Home n alone

My first trip home after moving out and felt like a tourist in d city where i've spent 23 yrs of my life..felt like moving around armed wid a camera...virtual as well as a real one trying to capture images n scenes for posterity...
1) D best part was hovering in d clouds waiting for clearance to land and seeing d festive lights and rocket flares from above...a priceless experience from an amazing vantage point..
2) D car meandering thru' Dharavi crowd on my way home from airport n seeing d chaos of Id n ganpati celebrations in d same gully at the same time...
3)D familarity wid d the public transport and d freedom to go to any place without d choking(n embarassing) task of having to stop n ask for directions or wondering if d auto-wallah is literally taking me for a ride!
4) D clean loos, d fresh bedsheets, Mom's food, d love n warmth of your own home...
Miss u Mumbai..miss u home...

Courage doesnt roar...its d quiet voice that says at the end of day..lets try again tomorrow

Have come across the greatest examples of courage/ determination and resilience over the last few weeks...seeing such people still trying, despite all the pain and agony, despite all d setbacks and still trying to live out another day is truly inspiring..seeing them your problems pale in comparision....
A young Afghani, early 20s, an accidental casualty of a bomb blast..b/l AK and rt arm AE amputation, b/l orchidectomy, diverting colostomy coming for distal cologram...accompanied by his aged father...his father lifting him up so gently, so tenderly, d young guy trying his best with just one capable limb..it was truly heart-rending...
Another young girl..4 yrs..born wid esophageal atresia operated immediately after birth with a gastric transpostion..now coming for a dye study to check for integrity of anastomosis..gone through multiple surgeries..a feeding jejunostomy hanging from one side...yet her Mother explaining to her so patiently, such love, d girl smiling so beatifically and co-operating so well for d test..it was truly touching..incidentally she happened to be a Bahraini citizen...
Another 3 month baby born with high anorectal malformation operated on day 2 of birth with diverting colostomy and now coming for distal cologram to evaluate distal loop and recto-urinary communications..d baby having endured meningits n sepsis and yet fighting on...the parents taking such special care of him..that's resilience 4 u...
I know radiology generally keeps me shielded from direct involvement and yet d limited exposure that i get when these patients come for their tests to our room is enough to leave me profoundly affected, thinking, pondering and then finally blogging..and I wouldn't want it any other way ever..

Happy Friendship Day

Friendshp day! Not that I really need a special day to celebrate friendship..but here's a list of al d gr8 times we had over d last 5.5 yrs! Hope u al remember them as fondly as I do...
1) D creation of BBC..early morning Patho lect in 3rd last row..individual titles and responsibilites delegated in the afternoon FMT lecture...d BBC dictionary, d wierd glossary, d wacky acronyms (ABCD/ LOVE) and our own code language..Psst..
2) The constant leg-pullings, d pathetic pairing ups, d constant punnings and d self-obsession and gossip sessions in d outer section second last corner table :-)
3)D Holi visit to my place..d ball-dancing,d hogging and appreciation of my Mom's culinary skills
4) Late-nite ophthal lectures..less studies, more an opportunity to hang out and for time pass
5) Lunch in KD...last item of d day..mixing up al sabjis wid Sambhavi's universal rice and eating d pan-Indian Khichdi
6) Sundae treat in Dean's lawn :-)
7) D flaring-up of tempers(on my side),ur jokes at my expense d fights, d sulks :-(
8) Gosumag...d making, d cursing, d late nights and driving d printer aunty crazy
9) D Ortho practise session at my place, d final yr practical revisions and d mugging up of all d std and our self-created formats
10) My moans, ur teasings, d anxiety b4 and d celebration after results :-)
11) D visits to sambhavi's place..yummy south Indian food, d movies, d games, etc
12) Shweta n Khushboo for putting up wid me and yet remaining sane and not hating me :-) Thanx for d bday wishes, for al d support especially in internship, thanx for ur acceptance and concern.
13) Shweta..also for all d late night calls, d soul-searching and for sisterly/motherly grandmotherly advice and outlook and insight into my life and others'.
14) Divya... for being such an inspiration, ur sheer brillance and good nature.
15) Varsha..for being d most transparent and genuine person i've met till date
16) Surabhi...for your pearls of wisdom, ur dress sense: owners' pride and neighbours' envy, for being such a dear dear friend
17) Sambhavi..for just being Sam..d one and only...no one can ever take your place in my life...
18) Saumya..for your smile, your sense of humour,sum1 who was closest to me in terms of upbringing,attitude,behenjiness-cum-bitchiness, temparement and moodiness... only u evolved better than me in d 51/2 yrs... :-)
19) Internship..finally learnt to carve our own ways, forge our own paths, seperate out but the memories remain...to be cherished forever.. Thanx for making me a part of your lives..God bless u..
20) D only thing we really missed out was going a trip on our own to sum place...lets hope we can take time from our disparate schedules and do this sum time in d future...looking forward to it and to meeting all of you once again...

Monsoon Magic in Mumbai

Monsoon is definitely the best time to be in Mumbai...especially the transition period between the hot and humid summer (when sweat beads stick to you like wax pellets) and the actual onslaught of heavy, non-stop, pouring rains with the immense water-logging and the incessant cursing and swearing.

The initial build-up and the actual advent of the first rains in Mumbai is so magical and beautiful that it's easy to forget you are in Slumbai and not Mumbai:-)

The clouds darken, the skies lighten, the breeze feels cooler...
The dust seems lazier, beaten to the ground by the relentless summer
The musty smell of wet earth carries through the air, overwhelms you...
overpowers you and then you are left with the palpable sense of anticipation...
The eager countdown waiting for the first drops to fall...

Suddenly, the skies open up, the south west wind blows through, the water-laden clouds give way to yield the slow and steady pitter-patter of raindrops: initially beating a gentle tempo and then quickly changing to a steady, rapid and unending drumming on the face of Mumbai...

Your umbrella quails helplessly and the windcheater bellows out futilely while your jeans get wet,smirched and muddied...
You rush to the nearest shelter and then a quick dart out to catch the first bus/train that you see...
You edge away from the window seats or struggle to slam the windows shut while dodging those sharp needles of rain pricking your face...
You walk on the edge of the road making Olympain jumps to clear the muddy puddles and at the same time avoid being splashed upon by all the speeding motorists...

And just when your mood is about to sour, the rains stop without any warning, a sudden departure, an abrupt closure, leaving the city sparkling clean and the people asking for once more...
Take a bow Rain till we meet again...Mumbai awaits you for an encore.

STATUS UPDATE ( if any1 is interested)

I know there's something seriously wrong with me and/or wid d sex ratio in India when there r more guys than girls scrapping me...:-( where r all d females of d species!!! Seriously missing my gal-friends of GS.

Anyway jokes apart, a week older in LTMMC radio and feeling very wet behind d ears! Have a long way to go but the branch is really very interesting!

No calls yet so life's easy till another 7 days. Will probably start feeling like a true houseman from next Monday onwards. Have managed to survive a week without a relapse of my foot-in-mouth syndrome.

Canteen is cool...always bumping into a couple of batchmates every afternoon-yet to eat alone without a single GSite for company... But d best fun is reserved for when all us radio housemen get free at the same time! As usual i'm d victim of ribbing/leg-pulling :-)

AC is too cool literally...but sooner or later may end up wid d name tag of 'Snuffles' if not careful :-(

Thats all for now. Tc for those who bothered to read this... Cya :-)

Smell

I don't now why do we overlook our organ of olfaction...ask anyone about a favourite memory, you'll get to hear about a sight/a person/ a song/a story but rarely is it associated with or triggered by the sense of smell.

And yet what I would do without my ability to smell? Without smell, there's no taste. Everything seems insipid. Smell is that sense which laces memories subtly on the egdes, gives them character and flavour.

I don't know why I have a lots of smells stored in my mind. Everytime my hair cells catch that odour again, my mind hurtles back to retrieve some old incident that I'd almost forgotten.

Earlier, when staying in my old building, going up in the manual lift with iron grille, I'd try to guess what was cooking in every floor by the smell wafting in! And coming home after college at almost 10 at night, dead tired, my mood would improve in the few seconds before the main door opened, by simply smelling and guessing right what Maa had made for dinner!

Here are my top 5 fav smells (fav b'coz they are evocative)...

1) The wet earth;the first shower of rains...sensual
2)Freshly washed and laundered bedsheets with the smell of Ariel imbibed into the fabric...delicious
3) The smell associated with new clothes in an AC showroom...tangy, sharp
4)Freshly made, homemade ghee...especially at the part when the black crust is beginning to be formed...yummy
5) A baby, freshly bathed, fed, burped powdered and asleep...homely.

Go out and smell(avoiding the garbage dumps)... Life's beautiful.

P.S. Try reading Radhika Jha's novel 'Smell'.... not necessarily the best neither the latest book on the shelf, but very erotic, very French and very different.

Or its predecessor in a similiar vein-'Perfume' by Patrick Suskind-a somewhat over-the-top read but totally fascinating and evocative when it comes to writing about smell...

Not feeling is worse than not knowing.Or not remembering

A flash, a glimpse, a photo, an image,a smell, a scent, a word,...
At first just a hazy recollection...

And then your neurons going on an overdrive, the rapid flux of ions, the unfolding of synapses,chemical connections made and then broken, circuits switched on and then off, the dregging of the storehouses of memory,the amygdala and the hippocampus working in tandem, firing impulses to the frontal cortex...

A vision, a blur, a 'just on the tip of the tongue feeling'...

And then Voila! The memory flashes LOUD and CLEAR, the vivid remembrance, the EMOTION...

Ah what bliss, what joy, the limbic system. The beloved Papez circuit.

"People might forget what you said. People might forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel"

Ignorance is bliss, so is innocence

I don't know if u've read 'The portrait of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde...a classic novel...it's about how a beautiful young man in a moment of madness makes a desperate wish... lives his life vicariously and still remains forever young, whole and beautiful while his potrait encaptures the true blackness of his soul, mirrors his sins, grows old, ugly, changes its form, hides and then reveals the true colours of Dorian Gray.

A fantastic idea no doubt... the first time he commits a crime, the change that comes over the portrait is not only physical but there's a subtle change in the overall expression-the hardening of heart, the awakening of vice. And what struck me is, the portrait is actually a reflection of the soul and not merely a marker of the passing of time and age-bound changes.

And why am I being so disturbed by it now? I came across an old passport size photo of mine, taken in May 2002 , fresh out of school before going to college and got a recent pic taken 5 days ago. And what bothered me was not the physical changes, the receeding hairline, the dark circles, the tightening of the corners of lips, the pendulous lower lip(the hallmark of self-obsession!), the acne pitmarks...those are to be expected.

But it was my look that surprised me -the wide-eyed, innocent "everbody is nice and everything is all right in this world" expression that shines through...Good God, how could I be so naive? So innocent, so trusting...don't get me wrong...i'm still one of the most credulous and naive people around but the latest pic clearly has this film of cynicism over it, the "who really cares or gives a damn as to what happens look"...having expected too much and having believed too much in the intrinsic goodness of people once upon a time, now I've come to a stage when I don't really have any expectations from anybody...where anything good is just an add-on, a bonus.

And that's what is painful. Not the gain of cynicism, not the loss of naivete' but the loss of innocence...

The joy is in the falling, not in the fall

As cliche's go, Love is blind is the most obvious ever. I think, love is banal too. Being in love is boring. But falling in love is fun...

Eyes seeking out 'the' someone when in a group; the initial flighty exchange of looks, the intense staring down; daring him to break the glance first, the unspoken words, the telepathic communions, the twitch at the corner of your mouth and the unsuccessful stifling of the smile your treacherous lips finally break into.

The inital distance, the physical awareness, near yet far, the unknowingly clumsy and knowingly unseen attempts to breach that gap, the nonchalant fling of arm against your shoulder, the reflex straightening of your back; the slight touch and the sensation down your spine.
The grazing shoulders, the draft of air, the crossed legs, the restless jiggling, toes brushing against leg, the slow shifts in positions and finally the closeness and the gladness the direct contact evokes.

The increased sense of awareness, sharpened senses, clearer mind, heightened memory, every word, sight, sound, touch and smell stored in your mind, the unexpected remembrance and the overwhelming longing associated with it.

The silly doings, the heady days, the dressing ups, the slightest excuse to stay in touch, to hear the voice and to remind of you, the flipping through photos and encounters for a secret meaning, a private thought, an implied feeling, a missed gesture, a hidden emotion, an unsaid word.

The standing on the edge of a precipice, finally letting yourself go, the joy of falling ( in love; into love) , the feeling of weightlessness before you hard crash to the ground and reality. And then you know, love is dead.
Sounds stupid, I know. Romantic? Maybe. Cynical? Probably.
But think about it. Atleast it isn't a lie.

P.S. "Falling in love isn't difficult but when you decide you want to stay together despite all, you know it isn't easy." -Anonymous

In a fey mood (alternative title :15 days to wind up)

Feeling a bit strange...blogging after a year and only 15 days to go before we all wind up...15th 's d d-day when i'd know what direction my life's gonna take...whether its time to go back to books or take the next step forward( most likely it'll be a step backward but that's ok-i'm mentally prepared to deal with it now unlike 3 weeks before)...but right now totally in limbo...can' t study nor can do anything else much...might as well help with the Year Book and enjoy the convocation caravan.

Last year was pretty much hell...my grandfather's sudden death on Diwali night, squabbling co-interns, break-ups, almost every public holiday spent in either EMS or emerge in med ward...gave up almost everything just to get a seat in PG and now i'm not even gonna get that...I can hear the hounds of fate howling...but then right now i'm in "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" mood. Even if i'm gonna hang by the noose on 15th I can atleast let the rope run long till 11th. And it isn't fair to let one year of internship blight 4 wonderful years in GS!

So 3 cheers for
1) Behenji-cum-Friends...For Sambo (what i'd i've done without u)...she was literally my lifeline in GS...Surabhi n Divya n Varsha...for all the good times and for all the mad times we had!

2) Batchmates-cum-friends...For Shweta for perennially boosting me...for her regular doses of optimism and All iz Well funda...Khushboo(for the good cheer and for her dialogue-'Ab to rona band kar' n thanx for the B'day plans-left to myself i'd have brooded the day away), Swarada for bearing the brunt of being my baju-waali roll no and Sonali for being a complete anti-thesis of me( Babe-quotient, cool, smiles, sleepiness n absent-mindedness)

3) Boys-Rajvilas by virtue of being my batchmate right from 1st to final yr and for his mad-cap antics, Bhavin by virtue of his (unknown to him) 'what goes down must come up' method of conditioning me n making me better myself , Gujju guys (including Jangale n Ankit) for the love-hate relationships,the lethal 'bindass meet brains' cocktail, for your leg-pullings and ur mockeries-atleast i learnt how to laugh at myself! Subbu for being one of the few sane souls among the guys i encountered during internship and Rupesh for being Mr Congeniality.

4) The library-for the books, loud gossips, whispered scandals, couples ( real n potential), meetings, mcqs, and Sshh....

5) Gosumag...had lotsa fun during its making...so thanx Ani and Sambo for letting me come on board.
6) Malvani, EMS and Saphale-the only worthwhile postings of internship
7) The cut-throat competition...Even though i've ended up cutting myself more often rather than cuttting the competition-but then as a Type A i wouldn't know what to do if life was too easy...i mean how can a fish live without water even if the water turns out to be poisoned!

And a few tears for

8) Male co-interns( atleast the ones that I had)-For being pains in the neck, for the throbbing headaches and lost peace of mind.

9) My foot-in-mouth-syndrome- My absolute lack of Diplomacy, my inability to sweet talk with people and the inability to come up with good excuses-no wonder internship was so bad! :-)

10) Secrecy, selfishness n self-centeredness...Sad to say quite a few ppl here do have these traits...something which i think goes against the credo of a behenji or a friend... but then why blame them-After all, in GS and probably in life too, nothing succeeds like success.

And for Me, Myself n Ananya
For being afraid to wear my heart on my sleeve
Coz if it broke, I didn't know how I would grieve
For not leaving the bay and getting into the sea
Not knowing how to swim,didn't set myself free
For being so cowardly now, using words to screen
My fears and for shedding tears on what could have been....

Medical boons and mills

Audrey was poised on the balcony, waiting for him. The soft rays of the moon bounced off the zygomatic arch of her beautiful face, and her green irises dilated as the saccadic movements of her eyes searched for him. As the moon disappeared in a dark embrace of the clouds, Emilio, her Italian lover scaled the wall using his latissimus dorsi to advantage. His high levels of testosterone had blessed him with well developed secondary sexual characters. He appeared noiselessly on the balcony and startled Audrey. It was only her righting reflexes that prevented her from falling. Audrey lit a candle as his eyes underwent light adaptation. She smiled and watched his rate of respiration increase in response to that. He grabbed her forearm in a supinated position with her elbow extended and shoulder joint in flexion and drew her closer. The scent of her body invaded his nasal mucosa and stimulated the olfactory nerve endings which led to activation of certain libidinous pathways in his limbic system. He held her wrist and felt her pulse beat at a rate of 100/min, normal force tension and volume. He pressed his body to hers and spread the palms of his hands over her back over the lumbar region(L1 to L5). She could not stop herself from clasping his cervical region similarly when she saw the hunger in his eyes. He bent his head down with the image of her lips on his retina. She moistened her lips in anticipation. Their lips touched and they began to exchange the normal flora of each other's oral mucosa (anerobes, strep, diphtheroids etc.). A sweet groan erupted from Audrey's vocal cords. Lost in passion it took a few seconds for her husband's voice to penetrate Audrey's cortex. Emilio broke away from her and climbed down the balcony.

Epilogue:
A few days later Audrey was diagnosed with infectious mononucleosis. Emilio was diagnosed with HSV1 sores on his oral mucosa. And, oh, I forgot.... they lived happily ever after ( of course, i mean, the viruses).

Vuja de

It is the sensation of something happening to you which has never ever occurred before.This was one of the rare occasions in my life, when I made a complete fool of myself.
As medical students in a public hospital, we come across many poor, unfortunate and illiterate patients, and their relatives. It is very common, in fact, it is the code of honour for many residents to pull their hair and get frustrated when patients are unable to follow simple instructions. In my pediatrics posting, I encountered mothers who could not recount important symptoms of lethargy, seizures or decreased feeding; but could narrate the entire process of how, when and in what manner her child defecates. And even describe the shit. With unwanted similes and metaphors.
It never occurred to me how it feels to be on the other side of the fence. It has now occurred. When my computer crashed noiselessly on one fine morning, I called up a technician from a nearby store to format it. Apparently like a bad patient I had neglected the disease far too long. Then he came and started asking these impossible questions, like how many GB you have, what is the Ram of your PC, what is the speed of your net etc. I blinked back in answer every time. I had never had the need to acknowledge the basic profile of my PC. His facial expression was loudly announcing, that I was the biggest moron he had ever encountered in his life. Which I probably was.
He then muted his computer lingo and stuck to easy English vocabulary that I could follow. Eventually he gave up, formatted the PC noiselessly, and left. I'd better go and check the history of my PC now, before I am labelled a "moron-bai" by the next computer-tech.

25 random things about me too ;)

After reading Sambhavi's and Aniruddha's 25 Random things about me, here is my take-
1. I am a typical phattu behenji and other behenjis know that pretty well.

2.I love dogs and puppies very much ,sometimes to the extent that I wish I were a dog( or a bitch,which is closer ;) ) At some ungodly hour when I get bored of that "mug and puke" studies, I wander to the balcony and look at some dogs lolling about at the pavement and think how much better their life is as compared to mine....

3.No offence intended-but I hate being mistaken for a South Indian. All dark skinned people are NOT South Indians.And I absolutely abhor the smug attitude of people when they declare with a (yeah baby,I have hit the bull's eye)- "Oh you must be a Tamilian", "Are you from Trivandrum" , "You are from Madurai, rite?"I really have to resist an urge of hitting on their head with a brickbat.

4. I am mortally afraid of crossing the roads. I would rather wait half an hour at the roadside than cross the road with vehicles zooming past. Thankfully most of my friends know about this fear of mine and help me cross the road. But am really in a mess when I have to do it alone. Am also sceptical of walking down the stairs.

5. I love sleeping....I would proclaim my life to be a battle against sleep.

6.Am a bit of a maniac on pronunciation.I do not hold anything against people who have learned English as a secondary language....but I scoff at people who pronounce "schedule" as "sked-yool" as if it the hep term. Please guys, if you cannot stick to the common (and correct) pronunciation of "shed-yool", look up the word to find out the alternative correct pronunciation, which is "skej-yool". Also please please look up the pronunciation of "rapport". I am not saying that I am perfect.....in fact the only reason why I got hooked to phonetics was that I used to be the butt of jokes because of my own pronunciation errors(which I still make:( )

7.I am still unable to discover what is so cute about kids and soft toys. Kids cry and demand attention and they do not think like adults. Small puppies are so much better than small kids.

8.Though I do not think ADIDAS ;) my thought process and aspirations are more like men.

9.I am a vegetarian.Not because I am born into a particular community.I turned vegetarian in second year of college (a bit too late I guess)out of my own conviction and love towards animals. I regret to say that I still eat eggs as I do not like milk and fear that no animal protein may be a bit too hard on me.

10. I have an absolute dislike for MCPs. And I am not a feminist. I belong to a generation where gender equality is a norm rather than an achievement.

11. I cannot stand the smell of sweat....had a hard time during final year clinics.....People should always smell good!

12. I cannot still discover what is so great about sports. Guys, its a stress buster and a healthy activity. Why do people get so maniacal about these IPLs and GSPLs;) ? There are things in life far more important than these.........

13. Dancing is one thing I am absolutely handicapped at.....maybe I have a cerebellar dysfunction....I am always in awe of people who are great dancers.In fact figure skating is the only sport I like to watch.

14.I also wish I had a better memory so that I could remember all the medical stuff.

15.My lacrimal glands are not under my brain's control. One day I will master them.

16.I am overtly sentimental and my outwardly aggressive attitude is a mask to cover what lies within.I made a promise to myself long back that I shall not be used as a doormat and am still keeping that promise.This is because I know how it feels to be kicked around.

17. I wish I were high on confidence! Am a classical example of Cluster C Anxious type trait.

18.From my childhood, I have had a parrot, many rabbits, pigeons, sparrow, white mice, chicks, tadpoles, fishes and many dogs at pets. And my mom put up with all that.:) I don't have a pet at present since my German Shepherd Joey died. :(

19.I am good at painting and pencil shading(my drawing teacher said so) But I stopped doing that teens in my after I realised it was a girly thing to do. Now I no longer consider it to be a girly thing and I wish I could find time to resume it!

20. I am a voracious reader and like reading fiction.....prefer reading books to watching TV or movies.Don't know why I cannot read my course book with the same gusto :(

21. I like old people very much and it breaks my heart to see them in pain or being ill treated , sometimes by their own children.Am thinking of Geriatrics as a career option.

22.I like the Mumbai's weather very much. Can't understand why people complain of humidity.Its so nice here all the year round.Except rains. I HATE monsoons.The mud, the slosh,the stink !!!

23.I suffer from pathological myopia....that is progressive myopia which leads to retinal degeneration. That process has already begun since I was 16.Losing my vision is a reality which I may face in my fifties. I have been wearing contact lenses since I was in class seventh and find it amusing when people comment"chasma kab lagaa?" whenever I wear glasses to college.Guys, judging from the thickness of my glasses,isn't it obvious that I have not had an acute attack of myopia?

24.I learnt to respect my mother tongue Hindi after coming to Mumbai and realizing how Maharashtrians respect their language. Now I even think that there is nothing wrong with Bhojpuri/Bihari.Its just another language like Marathi,Punjabi,Marwari,Gujarati etc. Though chauvinism when it comes to language does not go down well with me."When in Maharashtra, speak Marathi" is an obnoxious attitude.The people here forget the common etiquette that two people who speak a common language should converse in that.

25.I am not a foodie.I eat to live and not vice versa.

LAQ... A Behenji

A Behenji is defined as a plain-looking woman who blends into the background and is an expert at commiting stupid errors because of her slow thinking and is struggling for survival and reproduction.

Her only solace in life is bitching about other people which she does discreetly though in large packs. Most behenjis are lonely in the beginning but eventually they sniff out similar beings in the crowd and form a cohort. It helps to have behenjis in different spheres because they can collect more information and form a greater database. Behenjis stick together through thick and thin. Like velcro. And make just as much noise. At any point of time a behenji is either giggling (we never laugh) or arguing or bitching. Activities like thinking, creating, innovating are unheard of as yet.

Behenjis repel men. Or they become good friends. Some behenjis are prone to attract men from lower socioeconomic groups when they are crossing streets or ambling around late at night. That's all.

Most behenjis use embroidered handkerchiefs with surface areas less than their own palms. It's used just for moral support. To establish yourself as a pucca behenji wear matching clothes and accesories. From hair clips to slippers. A behenji can never look into a mirror without convulsing 4 times worried about her appearance. Behenji cohorts have one primary female who is the stereotype . Others are variations of her. Some just wallow in its principles.

The most intellectual decisions taken by us varies from what to wear this evening to what to wear next day. Majority of the discussions deal with what that bitch wore today. Or didn't wear.

Behenjis are accomplished in book-keeping. Be it borrowed money or grudges, we never forget, believe me. Behenjis have secret nicknames for everyone. It eases confusion so we know exactly whom we are bitching about.

Behenjis are introspective women who love to think and talk about themselves.

And blog.

25 random things about me

1. I am terrified of butterflies, moths and other things that fly around or make flapping noises as they fly.


2. I am extremely tolerant of other people's views. I like to think that I am only prejudiced against bigots.


3. I love to sleep. I can sleep for 15-20 hrs non-stop. Alone, of course. You are on a behenji website, remember?


4. I hate any kind of physical exertion. I can stay at home watching TV on the same spot of sofa for days continuously without venturing outside. I sometimes fear pressure sores on my arse.


5. I hate going to a beauty parlor, spending money on painful procedures which don't make me look any better or uglier than what I am already. But I still go, of course. When I am forced to.

6. I can bend my second toe under my feet completely. So when I do that, it appears as if I just have four toes. I am aware that my 25 random things are turning into 25 weird random things.

7. I have feminist feelings. I tend to blame all atrocities faced by women on men. Or on religion. I read this line somewhere and thoroughly agree with it. "Men have just two uses... sex and killing cockroaches!"

8. I have a broken incisor and blame all my life's failures on it. It is my bad luck charm.

9. I never get angry at people. If I get distressed with someone's behaviour, I cut that person off completely. Even if I am angry, I can never imagine myself raging at someone.

10. I love giving gaalis. The C ones, F ones and the B ones. I don't know why only guys give gaalis and are surprised, or worse, offended when girls do.

11. I HATE going to weddings. For further explanation-- read Wedding Knells- part One

12. If I didn't become a doctor, I would have loved to study literature. Especially English and Tamil. I wish I had more knowledge of my mother tongue. Its an amazing language.

13. I make most decisions in life based on irrational fears and misjudged premises. It is a typical behenji trait.

14. I am a procrastinater and a pessimist. A lethal combination. If you are extremely joyful, I can get stormy clouds on your horizon in a few seconds.

15. Whenever I get anxious, I am more anxious about where I am going to relieve my delicate intestines, rather than the actual cause of anxiety.

16. I think I am genetically mutated. Too tall. I could sell my femurs to a museum after I die for a fortune. I also have serious doubts on the efficiency of my brain. Considering what topic seriouly occupies my brain-time, I suspect my ovaries have migrated there from my pelvis.

17. I like cracking dirty jokes. Enormously. Especially those which deal with reproduction. Especially when they are masked as innuendoes and most people don't realise what has transpired. It gives me evil satisfaction.

18. I sometimes get out-of-body experiences. When I am staring into a mirror, I feel like I am staring at a stranger ( read: loser).

19. The only things I have honestly pined for are intelligence and assertiveness. Of course, it would also help to be hot and sexy.

20. I like reading novels. Too much. It has made me short sighted, un-sporting, dreamy, impractical and is a pain-in-the-eyes. But I can't put one down once I pick one.

21. I love eating grapes. I like to eat them by unpeeling them. Each individual one. Don't ask me why.

22. My ultimate dream is to become financially independent. That's all. I don't want to be very rich. Just a little.

23. I envy people a lot. Especially some parts of female anatomy. But I have learned better and trained myself to ignore such things.

24. I abhor smoking. Can't stand the smell. Nauseating. Sick.

25. I borrowed my mantra from Dr. KSK..... In life you only need food, clothing and shelter. If you have this much then you should be satisfied. Then nothing can make you sad.

Wedding Knells-2-Ramblings of an idle mind

Weddings, being the flavour of the month, this blog has been inspired by Sam's wedding blues. I've attended only 6 weddings in my lifetime (family or otherwise), so weddings remain a novelty to me. And because, all the weddings that I've attended have been in my native villlages, their memories are vivid, embossed into my childhood consciousness. The hustle-bustle of activity, people strolling freely through the compound and the courtyard of the ancestral house, the rickety shamianas, eating out of plates made of dried leaves, the laughter and the gaiety.

I remember the sight of aunts and grand-aunts all huddled in the huge kitchen, busy frying namkeens in huge black kadhis, the shimmer of oil, the furious chopping of mounds of vegetables, the swish-swish, the khat-khat all seamlessly merging with the babel of voices rising to a crescendo, falling to a hush and then being punctuated by a multitude of giggling. They would then spot me, a solitary skinny figure ( You see, I was the only grandchild for a long time on my Dad's side) standing at the door, dressed in a summer frock replete with flowers, with grimy knees, flywaway curls and forlorn eyes scanning for my Maa and their voices would burst with warmth and welcome. I remember going to my Mum, hiding in her saree and lisping, "Maa, i'm so bored'' and my Daadi would snatch me away, hug me to her bossom, all the time ccoing, "Arre, my Chunnu, my dhanna, u r getting bored! Look at all this, dekho hamaare yahaan shaadi kaise hoti hai. When u'll go YOUR Bombay, u can tell ur friends how we celebrate our weddings, kitna kuch hota hai yahaan". Then I would nod, silently wide-eyed, munching on a hot namkeen while others would coo, "Look how sweet she is!"

I remember the cycle rides with my grandfather, me perched precariosly on the edge of the bar, to distribute cards to nearby places and my grandfather would show-off me, "Arre, this is my eldest son Munna's daughter, Lipi. Bombay se aayi hai" and people would stare at me curiously and whisper among themselves.

Those were the halcyon days of my childhood, the days of innocence, the days when Bombay was a big myth, an impossible dream for these simple-minded, big-hearted villagers. Obviously things are a lot lot different now! But my grandparents' love for me, their eldest son's child, their only granddaughter, still remains as eternal and unquenchable and heart-warming.

The first wedding I actually remember attending was as a 3-yr old, when I had tagged along with my Bua for her friend's wedding. And after coming home I remember complaining to an highly-amused audience,
"Maa, shaadi mein kuaan ka paani (well-water/brackish water) diya tha ,aur aapko pata hai, Dulhaan ne toh make-up bhi nahin kiya tha!"...
...But that was then. Fast forward to the summer of 1994 when both my Kakas were getting married...the first one in my beloved Odisha and the second one later in the month in Mumbai, a week before my 7th birthday. That was my most glorious summer....2 weddings, a birthday and being the centre of attention surrounded by scores of loving relatives(some of them who haven't seen me after that... so the only picture that comes to their minds when my grandmom speaks about me is of a bright-eyed, gay little girl...little knowing what a bespectcled boring behenji I've turned into!)

I remember sitting on a stool in the courtyard, when my Dad's younger brother, a self-professed barber, proceeded to style my hair for the wedding. I was seated apprehensively, akin to a sacrificial lamb, staring at my smiling mother, my baleful eyes dark with hurt and her so-called betrayal for abandoning me to my uncle's scissors. Snip, snip, went the scissors and my uncle kept up a steady cheerful chatter as to how the results would be better than any 'Bombay ka saloon'. In the meantime I saw my curls float down and my body heaved with silent sobs. But the haircut came out beautifully...it was a mushroom cut and honestly no haircut to-date has made me look so good.

I remember dancing with the Baraati dresssed in a peach and pink frilly frock...I danced all the way, for hours altogether, cheered on by people, feet tapping and hips swaying with abandon and finally when I reached the wedding venue, I was so sick and tired that I threw up the entire food and then slept throughout the actual wedding! The Bombay wedding in comparision was more sedate, more formal and probably more 'citified'. But it was fun nevertheless for a 7-yr old kid in an another a new frock.

Those were the last proper weddings I attended. After that the 2 family weddings I've attended have been a blur, a 3-day rush, a quick dash in and out ...plans made in a hurry, calenders checked if the trips could be combined with any weekend/public holidays, Mom taking leave from college, me missing school/college for not more than 2 days, Dad unable to get leave from work...train tickets booked in a hurry, me studying all along the long train journeys, the brief Hellos and namastes to cousins and relatives, the curious stares from my chintu-mintu cousins at this 'brainy' didi from Mumbai, the cursory conversations, the customary murmuring, "Look how big u've become...wish u could've come for a longer time... how much will u study...we are all very proud of u..." These encounters have been like accidentally touching a hot iron, too short, too searing and not without pain.

2001 was the last wedding I've attended. My youngest Mama finally decided to get married and my Mom being the eldest, she was duty-bound to go and see to everything. I went too and it was very enjoyable because there are lots of girl cousins on my Mom's side and only 2 or 3 boys. So the getting together, the gossiping and the dressing up was good fun and timepass.

Ironically, I haven't yet been able to attend any of my cousins' wedding yet. I have missed all the 'next generation'; 'my generation' weddings...6 to be exact! Demands of distance and time, studies and exams have taken the toll...Now I've to keep telling my cousin bro who's next in line to select an oppurtune time, to wait till my studies and exams get over, to which I'm met by an incredulous stare which plainly translates into, " But that would be never!"

Never mind, there are always the behenji weddings to look forward to, which I'm determined to gate-crash...and if a pyscho in a fit of delusion ever agrees to marry me, then I shall solemnly try my best to attend that too. :-)

Wedding Knells

It usually starts like this.

First, there is an invitation by phone. Pleasantaries are exchanged. The good news is passed on from network to network; landline to mobile to internet. Then comes the invitation by post. It is usually glittery with gold and silver paint on it and the usual images of auspicious Hindu Gods and Goddesses. Then comes the constant commentary from my parents about the details of...... The next wedding in the family.

I have always paused to question why I have such an aversion to attend weddings. Usually my family has to plead, convince, threaten, demand and finally resort to emotional blackmail to make me attend one. That happens only after I have exhausted ALL the options of excusing myself from the event. I don't have a big range of excuses. Since I am blessed with one exam every month, I can manipulate and juggle details, so that the wedding day becomes the most crucial arc of my educational curve. My folks eventually saw through it.

Since I am a born miser, and always seem to be down in finances, the amount of money spent on an average wedding unnerves me. Even my bai spent a fortune on her daughter's wedding. The other fact, of course, is that all the money is usually sourced by the bride's family. Which I know is not going to change for a long long time. And another point to be noted is the ease with which most brides assume that the wedding will be financed by their hardworking parents.

Usually just before any wedding, my social conscience awakens and sudden feelings of social injustice to women(read:arranged marriages) and hypocrisy of the society, surface in my soul. This has begun to happen due to two incidents. In the first one, a very educated relative of mine started bantering about my wedding. It was nauseating. He said that it would become very difficult to find a educated groom if I reached late-twenties. And if I didn't marry soon, I would be lonely for the rest of my life. All this, when I was 18. Basically it was bullshit. At another wedding, an uncle of mine presided over the wedding. He has the distinction of having already married off his two daughters as child-brides.

This is not all. If you are still reading this and know me well..... I hate to dress up!!! I hate wearing salwar kameez, plaiting my hair, bangles, earrings and all that comes with it. The most shudder-ful chapter of this is sticking flowers into my hair. I have failed to understand why women find pleasure in poking reproductive organs of plants into their hair.

The climax of my aversion to weddings comes from the endless repetitiveness of it. Each wedding may be special for the families involved. But for seasoned audience like me, it is mind-boggling repetition of the same rituals, same reception, same comments, same jokes.

The only solace for me is the good food. I can't wait to start eating the minute I reach the venue. Especially the desserts. Sometimes, I don't mind sticking a hundred pins into my head just to eat 5 plates of butterscotch icecream without anyone suspecting.

Now, you would wonder why I bothered to write this piece.
Please DON'T invite me to your wedding. I would prefer an icecream at good old Aditi's.

Tomorrow is another day

It has been a black day today. As visuals and news about the siege at Mumbai’s hotels permeates through my living room, I am filled with despair and sadness. Sadness; for all the mindless tragedy that is unfolding, for all the innocent people held hostage, for the families of our police officers, the celebrated faces as well as the unknown men who have been matyred.

Terrorism is hateful and terrorists are the scum of the earth. I find it hard to conceive what drives these men, what ideologies they believe and live by. To see young men so blinded by religious hate and bigotry , stooping to such cold-blooded, planned, mass murder is scary as well as shocking. Honestly, I am myself surprised by my irrational sadness and fear. It isn’t as if Mumbai is new to terrorist attacks-we have had enough of them in the past too…I think the answer lies in the “we have had enough” phrase, in the sense of déjà vu’, the sense of hopelessness. Truly, in this case, familiarity doesn’t breed contempt: familiarity breeds fear.

News channels have said it’s the worse attack in India till date. Though they were speaking in terms of numbers, I somehow feel that the psychology of it hurts even more. It was an attack which began at night and then it raged on throughout the night when people were unaware and blissfully asleep. I feel guilty about dismissing the initial reports as hyperbole, for believing that things would settle down in an hour or two with some expendable collateral damage. I feel guilty that while such happenings were unfolding outside, I was cooped up all-night within the closed air-conditioned confines of my room, more bothered with trying to tick off ‘Topics to be read” on my list for my exam. It was only when my Mom woke up at 3.30 a.m to see the TV and as news of deaths of the ATS chief himself along with other key aides filtered through; I realized the enormity and the scale of the attacks. While I swotted, Mumbai burnt.

I feel bad for the families of the police officers. Nobody could have ever imagined that a response to a late-night distress call could have such horrific circumstances. It was only yesterday morning that I had seen Hemant Karkare speaking to the media and then to know 24 hours later of his death was disturbing, to say the least. Same holds true for the deaths of the other top-brass. These were men, highly trained and highly reputed and if they could be shot down like that, then it underlines how even more vulnerable we all are.

The hotel Taj has always been a landmark of Mumbai. Many people, including my relatives from Orissa on coming down here, in the early Nineties, would go to see the Gateway and then marvel at the hotel Taj. People have been known to sit in the till-now free-for-all lobby of the Taj, gape, gawk and then go back home with stars in their eyes. The Taj has always been synonymous with the glamour and allure of Mumbai. But as the dome of the Taj burnt, as smoke and dust swirled around, it metaphorically seemed as if even my hopes and dreams were being reduced to ashes.

Yes, Mumbai has always been the city of dreams. 22 years ago when my Mom came to the city as a new bride from a small town in Orissa, she was considered lucky by most friends and well-wishers. But now, most parents have become wary of sending kids here, partly due to the attacks and partly due to MNS propanganda ( But let me not digress into that story). People have always emigrated with high hopes to this city, believing nothing is impossible but this has virtually been a death-knell for us. As Sonia Gandhi has put it rightly, ‘It’s not only about security, it’s also about prestige”. I think the usual noises will be made about “the spirit of Mumbai” and all that but I think it is all pure bullshit now. I think, this time, average Mumbaikars like me have been tested beyond the limits of endurance.

Politicians have started descending like vultures, making the right noises at the wrong time as usual. But frankly the security lapses are deplorable. This isn’t the first time nor will it be the last time. These terrorists crossed the international borders at the sea unintercepted and they sailed right below the noses of the Coast Guards and the Navy undetected to arrive at the Gateway. This only highlights the loopholes and the deficiencies that exist in our border patrolling and the entry-exit checkpoints into the country. If exclusive places like the Taj and the Trident with their well-oiled security mechanisms could have been rendered so vulnerable to infiltration and internal attacks, then spare a thought for the other rowdy, crowded public places in Mumbai. And to add salt to our wounds, we have e-mails from these terror outfits mocking our inefficiency and the bitter reality that “the Army and ATS do not have the weaponry to deal with ours sophisticated weapons”.

Now I am not an analyst. I don’t know and neither want to know the hows and whys of these attacks, the funding, the finances, the brains and the technicalities. All I care for as an ordinary self-respectable citizen, is an assurance of safety, the right to live without fear and the right to plan for innocuous things like an exam-ending celebration, a lunch date, a movie outing with friends and other such simple pleasures.

But is wishful thinking right? Because it is a war brewing out there right now. No easy solutions and no easy answers. In the last hour or so that I’ve spent typing this out, the situation outside still remains unchanged like over the past 24 hours…everything is in a limbo while we wait for a reasonable resolution with bated breaths and anxious eyes. In the meantime, there’s nothing much we can do except hope and pray, wait and watch…

All of you, reading this keep your fingers crossed and be safe…Take care and God bless.

P.S. Please think b4 u comment

Strange Memories

I think I wouldn't rate them as top 10 or something, but they are truly kind of the most weird things that have happened to me. Of course, some of these things would seem downright boring to some readers. But compared to the rest of my life, these stand out pustules on the palm.

1. I was once on the street with C and S, when eunuchs came and attacked us. C, being a male, was actually bear hugged by one of the eunuchs while S and I escaped behind an auto. C, has never told us how much money he paid the attackers for freedom and hates us till today for ditching him.

2. I once had a blue colour gola and happily finishing it, boarded my usual local. One woman, stared at me for a while and then asked me. "Kya aapko pata hai? Aapke daant blue hain."

3. This one runs along similar lines. When I was playing on the road in my adolescence. "Kya aapko pata hai? Aapne dress ulta pehna hai."

4. I was waiting on the railway platform, sitting on a bench, reading something. This absolutely shabby beggar walks up to me and tries to see what I am reading with his hands behind his back. I could not shake him off and he followed me from bench to bench. Eventually, I left.

5. There is this mentally unstable beggarwoman whose behaviour is uncontrolled and she randomly boards and jumps off trains. For some strange reason, one day, she stood next to me and hit me on the head with an empty plastic bottle before getting down.

6. One day, there was a large breasted bai sitting opposite me in the train. Suddenly, I was shocked speechless when her left boob started flashing bright light. She then dug her hand inside her semi-opaque blouse and took her cell phone out and started talking.

7. Once when I was bathing , my short-sighted eyes noticed dirt floating in the bucket of hot water. I thrust my hand inside caught a beautiful live wriggling lizard, brought it close to my useless eyes, realisation struck too late, shrieked for a week's worth.

8.I was once sitting, in the hostel study room with R, completely absorbed in what I was reading. Apparently, that day, the BMC workers had come for fogging the hostel premises for the malaria season. We were calmly studying when enormous amounts of blinding white smoke started coming out of all windows engulfing us. Shrieked again. Laughed later, though.

9. Another train one. I was travelling with M this time. A little toddler with pustules on his face was picking at them. M alerted his mother who laughed it away. The little guy deviously dissected a large pustule. He examined the peeled skin in his hand for a second and then popped it into his mouth. Yuck.

10. I 'll write the tenth if I remember something . Its too late at night for me.

Yours Intestinally

After four and a half years of examinations and highstrung nerves, I have finally come to identify the only sensitive organ in my body... my intestines. Apparently, the Almighty wired my nerves a little weirdly and most of the neurons in my brains seem displaced into my intestines.
The autonomic nervous system innervating my intestines are closely linked to my limbic system, my emotional centre.

As I reached adulthood, I recognised my inability to feel happy, sad, angry, disappointed, anxious, surprised etc. and wondered whether I was born into Nirvana, something people ache for but never attain; no matter how hard they try. But this spectrum of emotions was perfectly conveyed to my bowels year after year, which I have just recently learnt to recognise (ever since I strayed into a medical college). I know there must be many such mentally insensitive souls wandering in the bleakness, being incessantly accused of having unfeeling hearts and I hope my frank revelations help them read their own minds.

Generally, a phase of regular bowel motions is suggestive of contentment. It is accompanied with audible gurgles at pinnacles of happiness, something my friends are completely used to by now. The gurgles are usually accompanied with a sensation of peristalsis from right to left at the upper abdomen. This will help you to differentiate happiness from hunger; the latter is accompanied by static gurgles felt in the left half of upper abdomen.

Negative feelings with violent fluctuations manifest as diarrhoea. The most important being anxiety and nervousness, especially just before exams (or similar events where the next few hours are determinants of your fate). The attack usually occurs acutely and you have to rush to the loo that instant or perish. (Which is why I have all the loo locations on every floor and departments of KEM hospital on my fingertips, in case you ever need help, call me.) Anger and hatred manifest similarly but with a hint of nausea. You have to repeatedly experience them to outline the subtle differences. Also, anxiety is the best purgative. So, if your bowels feel flushed out and all empty and hollow at the end, it is more likely to be anxiety than anger.

Phases of life marred by disappointment, discontent, low self-esteem (eg. Greek God asked out the Hot Babe and he doesn't even know your name) manifest with irregular, untimely, ill-formed and for some unfortunate souls- foul smelling stools. Boredom and a passive life with deterioration of intellect manifest with constipation and/or painful defecation. These individuals also don't respond to anxiety and anger and are referred to quacks such as medical doctors for treatment. Surprises manifest as blink-and-miss phenomena such as a quick burp or wind from the other end (better missed... hehe).

Jealousy and envy, one of the most rampant feelings in med-school are wired into the stomach. Heartburn continuous or intermittent is diagnostic. No amount of antacids, syrups or tablets, can cure it. These individuals again end up with quacking medical doctors.

Complicated emotions like devotion, admiration, caution are permutations and combinations of above given manifestations. And yes, of course, the most complex emotion, reproductive love. I wouldn't comment on it, as it remains one of the few I have not yet experienced. And when you do, please tell me the exact presentation. Who knows, I could be dumb enough to overlook it just because I took a laxative!