True stories - Luck

True stories - Luck

He used to think he was the unluckiest person in the world. He was the only one in his whole family tree which included his 2 siblings, who inherited some ancient ancestral gene for thallasemia. He was doomed to 2 packets blood transfusion per month, as long as he lived. Not to  mention a constant worry of iron overload, drugs to prevent that, worry about hepatitis B and C with each transfusion, long queues in OPDs, social stigma, not able to do anything more than mild physical activity etc. He constantly felt he was some sort of waste God created or an error in His program which could not be deleted on time.

Then he met her.....

Although he used to meet a lot of kids at the bi monthly transfusion centre, what attracted her to him was her resilience. She never used to flinch, let alone cry when they inserted the cannula into her veins. She had that resilient "I-will-never-bow-before-my-disease" attitude from the day he saw her. Just that look in her, he recalls, inspired him. He began to see life with more positive attitude. With all his ailments, he worked hard in his academics. Time flew and he went on to do his engineering  and MBA and got a job with a more-than-decent salary. By this time he had mustered the courage to speak with the 'scary lady', as he jokingly calls her. The day he got a job, he bought a ring and went on his knees before her.

Now they have 2 adopted kids, the youngest one an infant, which was in the arms of her mother. Now he feels he is very lucky to have the disease, else he would never have met her, gotten inspired to give his best in everything and get the chance to share a wonderful life with such an amazing lady. They thanked me and left the OPD after their routine checkup. I could see them from the OPD window and couldn't help staring. They were walking with the elder kid beside dad and younger kid in her mothers arm. They were smiling as they were talking, her left hand was inside his, fingers entangled, both of them knowing that the other person will be there, till the very last breath.

God gives you the person you need, not the one you want.

Happy Valentine's Day.

True Stories - Belief

True stories - Belief

The setting was ideal for her to get irritated. Ultra-busy Monday Hemat clinic. She had her exams in a couple of months, but because of acute shortage of residents she had to see more patients than usual. Everyone was barging into her room, leaving her no room to breathe, which by the way, is quite routine. To top it off, she was sleep deprived because of a bumpy bus ride, and she was hungry and hypoglycemic because she had, as usual, missed her breakfast

Then came the really old couple. 'Mataji' had a not so complicated lymphoma and potentially treatable, even at her age, and unlike the many male chauvinists that we meet every day, 'Babaji' was adamant and almost eager to get her fully treated. However much she tried, she couldn't make Babaji understand the concept of chemo and follow up. "Although your chemo is once every 3 weeks you need to follow up every 10 days with your blood tests to look for dangerous cell count drop" - was a concept the Babaji had trouble comprehending, even after she explained for a third time. She got really irritated. "Saath mein aur koi nahi hein??" (isn't there anybody else with you??), she asked, the tone more in anger and frustration than concern. The toothless baba in his soft, but loving voice said softly and slowly, "Iske saath sirf do log hai, ek main hoon or abhi, aap hai, hamari beti." (There are only 2 people with her. One is me and now we have you, my daughter.)
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. (Was there tears in her eyes??) Although the crowd in the room including the SR sitting opposite to her started laughing at the unexpected comment, the tone of his voice and look in his eyes, pierced her deeply and tore her heart apart. Regaining composure quickly and hiding her tears successfully, she patiently explained to baba till he understood what was to be done. Before he left, she asked Babaji to meet her personally at the next follow up, without the queue and gave him the most sweetest of smiles as Babaji thanked her and left with his wife.

"Why did you ask them to meet you personally next time? Wouldn't that prolong your OPD even more?? After all you are exam-going, aren't you?”, asked the resident sitting opposite to her.

"Oh... That's alright, How could I not do at least that? After all....",
she paused for the tiniest of moments...

"I'm their daughter."

True stories - Dads hero

True stories - Dads hero

"I am a Bali fan", my father declared suddenly one day. 

"When did you go to Bali?", I asked, a little absent minded. 

"Not Bali the place dumbo, Bali the monkey, Sugreeva's brother, the strongest of all beings", my dad said in an excited voice, clearly in total admiration of the mythical creature.

"Why this fandom all of a sudden, and why Bali in particular? ", I asked.

"I am glad you asked that question... I saw an ancient Indian art form today called Koodiyattam. They showed the story of my favourite character, I want to narrate that story to you, so that you understand my admiration and with it learn a lesson in life.", my dad said excitedly, totally ignoring the here-we-go-again sigh from my mom.

<Koodiyattam (Malayalam: കൂടിയാട്ടം, Kūṭiyāṭṭaṁ, Sanskrit: कूडियाट्टम्, Kūḍiyāṭṭam), also transliterated as Kutiyattam, is a form of Sanskrit theatre traditionally performed in the state of Kerala, India. Performed in the Sanskrit language in Hindu temples, it is believed to be 2,000 years old. It is officially recognised by UNESCO as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.>

"Please do", I said and dad started his story.

------------

Bali was the strongest being of all times, the Puranas mention that on multiple occasions. Bali was preparing for battle after his estranged brother, Sugreeva, challenged him for a duel. Just as he was about to leave for the battle, his wife Tara stopped him. "Please don't go today, I have a bad feeling about today. Sugreeva has a glint in his eye that he's never had before. He knows he can never beat you alone and still he has challenged you. That means he has got something new, a new allegiance or a new weapon. Please don't go today." 

<it must be noted that the most beautiful women in Ramayana according to all the holy books are Ahalya, Tara and Mandodari in that order.....>

Bali laughed out aloud. "Oh, my beautiful wife... Nothing or no one can stop me. I am mightier than Indra, as brave as Lord Narasimha. Don't you know that when the Devas and Asuras were churning the Palazhi, they both had got exhausted at one point. I went alone and grabbed hold of both ends of the big snake Vasuki and churned the sea alone till they recovered. I am stronger than both the Devas and the Asuras put together. "

Tara pleaded.... "I know all this, my Lord. But I have had bad dreams all night yesterday..... The omens are not good. Even great warriors have bad days. Just don't go today."

Bali roared again..."It is a warrior's honour that is at stake when he is challenged to a battle. I can easily beat Sugreeva and whoever he has with him as his new friend. Please go back to the palace and wait for my triumphant return" 

Seeing that her argument is pointless, Tara walked back to her palace, teary eyed, but painting a brave look, hands folded in salutation, lips chanting prayers. And the Brave Bali jumped outside for his final battle....

Scene 2

Bali and Sugriva are fighting and Lord Rama is at a distance, hidden, with his Bow ready with a strong Astra. But because of their close fighting the Lord can't get a clear shot. Just as the battle seemed to end, Bali raised his brother with both his arms and was about to finally smash him to a rock below. Then The Lord sent his arrow which pierced Bali's heart and came out through his back. Bali put down Sugreeva and charged at the Lord, but the Lord sent arrows after arrows that the Great Warrior fell down. Lord Ram came near the dying warrior. Bali, realising that his death is at the hands of Lord Vishnu, the Maker Himself, became teary eyed and asked the Lord, "Why?? Why me?? What can he offer you that I cannot??" Bali laughed out weakly when he heard about the need to beat Raavan to win back Seeta Devi. In his dying voice, he told a story.

"To maintain my strength and discipline I perform my daily poojas and tharpanas in all the 7 Great Oceans in the World. Once I was doing my evening tharpanas in the Indian Ocean when Raavan thought he would have some fun with me. He tried to lift me by my tail while I was doing the tharpana. I couldn't stop my Pooja so I thought I would deal with him later. Hence I wound him with my tail. He tried with all his strength but was unable to escape. I jumped from one ocean to the next, continuing my tharpana, Raavan bouncing along in each of these Oceans. He was almost in tears at the 7th ocean and ran away to his Kingdom the moment I released him.  

That Raavan?? For beating him you allied with Sugreeva?? I would've beaten him and his Army alone for you. All you had to do was come to me.  If you had become my friend, Raavan would have handed your wife over without any war. Why kill me to win over Raavan...." Bali pleaded.

The Lord came close and whispered in his ear. "Dear Bali.... But in that case, I wouldn't be able to kill Raavan and fulfil the purpose of my Avatar. And more importantly I wouldn't be able to give you your Moksha. Now when you die, you attain your eternal peace, your moksha, you become a part of me. How can I bless you more, Oh great warrior, than by this." The Lord smiled. As Bali's eyes were closing one last time, he saw Lord Vishnu standing in front of him, the yellow silk Dhoti worn, fully clad with beautiful ornaments, the four upper limb Shankh-Chakra-Gada-Padm form of the Maker, smiling at him, blessing him. Although in a lot of pain, Bali smiled back as his eyes closed, as he knew that the eternal peace that all living beings seek, was just one breath away.

--------------------

"Now you know why I am a Bali fan. The path of Moksha, the eternal peace, is unshakable Bhakthi with determination and perseverance to follow your path, attain what you think is right. All of us can be heroes and do heroic things. The word hero need not be a noun, it can be a verb too. " 

Dad finished his story, almost breathless with the passion built up in him, tears not just in his eyes but in all of ours. 

Dad found his hero in Bali. With this story, I also found mine.

In my dad.

True stories - Animal lover

True stories - Animal Lover

Prologue: I heard this amazing story today and although it sounded totally unbelievable, the person who said it, said it with such conviction and fire in her eyes that I was almost inclined to believe her. I had to write it down, lest I forget the intrinsic details she put in, which cannot emanate from someone who is cooking up such a story. So here goes.

Final year mbbs. Our campus looked wet and green and very beautiful as usual. I will miss this greenery when I go back to north India, I thought. The campus had cute dogs, an occasional peacock and parrots. Even the ubiquitous crows were not too noisy. But what I loved most were the squirrels. They were small, beautiful and always playful and running around, never disturbing or destroying stuff. I was just in love with them, but I noticed that a lot of my hostel mates were too. One particular squirrel was always in our corridor. This one had one of its stripes extending into its head and hence somebody had named it "Ramu". Many of the girls in my corridor were too fond of him and kept feeding him stuff. He was very playful and hence quite attached to many of us.

I was on my way back to my hostel room from another boring lecture when it happened. I was walking through the decently lit hostel corridor when I noticed Ramu running around in the wall. Suddenly a loud cracking sound followed by a few sparks and the whining of the squirrel  startled me. I turned back and saw the almost lifeless Ramu lying on his back, and after a few writhing movements he became still. I was shocked and ran towards him, but before I could get there another person was already on the spot. She was the quiet girl of our batch, always alone and to herself, never offering her opinion about anything. She was the last person you would expect to jump up to do any task. I never expected her to have such compassion mixed with presence of mind. She was on the squirrel like a flash, and felt for a sign of life on the squirrels chest with her thumb. Sensing none, she locked her fingers together behind the squirrels spine and began giving chest compressions to the poor little thing, using both her thumbs. A CPR to a squirrel!!! I didn't know what to say, do or think. But one look at her face, that determination on the teary eyes and you would dare not interrupt, let alone mock at her attempt. She continued for a minute or so and suddenly the ACLS God reminded her something and she suddenly removed her plastic ball point pen from here pocket, removed both it ends and the refill, to obtain a thin hollow tube. She stuck it into the mouth of the fallen angel, and blew into it. Mouth to mouth to a squirrel??? Now I've seen it all, I decided. The torso of the squirrel did rise a bit, to her credit, and she continued her ? CPR. After another couple of minutes, somebody had the guts to ask her to stop. She did stop and watched expectantly for any sign of life. Life's not like Bollywood movies, so, there was none. For a minute she sat on that floor, on her knees, above our dear Ramu, now with a pen down his throat, her tears flowing freely onto the floor. Then she slowly removed the pen, and then carried the squirrel to the hostel park. She buried the soft fluffy guy near the flag post without any word. Everybody was too stunned to react and slowly started dispersing. I however, stayed with her throughout her endeavour, but didn't have the conviction to help. After the burial, she got up and left, her eyes now red and puffy. I gave her a soft pat as she passed me and she tried to manage a weak smile.

From then on, I managed to speak with my new friend almost daily and ensured that she never stayed lonely or quite. Not when I was around. Truth be told, she was amazing company, her quite ideas and concepts of the people and the world were too good. We got along very well and became the best of friends. Even on the last day of college, when she left the hostel with her parents, I walked her to the gate and she gave me a tight hug and promised to be in touch. I tried my best not to shed any tears. I succeeded, at least till she left. I walked back to the hostel thinking of all the happy moments I spent with her, resolving that we will always be in touch. Even though my vision was blurred by the tears, I did not fail to notice the handful of freshly plucked jasmine flowers near the flagpole.

True stories - Message

True stories - Message



My consultant, the undoubted favourite of all medicine residents, in his usual spontaneous talkative self, said this cracking sentence during rounds today.

It took us a minute to comprehend and for the message to sink in. But you can't agree with him more.

" How happy you are, at any point of your life, is inversely proportional to the distance between where/whay you are now and where/what you aim to be."

Complicated but path defining. 

And that's why we love him.

Belated happy bday sir.  (15/10/15)

True stories - Beauty, right in front of our noses

True stories - Beauty, right in front of our noses

He was on his way home, aboard a flight from Chandigarh. Just after the flight took off, he spotted it. The tall grey monument, looked similar to the Qutub Minar in shape. 'Now how come I've never heard of such a tall monument so close to Chandigarh', he wondered. He let it go after a while and reverted his concentration back to the air hostess. 1 week later on his way back, return flight about to land around 630 pm, he noticed the same monument again. This time, it was lit up with flood lights and looked even more beautiful. He asked his co passenger whether he knew about the building but got a null response. Determined not to let it go this time, the travel freak in him enquired about the building to all his local friends and colleagues. Nobody knew about it and half the people thought he was crazy. The only person who believed in him was his best friend in Chandigarh, but he was not a local, although the friend did share his curiosity.

More determined now, he attacked Google with a zest previously reserved only for mutton biriyani. 'Monuments near chandigarh' in the 'images' section got him what he was looking for. He was surprised to know its historical importance. More surprised to know its proximity from PGIMER, his place of work. His friend, his eternal co-believer in the Incredible India (the grass is not greener abroad) theory, joined in his excitement. His friend used his contacts to borrow a car, and off they were.

Net result of never ending persistence and undying curiosity - A wonderful evening spent with amazing company in a place which fills your heart with its sheer elegance. Along with the beauty which arises when the soul is satisfied.

What more can you ask for??

At Fateh Burj with  Arjun Lakshman​

FYI - Fateh Burj is the TALLEST Minar in India, just 15km from PGI. An everlasting memorial of the Sikh bravery, resilience and unity. Awesome under the lights in the evening, only negative that they didn't let us climb up to the top. Go for it guys.

#IncredibleIndia #thegrassisnotalwaysgreenerontheotherside

True stories - 4Grandpa chronicles

True stories - 4Grandpa Chronicles

One of Muthassans favourite hobbies was cleaning out the "store room". The one outside the TV room, before you reach the terrace with the recliner swing. It contained Muthassans memories. His old books, his old shirts and dhotis, undamaged, just too old, but too close to his heart to be thrown away. The most important component of his store room were his old photographs and its negatives. That's the reason why he cleans it out, once in a while, so that he can see all those again, recollect a lot of memories, and that makes him very happy and content. We cousins liked to help him whenever possible, because we will surely hear a story or two and probably get our hands on a rare and treasured photograph of our parents or their cousins. Those were wonderful days.

It was one of those school vacation days where all of us where helping him around with his store re-assembly work, moving things in an out, changing things from one suitcase to the other, when this happened. A cockroach suddenly appeared and scampered towards us. My girl cousin, moved out of the way and suddenly we all hear this shrieky girly squeal, that actually jolted us more than the cockroach itself. I think even the cockroach got scared hearing the noise, that it took of and flew out of the store. Calm was restored but what amused us was the source of the shriek. It was not my female cousin, but it came from the the biggest of us all, my tall well built male cousin (who went on to become 6 foot / 100 kg), who, even after the cockroach had flown away, looked pale and sweaty. Group laughter followed and all of us cousins started to make fun of him, imitating his girly squeal and comparing it with his body size and masculinity. He was clearly becoming embarrassed. Grandpa seeing this, came to his rescue. " I guess he just proved that he's the purest Brahmin of us all.", grandpa said. 

Laughter ceased, taunting stopped, curiosity came up. "How is that??", I couldn't stop myself from asking, jealousy predominating in my voice at the compliment given to him. Grandpa smiled a deep satisfied smile and said, "Its the same reason why Karna got cursed by Lord Parasurama. You kids know that story??" One of the kid cousins offered, " Isn't it because he lied about being a Brahmin to learn archery from Parasurama??". Grandpa continued, " yes, that's the reason. But how did Parasurama find out, that Karna wasn't a Brahmin??" None of the kids knew the answer, my shriek cousin was slowly beginning to smile. I could vaguely sense where this was going. Grandpa settled himself on top of a trunk, ready for the story, the kids gathered around him, me and the 'true Brahmin' cuz standing by the door of the store. 

"One afternoon Parasurama was taking a nap on the ground, head on Karnas lap. Karna was then bit by a wasp. The bite was quite painful and the wasp was dark and scary, but Karna suffered the pain and did not move, as he did not want to awaken his Guru from his nap. The blood from the bite made his clothes wet and woke up Parasurama, who saw that  his pupil was bleeding but hadn't made any movement or noise to protect himself. Parasurama immediately knew that the boy wasn't a Brahmin, as a true Brahmin would never stay still/ silent on the sight of a wasp, let alone suffer the pain of its bite. Now you know, why I am not amused at the noise that he made, being scared of such things is inherently in our genes from time immemorial." 

Grandpa finished his story and walked away to his room, giving a small pat on my hero cousins shoulder. He looked content, gave a mini shrug as if it was everyday business being a true Brahmin, and proceeded to work, but carefully avoiding my eye. The kid cousins never made fun of him and actually gave him a little too much respect than warranted, from then on. 

I don't know what's more amusing; a giant cousin who shrieks like a baby, or a kickass grandpa who prevents his grandchildren from undue embarrassment by quoting stories from the Puranas. :-)