X – basically because I needed somebody to push around.
I come back to my room and my roommate who is two years senior to me seems very eager to talk to me.
(She is no longer my roommate. She finished her MBBS a year ago.)
I decide to listen – big mistake.

Roommate: I saw X near the library today.
Me: So? (Thinking: what is he doing near the library)
Roommate: He came up and talked to me.
Me: Hmm… (Thinking: You have got to do better than this to make me jealous, bastard)
Roommate: He told me he has never seen me without glasses and the lenses make such a big difference on my face. He told me I have beautiful eyes.
Me: Yeah. You actually do have beautiful eyes. (Thinking: Whatever!)

I decide to irritate him further with this wonderful piece of news.
Another reason to push him around – wonderful!
I type out an SMS:
“Hey so now you are hitting on my roommate. Pretty eyes right?! Get someone your own age!”
And I send it.
But one small mistake – I send it to my roommate instead of X.
I get the delivery report.
I hear the message tone on her mobile.

Enter Ally hallucination.
I want to shrink into the size of an ant and run away as fast as I can.
I bury my face in my pillow and hope I die.

Roommate: You send me the message…
Me: I know.
Roommate: You don’t need to be mad at him because of me.
Me: I was just pulling his leg. It is no big deal. I do this all the time.
(Thinking: Oh lord! Please kill me!)

I call up X to tell him what just happened.
X: Serves you right for trying so hard to fight with me.
Me: Is this what they call karma?

Apparently this is what they call “Instant karma”
I hate it.

4) Fist in mouth.
This happened yesterday.
As far as I know I have not seen this hallucination in Ally McBeal.
It is mine.

One of my unit-mates is from Mauritius.
He has one of those funny French accents – where they say “ave” instead of “have”.
He has a bald head too.
I make fun of people who are normal.
So it is pretty obvious I make fun of him a lot.
He makes fun of me at times.

Yesterday we were supposed to spend an hour in the Community Medicine museum. We were supposed to look at the models and the charts and think of ways to re-decorate the place – I thought we were doing MBBS but apparently we are doing an interior decoration course.

There was this particular model which caught my attention.
It was about family planning.
The students actually made a penis out of polystyrene and got a condom on it – it was brilliant even though the penis was way too long in proportion to the torso and too narrow to be real – the condom had space to fit in a finger along with the polystyrene penis.

I was discussing the proportion with my unit-mates when Mr. Mauritius tells me I am twisted!
Can you believe it? Me – twisted!
I am the most not twisted person I have ever known.
I literally scream at him –
“You think every damn professor is hitting on me! You are the twisted one around here!”
I turn around and come face to face with the professor.
He did not seem pleased with what I said.

Hallucination begins.
I imagine myself hammering my blown up fist down my mouth.
I keep shut for most of the next half hour.
I had caused enough damage.

So, do you have any such moments?
I have many more – this post is too long already.

Blogging lessons

2008-10-25T23:31:00.001+05:30

On a wonderful, cheerful and sunny Sunday morning, the 10th of August this year three unusual happenings took place:
1) I was happy in the morning at 9:00 am – which is very remarkable considering myself to be a sleep lover and nothing irritates me more than waking up early on a Sunday. (The reason I was happy was a humongous breakfast.)

2) I realised how totally jobless I was and how I needed to do something which wasted my time (since I was done with the college magazine). I decided to blog about my infrequent thoughts about nothing in particular.

3) I started enjoying writing about nothing in particular more than ever.

Since then my life has been pretty much the same – except now I can re-read my posts every morning and wake up bathed in the glory of the sheer power of intellect and being the enlightened one.
My life has not changed much.

But this blog has taught me lessons about the blog world.
And these are a few I can share.
I cannot share the rest because I have been sworn to secrecy by the rulers of the blog world
– In other words, I cannot share the rest because I don’t feel like it and I don’t think you should get to learn all of it so easily!

1) The first attempt is always good – thanks to the humongous breakfast.

2) After you make all your friends promise that they will visit your blog about half of them actually keep the promise. Out of those who do visit the blog half of them will read the first two sentences, a handful will just look at the pictures (if any), another handful will read half of the post and the rest (if any) will read the whole post. One “might” comment.

3) After three or four posts most of your friends don’t give a damn.

4) Strangers become friends thanks to blogging.

5) Strangers comment more often.

6) You form a new friend circle that consists of ‘loyal readers’ of your blog and realise your disloyal friends who never commented (ever) are just idiots.

7) Never ever post more than one post in a day. Nobody reads the post before the latest one. And no matter how wonderful/controversial/thought-provoking the post maybe you will never ever get any comments. (even though I have come across this rather disturbing lesson more than once, I still continue posting more than one post a day many a times – because I feel like it)

8) Never let the number of comments discourage or encourage you. It is a farce. It is a conspiracy.

9) There are always loyal readers lurking behind shadows – who never comment. They are pieces of modern art – difficult to understand.

10) There are always people who comment just because they saw your comment on somebody else’s blog and want you to read their blog. They are pieces of shit – cunning little devils.

11) Never reply rudely to any comment. They take it to heart thanks to the extreme deficiency of a sense of humour. They stop visiting the blog.

12) There are people, who read your blog and comment because they think you are cute, want to ask you out for dinner and are desperate – get a life!

13) Sometimes you have to sitewhore (put in your url as your status message in every networking site, post it as comments on others status messages, send messages containing your url to everybody on your friend’s list) to get people reading.

14) Not everybody appreciates bragging – because they don’t get to do it as often. Most people don’t appreciate it. I do not blog for ‘most people’.

15) Some people love deep, profound and philosophical posts; some people love crazy and weird posts; some people love lovey-dovey stuff. Even though the last category is impossible to please I try my best to not post for anybody but myself. I do not care what you love – you can start a blog about whatever it is that you love. On my blog you get to read whatever it is I feel like writing.

16) Spacing out the lines and breaking paragraphs helps lengthen short attention spans like that of my own. Long sentences, however, is my weakness.

17) Never put off posting for more than a week. You tend to fall into a delusional state in which you consider yourself to experience some sort of a writer’s block – which is pure and unadulterated bullshit.

18) You learn things you never knew about family and friends you have known all your life – I never knew I shared a common, recurrent nightmare with my mother!

19) Nobody likes to vote on your second polls. The first one might get some attention. The second one – nobody bothers (I have four votes so far!)

20) You might think you will run out of topics one day. But that one day seems very far away every day.

So, these are few among the lessons I have learnt.

Enlightening enough?

Nothing out of Ordinary

2008-10-23T10:31:00.000+05:30

This blog has had more than a thousand visitors – excluding my visits.
This blog has almost fifty posts – forty six including this one.
This blog began a little more than two months back – two months, one week and five days to be accurate.

I like statistics – when it is in my favour.
I think this blog is faring pretty well considering the reasons why I began blogging (The beginning)
I wanted to post on the lessons learnt from blogging so far – but I guess that can wait.
Maybe the next post can be on that.
This post is about a thought which happened to flash across my mind about thirty seconds ago.

I wanted one word to express how I felt the whole day today.
The words that came into my mind included:
1) Sleepy – considering I woke up at five in the evening today. But it did not explain much about how I am feeling right now – which is not sleepy.
2) Jobless – but I feel that all the time.
3) Tensed – about the upcoming exams. But that word would probably explain about five seconds of today which was a complete waste of time and totally irrelevant.
4) Ordinary.

Ordinary – as ordinary as ordinary can get.
That seemed almost perfect.
Until I thought of what is ordinary.

According to me and the dictionary in my brain, ordinary is something which is not exceptional or special.

So who defines what is ordinary?
My ordinary will be very different from your ordinary.
1) A homeless man or maybe every other male feeling the pressure down there in the bladder might consider urinating beside a national highway nothing out of ordinary.
But for me, well, my imagination runs wild at the thought.

2) For me, sleeping in class is ordinary.
But for one of those ‘gifted’ ones always seated in the first bench with their faces hidden in their notebooks as they scribble away not just every word but every expression that passes over the boring and expressionless faces of professors, sleeping in class would be a heinous crime committed against the love of bespectacled self obsessed creeps.

3) For Lindsay Lohan, accidental public boob show might be just ‘oops but whatever’ ordinary – if you know what I mean.
But for many girls I know, showing their arm pits in public is totally out of the question (maybe because they are hairy – I frankly have no idea)

4) For me, eating ten slices of pizza and still feeling hungry after three hours is nothing out of the ordinary. If I didn’t feel hungry I would be worried.
But for almost every girl I know, it would be insane to even think about so much food because even thoughts of a sumptuous meal make you grow fatter.

5) For me, washing my feet at least six times a day is ordinary.
But most guys I know consider that insane and definitely an obsessive compulsive disorder.

6) For you talking to your little guy down there might be ordinary.
But for me – even if I did have a little guy (Imagine that!) down there, the mere thought of talking to any part of my body (especially one with a pee hole) is nothing short of extreme nuttiness (forgive the pun)

I may be far from ordinary to you.
You definitely are far from ordinary to me – no matter who you are.

The word ordinary does not mean anything to anyone except the person using it.
It does not convey a description worth any value to those listening.
Precisely – nothing out of the word 'ordinary'.

Do not use the word ordinary if you want to be specific.
Use it only if you are smart

Username

2008-10-21T22:40:00.000+05:30

I never forget my password.
It is almost always the same set of nonsensical characters.
But I always had a tough time remembering my username.
This was until I realised how blessed I am to be named what I am named.

I have a unique name.
I like to call my name unique
– Unique sounds better than words like weird, strange and funny.
I know for a fact there is no other living or non living ‘matter’ on this planet which shares its name with me.

I cannot recall a single instance when a stranger has not asked me to repeat my name at least twice before reproducing an almost but not quite exact duplication of what my name is supposed to sound like.
My name does not start with an exclamation mark or any punctuation mark; in fact I do not have any punctuation marks in my name but still somehow the mere possibility of someone being named what I have been named seems difficult to comprehend by many.

There are times when I have wished my name didn’t sound like a detergent, soap, a mouth freshener, an antiseptic or millions of other things it is not.
I tend to make myself believe it is all a work of my wild imagination and there is no similarity whatsoever.
My name has no meaning – that in itself helps me improve my imaginative skills.
I make up a new meaning every time somebody asks.

It is always after you run away from a bane that you realise it was a blessing in disguise.

The internet gave me the opportunity to name myself whatever I pleased.
My only attempt at naming myself before this was when I started writing poems under the alias ‘Shirley Andrews’.
But somehow as days passed by Shirley seemed to sound more and more like a dog’s name to me – no offence to all the Shirleys out there maybe it was just my subconscious mind trying to fight against being referred to by a name other than the usual ‘unique’ one.

So the internet gave me amazing opportunities.
I named myself all sorts of names.
None with punctuation marks though – I still can’t believe I never thought of that.
I faced two big problems:
1) Username already taken – this irritated me.
2) Invalid username/password – this irritated me more.

The first problem always led to the second.
The username being already taken ended up making me use strange combinations of adjectives and nouns – which I always forgot.

The solution I realised was simple.
I started making complete use of my unique name.

I do not need an ‘in.com’ id to get an id with my name.
I can get an id with my name on any damn site – unless I have signed up already.
And I don’t think I will forget my name.
That is a boon not many people are blessed with.
They need adjectives and numbers added to their names to get an id – that is honestly not just frustrating but also depressing.

Hence I came to peace with my name.
You can call me whatever you please.
You can make fun of my unique name.

You are just jealous your name is not as unique as mine.

Silence please

2008-10-20T10:39:00.002+05:30

I love silence.
It helps me not think.
The only thing I like more than silence is someone talking sense – but since this is very rare I make do with silence most of the time.

Silence is almost always broken by a fool.
Only fools do not grasp the beauty of silence.
The fools (all of them) are under a common misconception that their ignorant gibberish is more significant than silence.
I do agree – at times listening to this ignorant gibberish does help boost one’s confidence; but more often than not, it irritates the life out of the listener.

When I was sixteen I decided to pursue my further education in my motherland.
I lived in a hostel run by one of the most popular entrance coaching centres here.
For those of you who do not know what ‘the entrance’ refers to, it is a set of exams that apparently decide your future.
Students take, end and live lives for the sole purpose of faring well in these ‘entrance exams’.
It is also referred to as the single most important test any student interested in pursuing a professional course has to undertake.
I think it is pure bullshit.

For the two years I lived in that hostel I believed all the bullshit mentioned above.
I tried to survive with six hours of sleep.
I tried to survive not talking to a single soul for more than twelve hours a day.
I tried to survive sitting in front of books for more than twelve hours a day.
I tried to survive the pin drop silence.
And now here I am – doing what I dreamt of doing and I wonder if it was worth believing all that bullshit.
But I learnt my lessons and I learnt them well.

These are the lessons silence taught me:
1) Girls tend to obey rules without voicing their opinions; boys do so after mumbling their opinions under their breath.
I did not belong to either category.

2) Some people can sit in front of their books and actually study for more than twelve hours a day; others can fake it.
I did not belong to either category.

3) There are people who can sit mum for more than six hours; others always make sure they never get caught talking.
I did not belong to either category.

4) What I have to voice is never insignificant. I always have a point. The authorities never seem to get my point.
It is pointless to try and make them get the point.

5) Boys at the age of sixteen tend to pursue activities classified under mischief, if they do not the girls do. Since both seemed uninterested I was undertook burden of the activities.
You are rarely appreciated for carrying out self assigned duties.

6) No matter what I have an innate attraction to trouble.
No matter what I always get caught.
No matter what the others involved tend to get away with it.

7) It is embarrassing, even for me, to get scolded in a language I find difficult to understand at seven in the morning in front of about two hundred peers and fifty adults.

8) When being scolded always maintain utmost silence – Even if you do not understand what the wonderful adjectives and nouns used to describe you mean.

9) Tears are the only way to shorten the misery of getting scolded at. I cannot cry when I want to – even if I pinch myself blue and black.

10) Life at home may seem boring at sixteen; one might feel the want of adventure. The adventure I undertook taught me more than I expected.
It is horrible to open your eyes to reality what is worse is having them opened for you against your will.

I love silence.
It reminds me of those days.
It helps me not think.
It makes me smile at the lessons learnt the hard way.

So don’t spoil it – shut up.

List of destinies

2008-10-19T19:03:00.012+05:30

I am feeling tipsy right now.
And surprisingly it is not because of what usually makes people tipsy.
I just finished eating my first meal of the day.
And since my first meal has been delayed to this hour I tried over eating.
Now I am suffering from the following ill effects:
- My heart is galloping away at a speed which is making me feel like I will have a myocardial infarction any second now.
- My brain is under the false notion that it can take a vacation.
- My vision is blurring thanks to my eyes experiencing the mighty power of gravity Isaac Newton needed an apple to discover.
- My mouth can beat Attacama desert (the driest place on Earth).

So I decided, what better time to post than now.
It is not often I get to this state of being.

I saw Kung fu Panda – again (for the nth time) last night.
I love it.
Among all the dialogues I can remember, here are three which I cannot seem to forget:

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift and that is why it is called present”
I have heard a similar version of this many a times – maybe because it is a famous saying by some famous person who says a lot of sayings.
But it was nice to hear it again – especially with the turtle’s way of speech.
I love the way he speaks in that drawn out way of his.
That scene in which he blows out the candles one at a time – I would love to do something like that just to irritate the hell out of somebody who has curiosity eating up their brain.

“There is no charge for awesomeness or attractiveness”
I have been waiting impatiently for an appropriate opportunity to deliver this awesome dialogue.
It is so full of oneself, I know for a fact nobody could deliver it as convincingly as I could.

“One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it”
This one is pretty deep and profound.
I do not usually like deep and profound stuff.

This dialogue is what this post is going to be about.
I have decided to resume the enlightening process in my blog which I seem to have discontinued quite a few posts ago.

The first time I saw the movie and heard this dialogue I thought it was so true.
But then last night after watching it for the nth time I thought it was not so true after all.
Things that impress you in the beginning are bound to disappoint you before the end – that is my philosophy (bound to copyright)

I do agree the dialogue does sound wonderful and philosophical but if you think about it for a second you will understand exactly why it is disappointing.

I do not believe our destiny is pre-written.
I think each one of us have this list of destinies.
We carve our own path cancelling options one at a time and finally choose our destiny from our list.
This might seem juvenile to you but I think it is what it is.

The world is too random and the human mind too faltering for each one of us to have a fixed destiny.
But at the same time life would not have any purpose if it were not for something to learn or something to be achieved by each one of us – that something which we call destiny.
So the list came to be.
But the problem is nobody knows about the list except the one who made it.
As for the one who made it, I believe it is Nature.

Now we could not possibly go and ask Nature what our list contains – you would definitely not want to look out of your mind talking to the wind, trees, river and mountains (unless Paul Coelho’s Alchemist seems to have inspired you to the extent of complete insanity)

So this Mr or Mrs or Ms Nature does not want to let us know what our list contains, leaving us to decide which path we take and which destiny in our list we finally end up choosing – maybe laughing at the fools we make out of ourselves in the process.

Unless we know our destiny we cannot take a path to avoid it.
And we definitely do not know our destiny because Nature seems pretty adamant about leaving us in the dark.
So the dialogue does not actually make any sense at all –
“One often meets his destiny in the path he takes to avoid it”

You might think people do die in the process of trying hard to keep themselves from dying – true – but this is not destiny.
Destiny is not death.
Destiny is what you achieve before death or with death.
Nobody can avoid their destiny – nobody knows what it is to avoid it.

Except me of course – I know what my destiny is.
Finding Nowhere… that is my destiny.

Is this deep and profound enough for you?
Next post will be more of humour – I promise.

My middle finger

2008-10-17T06:18:00.003+05:30

It all began when I was born with two perfectly normal middle fingers.

For twenty years I enjoyed complete use of my middle fingers every moment of every day in my quite illustrious life.
Last year I turned twenty and my middle fingers have not been the same since then.

My palms and soles sweat when my sympathetic system decides to demonstrate how well it works – which is quite often.
They sweat when I am nervous, frustrated, excited and basically – all the time.
Sweaty palms make me further frustrated which makes my palms further sweaty.
It is a vicious cycle.
Last year, during my tenure as one among the ‘chosen ones’ (mentioned in my previous post – Licking ass), the story of my middle finger took a funny twist
– Quite literally.

It was as miserable a day as any other.
We were wrapping gifts for the ‘guests’.
I was frustrated.
My palms were sweaty.
The tape wouldn’t stick because usually tape doesn’t stick once it is wet thanks to sweaty palms.
This made me even more frustrated.
This made my palms even sweatier.
One pedestal fan placed at an isolated corner was supposed to cool an auditorium the size of a football field.
One of my friends was kind enough to move it closer to those who were gift wrapping with sweaty palms.
After about ten minutes of struggling with tape I decided I needed to cool off my palms.
I accidentally stuck my hand into the fan in the process.
My hand went numb and I wondered why.
I will never ever forget the sight I saw next.
My middle finger was not exactly in its usual shape.
It actually looked funny – until I noticed all the blood and realised I was the one bleeding.

To make the long story short at the end of two hours and an elephantine dose of local anaesthetic my middle finger looked ‘enhanced’.

I had a hypertrophied middle finger for almost a month – thanks to the splint.
After which I had a stiff middle finger which refused to bend and stuck out of a fist for two weeks – thanks to wearing the splint religiously.
The scar remained and I thought that was the end of my middle finger story until my exams came up.

I do not write more than a sentence a day usually.
But during exams I was expected to write.
And my middle finger hurt after five minutes of writing.
This was solely because I always hated exercising – even if it was for my finger.
I was forced to do silly, comical and extremely idiotic ‘exercises’ with my fingers and rubber bands for half an hour each day.
I still hate exercising.
But the exercises worked wonders in two weeks time.
I know because I took eleven extra sheets for my first paper – not because I had so much to write but because I wanted to check how much I could write until my finger hurt again.
The result was satisfactory.

Everything was well until today.

I have big feet.
And I am not well aware of how big my feet actually are.
I always wear black nail paint on my toe nails.
This is, contrary to public opinion, not because I am interested in looking like a punk or rock music fanatic or weird.
It is because I keep banging my feet everywhere resulting in ugly multicoloured subungual haematomas (bruises underneath the nail).
And the only thing that can hide these ugly multicoloured patches is black nail paint.

I used to think my nails were brittle but then I realised with the force I keep banging them it is truly a wonder my feet do not fall off.

My fingernails are more normal.
I do not grow them long.
I have done it all – square ends, pointed ends, blunt ends…
None of them interest me anymore.
And keeping my fingernails short gives my professors one less excuse to throw me out of clinical postings.

Today I went beyond my usual ‘bang my feet’ routine.
I broke my already short fingernail – right across the middle.
And it is my middle finger.
For those of you who do not know how it feels, I am not going to spoil the fun describing the pain – You really must try it out yourself.
For nine hours I have been struggling to keep mum and not scream out in agony.
I just dropped a rather heavy textbook of mine over my finger before typing out this post – it felt heavenly.

I am reminded of my hypertrophied middle finger days.
I wonder if my middle finger is trying to tell me something.
Maybe it needs more attention.
Maybe it needs me to show it off more often.
As of now I have no idea what it wants.
And the pain is making me insane – if nothing else.

I wish my middle finger could just open its imaginary mouth and tell me what it wanted instead of calling out for attention in these painfully disturbing ways.

Hope this is the end.

Licking ass

2008-10-16T21:56:00.008+05:30

I have always been slightly out of my mind.
But there have very rarely been instances when I have thought twice about my being eccentric.
Last year I made a decision which made me think way more than twice whether I pushed the limit my eccentricity.

I applied for a post among the ‘chosen ones’.

The criteria for being appointed among these ‘chosen ones’ is really quite simple:
1) You have to be exemplary at licking ass.
2) You have to be good at keeping your opinions to yourself.
3) You have to ‘look’ like you are talented.

I have never considered myself good at any of the above mentioned criteria.
In short – I really sucked at it.
But I decided to push the limits of my ‘insane actions’.
I applied for a post – one which I felt I could give a shot at ‘looking’ talented in.

It always is a very controversial nomination.
The competition is always bitter.
Contestants are often accused of showing their ‘true colours’.
I had three opponents – all of them had their special ‘quirks’ which made them way better than me.
I played my games, showed my ‘true colours’ and did whatever it took to get nominated.
I am not very proud of any of it – but I think I paid my price.
I got nominated.

From the very first moment of being among the ‘chosen ones’ I knew I would not enjoy it.
Now do not misunderstand me – all the other ‘chosen ones’ were very easy to work with, the difficult bit was who we had to work for.

Our duties were simple:
1) Keep licking everyone’s ass.
2) Keep our opinions to ourselves because they don’t really matter.
3) Keep ‘looking’ talented.
4) Get used to hearing shit about yourself from everyone.
5) Never expect appreciation or gratitude – it does not exist.

It was bad.
There were eight of us – two of us girls.
Being a girl was a bane because we had an additional duty of looking pretty, ever smiling and lady-like at all the “functions”
– I hated every bit of it.

I hated every bit of it because I was quite obviously very bad at it.
I cannot smile when there is no reason to smile – my face hurts and I end up looking like the cow I mentioned in my post - Smile
In fact I had every reason in the world to not smile.
- I was always dressed up like a mummy in a saree which kept threatening to undress me in public.
- I was expected to smile at people who were too busy to even look at me.
- I was supposed to work my ass off while others could sit and complain.
- And the working my ass off bit is never easy when you are supposed to look ‘lady-like’ at the same time.

There were days when the only sleep I got was crumpled up in a wooden chair.
Food was not always a necessity – it became an option.
These two conditions made my life miserable, if not anything else.

One year did not fly by.
We did what we were supposed to do.
We did it quite well.
I did not enjoy it much.

All the ‘chosen ones’ every year will have the same story to tell.

At the end of it I just have one thing to be grateful for – the ones I worked with.
They made worse seem bad.

Dedicated to the KMC Student Council 2007-08

The Plan

2008-10-14T01:33:00.003+05:30

Everything is supposed to be easier if you plan ahead.
Please note the use of the word ‘supposed’ which undoubtedly indicates that it certainly might be untrue.
‘Certainly might’ – does that qualify to be called an oxymoron?
I am beating around the bush – I know it.
Do you know why I am beating around the bush?
It might very well be because I do not have a plan.
Forget a plan; I do not even have the slightest clue what I am rattling away about.
Or maybe I just want you to believe I do not.

I am good at planning
- For others.
The plans I make for myself never work out – never!
But the plans I make for others always work out – always!
I recently read a very nice quote.
It does not have much significance with reference to whatever I am trying to enlighten you with right now but this quote is enlightening in itself – though it is not applicable to the Enlightened one (for those who don’t know who that is – it is me)
‘Always and never are two words one should always remember never to use’
Lovely, is it not?
But as I said - it is not applicable to me.

So my plans never work out when I seem to plan for myself.
But this does not deter me from planning.
I make it a point I plan what I am going to do at least a second in advance.
The earlier the plan is made the more chances it fails.
– That is MY hypothesis and no YOU cannot steal it.
Mathematically speaking (this is hilarious - who would have ever imagined me, of all the six billion people living on this planet, to speak mathematically!)
The duration of time left before the ultimatum is always inversely proportional to the success rate of the plan.

Today I planned out my study schedule for my exams.
My exams begin in the first week of the next month.
I am pretty sure my planned schedule will fail.
This is not pessimism talking, it is experience.
But I planned it out anyway.

I am supposed to read 150 pages a day to finish at least ten days in advance.
These ten days are saved up as my grace period in case I do not finish (which I know for a fact I won’t)
So it is like a plan within a plan.

I have three textbooks – thank God it is only three this year.
These three textbooks had cobwebs on them today until I decided to check out how many pages each of them had.
My friend thinks I lie about not studying.
I wish I was.

Only a selected few ‘elite’ medical students know how it feels to study from a brand new, untouched textbook two weeks before their tests.
It is a miserable feeling as far as I am concerned – because unused textbooks put me to sleep (I think it is the smell).
It takes a week of sleeping over my textbooks - while reading them - to make them look and smell 'used' (I know it sounds disgusting but reality is disgusting)
– that leaves me wit a week to read and ‘reproduce’ 1715 pages of ‘not so English’ English.

I have planned three weeks in advance – which is very early.
And I am going to experiment my hypothesis before publicizing it as my theory.

I do not know what to hope for – if I am right about my hypothesis I will fare hopelessly in my exams and if I am wrong then my hypothesis never becomes a theory.

So I have no hope whatsoever.

Nightmares

2008-10-10T04:24:00.001+05:30

Everybody has nightmares.
Some have them when they are asleep.
Some have them when they are awake.
Some live them.

Nightmares – reminds me of mares.
It reminds me of a whole lot of mares running wild at night.
I have nightmares all the time.
I remember very few.

Among all those I can vaguely remember here are some which managed to scare the living hell out of me.

I do not have any delusions of things I can do.
Well, maybe I do but I do know that I can not run fast.
I can run – but I can not run fast.
One of my friends once told me his grand mother could beat me at a running race – I still wonder about that.
This being the state of my running, running downhill would not make much of a difference – I would still be slow.
In my nightmare I am always running extra slow (if that is possible) – downhill – with a boulder in pursuit.
The funny bit is I never ever make it. The mountain seems to go on forever and finally the boulder does run me over.
The nightmare, unfortunately, does not end there.
I, then enjoy a third person view (considering the boulder to be the second person).
I see myself flattened, alive and smiling a flat smile – pretty much like how Tom keeps ending up looking like thanks to Jerry.
It is not a pretty sight.
Not for anyone – least of all me.

Another one that still makes me squirm was not exactly a nightmare.
It was more a distorted dream.
The distorted bit of the dream being ‘exceedingly optimistic’ me.
Do not misunderstand me, I am not a pessimist but nor am I an optimist.
I am strictly in between.
I am pessimistic about pessimism but not optimistic about optimism.
In this dream my hands are being chopped off – but I am very optimistic about it.
I keep telling myself I still have two legs.
And then my legs are chopped off.
I keep telling myself I am still alive.
Then my head is chopped off.
And I am still smiling.
The end.

Writing examinations without preparing for them and realizing I am naked all of a sudden in a public place never really scared me much – I wonder why.
And the only person who is hurt or killed in my nightmares is I – so there was never a question about me fearing the death of a dear one.
The fact that I am the one dying somehow calms me – Is that normal?

Now for the worst of all nightmares – I had this one quite recently.

I am sitting at this huge table and there is this very homely, plump, cute little lady standing by my side.
I have a humongous plate in front of me.
This wonderful lady keeps filling my plate.
And I keep on eating, eating and eating.
The nightmare bit is – I have no sense of taste!
Wonderful, delicious, taunting food all tasting like lumps of... nothing.
It was awfully, dreadfully, horrifyingly, terribly horrible.

It is only when you have nightmares you understand how worse life could get.
I am glad I am not yet flattened by a boulder even though I am a slow runner.
I am glad I am not optimistic enough to smile when I am being decapitated.
And I am oh so glad that I can still taste what I eat even though there isn't much to taste.

Poll findings

2008-10-08T21:15:00.003+05:30

For those who have not noticed and will never get the chance to notice again the poll that I began at the very beginning of this blog is finally closed.
I started this poll because I wanted to know how many people out there actually think like me.

Now the results:

53% of the readers chose ‘yes’
This makes me happy.
It is a clear majority.
I should receive a standing ovation for this sort of response.
It is true I do not have any of those fancy awards that you get for blogging, but wtf this is good enough!
53% of the people who visited my blog actually cared about the shit I thought up.
But, unfortunately, this also shows 53% of the people who actually read my blog do not think like me because I would never, ever choose this option if I were you!
I am truly sorry but you are just not like me.

20% of the readers chose ‘no’.
This makes me slightly confused.
As far as I remember, I never threatened anybody into visiting my blog.
If there was no threatening involved and you do not actually care about what is written here then why in the name of sensibility do you read my blog?
I expect answers in the form of comments.
And it goes without saying - I do not like you people!

23% of the readers chose ‘nevermind’.
I actually like you people.
I think you people deserve a pat on the back.
Good going and keep going
– non-opinionated, diplomatic, unoriginal fools.
No matter what – nevermind!

3% of the readers – one reader – chose ‘no because it is the first option and I am too lazy to read further’.
This was the third option.
It is a stupid option.

I would have chosen this.

P.S: I have decided to continue blogging – but at a slower pace.
My exams are round the corner and I really don’t like the junior batch too much – So, I have to pass.

The bad guys

2008-10-07T18:42:00.000+05:30

The bad guys are everywhere.
And this is what the ‘not so paranoid’ part of me feels.
Imagine what the ‘paranoid’ part of me feels.

I have been slightly busy lately.
And this is pretty surprising because I always make it a point that I am never busy enough to call myself busy.
What I have been busy with is unfortunately none of your business.

This post is about the bad guys.

The bad guys are always around – some may call themselves your friends while the others just don’t bother to call themselves anything at all.

Everybody becomes one among them at sometime or the other.
I have found myself among them many a times – more than I would dislike.
Recently I have been thinking about these ‘bad guys’.

Now do not misunderstand the term.
What I mean by ‘guys’ is not the male counterpart of the foolish species who call themselves wise. I mean the term in a more general aspect.
General as in it includes everybody.
I shall go down memory lane.

Babyhood…

It all begins in the beginning.
In the beginning everybody is one among them.
Everybody seems to be conspiring against you in a foreign language.
Nobody seems to really understand you.

Childhood…

The teachers are the bad guys.
They seem to want control over your free and spirited life.
Everything you want to do is wrong.
Everything you don’t want to do is right.
Here, the parents come in a close second among the bad guys.
The third place goes to the kid who always seems to know the right answer to everything.

Adolescence…

This is like being back to babyhood.
Nobody seems to understand you.
Everybody wants to tell you what to do.
There are three sorts of adolescents in this world:
1) Those who have already transformed into beautiful swans – they are the ones who go about strutting in high school. They think they rule because they just seem to get the attention everyone seems to seek. Somehow these beautiful swans acquire the right to hurt everyone. I had a couple of them for friends. I do not regret it but honestly it was super lame.
2) Those who transform into beautiful swans after high school – now this category is lucky and unlucky. They are lucky because they did finally make it – a nice ‘in your face’ comeback for all that hurting courtesy ‘the strutters’. They are unlucky because well, it is too late a comeback.
3) Those who never transform. They get used to it - big deal.

The strutters are the bad guys if you are not one among them.
And if you are one among them – you need to get a life.

College…

I shall write about what I feel right now.
The administration of this college is filled with dorks who never had a life in college and want the same for you – they are all bad guys.
The professor who keeps picking on you just because you are not boring is a bad guy.
The hospital is full of bad guys who are waiting to make you look like a fool.
All juniors who know more than you do are bad guys.
All friends who have started studying are bad guys.
All friends who don’t like your blog are bad guys.
All friends who keep asking if it is finally the end of your ‘blogging spree’ when you do not post for a few days, are very bad guys.
The classmate who always asks doubts which seems like Greek and Latin when all you want is to get back to your bed and snore is a bad guy.

Adulthood…

There are so many bad guys out there you seem to lose count.
Your boss is always a bad guy.
The guy who keeps getting a raise is a bad guy.
The person your partner thinks is wonderful is definitely a bad guy.
The in-laws are ‘almost’ always bad guys.
Every person who can afford anything you can’t but would want to; is quite obviously a bad guy.
And finally
God seems to be a bad guy.

The bad guys never go away.
In fact, I think, they keep increasing by the day.
You just learn to not care after a while – if you are lucky.

So - go to hell, bad guy!!!

Utter nonsense

2008-09-30T02:23:00.005+05:30

Homo sapiens apparently supposed to be the ‘knowing man’ or ‘wise man’.
- Such utter nonsense.
I wonder if there is a species called Homo insapiens or something of the sort which would mean the ‘unknowing’ man or foolish man.
I think that would be more befitting.

Wise man – can you imagine the audacity of this species to actually name itself wise!
So according to what our species are called every human being is wise.
You are wise if you are born a human being.
So much for working towards wisdom!

Homo sapiens – the most pompous, foolish and egotistic species to ever walk this planet (and all those places NASA claims to have send humans)
I am not partial to this species because I belong to it – that would be very unenlightened of me.
I am pretty sure Douglas Adams knew something about what is actually going on when he wrote that wonderful masterpiece – if you do not know which book I am referring to or have not read the book I am referring to you should think twice before calling yourself a Homo sapien (wise man!)

Humans have apparently achieved a lot since the Stone Ages.
I do not believe that statement.
What is the big difference since then?

- Technology?
But all that has done is: make us grow lazier while killing the planet.
Science is amazing but we have not reached anywhere: we are still stuck somewhere in the beginning of insignificant somewhere a long way from significant somewhere.

- Clothes?
But semi nudity is becoming chic.
And I personally believe it was way better during the Stone Ages.

- Easy living?
Whose life is easy?
Is your life easy to live?
Mine definitely is not.
I would any day prefer going hunting, fishing and walking around naked in the forest swatting mosquitoes to trying to make sense out of and memorising words I can’t pronounce which apparently originate from a language no human understands in the present day.

- Civilized being?
Humans are not civilized.
They try to be.
Deep within every human is that wild animal waiting to unleash itself.
We kill each other for entertainment for God’s sake!
Don’t believe me?
Think along the lines of a maniac named Bush.

- Money?
No comments.

- Culture / Arts?
They created more than we ever will. They took the first steps to what formed beautiful dances, paintings and stone carvings.

Homo sapiens are not wise men.
They are foolish and are growing more foolish by the day.
You are living proof for this fact.
Development – utter nonsense.

Two things are infinite: the Universe and human stupidity; and I am not sure about the Universe – Albert Einstein

We are parasites.
We should call ourselves what we truly are.

That is the first step to ‘wisdom’.

Smile

2008-09-28T20:40:00.001+05:30

Smile – there are so many kinds of smiles in the world.
Pretty much like chocolates – but not exactly like chocolates.
Chocolates are not quiet like smiles because all kinds of chocolates are wonderful – black, white, crunchy, smooth, swiss, ones with rum inside… wonderful.
Smiles on the other hand, well they are not wonderful but they can be of different kinds too – Funny smiles, plastic smiles, crooked smiles, sensual smiles, wtf smiles…

There are very few things that can make me smile.
Nobody can smile when they want to smile.
I mean, of course people can smile whenever they want to – but, try and hold that fake smile and at the end of five minutes you will look exactly like a cow caught by surprise while chewing cud (that is, if you don’t already look like one before the fake smile procedure).
But there are times when you try so hard not to smile but end up smiling anyway.
And no, I am not referring to giggling (hate it!) or laughing.
I am referring to plain old smiling.

There are just about three things that can make me smile.
Well three other than me being in front of the camera and imagining what a dork I will look like if I don’t smile (which I end up looking like even if I do smile)
– But at least I tried not to look like a dork!
And trying does count – when you are the loser.

Sorry… deviating from the topic at hand – three things that make me smile.
These three things might seem very shallow for many of you.
But these three things are what life revolves around anyway.

1) Food
This little beast can get me smiling even if I happened to inject my face with enough botulinum to paralyze an African elephant.
Bring me good food and I will smile.
I think it is because my brain seems to be in my stomach or vice versa.
Whatever the case, good food equals big smile as far as I am concerned.
And more the quantity the bigger the smile is.

2) Money
This is a new found discovery.
I did not know money could make me smile until I got kicked out of my house and reached a god forsaken hostel in a god forsaken state of a god forsaken country.
But give me money and I shall smile.
Give me money and I give you my word – I will make it disappear.
It will disappear so fast that neither you nor I will remember where it was spend.
They say it is my hand – money seems to trickle through it as if it were water!
(And I thought I had podgy fingers!)
So, money can make me smile – one of the prime reasons being - money means good food and good food makes me smile.
And more the money the more the quantity of good food meaning the bigger the smile is.

3) Sleep
The mere thought of sleep can make me smile.
I dream of sleep – if that is possible.
Sleep is peace.
Sleep is Heaven on Earth (will post on this soon)
Sleep is sleep.
I can never every tire myself sleeping.
I really don’t understand how people can wake up feeling fresh and rejuvenated.
It never works that way for me.
The more the sleep the bigger the scowl is when you wake me up.

I really am pretty simple to figure out contrary to the beliefs of many.
I am very easy to please contrary to my own beliefs.

Be good.
Make others smile.

Make me smile.

Thought for food

2008-09-28T15:28:00.003+05:30

Let me start off by apologizing to my blog and to my incompletely enlightened followers/students for the delay in posting.
I had some extra curricular activities to attend to – and I actually mean extra curricular activities.

I had a debate to participate in and it was not one within my head – fortunately.
It was good.
It has been a while since I went for my last debate – which was last year. I vaguely recall promising myself I shall never put myself through the same load of crap again (all the researching) and I made it a point not to break that one.

The topic for the prelims was ‘The common man has the right to protest in present India’ and I had to speak against it. Now, unfortunately for me, the Constitution of India clearly states every citizen enjoys the right to protest (Article 19).
So I had to cook up bullshit.
And well, I hate modesty so – I am good at cooking up bullshit.
So, after a lengthy conversation with a friend (this is you, mass debater!) and sleep I decide to make up this story about this illiterate, young girl named Radha, who gets raped by Mr X – a politician’s son and justice is not served in the end.
This was my speech.
Just this stupid story and how sometimes people just can’t protest because nobody is there for support, protesting alone being out of the question.
I tell you, watching hindi movies helped me with the prelims more than researching has ever helped me in any debate.

Now with prelims out of the way, we entered finals.
I do not know shit about the Indian law or politics.
I know it is not great to boast about your ignorance, so I’m not boasting.
The finals topic, well I did not understand it.
For a minute I thought I heard Greek and Latin rather than English.
'Strict laws like POTA and TADA are necessary to curb terrorism.'
I got the topic at 6:30 p.m.
At 9:30 p.m. I tried to find POTA and TADA in Wikipedia (I love it!)
At 9:35 p.m. I slept.
I woke up at 7:30 a.m. because my debate partner called to check how my preparation was coming along.
Well, I didn’t have much to say except that I hadn’t started.
I thought she could handle it herself, considering the competition being not that great.
But turns out she was not prepared as well.
8:00 a.m. I read the page I had opened in some god forsaken site wiki lead me to.
Then I got dressed and left.
Screw the researching.
We were in for a surprise – we were going to have a proper parliamentary session.
I didn’t know what a parliamentary session is like.
I kept shut (big mistake!)
I asked my partner after a while what a parliamentary session is like – turns out she didn’t know either.

It started.
I did not keep shut for more than 15 seconds.
It was a very confusing session.
Weird, confusing and after a while I couldn’t actually figure out what side my opponents were speaking on – I just continued speaking against whatever they spoke.
We kept switching sides.
Somewhere along the session I actually felt my blood pressure rise – rarely happens.
It felt good.
I learnt what a parliamentary session is while I was in one – beat that!

We did well – basically because bullshit always works wonders... unlike researching.

We won.

Fingering

2008-09-24T13:01:00.005+05:30

It is funny how perspectives change according to the situation.
A lot of perspectives change when you are a medical student.
I have learnt that – the hard way.

Being in medical college is pretty much the same as being in any other college.
At least it is for me.
You don’t really learn much.
Well, maybe you do – but at the end of the 4 and half years you seem to forget more than you remember resulting in a minimal increase in knowledge, if any.

I do not study in my state of origin.
I study in a state where people speak four different languages, out which i know one fluently.
And this has led to lots of trouble for me.
Most of the time, I end up using both my hands, legs and inexplicable facial expressions to communicate with the patients.
It is difficult when you know what you want to ask but don’t know how to ask it.
It makes you feel like a baby (if you remember being one) and it is not a nice sight to see a 20 year old woman make noises like goo goo and ga ga.
I hate babies, anyway.

I once wanted to ask a patient how long he was unconscious for during a faint attack.
It resulted in every patient in the ward pointing at me and laughing their hearts out.
I like to think I’m like Patch Adams at such times – it is easier on the little bit of self respect you have left.

This was before I started learning the language.
Now I know bits and pieces.
I can communicate.
The only problem is that I should make sure what I ask is what I actually mean to ask.
The last thing you want is to get slapped – and that is not too easy to avoid.

Well, this post is not about my linguistic woes.
It is about this incident which occurred in my 2nd year of medical school.

Surgery postings – I love everything about surgery.
I loved it even more after the extremely handsome Post Graduate let me (an absolute nobody in the hierarchy of medical school) assist him in a procedure.
Even though all I did was ‘mop’ the blood off (which I apparently didn’t do well) and even though the procedure was a mere ‘debridement of an ulcer’
- I felt like somebody!
That was when I decided I wanted to become a surgeon.

But this decision was put to doubt in a week.
It was O.P (out patient) day
– which meant two things to medical students:
1) If you are interested, be ready to jump at every opportunity (patient) that arrives. Stay as close to the patient as possible, at any cost – push, kick, chop, trample, bite – do whatever it takes.
2) If you are not interested stand in a corner. Do not ever, even by mistake risk your life by trying to get near a patient – let alone talk to one. If you do, the next thing you will remember is a horde of ‘extremely interested’ students plus doctors plus nosy patients trampling over what was once your body.

I was one among the first category, since my decision to become a surgeon.
The same extremely handsome Post Graduate came along and asked if anybody knew my mother tongue. They were jus two of us Keralites present that day.
He chose the guy over me.
I tagged along, anyway.
After taking his history with my fellow Keralite’s help the Post Graduate decided since Mr Kerala had helped he would let Mr Kerala do a PR.
The senior students audibly gasped.
And then the murmuring began.
It was as if Mr Kerala was not allowed this privilege.
They kept telling it was unfair.
And then I realised what a PR is (I’m pretty slow) – per rectal examination.
In other words, sticking your finger into the patient’s ass hole and checking if there is anything out of the ordinary in there.
That was the privilege bestowed upon Mr Kerala.

In went his gloved finger.
After a lot of probing, he told he felt something.
Obviously he would feel something – it is the guy’s shit hole for god’s sake!!
Out came his gloved finger.
Not the same colour as it went in.
You can’t mistake that shade of yellowish brown for anything else.

I wondered if the glove had a small tear somewhere.
I wondered how he could actually put his finger in somebody’s shit.
I wondered whether Mr Kerala felt like cutting off his finger.
I wondered what if I had helped the Post Graduate with the language problem.

This was the ‘privilege’ bestowed upon him.

Almost two years have passed since that day.
I have put my gloved finger into a couple of shit holes since then…
and lots of other orifices too.
And sometimes I have pushed and kicked my way into it.

Medical college is the same as any other college – almost.
But a lot of perspectives change here.
Sticking your finger into a persons shit hole is a privilege.

Don't bother

2008-09-23T22:55:00.001+05:30

I am not satisfied.
I am usually a very satisfied person.
The last post has made me dissatisfied.

Have you ever felt like you were awake while you were actually sleeping?
This usually happens when you are just about to wake up.
You do everything you have to do after waking up while sleeping, and then you wake up to realise you were actually sleeping and did not do any of those things you had to do.
A very discouraging false notion as far as waking up is concerned.
This happens to me quite often.
It occurs every time I wake up.
Which means it occurs every time I sleep.
But now, for quite a bit this has not occurred to me.

Rather, I am suffering from the exact opposite of such a situation right now
– If such an opposite did exist, that is.

I am suffering from the feeling that I am sleeping even when I am awake.
I am so sure that I am sleeping that I don’t do anything.
I end up doing nothing.
But that is not a big deal – I do nothing most of the time, anyway.

The problem is the way people seem to notice the state I am in.
They seem to think I am thinking.
And all of a sudden people seem to be bothered what I am thinking about
- Maybe this is because I never think (or appear to be thinking) and thought of me thinking has people thinking what I might be thinking about which is more often than always worth thinking about.

So the point is I appear to be thinking all the time.
- Even though I am actually under the notion that I am asleep and am doing nothing.
This would be alright if I just let it be.

But I am not letting it be.
I am actually pretending to be thinking to please those who think I am thinking.

So here I am under the notion that I am asleep pretending to be thinking.
And when you are under such a trying situation you tend to post stupid, irrelevant and totally dissatisfying posts like the previous one.

So, don’t bother.
I’m not thinking.
I’m asleep.
Rather, I am under the false notion that I am asleep.
Let it be.

Hunger

2008-09-23T16:35:00.002+05:30

Everybody has felt hunger in their lives.
Well, I’d like to think everybody has.
Because if there is a creature on Earth which has not experienced hunger I wouldn’t know what I would actually feel for it:
- I would feel extremely jealous at the amount the creature must be eating to not have ever felt hungry.
- I would feel sorry because the creature does not know the mix of blissful emotion that well up in the mind, body and soul when food enters an empty stomach.

Hungry – it is a normal word.
Hungry – does not remind me of anything in particular.
I am always either hungry or sleepy or not keeping well – Always.
Life is simple that way.

Now I am going to try and describe hunger as I feel it for:
- All those who have forgotten the feeling (you are growing old!)
- All those who feel it with me (let us celebrate this feeling)
- All those who have never felt it (get a life!!)
Feel what I feel. This is something nobody should miss out on – Ever.

Hunger can be of two types:

1) The ‘real’ hunger:

Those who have felt this will never ever forget it.
It starts with a feeling of a tiny bubble bursting inside your stomach – plop!
You ignore it.
It goes on to a super car – vroom vroom!
You try and ignore it.
It becomes an ache and every part of your body craves for food.
You cannot ignore it.
Your stomach starts screaming and all you can hear are blood curdling screams.
You start thinking with your stomach.
You try to put your despair at bay by
- Sleeping, but all you can dream about is food.
- Reading, but every word you read looks the same – FOOD FOOD FOOD.
- Watching television, every channel seems to have something about food in it – cooking food, looking at food, showing off food, eating food etc.

2) The ‘imaginary’ hunger:

This affects mainly people like me – the foodies (I prefer this word to glutton)
This starts with a stimulus.
The stimulus usually leads to salivation. The salivation can be due to
- a picture which makes food look so delicious
- or it can be a particular memory of a particular taste
- or it can be the heavenly sound of something frying
- or it can be the smell of something that is cooking in the neighbour’s kitchen
- or sometimes it can simply be excessive saliva with no reasonable reason.
Well, whatever the reason, you feel hungry.
You feel hungry even though you are not hungry.
You feel hungry even when your stomach is not so empty.
You feel so hungry you reach a point of craving when you will do anything, absolutely anything to get that piece of memory back alive and chewing.

The two types of hunger, however, are very similar in their result.

You eat.
The first morsel that is chewed – is chewed slowly – savouring every sensation of taste known and then swallowed.
You reach Heaven.
Food melting in your mouth, feeling it all the way down to your stomach
– Heaven.
You don’t realize when, where, how or why.
You just keep savouring and swallowing and the smile on your face keeps growing (along with your belly) until you are done.
And then it becomes a memory.
It becomes a memory of food that is a potential hunger inducer.

That is the beauty of hunger.
That is the beauty of food.
Are you hungry?
I am starving!

Envisage this

2008-09-20T03:40:00.003+05:30

The word ‘visage’ somehow never really meant what it actually meant, to me.
I like the way it is pronounced though – reminds me of massage.

Around ten minutes ago I was looking at myself in the mirror.
I do that once in a while.
Some of the few things I do to remind myself I am a female.

I saw a pimple.
I do not usually get pimples – and this upcoming doom troubled me.
Why did it trouble me?

And then I started thinking weird – again.

Everything we see is how our brain makes us perceive it.
And I think everybody’s brain is very different.
But if everybody’s brain was so very different wouldn’t the same image be perceived differently by everybody?

Please note: I am using the word ‘perceived’ and ‘seen’ differently.
The same sight seen can give rise to different perceptions in different people and the same perception perceived in different people can be as a result of different sights.

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
That is utter nonsense.
Beauty lies in what the beholder’s brain makes the beholder see as beautiful.
Ok, stop! I think I’m complicating things
- Again.

What I might perceive as a pointed nose might not seem so pointed to you
(My nose is not pointed)

What I might perceive as red might be actually green to you
(Imagine green roses!)

What I might perceive as short might be quite large for you
(This is a very general statement I am not referring to anything in particular.)

You might look beautiful to your brain and look ugly to billions of others
(My case - most of the time)
Or you might actually look beautiful to billions of others but look ugly to your brain!
(My case - never)

In the end it is all about how we perceive things.
How our brain makes us perceive it.

It is that stupid mass of pinkish-greyish-white goo in that hard skull that makes you look into the mirror and try to look presentable innumerable number of times a day.
What is the point?

Your pinkish-greyish-white goo is different from my pinkish-greyish-white goo.
And my pinkish-greyish-white goo might think you look ugly, no matter what!!!

What if there was no pinkish greyish white goo?
Then would we all perceive alike?
Imagine – men and women thinking alike!!!
That would be hilarious.

My thoughts came to an end.

I decided my upcoming pimple looks bad only to my brain.
It might not look bad to the billions of others out there.
Some might even think it is beautiful.

So enjoy the pimple while you have it!

My Cellular story

2008-09-16T18:50:00.004+05:30

Hello.

My story begins in a little shop in the streets of Dubai.
I am not the best looking nor am I the most expensive of many of my kind in the shop.
But I am cute. And I am sort of expensive.
Maybe that was why the Brat chose me to be hers.
Apparently she had just lost her last one in a rickshaw without even realising she had left the poor thing there.
All I could think of was whether I was doomed to have a similar fate awaiting me… ending up in a rickshaw, uncared for.
The Brat begged and pleaded for me.
I thought maybe this was it - I would finally get all the attention I deserved…
I became hers.

The first few months were wonderful.
The Brat used me well.
She was almost always using me.
She saved all sorts of stuff in me.
Good messages, bad messages, good memories, bad memories, beautiful photos, ugly photos (of the Brat), good songs, bad songs (sung by the Brat) – she put all of it in me.

Time flew by and one day she tried to make me fly.
The Brat flung me across God alone knows what.
It hurt.
It hurt so bad I couldn’t display what I felt for a week.
The Brat got me fixed paying quite a bit – serves her right.

But soon this kept repeating itself. I had to keep getting myself repaired. Each time the Brat paid for me I felt good about it. She actually cared about me.
But I hated the way the guys who repaired me kept looking through my insides.
It felt like they were invading my privacy.

The Brat stopped using me the way she used to after a while.
My battery had a slight problem.
I kept going off whenever I felt like.
The Brat didn’t bother repairing me this time.
She had gotten herself a much uglier and cheaper one to replace me. She used me only to use all the stuff she saved in me or to play the games she always beat me at.
I felt betrayed.
I was supposed to be the only one.

The Brat’s birthday was approaching and I wanted to do something special for her so that she would realise how important I was to her.
I made a plan.
She was on her way to a party with her friend when I crept out of her hand bag under the car seat.
It stank and it was dirty.
But I had to surprise her for her birthday.
After the party she realised I was not with her anymore.
You should have seen her face! It was so hilarious!
Poor Brat! She went all over the city looking for me.
She even went to the venue of the party thrice!!!
It was fun watching her care for me so much, even though I didn’t quite like my place of hiding.
She even got her idiotic friend to search the car.
But I hid myself well.

One month of hiding in that god forsaken place.
She hurt everyday.
I know she missed me.

Finally I made sure the car servicing guys found me – on her birthday.
The Brat’s friend returned me to her the day after her birthday.
And what I saw on her face was worth every moment of hiding myself under that dirty car seat.
I think it is the best birthday gift she has gotten this year.
And I, her mobile, gave it to her.
Beat that!

Fist for fun

2008-09-15T11:08:00.001+05:30

Riots – I like the word. It sounds good.
Riots – I honestly don’t give a damn… usually.
Riots – I don’t like them.

I wanted to go to the beach yesterday afternoon.

Riots spoiled my plan.
Riots got me confined to my boring hostel.
Riots made me a prisoner in my hostel.

I was locked in!
And I hate being locked in – I feel claustrophobic – only when I’m locked in without my permission though, I generally don’t mind locking myself in.

This is the second time since I have come to this city that riots have caused a curfew.
My college doesn’t give a damn about curfews.
It is a stupid college, in my opinion.
Not only is my college derecognised according to the Medical Council of India (temporarily, I hope) but it also doesn’t give a rat’s ass if it is a national holiday, curfew or even a student’s death – no holiday whatsoever.

The only holidays we get are Sundays.
Maybe that is the reason doctors in my college become so boring, frustrated and bitter about everything sweet in life (example: sleep).
Maybe that is why people in this city are so frustrated.
The doctors are so frustrated by the lack of holidays (thanks to my college) that they take it out on their patients. And these patients form the public.
And what do the public do?
They wait for an opportunity to vent their frustration.
And what better way to vent your frustration than to destroy a place of religious worship!
It will, for sure, lead to the public getting more frustrated.
People who haven’t gone to a temple or church or mosque all their lives become religious all of a sudden.
They start fighting for justice. (wtf?!)
They start destroying more places of worship until the police start getting frustrated.
Then the police vent their frustration by beating the crap out of everyone.
Section 144 comes into being. (wtf?!)
Curfew is declared in the whole city.
My college still doesn’t declare holidays.
We, doctors, still go to college/hospital.
We get frustrated.
And it is a vicious circle.

Frustrated people are all over this city.
And they vote for more frustrated people to rule over them.
I hate politics.
I hate politics because I don’t know shit about it.
All I know is the ones who are in power don’t seem to know the solution to the problem. They are rather adding fuel to the fire.
The ruling party always seems to be involved in the riots.
The solution; my dear ignorant, frustrated ones; is simple.
Make my college give more holidays.
This will put a rest to the most contagious disease of all – frustration.
And nobody will have to make a fist for fun.

Please declare holidays for doctors!

Day after 21

2008-09-14T15:06:00.005+05:30

The day after 21 was yesterday.
I became 21 years old day before yesterday.
This post is going to be about my state of mind during the process of turning 21.

11th of September

11:00: I really don’t want it turn 12:00 midnight.
15:00: I wonder if anyone will come to wish me.
16:00: I hope people will forget.
16:30: I think I should figure out something nice to wear.
18:00: I’m growing old!!!
19:30: I am not so old yet, but I am looking older already!
23:00: Time, please stop!
23:30: Wow! They seemed to have remembered. I have been kicked out of my room. This is wonderful.
23:59: All right, let’s just get the damn day over with.

12th of September

00:03: Answering calls is stupid when you still have not been allowed inside your room.
00:10: Finally!! WOW! This is beautiful…
00:12: Is that my cake? Why does it have ‘sexy’ written on it? Nice joke!
00:13: Eww!!! I hate it when people sing this… my name just doesn’t fit in!
00:20: Tasty cake though.
00:40: Make use of the day. Get friends to sing and dance for me!
00:45: Bad idea!
1:00: Get kicked in the ass.
1:30: I hate birthdays.
1:40: Damn! I have to wake up early tomorrow.
2:00: “Hi Mom, yes it is my birthday. Thank you. I’ll be a good girl. Bye.”
Copy and paste the same for dad, two elder sisters, brother in law, friends, ex boy friends, strangers and idiots.
3:30: I think I should jus stay up the whole night… Zzzzz… snore.
6:30: WTF!!! ‘Why you waking me up at this hour, bitch?! ... Oh… ok, thanks… bye.’
7:30: Why god, why…
8:00: ‘oh is it your birthday today? – Yes – happy birthday – thanks…!’
Copy and paste the same till 16:00 along with thoughts of getting swallowed into the depths of Marianna trench (if you have seen Ally Mcbeal you would understand what exactly I mean)16:15: have to go for movie at 19:00. Do something till then… Zzzzz… snore.
19:15: Nice - Movie down the drain.
19:30: Friends all busy. One friend is jobless. Go for a drive.
21:00: I’m hungry. Can a drive become dinner?
21:05: I will not make it back before hostel curfew at 21:30. Screw it.
21:40: Happy… very happy.
21:55: Still in senses.
22:20: ‘I’m sorry I’m late Ma’am’
‘Oh it’s ok, dear’
Wtf! She is supposed to get angry at me! I broke a rule! Well, nevermind…
23:00: Almost over. One more hour and I am freaking running on 22…
23:45: ‘yea dad… I know I was born at 23:45… thank you… I’m going to sleep… love you, goodnight.’
23:50: My family is amazing.

13th of September

00:10: Talk bullshit with a friend… what bullshit I have no idea.
2:00: Should I post anything? Zzzzz… snore.
8:45: Head hurts – Shit! Clinical posting – Head hurts more.
9:00 to 16:00: the usual.
16:05: Friend: ‘Hey I found the phone you lost one month back in my car!’
Me: ‘OMG!! Are you kidding?’
Friend: ‘No really. The servicing guys got it. By the way, Happy belated birthday!’ Hmmm being 21 is not so bad.
16:30: I should go for that movie.
22:00: Nice movie. Not bad. Missed dinner – depressed.
23:00: Should I post today? … Zzzzz… snore.

14th of September

11:00: Shit! Why did she not wake me up for posting!!!
Oh… it is Sunday.
14:00: I want to go to the beach. Get dressed quickly.
14:15: Me: Hey you want to go to the beach, I’m dressed. We can leave right away.
Friend: Riots in Mangalore, idiot!! Did you not hear the announcement at 8:00? We are confined to hostel.
Me: 8:00? Who wakes up at 8:00? Nice.
15:00: Should I post today? Ok, I think I should.

Being 21 is not so bad.
The day after 21 is pretty much the same as the day before 21.

Lost

2008-09-10T20:33:00.003+05:30

Today is the 10th of September.
I just realised that.
I also realised from the dates shown in my blog that I started blogging on 10th of August.
I then realised that this is my 30th post.
After all these realisations I am in awe that I have been (taking an average) posting everyday!
And I thought I wouldn’t have anything to blog about! Ha! - Misconception.

But this post is not about how wonderful a blogger I am – it is about how I almost always manage to get myself lost.

My sense of direction… well, I don’t have much of a sense of direction.
Tell me about a place I have been to and my imagination starts working:
- I can tell you how the place looks
- I can tell you how the place smells
- I can tell you how the place feels
- I can tell you how the place sounds
- I can tell you how the place tastes (wtf?!)
- But I can never, never-ever, never-ever-ever tell you how to get there unless it is within my line of sight (and I am short sighted!)

I have gotten lost more than a million times – and that is not an exaggerated statement. Some of my visits to the ‘lost land’ have been more memorable than others.

Two years ago:
It was my second day of clinical posting in the District Government Hospital. On my first day I had been asked to leave since I got late. The reason for being late was surprisingly not because I had overslept. It was because the goddamn hospital was a maze!!! I had spent half an hour trying to find the ward I was posted in. This was why I was late; this was why I had gotten ‘kicked out’ of class. But on the second day I was determined to get it right. I knew where I had to go. I knew everything about the ward, except how to get there. I started off on my ‘amazing race’ one hour in advance. I asked for help from every second person I saw – which resulted in me changing my direction after every second step I took. After half an hour (not exaggerated) I realised two things:
1) I was going in circles because I passed the same stupid board in some godforsaken language at least ten times!
2) I looked like I just got off a three hour tiring workout.
I sat. I sat for 15 minutes hoping the ward would jus appear in front of me. I sat hoping I could just tell something funny and be transported to where I was supposed to be.
And then it happened.
I saw a friend!
She took me by hand and dropped me off at my posting – my guardian angel!
She did that for all 45 days of my posting in that ward.
And believe me I still do not know how to get there!

One year ago:
We were at an inter college competition in CMC, Vellore.
We included eight guys from my college and me.
I overslept on the second day. I had to get to a competition I was supposed to participate in at 9:30 am. It was 8:30 am when I woke up. I got out of my temporary abode before 9:00, now I had to find where the auditorium was.
I walked and walked and walked.
I searched and searched and searched.
Finally I got to the canteen – time for breakfast!
I had breakfast and bumped into a fellow college mate. If there is one person on Earth who has a worse sense of direction than me – it’s him.
It was 9:30 am already, but since all the events always began late, we had time.
We started walking in circles and we knew we were walking in circles, but we didn’t have a choice. We even considered getting a spool of thread to mark where we are going, but then since we were going in circles we decided it wouldn’t really help.
Finally we asked a volunteer (they were a scarce race!) where the auditorium was. Turned out to be the big building we were walking around for the past half an hour.
We never talked about this incident much after that.

Today:
My friends have all gone home – thanks to the festival called Onam. I had to get work done. I had to get some cloth and then go to the tailor. I knew exactly where to I had to go. I started walking at 4:30 pm.
I walked to the cloth store – that is when it all started going wrong.
They did not have what I wanted. They always do – but today, when I am walking alone, they don’t!
I ask them where I can get what I need and walk on. Fifteen minutes at a brisk pace and I am not entirely sure where I am. Then all hell broke loose.
It started raining.
It started raining cats and dogs. I walked almost completely drenching myself before I found shelter. And all I could think all along was about the three colourful, beautiful umbrellas in my room – bought one every year in Mangalore, used none till date.
Once the rain stopped I noticed I was in a cloth shop – yes, it took me that long to realise it. I asked them what I wanted and they had it. I bought it.
And surprise!! Two of my college mates come along. I talk to them for ten minutes (at least five minutes person) and I walk on. It took me another five minutes to remember I was lost and by then it was too late – I couldn’t find the cloth shop or my college mates anywhere. I cursed myself for not asking them, when I could, where in the world I was!!! I remember taking a lot of turns and finally I just stopped trying.
I decided I had reached ‘lost land’, again.
I walked to an auto rickshaw told where I wanted to go. Barely a minute in the rickshaw and I reach. 13 bloody rupees (minimum charge in Mangalore) down the drain thanks to my sense of direction. I went to the tailor and walked back.
I didn’t lose my way.

I’m tired now.
I am tired after walking the distance of almost the whole of Karnataka in a 10 metre radius.
I am tired of me being lost almost every time I try not to be.
I am tired of my lamentable sense of direction which always seems to take me in circles.

Conclusion:
I have now decided to always take the path which I think wrong, maybe then I’ll reach somewhere!

The pig sty

2008-09-10T01:19:00.002+05:30

I am not obsessed with cleanliness.
I do not clean my room every second of every minute of every day.
My clothes are always scattered all over the room.
But I could never survive for a second, let alone live in a pig sty.
This post is about how weird my thoughts about cleanliness can get.
Brace yourselves.

My hallucinations about multi coloured micro organisms began long ago.
I think cartoon network should take the blame for this.

1) My palms and feet sweat – been like that ever since I came to know where my palms and feet are. The slightest bit of dirt on my feet brings on the hallucinations - Purple plus orange coloured microbes with spades and shovels versus red plus green coloured microbes with swords and shields on my feet – WAR!!
Ever since the hallucinations began I hate walking on sand. I don’t really mind the monsoon though – it’s wet, the microbes drown.

2) I hate people who sit on my pillow or put their foot on my bed. Brown plus green microbes and pink coloured worm like stuff from their asses on to my pillow – the pillow on which my face rests when I go to sleep – eww!!! And as far as the feet are concerned I have already mentioned the microbes involved.

3) Earrings – I avoid them when possible. I imagine the microbes (silvery white this time) crawling through the earrings into my ear, especially if they are not my earrings. What is even weirder is that I do not have the same problem with my nose piercing – it is like my nose has a defence system against the silvery white bloody crawlers but my poor ears do not.

4) Transparent microbes on bar soaps – started after a single thought: the same bar of soap cleans every part of the human body, every part. Ever since then it has been shower gel for me.

Well I always thought my hallucinations were pretty normal until I discussed the hygiene aspect of the process of micturition (peeing) with a friend. The discussion ended with me deciding I would wash my bladder whenever possible (if I could). This seemed slightly beyond the range of normality – then.

I still think my obsession is normal – it is just that you do not think about my thoughts, I do.
As for living in a pig sty – I don’t want to start imagining the multi coloured microbes.

My haven is always a mess, the difference being it is a clean mess.
Does that make sense?

Dos and Don'ts

2008-09-09T11:18:00.006+05:30

Every relationship comes to an end.
Some end faster than others.
Some end more bitter than others.
Some, well, they just end.

I decided to post on the dos and don’ts of any relationship (wtf?!), which at least one among the partners, unmistakably, preaches – making life more difficult than difficult for everyone, especially the other partner.

Males are different from females – more different than you can imagine but at the same time more similar than what would be considered healthy.
Unfortunately for me, I have some sort of power (which I’m not too proud of) to think both ways (which always ends up in me not thinking at all).
I shall be mentioning the preaching of the two sexes separately.

FEMALES - (Ladies first – wtf?!)

Dos:
1) Think about me every second of your life – easy for the jobless to say.
2) Send me flowers everyday – why don’t you start gardening?
3) Look into my eyes and tell me I’m the most beautiful lady on earth every day – this one is really tough, takes practice!
4) Be extremely hygienic – I agree with this one (shall explain in the next post).
5) I shall be your first, second, third… hundredth… millionth and only priority in life – get a life, lady!!!

Don’ts:
1) Do not smoke unless I’m a smoker – it is apparently bad for health only if the lady doesn’t smoke.
2) Do not drink too much which later on proceeds to do not drink – apparently you talk gibberish once you are drunk (note: the gibberish was called cute once upon a time)
3) Do not listen to any other female – especially your mother! No comments.
4) Do not take any decision in your life without discussing with me and doing exactly what I think is right for you – this leads to no decision being taken, most of the time.
5) Do not have too many friends – do not have a life, in short.

MALES – (I’m so enjoying this!)

Dos:
1) Clean my mess – which is equivalent to cleaning a pig sty.
2) Treat me like king – delusion of grandeur, every man suffers from it!
3) Cook for me, good food 24*7 – get a chef for a wife!
4) Laugh at my stupid jokes – this gets so boring after a while.
5) Remain perfect bodied even if my six pack becomes ten flab – WTF?!

Don’ts:
1) Never remind me of any date that may be special – I, unfortunately, completely agree with this.
2) Do not discuss tomorrow. Live today – this is when tomorrow becomes a question.
3) Do not tell me what to do. I am rarely wrong. I know what is to be done – delusion of grandeur again.
4) Do not question my dealings with other women, but you shall not talk ‘too much’ to any other man – how much is too much?!!
5) Do not take me shopping. Ill bicker and rant like a two year old – even if it is for him!!

Well the list is never ending – in both the cases, and may be subject to a little rearrangement in the case of 'the confused'.
I am not adding more to the list than what I have mentioned – not because I can’t – but because this double sex role play is giving me a head ache.

Stop preaching, you are not enlightened enough for doing so!

Beyond reason

2008-09-08T03:16:00.003+05:30

Somebody once told me the difference between want and need. I do not completely agree with what the person told but it did make me think.
It made me think.

When you know the reason why, it is a want and when you can not understand why, no matter how hard you try, it is a need.

Beyond reason – that is need.

I need food – not to keep me alive.
If it were to keep me alive it would be a want.
I need food because I need it.

I need to be loved – not because I love the feeling.
If it were because I love the feeling it would be a want.
I need to be loved because I need it.

I need to type out this post – not because I have something substantial to enlighten you with.
If it were so it would be a want.
I need to type out this post because I need it.

I need sleep – not because it makes me feel well rested (it never does).
I need sleep because I need it.

A need is always something that cannot be satisfied.
I can never be satisfied with food – I know that!
I can never be satisfied being loved – nobody can.
I can never be satisfied typing out this post – no comments.
I can never be satisfied no matter how much I sleep – I just wake up sleepier.
A need can make you happy, but never satisfied.
(Read my first post)

Then why do we need?
A need is what we need to stay alive.
Everything in life cannot be explained.
If it could be then there wouldn’t be stupid, unanswered questions like ‘why did the chicken cross the road’ and ‘which came first - the chicken or the egg’.

Life is full of needs, needs are what keeps us alive.
Something to live for, something to need, beyond reason – that is what makes us wake up every morning.
It is the need to need that makes every morning worth waking up for – not love, not food, not this stupid post, not sleep.

I need to find out how to stop needing.
Once you stop needing, you stop living.

Think about what you need.

I need to find nowhere.
(Read my post ‘Going nowhere’)

Babies

2008-09-07T16:07:00.003+05:30

This is a controversial post.
Please note - what I type out here are my thoughts on the topic.
If you have any thoughts on the same, write it on your own blog.
If you disagree with me on any fact to be mentioned below – comment.
I shall entertain the idea of entertaining your disagreement.

I am not too fond of babies.

Every single time I have stated the above, I have had to deal with the following:
1) A long, boring monologue on why babies are a symbol of innocence, purity and everything good that exists or is believed to exist on Earth.
2) A cold, reprimanding look which tries to force the words ‘oh! I am wrong’ out of my sealed mouth.
3) ‘Are you crazy?’ – I’m not entirely sure how to respond to this question.
4) ‘How can you say such a horrendous, inhuman thing?’ – Well, I just did! Maybe you should try next! It is pretty simple to say if you know a funny language called English.
5) ‘You just think it is cool to say so.’ – is it cool? I had no idea!!!
6) And the worst of all - ‘You will grow out of it eventually.’ I hope not.

Almost every person I have come across thinks babies are lovely.
Every female I know wants to become a baby producing machine some day.
In this post I’m going to prove and rest my case on why I am not too fond of babies.

Making them is a Herculean task.

- It is either when you least want it or after nights of toiling hard (forgive the pun) that you finally get it right/wrong.
- 280 days of misery follows during which these ‘babies’ survive as parasites. In addition, you have to deal with a big belly which restricts every possible normal human activity: standing, sleeping, eating, peeing, sitting, shitting – everything.
- 12 hours of pain struggling to get the damn thing out of you. This pain (from what I have seen) is beyond my limited vocabulary, but bears a close resemblance to the torture in Nazi concentration camps.
- Baby comes into being. Slimy, dirty, monkey-faced baby comes into being.

Amusing them is, again, pure torture.

- They cry all the time.
- They either cry or sleep or are hungry.
- They cry for everything, you don’t realize what they want.
- They are stupid.
- All they care about is their wants. Others’ schedules take a backseat.
- They are selfish.
- They are not as innocent as they seem: they know what they essentially need to survive and go to great lengths to get whatever it is that they want, at any cost.
- They have no manners.
- They expect us to clean their mess.
- They just make stupid noises and think they can have their way.
- They love the attention!

And they are supposed to be cute.
Read my post again, with an adult human taking the place of the baby.
Does the human being cute justify these atrocities?
It doesn’t as far as I am concerned.

I am not too fond of babies.

What a day!

2008-09-05T22:59:00.004+05:30

This day is not today.
It was a few days back.
For several moments during the course of the day I was under the misconception that this was the worst day of my life, but it kept getting worse.
I am absolutely in no doubt that worse days are to come, sooner rather than later.
Here goes:

For the past few days I am fasting. This is as a part of my annual cleansing therapy – mental and physical. This fast requires me to wake up before sunrise to eat after which I eat/drink only after sunset.
Temptations taunt most when you are most likely to be tempted.

- The day before had ended late. Thanks to my internet connection not working I was on my phone for three hours continuously and slept peacefully ignorant of what awaits me.

- I woke up at 8:40 am to realise two disturbing facts:
1) I had missed my daily uptake of nutrition before sunrise.
2) I had exactly 30 minutes to get my ass down at clinical posting failing which I would end up adding 6 more months of unbearable torture to my academic life – thanks to my commendable status of attendance.

- My toothpaste had gotten over. A little bit of blue goo was all I asked for, just so that I wouldn’t have to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the day. Three heroes came to the rescue of the damsel in distress:
1) Hero number one: My teeth. The hero struggled against the unyielding plastic tube. The hero failed miserably and managed to present me with a head splitting toothache.
2) Hero number two: My ass. I sat on the damn thing hoping to get some blue goo out of the damn tube. Hero number two failed miserably after several attempts.
3) Hero number three: Pair of scissors. I cut the tube open and in the process cut a bit of my finger too. Hero number three succeeded taking a bit of my finger as reward.
I brushed with a mixture of blue goo toothpaste and blood.
It was disgusting.

- I reached for clinical posting on time – wow! Class went on forever. My stomach started growling ferociously and I started hallucinating about food – visual, auditory, tactile and gustatory hallucinations. I sat down unable to bear the burden of my hallucinations. I forced myself not to fall prey to temptation. I am not supposed to feel hungry nor am I to voice my woe. Class ended without me realising what it was about – attendance was given to all - I walked back to hostel wondering why this never happened when I am absent.

- I felt like blogging. My bloody internet connection was still in a state of defiance.
I slept – frustrated because I wanted to blog.
I started this blog so that I could vent my frustrations and here it was leading me into frustration.
My frustrated life!

- I went for class half awake. Almost fell into a ditch on the way, thanks to the innumerable number of times they renovate roads in Mangalore – reached, still half awake and unhurt.
The class was boring – as usual.

- I decided to get my net working again. I decided to walk 2 kms to my service provider.
I walked, walked and walked.
The customer service counter was empty.
The sales counter had a female with an artificial smile behind it.
The payment counter had a female with an ‘I don’t know how I got here’ expression behind it.
I went to the sales counter and tried explaining my problem.
She told me to go to the payment counter.
I went to the payment counter and tried explaining my problem.
She told me to go to the customer care counter.
I went to the customer care counter and waited.
I waited.
Finally, a lady with an ‘I hate you for disturbing me’ expression asks me what my complaint is.
I explain.
She starts telling me about all the new offers available.
After a minute of hearing what she had to say, I got the feeling she would not stop. I interrupted her monologue to explain my problem again. She told me to wait for ‘Madam’.
So I waited.
After half an hour of waiting the monologue lady takes me to an ‘I think I am a stud’.
I wonder if he is ‘Madam’ and why he is called ‘Madam’.
Anyway I explain my problem to him.
He tells me he needs to have a look at my modem.
I tell him I have a wireless connection.
He starts explaining why he can’t do anything without having a look at my modem.
I tell him I have a wireless connection.
He tells me he can help only if I bring my modem.
I tell him I have a wireless connection.
Finally I get the message across and he tells me they do not deal with wireless connections there and that I should contact my college computer authority. And then he asks my name. I entertained two thoughts:
1) to walk away
2) to tell him to get a life and walk away
I walked away.
I was too tired already.
I walked, walked and walked.
I reached college and enquired about the connection problem at the computer department. I got a phone number in return. The phone number was to help me in case I had any trouble.

- I reached hostel, almost falling into a ditch again.
I switch on my computer.
My net is working.
Two hours of patience flushed down a dirty toilet!

- I start blogging. I forget about time.
I start chatting. I forget about time.
At 9:00 pm I realise I haven’t eaten anything. And I’m supposed to be a glutton – almost.
I eat, eat and eat.
I fall asleep on my laptop to wake up at 8:30 am to realise three very disturbing facts:
1) I slept with my lenses on and now they’re stuck to my eyes.
2) I missed my daily uptake of nutrition before sunrise – again.
3) I have exactly 40 minutes to get to clinical posting.

Life – no comments.

Social norms

2008-09-04T18:26:00.004+05:30

Social norms: normal according to the society - that is what I infer the meaning to be.

The question is who decides what is normal?
Is it the society which decides normality?
Is the society normal to decide normality?
Isn’t an abnormal person a part of the society too?
Does an abnormal person in a society decide what is normal?
Won’t an abnormal person deduce his actions to be normal?

Conclusion being:
The society which includes many abnormal people decide what is normal according to them and term it as social norms, resulting in social norms being not so normal after all.

Not too long ago, at a party where everybody was having fun, somebody seemed very perturbed. Myself being a very concerned and sympathetic (in short, nosy) soul decided to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was bothering somebody.
I followed somebody’s line of sight and, behold, there lay the cause of somebody’s aloofness – a mass of two bodies, one distinctly female and the other male, the proximity… umm… let’s just say one couldn’t make out where the female ended or where the male began, they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying each other’s closer than close proximity.
I asked somebody what was it about the mass of two bodies that was truly bothering him. He replies, it is not within the social norms to act so. I ask would it be within the social norms if you were the male body in the mass of two bodies. He replies with a rather surprising question – ‘who would the female be?’
Social norms – it is just sour grapes, almost always.

Long ago, at another party (parties are very enlightening) my aunt told me good girls never drink too much. I ask her why. She replies, it is not within the social norms to do so. I wonder for a long time and ask - how much is too much. She tells me to go play with the other kids as is suitable for my age and stop disturbing her with unnecessary, childish questions - basically, she told me to fuck off. I know for sure my question was not childish because I am 21 years old now, not a child anymore and I still don’t know how much is too much - according to social norms.
Social norms – it is fictional, almost always.

So, next time anybody tells you to act like an adult would within social norms, tell them to fuck off – because basically they are delusional, frustrated idiots.

Four words

2008-09-01T13:37:00.002+05:30

I hate the word procrastination.
- I procrastinate when I’m in doubt – which forces me to think. I hate thinking and hence I hate procrastinating.
- The word as such is a bit difficult for me. PROCRASTINATE – I always have a problem with the second ‘R’ and the ‘N’.
- For reasons beyond perception, the word reminds me of castration – which is not very nice. Procrastinate… procastrate… (?)
As I mentioned – reasons beyond my perception.

I have been procrastinating.
The procrastination was not due to the topic at hand.
The procrastination was because I was unsure whether I know.

I was unsure whether I am proficient enough to write this post.
Only one who is able enough to fathom the reason can afford reasoning.
I was unsure of my ability to comprehend the reason.

There are only four things that humans crave for.
There are only four, very similar nouns that humans live for.
Four nouns which when expressed with a couple of adjectives makes a person’s day.
These four nouns are terrible words according to me, not one is beautiful.
They all sound superficial.

Approval.
Acceptance.
Appreciation.
Admiration.

Every task when undertaken is with only these four aims in mind.
Imagine:
Mr. Uterus started conceiving (blogging) today.
He sheds blood, sweat and tears trying to make his offspring (blog) look appropriate.
He revises a million times before delivering (posting) his baby (post).
He thinks it is the most beautiful piece of work ever created.
But does that matter much to Mr. Uterus?

He wants to see whether his friends approve of his offspring (blog).
He wants to know if his offspring is worthy of approval.
He gets it.
The offspring (blog) is Approved to be called an offspring (blog).
But does that matter much to Mr. Uterus?

Mr Uterus starts conceiving (blogging) more because he likes the idea of his offspring (blog) being approved.
He wants to be accepted by everyone as a true Uterus! (blogger) - One who is worthy of being Accepted for who he is and not just another ordinary person.
He gets it.
The offspring (blog) is accepted into the brethren of millions of offsprings (blogs) all over the world and acquires its share of loyal friends (visitors).
But does that matter much to Mr. Uterus?

After being accepted he wants the loyal friends (visitors) to pour out their hormones (comments) so that his offspring and indirectly he can swell in the appreciation.
So, the loyal friends (visitors) pour out their hormones (comments) to make Mr. Uterus feel Appreciated.
But does that matter much to Mr. Uterus?

He wants others to want to be like him. He wants others to wish they could deliver (post) offsprings (blogs) like his.
The pompous ass, Mr. Uterus, wants to be Admired.
And finally, he gets that too.
But does that matter much to Mr. Uterus?
Does it?

Every man whether crawling, walking or barely standing strives for these four things.

I am not different.
I realised this when one of my loyal friends (visitors) called my offspring (blog) a bulletin board.
– It always shows things that either people already know about or don’t care about.

This thought lead to the procrastination.
My offspring (blog) being called a bulletin board was not Approval, nor was it Acceptance; it was not Appreciation and most definitely not Admiration.
So, Mr. Uterus' blood, sweat and tears seem to go down the drain.
But then I broke free and realised true purpose - beyond those four words.
Now it is over – the procrastination.

My offspring (blog) maybe a bulletin board
- But remember, a bulletin board can always say ‘I told you so’.
And I conceive (blog) only for that.
- So that when you fall flat on your face, I can laugh at you and say
‘I told you so!’

Speech

2008-08-29T21:14:00.009+05:30

Speech is a wonderful gift.
But more often than never it can be a bane in the guise of a boon.
There are so many monstrous villains out in the wild waiting for naive prey and speech is one among the most fearsome.

Now, this requires a bit of imagination –
Every word you speak is a monster – terrible, ugly monster breathing fire. This monster once out of your mouth can go either way:
- It can breathe fire into the person you are addressing, or
- It can turn around and breathe fire back at you.
Every single word is a monster.

I often wonder why parents jump with joy at nonsensical monosyllables mouthed by infants – “Ma”, “Pa”, “Ga”, “Gu”… wtf?
And then it goes on to become “Mama”, “Papa”, “Gaga”, “Gugu”… wtf?
And ultimately it becomes “Get your fucking ass out of my room, you old hag!”...WTF?!

Don’t they realize it is this same gift which made them weep tears of joy today that will make them weep tears of sorrow tomorrow? (sob!)

Actions speak louder than words -
I honestly believe words carve the way for actions.
Without words actions wouldn’t hold their value.
I think Mohammad Ali’s confident words defeated more number of boxers than his boxing skills.
It is all about the way you hold your head high, look straight into the eyes of the opponent, meet the challenge and speak as if there is no tomorrow – this, my friends, is the only solution for a viva you haven’t prepared shit for.

But words can do harm.
Since the tongue is almost always wet it slips quite often.
And a slip of the tongue, well ouch! - can hurt real badly.
Ever wondered how to keep the tongue from slipping?
Well some may say keeping the damn thing dry will avoid the slipping.
– I don’t think that is a reasonable solution though.
Imagine wiping your tongue dry every minute – not only is it disgusting but it is also tiresome.
So the solution is to keep your mouth shut unless it is absolutely mandatory you open it. This means:
1) no mouthing allowed
2) no undue facial expressions allowed
3) no whispering allowed
4) no giggling, whatsoever, allowed
5) no speech without thought allowed
6) And most importantly - stifle the yawns!
This should keep the tongue from slipping unnecessarily.

A slip of the tongue is still tolerable.
What is totally unnerving is a person who talks gibberish
– Blabber mouths I call them.
They just keep on talking without the slightest consideration about the person listening to them. Blabber away about what they did, where they went, when they went, who they met, how they met, why they met, which meeting of theirs was special, why it was special, how it was special, blabber, blabber, blabber.
And then the listener becomes an infant – voicing only monosyllables.

I, for sure, know I will never blabber in my life.
You blabber only when you are desperate.
You are desperate only when you want.
You want only when you think you don’t have.
You think you don’t have only when u meet someone who does.
I haven’t met anyone like that so far.

So don’t blabber and make yourself look desperate.
Think less.
Speak lesser.
Get the message across.
Don’t let the monster turn back and breathe fire at you!
Save yourself.