tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90793016894578416492024-03-14T10:11:10.002+05:30Kori PaatiIn the process of knowing Myself through words. My words.
...because somewhere, I know, I am Better than I think I am.Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-13847266555778535052014-07-27T02:33:00.000+05:302014-07-27T02:41:49.809+05:30A shameless meateater <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I didn't know being a vegetarian was a big thing or rather being a non-vegetarian was an awfully bigger thing until I joined a hospital that has strict policies...policies that go beyond my capacity of understanding the difference between the two.<br />
<br />
The more I think about it the more I laugh about the hypocrisy of a vegetarian.<br />
At this point, am sure, I don't need to explain that I am a pure non-vegetarian and that I think there is no difference between uprooting spinach and fishing.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7C8Gp3r-ls/U9QZYNX_5FI/AAAAAAAAAxo/zq75YRmNq4M/s1600/88795393.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7C8Gp3r-ls/U9QZYNX_5FI/AAAAAAAAAxo/zq75YRmNq4M/s1600/88795393.jpg" height="172" width="320" /></a>Well, I don't recall saying it to any veggie sitting beside me at a lunch , " Oh my god, look at the slice of potatoes in your plate! How can you do that to a living plant!"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yess, fellow meat eaters I know that you know what I mean. We've heard that. We've been criticized for, looked down upon and even banned from eating good , nutritious food. Phew.<br />
<br />
They say meat makes you angry and aggressive...etc etc and crap. In my defense, I would like to say being a plant hogger makes you narrow minded, self- centered, and absolutely intolerant and it hampers your ability to decide between right and wrong.<br />
<br />
Let's look at it. Firstly, eat what is in your plate. I don't peep into how ruthlessly you have cooked or overcooked your vegetable, then don't look in mine. Simple. I don't ban you from anywhere.I respect your choice of using potatoes as an accompaniment of anything and everything that you get your hands on.<br />
<br />
Alu-palak, alu bhendi, alu-matar, alu-tamatar, alu gobi, alu chana, alu simla.<br />
Ohkay.<br />
<br />
Lastly, just because 60% of Indians are vegetarian does not mean we, the rest 40% are criminals. Coz in that sense, you might still loose looking at statistics worldwide.<br />
<br />
And...it all comes down to taste buds....So the magic of burnt, beaten, smothered baigan as a bharta appeals as much as a simple boiled chicken with it's stock! So deal with it. Period.<br />
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Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-42447438029344667252013-08-22T01:12:00.000+05:302013-08-22T01:29:20.178+05:30He left.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I met Enthusiasm the other day. I immediately took his measurements: I circled him. I measured his height, his strong wrists, his elegantly sloped shoulders. He was looking down on me carefully, attentively studying my eyes, my pursed lips and inquisitive hands.<br />
He stood very still as I worked.<br />
<br />
I finished. A little embarrassed.<br />
<br />
Enthusiasm shook his head, smiled. His face formed one of the best curves I've ever seen. Beneath his eyes formed tiny plum veins. He reached out and circled his arms around me. He said nothing. I had the sense he had seen it before: people unwilling to let go off what was gone.<br />
<br />
All I could think of was he is leaving. I know he is. Where, I didn't say.<br />
I guess when you are screwed over and over again, it numbs you on such a level that the moment you feel incredibly happy, you are very sure it slips right through your fingers. It's not even about being screwed in the first place. People are good to me, have been great in the past but it's the end that leaves it's impact. In a strange way, in different ways I must say, they all leave, giving me words of comfort and encouragement and love, they all leave. I'm independent and strong, I know, but standing there, looking in Enthusiasms' eyes my brain was racing around.<br />
Things I couldn't remember loosing. Things I had missed all my life.<br />
<br />
Let's switch places. Let's switch lives, I wanted to say. Enthusiasm raised an eyebrow.<br />
The touch of his hands on my back, tensed me. He was infectious, I thought. I wanted to be better, I wanted to survive better, I wanted 1% of him. And I wanted all this without having to use words, without begging him to tell me how to be better, without having to tell him anything.<br />
<br />
And I had the strangest feeling of him creeping in through my skin on the back. The world was going blue from black. The curves on my face were changing directions. It felt safe to voice the words my brain was forming. He peeled away hundreds of layers on me like onion skins.<br />
Not alchemy, I thought it was, but close. Close.<br />
<br />
Classifying problems is endless and unyielding. How are we to gauge? And there are so many stories. Just so freakin' many of them. Feeling his warm breath against the skin of my face, I could feel the old records being purged. It's surprising how someone so unfamiliar, so far away can hurl you up. It's strange how sometimes, someone doesn't make you want him, instead make you want to Be him. And it's equally weird how sometimes, some stories that you stack in the different drawers of your brain and forget, you finally hold in your hands, waiting to be heard.<br />
<br />
<br />
Before he let himself out, Enthusiasm brushed my cheek lightly with the back of his hand- making me aware of his presence in that particular moment, bringing me back from my world of thoughts, and assuring me that he heard everything I did not say.... That I could walk down barefoot someday, along a dirt drive in life, up to him, and he will still be there.<br />
<br />
.....and he left.</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-9698540681577177022013-07-10T01:03:00.000+05:302013-07-10T01:03:04.450+05:30De-skinned <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #990000;">It is easy to dream of another world. </span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">One far beneath this one, so far that the waters ran clear, where I would not be able hear music, nor see an empty face ever again. I don't get much time to day dream but I do it every chance I get. </span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The time between you wake up from bed and are awake to know it's another morning already, those few moments....I close the doors of my mind as not to allow any part of the real world to follow in.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br />And then the day begins.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgyD9cvbafY/UdxjuhbMzoI/AAAAAAAAAkc/Nh51Es2dgXc/s1600/219817_206130639407286_4416965_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tgyD9cvbafY/UdxjuhbMzoI/AAAAAAAAAkc/Nh51Es2dgXc/s320/219817_206130639407286_4416965_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #990000;">Generally we cannot know for sure whether it is a good thing or not to speak of that banished thing, something that we do alone or something that we do habitually, unknowingly.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br />What actually takes place is walking together on great boulevards telling each other our locust memories, walk like dry cobs stirring the nostalgia, speaking that urban-rural language, of baked breads and treating each other for minor ailments, of the best moments with friends and more.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br />....what is left behind, what goes unsaid, what is appropriate is to just consider and not put to words, is the real world, those are the real feelings with a firmness capable of more and more. </span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">We exist each other and the whole becomes one single thing. </span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"> We love so many things. And so many people. That at the end, we know that is what is killing us, hurts us on a level where talking about an erroneous calendar of the love made day and night and evenings and some mornings, or rusted iron poles of the swing or talking about being eaten up by mosquitoes in an area of total transparency, is way more simple.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br />Because now we know, now we've realized, now we've learnt by someone else's bitter example, now our life has set one more example telling us, that everything we love kills us.</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">Without nothing. Paradoxically.</span></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-66146316960844059302013-06-24T00:23:00.002+05:302013-06-24T00:24:17.770+05:30Rinok<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was walking down the market near my hostel back in Kazan. Few people, dark evening sky, crisp chilly weather. I knew in the back of my head that my roomie was with me, somewhere in the market. I was looking at the prices all around. I stopped at a shop and asked for the usual vegetables they sell: peppers, garlic, onions, carrots. While he was taking an awfully long time to weigh and stuff, I looked around for my roomie and I actually saw her facing away from me, in her black jacket and cream colored head scarf. And then I looked at myself to notice that i am wearing a sleeveless top...which was so inappropriate for the winter. I stood there wondering what I was doing there....<br />
<div>
And ..............zzzzzoooop. </div>
<div>
The dream ended. I woke up.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So that was the dream I had last night.</div>
<div>
<br />
I have the weirdest dreams. Falling from a cliff, being stabbed, having kids I don't know about. They are not only weird in content. They are sometimes black and white, sometimes mute, at times I am a third person.<br />
Sometimes they are like a movie! And the best part is, I remember every damn thing the next morning.<br />
<br />
The weird thing about this dream, apart from my clothes of course, was that everything about the dream was actually perfect. Everything, every lil detail that I recall, was what I experienced in reality almost 2 years ago or before.<br />
My dream was a strong fragment of my memory. This lil act of buying groceries was so perfectly molded in my memory that it popped out of nowhere, to give me a detour, in the form of a dream.<br />
<br />
I might be obsessing over my dreams. But I really want them to mean something. I mean I won't have such detailed dreams over nothing, would I?</div>
</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-6823738316008931622013-06-20T23:47:00.001+05:302013-06-20T23:55:01.957+05:30Food IN thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Writing makes me happy and I haven't written in a long
time. I'm not saying I'm not happy, I'm saying I don't have an inspiration. An
inspiration to be happy. To be in that state of mind. It comes and goes. I
might be Bipolar. Or maybe I'm just the person who let's the things around me
affect me to an extent that I have to take it out on people who don't deserve
it.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Sometimes I wish Happiness, if being a state of mind ,
should be independent and voluntary.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Okay that was shitty philosophical. And I don't believe
you even wasted your time reading it!</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
So when I am feeling low,...I err...have this urge to eat. Or talk. Or I am
just plain angry. At about everything in my way....something like, you sneeze
and I'll accuse you of giving me tuberculosis.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Yea, I'm that weird. =/</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
So to keep me and my craziness going, I went to the supermarket last evening.
They say you get EVERYTHING you need there. Yet I end up buying everything I
don't. Every single time.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
I walked down through the narrow aisles when suddenly a box of chocolates stare
at me. As I stand there I was trying to recall when the last time was that I
let a chocolate melt in my mouth. I guess it was women's day. Or not.
Delusions.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
So here I am, in a supermarket, staring at the sweets, with “shame eyes”
because I am trying to be healthy. What if I just ate one box, for chubby kid
times sake? If I don’t post it on Facebook, it’s like it never really happened,
right?</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';">I
look at the ingredients: Milk chocolate (sugar, cocoa butter, milk, chocolate,
soy lecithin, vanilla), roasted nuts.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Perhaps they maybe healthy after all. I mean, they
contain soy, which is a healthy vegetarian food, right? And Lecithin..I am
scratching my head because I know what it means. Or I did. My MCQ trained brain
was trying to rule out the options. “Lecithin” contains the word “thin.” Should
be healthy, right?<br />
Plus, the box had like an entire 100 bucks off!</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
My shame eyes become “Google eyes.” Lecithin is an oily substance found in the
cells of plants and animals. Lecithin emulsifies: it helps bind water and fat,
oil and vinegar. It keeps chocolate creamy and even extends its shelf life.
That's what the first link on my cell said!</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"><br />
"No Rashmi. NO!"</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
So I turn away from possibly healthy chocolates and, out of the corner of the
eyes I spot Little hearts. My another favorite sweet, heart shaped, perfectly
named, crispy biscuits...that melt in mouth. Never for me. But the packet says
so.<br />
Forgive me. Carbohydrates – 71 gm </span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">
Protein – 7 gm<br />
Fat – 18
gm<br />
Energy –
474 kcal [but who cares!]<br />
With
traces of vitamins & minerals </span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">Dejectedly, I put the bag back. I look around and try
to digest the shelves upon shelves, aisles upon aisles, of commodity foods. During
the forty minutes I have now been in the store, many of the folks have
walked passed me, silently filling their baskets. The wheels of the shopping
carts rattle. Registers clang. The automatic doors open and close.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">People don’t realize that they walk around with their
needs on their face like a grocery list pinned to their shirts.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Excuse me,” an employee says to me. “Is there
something you were looking for?”</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
I guess I just need attention. I need distraction. I need help. And I want it
everyday.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;">"No thank you." I replied and left with a
couple of apples in a bag. And a chewing gum.</span><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-76274027457579162842013-04-24T01:48:00.001+05:302013-04-24T02:06:55.030+05:30The Chinese angle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How am I supposed to react when I see the headlines stating that our "darling" neighbor moved in 10 kms from the international border. The other one this time.<br />
<br />
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a5TW-Qwhn5A/UXbvvXLjXNI/AAAAAAAAAic/caFR1ntw-_E/s1600/globe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a5TW-Qwhn5A/UXbvvXLjXNI/AAAAAAAAAic/caFR1ntw-_E/s400/globe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I am furious. Even though I live in the central part of my country. Or even if I've never been to that part of my country. And even if it's a fact that I will never be able to own any part of it. Even with money.<br />
<br />
It's the damn tendency. Sorry for my words but seriously what is with this unending thirst for someone else's land. And for what? Did it even belong to them ever to get it back? Coz I think I can digest 10% of that way of thinking. It's what Israel did. It's like sacking Karzai because Mauryas ruled once.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know... I know, we can hardly do anything with the over confident , God-complex neighbor of ours that sometimes I feel India shouldn't have stuck with this continent altogether. Why Couldn't we be with Oceania and criticize these idiots from the far south!<br />
<br />
<br />
We have a history. We have a whole damn history of men fighting over land. It's called World War- Part I & II with a whole lot of spicy twist named Holocaust thrown in. Hello! Wasn't that included in their tiny syllabus?<br />
<br />
Seriously it's not even about the land. It's about the discipline. It's about innovating yourself and expanding your horizons through your brains. Japan, their natural enemy, with less than half of the land owned in comparison, is technically much more advanced than China. That's what I am talking about.<br />
<br />
Tibetan should rather burn up the politicians there rather than themselves. I'm not sure it would help anything but at least they would have some satisfaction. Hell.<br />
<br />
I won't state absolutely alien examples. Let's take Shivaji Maharaj. He won back forts. Won back a land and named it Swarajya. But all that was a Marathi-speaking area ruled by people who came from freakin' Persia. He did not go and try to fight Chingiz Khan.<br />
That's the Indian Gene. You get what's rightfully yours. And you STOP.<br />
<br />
This unending need to hurt someone, to take what's not yours, to rule, to inflict pain to people who haven't even hurt you, is a very Sadist way of living, and even more surprising to evolve as a better Ruler, a better Human being.<br />
<br />
It annoys me to my core when some urban, fast food eating waste of an offspring, stands up and says he wants to spread "Peace". Look around idiot, is it peace that you need? Or is it love?...because everyone of us say We love someone or something so much in our life, where on the contrary, Love is the only thing in scarcity. Everywhere.<br />
<br />
And as for China, you want land right?..go take Siberia. No one lives there anyway. And fight your communist-turned-democratic brother your level. Of course whom you don't even consider that way.</div>
</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-1748712971752980832013-03-11T03:12:00.000+05:302013-03-11T03:12:32.422+05:30The smell of an Indian summer!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gwp16hxTEd8/UTzhdfsdB0I/AAAAAAAAAXk/vjg9LGM9wm4/s1600/DSC08659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gwp16hxTEd8/UTzhdfsdB0I/AAAAAAAAAXk/vjg9LGM9wm4/s400/DSC08659.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I really didn't know what I liked about Summers. I always thought it was holidays, taking me away from school and my parents, somehow.<br />Apparently, as I am getting to know every season along with it's minute details and flavors, over the past one year, more than ever, am coming a bit closer on realizing, a lot more about Myself!<br />
Weird.<br />
Let's see.<br />
Summer is a funny season.<br />
<br />Every single girl roams around like a terrorist, externally. Thin guys put on cheap, big goggles which makes them look like a bumble bee. There are more people on streets at night (Can't blame them). People burn the dry leaves around their houses to make everything look good, but forget about the air pollution in return, or moreover the fact that they may actually be killing someone of Asthma. School Air has a depressing tension in it, no matter which time you go, owing to the over exaggeration of Exam system in India. Dust ends up on my stuff, no matter how many times I clean it. Centers for Doctor's seasonal income, in the form of <i>haathgadis</i> come up, <i>nimbu pani</i> or pineapple juice! O yeah, also <i>Matka kulfi. </i>You are one in a million if the Salmonella misses you! Literally. And Thank God the freakin' marriage season has come to an end (or I don't know if it's gonna start again), the noise they make, makes me hate anything spelled M U S I C to my very core.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gIu2InYPk5c/UTzhfGij8NI/AAAAAAAAAXs/6mTZoKQTsuk/s1600/DSC08664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gIu2InYPk5c/UTzhfGij8NI/AAAAAAAAAXs/6mTZoKQTsuk/s400/DSC08664.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
I'm being so honest with my gloriously inherited, critical genes when I start describing someone or something. Evidently, I'm a person who doesn't see Life through colored specs, more often than not....like my Dad! =D<br /><br />Yet, it's equally true, people like me for the same and the fact that I'd be lying if I won't add that summer still remains my favorite season, despite all the cynical, gleeful criticism above.<br /><br />I love it for my favorite flowers...for watermelons and raw mangoes. For the smell of new blossoms. For my memories with my favorite person. For the light intermittent rains, which feel like a wish come true. For the dryness, that makes me want. Something. Anything. Making me feel a little more than just alive....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-29303686546515801292013-03-07T16:05:00.001+05:302013-03-07T16:05:52.333+05:30Generally speaking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm a very inquisitive person by character. Well, err...one reason why I should go into research. But that's another story.<br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's this concept that has been in my mind for quite a while now. And ipso facto, I have a lot of questions.<br /><br /><b>CHANGE</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel, with every passing year and with every new invention coming our way, over years, it's making the thought process of an individual alive, more and more, <i>distorted and morbid</i><b>.</b><br /></div>
<div>
A person I knew was killed a few weeks ago by her own maid, who worked for her over 5 years, and her boyfriend. They jumped in her house in broad daylight, pushed her aside, where she hit her head and died.<br />Died for a gold chain, a few earrings, 2 bangles and a lil cash.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That was what her life was worth for.<br /><br />Everything around us is getting more expensive. Life is getting more easier with gadgets, making it easy for you to have a practical relationship with a person halfway across the globe and at the same time, it's getting much more difficult to survive as a person coz the <b><i>Needs</i></b> never end!<br />There is this constant need... of a new cell phone, a new tablet, a glorious career, a new car, a new companion...or some goddamn insane fetish one can probably imagine!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know <b><i>Desires</i></b> is what makes you. They keep you going. But come on, there is a limit. A Limit not outside you like your past, you social status, money or your mental mediocrity.</div>
<div>
<i>A limit within.</i> </div>
<div>
A limit that comes from your heart that tells you that you don't want anything more than this, that makes you satisfied.<b><i> </i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i>Content.</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div>
In an age where you call yourself intelligent than monkeys and other animals in that matter, is asking for this content in your heart, too much? In an age where you are running to get ahead, of God knows who, do you even know where you are heading? Coz if your so called success is achieved, at the end of this race, makes you a cold blooded mammal incapable of having a best friend to call, or a lover by your side or a family to call your own or if it makes you....distorted and morbid, like others are now.....Why would you call it your <b><i>Destiny?</i></b></div>
<div>
I am not saying you should not win or have dreams or be a part of a race. I am not asking you to give up everything that you believe in. I am asking...<i>What is missing? What is it that we are missing?</i></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wKMI7V8d6ek/UThtHha34uI/AAAAAAAAAXU/pqJbByt_QsM/s1600/462677_280225342077680_1760367090_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wKMI7V8d6ek/UThtHha34uI/AAAAAAAAAXU/pqJbByt_QsM/s400/462677_280225342077680_1760367090_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i>When and Why did someone forget to teach us....that LIFE has to be held supreme and that taking someone's life or ruining one's or using someone, is not a stepping stone to success.</div>
<div>
In every damn corner of the earth.<br /></div>
</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-71519781107446523942013-02-18T01:11:00.000+05:302013-02-18T01:11:20.834+05:30Invisible fear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1gnuDYgrYPo/USEyGETeMKI/AAAAAAAAAXE/rImrqKHKobQ/s1600/DSC07907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1gnuDYgrYPo/USEyGETeMKI/AAAAAAAAAXE/rImrqKHKobQ/s320/DSC07907.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #392902; font-family: minion-pro, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I stopped fighting myself, then, held him close, and cried, rocking him safe, whispering into his ear, over and over again, what I wanted to tell him: that he would have to be brave, now and for years to come, because I am not ready yet to say a goodbye, that he is loved so much by his family, that this is his home, that this is what home had become...in a few days that he is ill.<br /><br />Caspar.<br /><br />I'm not a people's person, not an introvert either, just extremely selective. I read books when I am free rather than visiting a friend. I tend the garden instead of an hour long call. I prefer forest over a pub. In my life, people extremely close to me, have proven, again and again, that investing time and love in people is nothing but a mistake. <br />Animals, on the other hand, reciprocate. Million times more than you have. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #392902; font-family: minion-pro, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I have been clinically depressed this entire year and now my four legged anti-depressant, my only routine this year, is so terribly ill, that no matter how much I try to distract myself and self assure that he is going to make it, I fail.<br />And for a person like me with least faith in God, have conversations with him.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #392902; font-family: minion-pro, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Just as space had found a living tissue when the ocean was born, I found him when space had become small, microscopic, and endless only in its waves. He was a new landscape, a new open door of unknown and unseen things, a terrain that felt alive and curious and inviting. He was a map to draw of wanting to have and know more.<br /><br />He is love, love and nothing else.<br /><br />I don't know with which feeling exactly am I writing this. All I know is, you have to pray. Like me. For him.</span></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-68913134602417847612013-01-31T04:03:00.000+05:302013-01-31T06:56:46.178+05:30"Religosophy"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One day, not long ago, outta nowhere, I faced a question, much bigger than a person so selfish like me & limited in thoughts, can even dare or care attempt.<br />
I'm not saying I can't. I'm saying I wouldn't.<br />
<br />
"What is Religion for you?"<br />
<br />
You know that feeling when you've done something wrong & your mother finds out after many days & asks you about what you did. And even when many days have passed since that incident, you still feel something in your stomach. That was it.<br />
<br />
All the images of 33 crore Gods of my religion PLUS a few of other religions came up in my head. For a moment it even took me time to realize which one I follow! Ah...that's where I stand.<br />
I'm a born Hindu. My parents raised me up with Ganesh Chaturthis monthly, Diwali and Dasra yearly, Shravan mas and Durga utsav, my Aaji told me stories from Ramayan & Mahabharat, my Uncle took me to Kurukshetra, Mathura, Gokul & other places to further cement my belief & being a "Proud Indian citizen" I happily accepted every government holiday without even giving it a second thought....& who complains when it's a holiday huh!<br />
To add up to it, I lived for the past six years with two of my roomies-turned-bestfriends who followed Islam, my best friend is a Buddhist & my other best friend wants to convert to Sikhism.<br />
So even if I want it or not, even if I spent a moment giving it thought or not, even if it is important to voice my thoughts or not...I have to face this question.<br />
On some level, but I gotta.<br />
<br />
I've read about the evolution of Hinduism or more appropriately Vedic Dharma. It was brought & developed by Aryans to my land & then over a few hundred years blended in well. But then when people felt a need to stop the violence in it, namely animal sacrifice, that was a need for yagnas & the discrimination that held it's head so high, that is became unbearable for a common man to breathe, came Buddhism and Jainism. And if you look at it...it's exactly in the same time period!<br />
<br />
Then rose Islam. It's values were simple and easily acceptable, which attracted many, but it's spread was more or less forceful. Think of it this way, I'm a raised Hindu and if you are going to preach me your religion, I'm gonna resist you on some level, internally, but you gotta be convincing enough that I go beyond it. That didn't quite happen as Prophet would have wanted it to be. History says so.<br />
So, when Islam was widespread, the Vedic Dharma rose up again, saving itself, spreading itself. That was done by our saints....Tukaram, Dnyaneshwar, Kabir, Eknath, Samartha Ramdas, Guru Nanak...you name it. They all belong to more or less the same period. All with the same motto.<br />
<br />
Even though am a genetically a critical person, I wouldn't say anything wrong about it. It was the need of the time.<br />
<br />
I feel Religion is a flawed aspect to look at the world. Religion is created outta necessity...to know what to do with your body after you are dead.<br />
Because for me, it does not come in between me & my patients or my parents or my lovely dog. It does not tell me which side of the bed I should sleep or what clothes I should wear or if it's a good day to start something new. It does not tell me I shouldn't do something if I'm menstruating or I shouldn't kiss a guy I like. I do things because I want to, not because I have to & there's a world of difference between it! I don't feel trapped. ....coz honestly, I don't follow it like I ought to.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gTPQ4jcTRog/UQmevnNyq-I/AAAAAAAAAWk/Ya6vamO1HaE/s1600/tumblr_mgnohmCU3i1qicpkco1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gTPQ4jcTRog/UQmevnNyq-I/AAAAAAAAAWk/Ya6vamO1HaE/s400/tumblr_mgnohmCU3i1qicpkco1_500.jpg" width="266" /></a><br />
I'm a person who is into an institution & doesn't follow it. I'm like this mindless believer who resorts to my God when I feel the person who had to understand me & hold me close, hasn't. I'm this person who tightly holds on to my Ganesh idol and call my dad when I am in trouble. I confess and cry in my mother's arms if I feel helpless and she pats me back and comforts me saying "God will do it alright!", where on the contrary, it's her!<br />
<br />
I was lucky to have a friend, who unknowingly, taught me, with his actions that keeping someone happy is the easiest thing to do. I think that's way more important than having a room full of Gods and incense sticks. I'm not saying you shouldn't have it. If it gives you peace, if it makes you calm, if that's what you remember when you are scared, you should. But that shouldn't be the only thing. That isn't the only thing.<br />
<br />
Your life has a purpose, much higher than you can imagine.<br />
<br />
So, I don't think I want to chain myself into a limited territory & grounded, calling myself by a flawed identity, rather a Secular, Tolerant person who wants to know as much as the universe wants to tell me.<br />
<br />
And a bit more.</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-17972730174325438932013-01-06T02:00:00.000+05:302013-01-06T02:02:35.589+05:30A beautiful poem written by Amitabh Bacchan...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MDLK1WpD9Rs/UOiMqnkmNDI/AAAAAAAAAWE/EdIhI60T4n8/s1600/41345-still-image-of-amitabh-bachchan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MDLK1WpD9Rs/UOiMqnkmNDI/AAAAAAAAAWE/EdIhI60T4n8/s320/41345-still-image-of-amitabh-bachchan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: #666666; color: #e69138; line-height: 18px;">='( ....beautifully written.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #666666; color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Maa bohot Dard sah kar..</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #666666; color: #e69138; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">bohot dard de kar..</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #666666; color: #e69138; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">tujhse kuch kah kar main jaa rahi hun........</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: #666666; color: #e69138; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />Aaj meri vidai main jab Sakhiyaan milne aayengi...<br />Safaid Jode main lipti dekh sisak sisak mar jayengi...<br />Ladki hone ka khud pe fir wo Afsos jatayengi.....<br /><br />Maa tu unse itna kah dena Darindo k duniya main Sambhal kar rahna...............<br />Maa Rakhi par jb Bhaiya Kalai suni rah jayegi..<br />yaad mujhe kar kar jab unki Aankh bhar ayegi....<br />Tilak mathe par karne ko Maa rooh meri bhi Machal jayegi...<br />Maa tu bhaiya ko rone na dena...<br />Main sath hu har Pal unse kah dena............<br /><br />Maa Papa bhi chhup chhup bohot royenge...<br />main kuch na kar paya ye kah k khud ko kosenge....<br />Maa dard unhe ye hone na dena..<br />Ilzaam koi lene na dena...<br />Wo Abhimaan hai mera samman hai mera..<br />tu unse itna kah dena........<br /><br />Maa tere liye ab kya kahu..<br />dard ko tere shabdon main kaise bandhu...<br />fir se jeene ka moka kaise maangu......<br /><br />Maa log tujhe satayenge....<br />mujhe azaadi dene ka tujhpe ilzaam lagayenge....<br />Maa sab sah lena par ye na kahna<br />"Agle janam Mohe Bitiya na dena"</span></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-83226100847864734392012-12-31T02:10:00.000+05:302012-12-31T02:35:13.858+05:30My Kalki<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><b><i>"An idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea that exists only as an idea.” - Buddha</i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
These things happen. Rapes existed in our society. Like some chronic dermatological disease, it stuck.<br />
Even after media upheld this particular case, people's overwhelming response, we still read about rape incidences in and around the capital.<br />
That is India.<br />
That is what has happened to India.<br />
<br />
I remember asking my friend after being in Russia for almost two years, on returning, and having watched "Life in a Metro" recently, " Has India always been this awful or is it me? Is it coz I've grown up enough to perceive it?"<br />
Neither did she have an answer.<br />
<br />
Here's what I think: We have a semi-orthodox society, which means we jump to either side depending on our convenience. A pretentious group of people exhibiting their openness in a closed society. A society where you can do anything, but not talk about it. Girls are killed for family honor and female idols have nine day festivals. Girls are married off at a tender age but live-ins is considered a taboo. Gay culture is looked down on and yet female foeticide rate never goes down! Not that it's related directly but is there an other option that you leave?<br />
<br />
<br />
So till yesterday it was the girl's dress that provoked, the media that corrupted, the films that mislead, the companions who were inappropriate, the easy availability of porn that spoiled HIM. Not you, THEY were responsible.<br />
<br />
Yess even I want the accused to die a painful death but beyond that I want to know why. I want to know how and why they thought that raping would be equal to having sex. What made them beat her up like sadists.<br />
One blow. Second. Third.<br />
With an iron rod, on bare skin of a woman who is pleading...crying.... bleeding...n struggling.<br />
<br />
What did they feel in the moment? I know rape isn't comparable to sex as a means of indulgence, it has more of dominance attached to the idea, a sense of supremacy.<br />
But I really want to know what makes a human turn cruel. No, That cruel that you loose your sense of being human.<br />
<br />
<br />
Are you still waiting for tsunamis and earthquakes to end your world?... Gangrapes, 3G scams, mining scams, politics, corruption, abuse...look around you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">"Bu</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">ra dhundane jab mai chala </span></i></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><b><i>bura mila na koi </i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><b><i>jab dhunda khud me</i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><b><i>mujhse bura na koi....."</i></b></span><br />
<br />
I broke down when I read she died. She died. All this for a person who doesn't even breathe the same air as us anymore?? Or maybe not. Coz these things happen remember?<br />
<br />
Then I looked again at the people at Jantar Mantar. At various places. Revolting, making sure that the war she lost with life, isn't the lesson we didn't learn.<br />
This one girl without a name brought people out of their homes and has made them speak up for what they want. She changed their indifferent attitude. She lived by example showing what is rotten in our society. She is this unseen God that brought out the chaos in us.<br />
She is like our Gandhi.<br />
.......Damini or Nirbhaya they call her.<br />
<b><i> Don't you feel she is Kalki?</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-28521256557155941142012-12-24T07:02:00.003+05:302012-12-24T07:02:54.199+05:30Scar Tissue<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So the long awaited internship at the district hospital did come to an end. And I didn't write every word of it as I thought I would. That's me. Procrastinator or Lazy , whatever you might wanna call me.<br />
<br />
It's been 5 days without the hospital and I have a feeling of loosing something, maybe loosing my identity of who I am. Not that I wished it gave me one, still there is this feeling of wanting to go back and talk to patients, explain them stuff, smile and treat them.<br />
<br />
I've spent my last nine months whining about how awful the hospital is, how lazy the doctors are and how uneducated the patients tend to be. But apparently, I wanna go back. Not sure to what, but just being a doctor, who is there, when they need, is a reason enough I guess.<br />
<br />Or maybe this is coz I'm a person who lives in the past. I'm hung up on it. I fail to see the goodness in "Today". I fail to understand things when they don't work out my way. My brain is blocked with thoughts I'm not supposed to have. Discontent that I am, makes me annoy people talking to me. I am in a schedule but I am free....and this freedom has so many of it's limitations that I am giving it away.<br />
<br />This isn't my life. It's what others thought I should have..and without questioning, I have said okay! </div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-65584369927240258712012-10-16T01:11:00.001+05:302012-10-16T01:28:08.234+05:30An account of my Sunday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfZUu20x-UE/UHxmspYv-pI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/5BwR5GpH4WM/s1600/blood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfZUu20x-UE/UHxmspYv-pI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/5BwR5GpH4WM/s320/blood.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
My punctuality and regularity came biting in my ass this Sunday.<br />
I'll tell you how.<br />
<br />
We had to work on a beautiful, bright Sunday morning owing to a supposed holiday on Monday. That means I had to spend the first few hours of my day with people coughing, sneezing and wheezing all around me; instead of me spending time with my beloved dog...sorry, Caspar with extra long walks, a refreshing bath, some fooling around the house and playing his favorite fetch (of course, these days the time spent on fetch is being reduced and redirected to more of...what I'll call scratch-my-tummy game!)<br />
So there I was, point on time, in my ward, taking blood pressures and pulses, hearing to their their long and never ending aliments and jotting down everything I could and everything I should.<br />
No regrets so far.<br />
<br />
Then started the downfall of my day. First person to annoy me that day was the nurse. I had never seen her before. She must be the one who comes on Sundays and holidays (my guess). She began grumbling as I had asked her to distribute the case papers to the respective beds. That's it. And there she was muttering to herself and complaining it to an elder nurse who came along as if it was the most difficult difficult task I've allotted to her and how it was as tiring as the carrying the world on your back would be! Seriously neither do I have ascaris up me to come and ruin my Sunday, my only holiday, like this. It was a "Work" ,to be done.<br />
<br />
<br />
The second person to come along and annoy me was the RMO office guy, who thinks he is a big shot which he is definitely not and nothing more than a servant in that office who has served longer than any other person working in the hospital. He has an attitude and well, even a personality good enough to exercise his authority allotted to him, mind you "allotted" which means it can even be self allotted. Anyways, so he came up to me and asked me to be at a blood donation camp being held somewhere in the city. Initially I was reluctant, but then gave up easily as he said it would be very short with just round 10 donors. One donor will take 10 minutes time plus 10 min observation time. You do the math.<br />
<br />
<br />
So we set off. "We" would be myself, 2 nurses, 1 technician and 1 driver. Now ask me where the MO in charge is...well she is none other than Dr. Bairagi whom I've highly criticized in one of my previous posts. To hell with her.<br />
<br />
The driver had the slightest idea of the place we were supposed to reach. Do you know those buses which take you around the city at a speed with which you can enjoy all the sights of the city without actually having to get down? Well, I had a similar kinda experience with just one tiny little exception. I had a sight seeing of extremely less developed parts of the city. I could actually peep into the house and tell the lady to switch off the light in the next empty room. I didn't.<br />
<br />
<br />
So after around half hour of wasting time we reached the school where the camp was gonna be held. As we entered, the third person of the day, who annoyed me was standing at the dice, giving a speech....alone. Yesss, there was no audience. Just him. =)<br />
<br />
I went up to him, told him who we are and asked where the room for our stuff would be, to which he snapped back at me with words...."There is still time. Program starts at 12:30. You have to adjust with whatever we have. Our resources are meager. I know how you people are from the Civil hospital!"<br />
When his so-called mouth was shitting this, I was thinking....is this what I asked?!?<br />
<br />
Firstly, when they give an application at the RMO office, shouldn't they give the time from which the team should be present...like from 12:30 to 3?? Right?<br />
The paper he submitted said, the camp starts from 9:30 which clearly couldn't have unless he was expecting to suck blood out of us and himself for donation.<br />
I totally lost my temper and asked him that it would be better if he lessened the use of his tongue and utilized his energy to work if he wants me to be there. He did so. <br />
<br />
So around 12:30 when all his "big shots" from some corner of this city appeared, he again began his speech. With all the broken words in his own language and with all the flowers he had to offer to all of them, he sure was getting on my nerves...like a caterpillar climbing up.<br />
<br />
Then out of no where, I heard "Dr. Raut Madam" ....and she was asked to come up to the stage! O yea, that would be me I told myself and jumped up my chair. That was the first time I was being felicitated for nothing, was asked to sit on the stage among people I have never seen, being clicked by newspapers I will never read and given flowers that I didn't bring along.<br />
<br />
After his 20 minutes of non-stop blabbering I was happy about one thing and had one question....<br />
Happy that among everything and every person there..at least I wasn't the mike, which was being spat one. It was the mikes' worst nightmare come true, right in it's face.<br />
And the question was...what kind of a kid would he have been?!?<br />
<br />
<br />
My journey of a ruined Sunday went on till 3:30 pm with just 4 donors, a lot of indiscipline, noise and explanations. Some even asked me if my tattoo was real?! Dude, seriously when will people learn to mind their own business!?<br />
<br />
I came home exhausted strangely not coz of work but because I wanted to change so many things that went wrong on so many levels.<br />
As I was telling it to my father and grumbling about how government work is so ill planned and how authority is been given to people who don't even deserve....and blah blah blah....(I don't even remember what my Ma had made for lunch) ...he just said me one thing.<br />
<br />
<i><b>"I've worked in this system for 29 years and I can only tell you one thing Rashmi...If you have to work with these people, at this level, in India....be their Boss."</b></i> =)</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-12274647982740098482012-10-13T02:30:00.000+05:302012-10-13T02:30:54.068+05:30....a night of crazy blue nailpaint!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So I painted up my nails blue!<br />
<br />
Let's get back a little.<br />
<br />
I'm tied up in a schedule which doesn't let me sleep.( That is a huge thing in Rashmi culture!) Though I do get a lot of experience....(blah blah blah) ....that'll make me a good doctor (still hate my hospital). And even though my eyes are involuntarily drooping and back hurts like I've worked as a daily wage laborer, am up writing my blog...coz enough with the laziness. (I seriously doubt the number of people who actually read my blog. well, my mom and dad haven't read even one article that I've written ..so you know...I can't really complain if others don't!. =/) <br />
<br />
Okay enough with the whining. (which am ready to do 24*7, and why not?!)<br />
<br />
These days my head is filled up with so many thoughts. I hear something and start thinking about it...n go into the most vague detail. (that actually is a psychotic symptom! err..)<br />
<br />
Like I was thinking about custard apples, the new fruit of the season and how much I like it (after mangoes) and how weird it looks from outside, like some kind of a sea creatures' home. And the insides...ugh. Saw sputum of a pneumonia patient in convalescent period? I'm just saying.<br />
Yea whatever, m buying a lot more tomorrow morning and I'm sorry if I've disgusted you (as if!)<br />
<br />
Then there was this thought about the current rate of birth in our country. It was a mind-fucking figure of 17.5! Sorry, I'm not supposed to use the F-word in a cultural, orthodox country like India where young girls and guys still sit on the opposite side of a classroom as if other one is infected with plague, and yet manage to have a freaking birth rate of 17.5! China has 3.2. Which means it won't be long enough when we overtake a nation (at least in some parameter for god's sake...n m not proud of it. duh.) by 2045 and sink our Great Land to the bottom of the sea. Literally. Hope so.<br />
Solve my problem...how do you bore kids when u think talking to guys/ girls is a public taboo?! <br />
Or maybe Stork does bring babies in India after all.<br />
Sorry again, my bad.<br />
<br />
The other thing that was on my mind this evening was....how beautiful the nights are these days. (yea, I can say good about something. Surprise!) They are just perfectly cold. I can sit and just lie down for hours together (which is a distant dream these days) and listen to songs (which I have been of my playlist for over 3 months now. Damn I need to change it. Oh =( )<br />
<br />
And then I finally found a great part of lyrics in an old song.....<br />
<i>"Maine yeh bhi socha hai aksar<br />
Tu bhi main bhi sabhi hai sheeshe<br />
Khudhi ko hum sabhi main dekhein<br />
Nahin hoon main hoon main toh phir bhi<br />
Sahi galat, tumhara main<br />
Mujhe paana, paana hai khud ko</i>..."<br />
<br />
....wic got me thinking, What if the current lyricists are dead? Who will write such beautiful lyrics? or will I have to listen to ...."garam chai ki pyali ho...koi usko pilane wali ho"...? Huh?<br />
<br />
Anxiety. Fear of future. That is me =)<br />
<br />
<br />
....so to get away, I painted my nails blue!</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-86297211648153933752012-10-01T00:27:00.001+05:302012-10-01T00:28:04.427+05:30Pudhcya varshi lavkar ya...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Ganesh festival is over. Sad. Not because now Ma won't make her special modak anymore for an entire year. (Yea rite I'd be lying if I say so. =P )<br />
Once a friend asked me which my favorite festival is, by which he meant when I feel I should be at home with my family and no where else...and without a second thought I said "Ganpatiii" =D<br />
Let me take you a few years back.<br />
It was autumn of 1984. A newly married couple who had just begun living away from their family, to a place where the husband was posted, was having their daily dose of midnight chats. And around 2 they both decide they should celebrate the festival by bringing the ganpati home. The festival starts the next day. So they get up and started hammering nails in the wall for the decoration and hangings and lights. I repeat again, it was 2 at night. =)<br />
Alarmed, the neighbors woke up and came over, to check what's wrong or if there was a fight between the newly weds!! After a long explanation and a hearful of laughter, they decorated the rest and thus began the tradition of Ganesh Stapana.<br />
<br />
They were my parents. And there was love. What else do you need for any festival?!<br />
The early morning aarti, the evening special prasad my Ma makes, the secret 'Khirapat' receipe my Ma boasts of, the Ganpati jap at my place...the beautiful decoration, the smell of agabattis lingering around my room...Yes, I missed all of it for the last 6 years. This year filled up the void. All n for all. =)</div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-22846514943526132242012-09-10T00:54:00.001+05:302012-09-10T00:58:09.522+05:30....What really gets on my nerves!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are some days in my regular life when I feel completely helpless when it comes to work. I feel like there are so many ways in which I can help but I can't. I wish to heal the wounds they've been having since 2-3 months. I wish their broken bones be healed. I explain at my level best to the patients what they ought to give in to help my healing process. Or rather let's say, their's. Somehow when I explain it to my them, they just don't seem to understand. And then slowly...I start to loose my patience.<br />
<br />
<i>That's where my blog begins!</i><br />
<br />
So tell me now, How exactly am I supposed to behave with the "masses" ??<br />
They can't understand my <i>Marathi</i>...I mean how much more do I have to fall to get in their shoes? They don't understand the simple terms, that I learned "for them" from Ma.<br />
Okay I'll even do that. I ought to.<br />
<br />
Second thing...they hardly hear my voice. Do I really speak for ants or they aren't "aware" that, that tone can still be used for a normal conversation?<br />
Fine...I even speak loudly these days. No worries.<br />
<br />
Just a couple of days back I experienced something that I solely attribute to my <b>BAD HABIT</b> of being polite to the underprivileged. Come on, just coz I behave good with you as compared to other doctors whose degrees have gotten to their heads, doesn't mean you get any right to trouble me at your disposal.<br />
<br />
Freak. Some random, self-proclaimed "social worker" who happened to have my cell number (coz I helped our old maid get in touch with him...somehow) called me one evening. That's not what I am angry for. He called me 5 times over a span of half an hour.<br />
<br />
Okay I was asleep. Never mind that. I have a right to spend my time the way I like it.<br />
<br />
The point is....<i>."Did I complete my Medical degree with you? R we really good friends? Or related in any way? Even if anyone is dying, I'm not the only doctor you get to call! Neither m I the Civil Surgeon here. If a person isn't picking up your call means he has some work, isn't it? He/She will fucking get back to you!"</i><br />
<i>Seriously....is it so difficult for you to understand the basic etiquette for calling someone you barely know?!!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Aren't these people really trying my patience? =(<br />
<br />
But the good part is...I got to fire that man in the exact same words the next day.<br />
I was on fire!! =) <br />
<br />
<b>...n on some level</b>,<b> felt liberated...the anger in me is getting shape. I can defend myself.</b><br />
<b>I'm growing up.</b></div>
Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-2504927831197577592012-06-09T00:33:00.002+05:302012-06-09T00:33:56.782+05:30Some crap medical interns will sympathize with!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So....so many things took place on my work front in the past week that I've not written here. Am not going to grumble AGAIN about people who are much more interested in my life than their own. Instead I pick up an incidence I came across that boils my blood every time I think of it.<br /><br />This happened 2 days ago.<br /><br />After working for all day long....I got a call from the hospital saying the RMO has asked me to report. Confused as I was, I inquired fo what it was...and the angry voice said..."what does that mean? You just have to be here"<br /><br />I had to clear it up with the operator that he can't just call me whenever they want...coz after all m just an intern. So I changed and left for the hospital to clear things up.<br />There was this lady, whom I saw for the first time, who was the on call doctor sitting near the operator's desk. It was her voice earlier.<br />She said....go with man to the ambulance, you gotta leave for the village and check BP of 60 people.!<br />.....I denied...and there she was....her voice louder than the Civil Surgeon can actually use...telling me why I shouldn't be a doctor.<br />I was tongue tied as she was my senior but nevertheless with all that she spoke I was sure ..not helping her out was a good decision. Coz actually that was her job. Her shift was getting over at 8 and it was past 6:30 when this conversation took place. And seated in the operators room she was hunting for a prey.<br /><br />Fuck her..my brain said....You say I shouldn't have been a doctor...but with this attitude of urs you should have been an Whore. She's paid for her freaking job, I'm not even given a stipend for any of my services. On top of that I PAY. I do my duty in the hours I'm supposed to. I'm even willing to do it if I was forewarned. But you can't squeeze out work from me at your disposal...n with those words. It's not like...I cannot take swearing from my seniors..I can. It's just people like that annoy me to such an extent that I can endure anything else.<br />Indian govt. colleges have made such bulls as doctors. Damn. I mean ...even I had seniors....but after that one year we all just got along fine.<br /><br />Phew.....hate hate hate her. She's a temporary MO at our hospital.<br /><br />I guess...I'll be having real fun working around her =D</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-70169911991664517222012-05-27T23:00:00.004+05:302012-05-27T23:06:18.030+05:30One day....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is a point in everyone's life when we ask ourselves why actually we've chosen a certain field as our careers. And trust me, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence!<br />
<br />"<i>I should have...; if only...; that went wrong...; ugh....; I don't wanna talk about that...."</i> are the words people keep ready in their mouths waiting for the right trigger to spat them out. I was having a few such occasions when I was ready to whine how the patients are undisciplined, how the hospital doesn't have enough resources, how the doctors just don't care enough, how the paramedical staff is lazy. And the list goes on.<br />Of course it came way early for me as compared.<br />Whatever!<br /><br />So....today...me...appointed as the Emergency Medical Officer (due to lack of working MO's) ..was at the Casualty the entire day starting from 9 in the morning till 8 at night. You've heard about places where time stands still rite?.....well....I lived it!<br /><br />When I came home I just had one word to describe it..."Nasha!"<br /><br />Man....getting back the pulse of a patient with Cardiogenic shock following an infarction is such an achievement!<br />4 Patients with Rat poison ingestion....and the way they stabilize...huh! For a day I felt so alive...and time flew..I don't know how. My brain was so concentrated on each of the patient that no other thought even mingled in the darkest corner of my messed up brain!<br /><br />There I was..among people dying and people crying...giving both of them hope ..of whatever is left with me.<br />I always thought I cannot work under pressure but I was so wrong.<br /><br /><b>I can..I sure can Bitch!</b><br />It's been 2 months that I 've started my internship and have been polishing my 'physician skills' consulting patients. Won't say burning my ass in the OPD chairs was a mistake coz those 2 months gave me good friends and once again told me how good I can teach (ahem ahem =D )<br /><br />Well, with everyone gone and finished up with their work...this was an excellent individual start I could have ever have had!</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-9775512234524695992012-05-23T09:14:00.001+05:302012-05-23T09:14:43.971+05:30Here we go again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After days of resisting myself from getting annoyed at things or let's call it...unavailability of resources here, I feel fractured enough already, and I'm reluctant enough to deform it any further!<br /><br />So ..here we go.<br />
<br />One fine morning, after a few patients at the orthopedics dept., one patient came back with my prescription saying a certain drug isn't available at the hospital store. It was Diclofenac.<br />For those of you who don't know, it's a pain killer, most commonly prescribed and not to forget, the cheapest!<br /><br />There I was thinking of replacing it with something on the hospital drug list...and I thought...Why isn't THIS available. I mean every doctor prescribes it to every other patient.<br />Fine. Peace with it.<br /><br />A few minutes later one more patient returned saying the 'bandages' aren't available for a POP cast!<br />Alright. That was the end of my patience.<br /><br />A patient comes to me. Broken. I prescribe him a pain killer and a POP cast along with other things. But isn't this the basic thing expected?? I mean....they don't have medicines, they don't have bandages, so how m I supposed to heal? With my smile? or with the "magical touch" of my hands?!!<br />Okay...at least then, for once, explain....Why are we asked to sit there and examine patients?? huh?!<br />Sitting there I have potentially scintillating conversations with patients and colleagues and with Myself.<br />
<br />This internship.<br />Flash in the pan? Life-changing experiance? Remains to be seen.</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-84927934896180503032012-05-18T00:40:00.000+05:302012-05-18T00:43:54.628+05:30Broken string<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been long since I've written something. Long enough for you to think I'm gone.<br />
<br />
When I come to think of it...I've been loosing up on many things.<br />
<br />
It's been long since I've heard her voice. The one whom I lost to the weirdest realm of life from where no one returns.<br />
<br />
It's been long I sat together, holding hands and laughing about the stupidest thing around.<br />
<br />
It's been long I told someone how much I love them. Holding each other in the darkest nights, saying goodbyes.<br />
<br />
It's been long I've thought about roaming around European cities or coming up with a new one to add up to the list.<br />
<br />
It's been long waking up with a bad dream in tears and having someone to hear it out.<br />
<br />
Long back when I felt I had everything, almost everything, when faith in someone powerful was much more stronger, when my beliefs weren't tarnished with time, when calling out for a friend meant right across my laptop, when our kitchen was filled with smoke owing to my cooking or burning let's say followed by some great jokes about the same, when any injustice to others prickled me with adrenaline, when I actually read newspapers every damn day...when any fight would dissolve with a shrug and smile....all that over time has unceremoniously died.<br />
<br />
Nothing is over.<br />
No one is dead yet.<br />
<br />
But life goes on like the puppet with a broken string. No matter what I try.<br />
Every single breath of happiness is followed by days of waiting...waiting for some sad news.<br />
<br />
When on confused nights like this, I look at my life, small things look bizarrely large.<br />
<br />
It's like staring at a picture until the features blurred & ran together, something familiar turned frightening, something known turned mysterious & changed.....& very far away.<br />
<br />
....are you reading my lines??<br />
<br /></div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-5177860595926481922012-05-02T17:07:00.003+05:302012-05-02T17:15:31.818+05:30The Summer Blessing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Not long ago, I was having this conversation with a friend about stuff he got from thailand, which included a controversial 70% dark chocolate as well. Even though he was cribbing for one, he didn't really was crazy o'er them. You know this is a new concept for me...I mean who on earth doesn't like a sweet gourmet, melting in your mouth with a lingering taste...and which is also good for health.<br />
<br />
<br />
That is one different thing.<br />
<br />
My immediate next question was...Do you like mangoes???<br />
I have a very simple ideaology... <strong>"If you like mangoes you are a good person"</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
I don't think I can deal with a person who'll think over that question to reply. It should be an immediate YES.<br />
<br />
You know, seriously...again..who wouldn't like mangoes?! <br />
<br />
...That is the most amazing fruit God has made.<br />
Starts with the way it looks...beautiful yellow, with such a sweet honest smell...and so soft!....and hell sweet!<br />
If all the vitamins n minerals neccesary were to be found in this fruit....I can eat it forever. Honestly.<br />
<br />
I was mango deprived for 6 long years. Not really there were some Mangoes in Kazan imported from Brazil.<br />
I'm sorry, but they sucked.<br />
<br />
So here I am in the land of mangoes, sinful mangoes...which doesnt let u and your weighing machine be friends. But hell I dont care.<br />
<br />
My love for this particular fruit dates back to my childhood. Summers were colorful with my Grandparents, afternoon sleeps, long evening walks, stories and mangoes! That was when I learnt, in a hard way, when the pulp was spilt on my fav frock, never leaves. Me being crazily in love with this fruit...always flaunted the stain. =)<br />
<br />
To end up telling you my love affair with this amazing fruit...I think, the guy whom I end up with...should definitely love Mangoes.<br />
<br />
And as for my friend, about whom I was talking earlier, who flatly denied ...saying "I'm a melon boy" (lol)..wat was that?)....<br />
Seriously, How are we even friends?!?!</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0Amravati, Maharashtra, India20.9258333 77.764722220.8665078 77.6857582 20.9851588 77.8436862tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-36529307420109925502012-04-22T23:51:00.000+05:302012-04-22T23:51:07.161+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So my taste buds are reviving themseleves from illness, hence Mom and I decided to give them some treat on this lousy Sunday evening. Made a plan and went on to make one of the tastiest, yummiest Chicken biryani ever made in this house!<br /><br /><br />So imagine this day where we both are busy in our respective works of reading or stitching something. All silent. We don't really talk much these days and I don't blame her for that. I've been a little in my own world lately. But more of that some other time.<br />So yea, at around 8:30 when she asked if I had any plans for dinner. And since I had none, I suggested some fruits with a cup of ice cream will do for me! She smiled and reminded me of my 2 week long illness. Ugh, ahem...yea who would know better than me.<br />She came up with the idea of biryani that she saw on TV and wants to try it. I readily agreed knowing that it was a joint project and that I will in no way be forced to do it alone. <br />And there we were, dicing onions and boiling rice and checking the tenderness of chicken. The kitchen was on fire for an hour!<br />I went out and got some mango ice cream and Bingo!!<br />A perfect evening with perfect food n perfect dessert .<br />Oh ...I love how still my fingers smell of it as I type. =)</div>
</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-28488725352534247192012-04-18T00:54:00.001+05:302012-04-18T00:54:31.046+05:30My dreams...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I dream a lot. O yess, it also means I sleep a lot. But hey, I'm ill and rite now I'm allowed to get all flirty and mushy and have an official affair with my bed. Jealous aren't you already?<br />
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Well, so yea dreams... Every morning I wake up I wish I had something near me to jot down some of the most amazing dreams I've had or I wish my friend was near so that I could narrate it. Nothing of it happens of course and so one night like this, when I decide to become an owl, I write them down as they come to my mind.<br />
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I sometimes wonder what dreams really are. Are they my fear? or they are things I really wish could happen to me. One thing I've noticed is...my grandparents rule my mind a lot. esp. my grandma.<br />
There was this dream I had when I was returning from work thinking to myself that today the first thing I'm going to do is listen to my aaji-ajoba's heart sounds. ...just to wake up and recall that they are no more. Dead for more than 7-8 years.<br />
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Then this other dream I had, where I'm lost, in a place I actually know very well but I just cant recall where I have to go from there or what I am doing there. But weirdly I enjoy being there for a while only to realize it's Delhi's connaught place and I was there with one friends Guna sometime back in sept. But I don't see him either. Maybe my brain just keeps going back to times where it had been happiest and scared at the same time. Coz last time I was at connaught place with Guna it was our last Night in Delhi...and we sure did have fun. =) But why does that comes up all of a sudden in my dream when I wasnt thinking about anything of that my entire day..is what I will never understand. Nevermind! =) Long life to think about it... ;)<br />
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All distracted rite now to think of others of to explain them. So this is it for now...</div>Me in My World...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501954221617380783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9079301689457841649.post-7489625235973895912012-04-11T23:46:00.000+05:302012-04-11T23:46:56.888+05:30Chaos inside!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Ill =(<br />
High fever, excrutiating headache, loss of appetite, insomnia & bodyache...<br />
Thanks to every molecule of paracetamol in my blood that I'm able to stand up & work. or write this blog in that matter.<br />
With all the free time my health gives me, all the thoughts that I have compartmentalized in my deepest part of brain surface up. I hate it, coz they are no pleasant. There was a time when I was happy about being able to recall every sec of any time when I have been the happiest now seems like a curse. </span><br />
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">One of the hardest things in life is getting used, often attached, to someone & then having to depart with them in a way or another... We try to convince ourselves that we're moving on, but the fact is that we often end up fixating on the past; fixating on memories which, no matter how hard we try to suppress, keep coming back, maybe even vivider than before.</span><br />
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Any simple, mundane thing can evoke a deeply lurking memory; be it pleasant or not. The harder we try to extinguish them, the more they reinvent themselves. They never let go of us, neither we of them. They never really fade away, only the feelings associated with them wear off with time. </span><br />
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">Hence, time doesn't actually heal all wounds. We just learn to live with them. We move on, it's true. We move on, but each time with a heavier burden to carry along.....</span><br />
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">No expressions can translate the CHAOS inside! </span><br />
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That thoughts have to pile up more and more over the years without a way of organizing such a mess, so much so that you feel your head's become even more overpopulated than Earth itself!<br />
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It is disappointing. That even when you try to put your feelings into silence and hope that it'll get a message across, that too passes unnoticed ... <br />
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Only then, you lose hope of getting anywhere with that whom your words & silences should have concerned ... <br />
You quit trying ... you turn your back & leave even without a goodbye....<br />
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