A great demand by ananya led me into writing my shortest poem dedicated, of course, to myself.
Fact
I write,
Trite.
Fact
I write,
Trite.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
An Idle mind is a Devil's workshop
If necessity is the mother of invention, then idleness is the grandmother of this blog. Two days having elapsed since I've been freed of PSM's clutches (hopefully till my internship) and other exam terrors, I've been thoroughly idle after a long long time and I am absolutely revelling in this strange sensation. Now this idleness is not really a gift, this is something which I' ve enforced upon myself before I plunge headlong into the murky and deep waters of my final year (the last and the ultimate frontier) especially when I don't even know how to swim. I fatalistically reasoned, since I am anyways doomed to a year of the ultimate in slogging and ghasoogiri, it makes better sense to remain as idle as possible and to conserve energy for the crucial days ahead. Something akin to hibernation which is so in vogue this season.
Having thus decided, I became busy to prepare myself to remain idle. All offending mentions of ENT, Oph and PSM tucked away, any escaping pages firmly pushed backed into the drawers and my offensive final year books locked in the cupboard for some days, I settled myself on my cushy bed with 3 pillows and a couple of story books to give me company. That was two days ago.
Three sunrises and two sunsets later, I 've finished both the story books, have posted my melancholy in poems for all to comment upon, have made a few snide comments myself and have Orkutted all those who have had the misfortune to be online at the same time as me, several times a day. I have slept for 12 hours straight without any guilt, have munched upon endless packets of Kurkure (Okay..., 4 to be honest) and have seen TV till my eyeballs were ready to pop out. Initially, I was surprised (Yay! Ananya, u r not studying), then euphoric (Yippee! I am actually not studying) and now I am bemused (Hey, what are you doing, not studying yet?) .
I have come a full circle, having run out of ideas to amuse myself. I am in that transition stage, the feeling that you get when you are somewhere midway on a steep and slippery slide where you have left the safety of the handles above and you don't know how hard your bottoms are going to hit the bottom of the pit. So, now neither do I want to hit my books yet nor do I want to read another story book. To amuse myself, I even offered to sweep the house when the maid played truant and went shopping (something which I clearly detest, never mind that its purpose was to replenish my own things). Now I have reached that stage of idleness when my mind, too idle to think of new ideas, can only think of words to write and complete this blog which itslf is an exercise in the futility of idleness.
So I request all those idle people who took out time to read this blog to furnish some ideas on how to beat idleness. But do hurry up, for I've 40 hours before the spell weaves off and I have to start grinding my nose in the horrendous mill of studies from Monday morning.
P.S. I thank you all for bearing with me and coming this far. It speaks wonders of your persistence in idleness.
Having thus decided, I became busy to prepare myself to remain idle. All offending mentions of ENT, Oph and PSM tucked away, any escaping pages firmly pushed backed into the drawers and my offensive final year books locked in the cupboard for some days, I settled myself on my cushy bed with 3 pillows and a couple of story books to give me company. That was two days ago.
Three sunrises and two sunsets later, I 've finished both the story books, have posted my melancholy in poems for all to comment upon, have made a few snide comments myself and have Orkutted all those who have had the misfortune to be online at the same time as me, several times a day. I have slept for 12 hours straight without any guilt, have munched upon endless packets of Kurkure (Okay..., 4 to be honest) and have seen TV till my eyeballs were ready to pop out. Initially, I was surprised (Yay! Ananya, u r not studying), then euphoric (Yippee! I am actually not studying) and now I am bemused (Hey, what are you doing, not studying yet?) .
I have come a full circle, having run out of ideas to amuse myself. I am in that transition stage, the feeling that you get when you are somewhere midway on a steep and slippery slide where you have left the safety of the handles above and you don't know how hard your bottoms are going to hit the bottom of the pit. So, now neither do I want to hit my books yet nor do I want to read another story book. To amuse myself, I even offered to sweep the house when the maid played truant and went shopping (something which I clearly detest, never mind that its purpose was to replenish my own things). Now I have reached that stage of idleness when my mind, too idle to think of new ideas, can only think of words to write and complete this blog which itslf is an exercise in the futility of idleness.
So I request all those idle people who took out time to read this blog to furnish some ideas on how to beat idleness. But do hurry up, for I've 40 hours before the spell weaves off and I have to start grinding my nose in the horrendous mill of studies from Monday morning.
P.S. I thank you all for bearing with me and coming this far. It speaks wonders of your persistence in idleness.
Friday, December 7, 2007
The road less travelled
It's a long road that I must tread
One that fills my heart with dread
For I know not the pitfalls ahead
Nor the dangers that lay spread.
The forks wherein I may astray
Or the paths where I must stay
I know not whom shall I meet
Whom to doubt,whom to greet.
It's a lonely road for me to walk
No one to share, no one to talk
But many to mock,many to scorn
This was my star when I was born.
True, how can anyone understand
The fine lines etched on my hand
When I myself have sought in vain
To decipher what my Fates ordain?
It's a difficult road for me to take
But it's a journey I have to make
My heart is weary,my body sore
But my mind wills try a bit more.
I know not why did I choose so
Now I have no choice but to go
Go on I will, till I perish or I gain
All I seek, to cherish all the pain.
One that fills my heart with dread
For I know not the pitfalls ahead
Nor the dangers that lay spread.
The forks wherein I may astray
Or the paths where I must stay
I know not whom shall I meet
Whom to doubt,whom to greet.
It's a lonely road for me to walk
No one to share, no one to talk
But many to mock,many to scorn
This was my star when I was born.
True, how can anyone understand
The fine lines etched on my hand
When I myself have sought in vain
To decipher what my Fates ordain?
It's a difficult road for me to take
But it's a journey I have to make
My heart is weary,my body sore
But my mind wills try a bit more.
I know not why did I choose so
Now I have no choice but to go
Go on I will, till I perish or I gain
All I seek, to cherish all the pain.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Life
The hour before dawn is dark
The world barren, the view stark
Above are the clouds, leaden and grey
While the sea below is still and sombre.
Soon the silver sky begins to lighten
Turning into pink and then golden
As the warm rays strike the water
The sleeping sea begins to bestir.
The water ripples, the waves are slight
Joining forces, gaining size and might
Their grey faces frilled by white lace
Hug the shore in a powerful embrace.
The waves come and go
In a rhythm, steady and slow
The timeless ebb and flow
With the tides, high and low.
Their onslaught is never-ending,
So is their retreat never-ceasing
Always beating the tattoo of life,
Against the shore without any strife.
A pattern as old as the Earth
Beginning long before man’s birth
One of Nature’s cycles, centuries old
That will continue till Earth turns cold.
The world barren, the view stark
Above are the clouds, leaden and grey
While the sea below is still and sombre.
Soon the silver sky begins to lighten
Turning into pink and then golden
As the warm rays strike the water
The sleeping sea begins to bestir.
The water ripples, the waves are slight
Joining forces, gaining size and might
Their grey faces frilled by white lace
Hug the shore in a powerful embrace.
The waves come and go
In a rhythm, steady and slow
The timeless ebb and flow
With the tides, high and low.
Their onslaught is never-ending,
So is their retreat never-ceasing
Always beating the tattoo of life,
Against the shore without any strife.
A pattern as old as the Earth
Beginning long before man’s birth
One of Nature’s cycles, centuries old
That will continue till Earth turns cold.
The last song of dusk
As the sun’s rays falter
And the sky turns darker
The wind begins its song
To mourn the day that’s gone.
At first, it is soft and slow
A mere hum, loving and low
Soon swells to a wail and cry
A loud lament piercing the sky.
A song blown everywhere
Reeking of loss and despair
At times the tone does drift
But the rhythm; never shifts.
To the sun, says the sea,
Tarry awhile, stay with me
And the wind beats its cadence
But the sun departs in silence.
The dual lament rises and falls
As the setting sun answers no calls
Wiser, the two entwine to sing a lullaby
For the night and to bid the day goodbye.
And the sky turns darker
The wind begins its song
To mourn the day that’s gone.
At first, it is soft and slow
A mere hum, loving and low
Soon swells to a wail and cry
A loud lament piercing the sky.
A song blown everywhere
Reeking of loss and despair
At times the tone does drift
But the rhythm; never shifts.
To the sun, says the sea,
Tarry awhile, stay with me
And the wind beats its cadence
But the sun departs in silence.
The dual lament rises and falls
As the setting sun answers no calls
Wiser, the two entwine to sing a lullaby
For the night and to bid the day goodbye.
Rubbish
Come, in the morning time
You see a beach so pristine
The sands are golden and clean
The blue sea has its own sheen.
But come a few hours later
Left behind by the receding water
Is a beach awash with sewage
The sea’s price for human bondage.
It’s enough to make one sick
All that sight of shiny plastic
And hundreds of dead fish.
It does make one so wish-
When will we learn not to litter
And make this world a bit better?
For the sea keeps no secrets
Reclaims its own, returns the rest
All that man offers in unholy homage
And all of man’s filth and garbage.
You see a beach so pristine
The sands are golden and clean
The blue sea has its own sheen.
But come a few hours later
Left behind by the receding water
Is a beach awash with sewage
The sea’s price for human bondage.
It’s enough to make one sick
All that sight of shiny plastic
And hundreds of dead fish.
It does make one so wish-
When will we learn not to litter
And make this world a bit better?
For the sea keeps no secrets
Reclaims its own, returns the rest
All that man offers in unholy homage
And all of man’s filth and garbage.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Vicious or viva-cious?
Why me?
My university vivas, with external examiners, no matter how hard I try to keep them sombre and boring have to evolve in to a masala episode which I try to recount and forget the embarassment. Sigh.
First year... Physiology
Examiner: So, examine the sensation of upper lips on the subject.
Me: Er...ma'am?
Examiner: Examine the sensation of upper lips.
Me: uh..ok
(I take a wisp of cotton for testing fine sensations and examine the sensation of upper lips on a forty year old supine mama.)
Examiner: (Laughing hard) What are you doing? I said examine sensation of upper limbs!!!
Me: Oh, oh, Ma'am, I heard upper lips.
Examiner: Don't you have any common sense?
Me: Sorry ma'am.
Second year... Forensic Medicine
(It is November, I am cold and shivering.)
Examiner: Are you very cold, should I turn off the fan?
Me: Yes sir, thank you.
(Examiner gets up turns off the lights and we are momentarily in darkness.)
Examiner: uh, sorry, sorry.
(He finds the right switch. Light on. Fan off.)
Examiner: So, what is nymphomania?
Me: Sir it is a .... (you kno what right?)....
Examiner: What is the meaning of nymph?
Me: Er...
Examiner: What is the word nymph derived from?
Me: Er...
Examiner: Do you know what is a nymphectomy... you don't know?
Me : Er... (Desperately wishing he switched to some other topic!)
This year... PSM
Examiner: What is your height?
Me: 5'10''
Examiner: So what are the advantages and disvantages of being 5'10''?
Me: ( sheepishly smiling, showing my broken incisor, waiting for him to talk sense)
Examiner: Don't you think you have a social problem? This being preventive and social medicine, think..
Me: (thinking about tall women not have adequate pelvises and safe deliveries, but that's a gynac problem, so I sit there and stay shut up)
Examiner: Don't you think it will be difficult to find a bridegroom for you? I mean, your choice will be so limited.
Me: Sir, I don't have a problem with shorter men.
(At this juncture, the internal examiner, our beloved Dr. B, covers her face with her hand, Manoj Kumar ishtyle and breathes heavily.)
Examiner: Yes, you will not have a problem, but the husband will have, he will have to wear heels.
Me: Then I will not be with him na.
Examiner: That is what I am saying , you have limited choice.
(He actually starts singing) Jiski biwi lambi uska bhi bada naam hai..
Me: (I grind my teeth, I can hear the PSM RMOs sniggering outside the cabin.)
Examiner: (finally we proceed to the viva) How can you say that your height is not abnormal?
(And we end up discussing biostatistics and genetics...)
My university vivas, with external examiners, no matter how hard I try to keep them sombre and boring have to evolve in to a masala episode which I try to recount and forget the embarassment. Sigh.
First year... Physiology
Examiner: So, examine the sensation of upper lips on the subject.
Me: Er...ma'am?
Examiner: Examine the sensation of upper lips.
Me: uh..ok
(I take a wisp of cotton for testing fine sensations and examine the sensation of upper lips on a forty year old supine mama.)
Examiner: (Laughing hard) What are you doing? I said examine sensation of upper limbs!!!
Me: Oh, oh, Ma'am, I heard upper lips.
Examiner: Don't you have any common sense?
Me: Sorry ma'am.
Second year... Forensic Medicine
(It is November, I am cold and shivering.)
Examiner: Are you very cold, should I turn off the fan?
Me: Yes sir, thank you.
(Examiner gets up turns off the lights and we are momentarily in darkness.)
Examiner: uh, sorry, sorry.
(He finds the right switch. Light on. Fan off.)
Examiner: So, what is nymphomania?
Me: Sir it is a .... (you kno what right?)....
Examiner: What is the meaning of nymph?
Me: Er...
Examiner: What is the word nymph derived from?
Me: Er...
Examiner: Do you know what is a nymphectomy... you don't know?
Me : Er... (Desperately wishing he switched to some other topic!)
This year... PSM
Examiner: What is your height?
Me: 5'10''
Examiner: So what are the advantages and disvantages of being 5'10''?
Me: ( sheepishly smiling, showing my broken incisor, waiting for him to talk sense)
Examiner: Don't you think you have a social problem? This being preventive and social medicine, think..
Me: (thinking about tall women not have adequate pelvises and safe deliveries, but that's a gynac problem, so I sit there and stay shut up)
Examiner: Don't you think it will be difficult to find a bridegroom for you? I mean, your choice will be so limited.
Me: Sir, I don't have a problem with shorter men.
(At this juncture, the internal examiner, our beloved Dr. B, covers her face with her hand, Manoj Kumar ishtyle and breathes heavily.)
Examiner: Yes, you will not have a problem, but the husband will have, he will have to wear heels.
Me: Then I will not be with him na.
Examiner: That is what I am saying , you have limited choice.
(He actually starts singing) Jiski biwi lambi uska bhi bada naam hai..
Me: (I grind my teeth, I can hear the PSM RMOs sniggering outside the cabin.)
Examiner: (finally we proceed to the viva) How can you say that your height is not abnormal?
(And we end up discussing biostatistics and genetics...)
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