tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273498752024-02-19T12:07:09.497+05:30I, Me, MyselfNivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-14447806132413858732017-10-10T15:15:00.001+05:302017-10-10T15:31:10.344+05:30LET'S TALK ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The WHO defines Health "<i>as a state of complete physical, mental and emotional well being and not merely an absence of disease or infirmity.</i>" And yet we often find ourselves paying heed only to any of these domains in solitude. Oft neglected are the domains of mental and emotional well being or rather, the lack of it.<br />
As someone who is a fledgling in the study of Mental Health, I'd like to share my two pennies this World Mental Health Day.<br />
<br />
<b><u>THE MENTAL ILLNESS PANDEMIC</u></b><br />
Mental illnesses have been known to humanity since time immemorial. Even the ancient Indian scholars described mental illnesses in the <i>Charaka Samihita. </i><br />
Despite this, mental illnesses have been treated as perhaps being "not real" or "it's in your mind"! It was seen as something that a person who's fragile would develop. So you had to merely, "Man-up!" or "Grit it out"!<br />
But it's only off late that India is waking up to mental illness. Mental illness is real and one merely doesn't "shake out of it".<br />
Be it the rising number of adolescent suicides, people battling various addictions or the growing awareness about depression and bipolar disorder, people are only just beginning to talk about it. And well, that's good! In fact, the World Health Organization's theme for 2017 is <i style="font-weight: bold;">'DEPRESSION: LET'S TALK' </i>.<br />
Mental Health issues have thus far been shrouded under the twin veils of unawareness and stigma. And unknown to the vast majority the serpent has been growing. Studies suggest that given India's demographic status - our large young adult population is most vulnerable. And given the dearth of mental health infrastructure, we are perhaps at the tipping point.<br />
The need to arm ourselves with the right knowledge is therefore imperative.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>HOW DO I RECOGNIZE MENTAL ILLNESS?</u></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Many
of the symptoms of mental illnesses overlap with the normal feelings a person
might experience over the course of time ; may be a month, a week or perhaps
sometimes, even a day.</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> For instance , how does one know if some
discomfort is a mere heartburn or a prelude to a heart attack? While physical
medicine has over the years developed a battery of tests ( example : an
echocardiogram ECG) , mental health still hasn't found these tools.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so how
does one tell if feeling low is related to that issue you had with your boss
last night or is it a sign of depression? When does the line between having a
few drinks with friends versus having an addiction, blur?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is indeed
true that it requires many years of training to make accurate diagnoses ( and
yes, psychiatrists themselves need a lot of time with the patient and family to
make one; and yes they too may rarely not pick up an illness in its early
stages and may have to revise their diagnosis at a later date.) Yet there are a
few pointers that we commonly use to pick up someone who needs psychiatric
help:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>If you find
yourself having thoughts of harming yourself (even if it's something like cutting
your wrist) -<b style="font-size: 14pt;"> SEEK HELP. ASAP!</b></li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Low mood
persisting for more than <span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">a week to
two,</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">loss of interest in something you
previously liked ( meeting with friends/ relatives, </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">watching a movie, music etc)</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Sleep
disturbances - waking up very early in the morning despite not intending to and
while sleeping at your usual time ( eg. waking up at 3 or 4 am without a
purpose when you would normally wake up at 6 or 7 am)</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Loss of appetite
, leading to noticeable weight loss ( without an exercise/ diet regimen)</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Hearing nonexistent
voices , i.e. hearing the voices of people not in your immediate vicinity</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>For
Addiction: If your internet addiction begins to regularly interfere with your
work ( i.e. not completing an assignment because you spent too much time
watching videos on the web)</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>For
substance abuse: If you were someone who previously had a drink or two over the weekend
but now seem to crave it through the week, or your thinking about your next
drink even while making an important presentation at work etc or the substance has resulted in a physical problem (such as maybe a liver disease)</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">For a
bystander to spot the signs of mental illness the above pointers may be useful
. Additionally, if you notice a friend/ family member is:</span></div>
</h4>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Talking of
self harm ( even in a mocking/ self deprecating/ jovial manner)</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Unusually
morose, quiet and withdrawn</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Neglecting
routine hygiene/ self care</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Increasingly
excitable/irritable/ cheerful - more than what would be considered appropriate
in any given situation</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>An addiction
that is noticeably affecting not only the individual but also others around
them</li>
</ul>
</h4>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><u>OPTIONS
AVAILABLE</u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>FAQ</u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>1. </u> Do I need to see a psychiatrist or a psychologist? And where do I find one?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mental
Health professionals are available in all medical colleges and most private
hospitals. And despite the prevailing myth, not all mental ill health
conditions require one to pop a pill. A lot many are addressed by non
pharmacological approaches, counselling being one of them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Again counselling
itself is an umbrella term and each condition requires a different approach.
For instance, the approach to couple who comes with a relationship problem
would be diametrically different from an approach that would be used for an
individual with OCD ( Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can contact either a psychiatrist or a psychologist and they in turn will suggest the subsequent line of action.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>2. What causes mental illnesses?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The current understanding of psychiatric illnesses is that the cause is multifactorial, that is to say, no single agent can be pointed to as being the cause. That said, the eventual illness develops due to a complex interplay between genetic and environmental factors. In other words, an individual might have a genetic vulnerability to a certain illness. Subsequently whether that individual develops the said illness will depend on their environment ( upbringing, childhood experiences, stress etc.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These factors ultimately result in imbalances in the chemicals in the brain leading to the various symptoms of mental illness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, our understanding is still limited and research is on going.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>3. Are mental Illnesses curable?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A vast
majority of the conditions are treatable ( vs Curable). For instance Diabetes
and Hypertension are treatable illnesses, medical science hasn't found a
"cure" for it. So it is with a vast majority of mental illnesses as
well. Among mental illnesses too, there are many different types and each will respond deferentially to treatment ( both pills and therapy).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">However, what's important to note is that professional help will certainly alleviate the suffering that an individual is going through. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>4. Are all psychiatric patients kept in hospitals?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No. It was in the 19th century perhaps that persons with psychiatric illnesses were committed to homes/ asylums. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today, just like any other illness, a vast majority of individuals with psychiatric conditions are treated on an Out Patient Basis. Persons with severe illnesses may be admitted in hospitals for a few weeks. But there is a concerted effort to get them back into their routine jobs and integrate them with the community. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These are only a few of the doubts I have come across, but the myths prevailing around psychiatric illnesses are many more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u>THE WAY AHEAD</u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The way ahead is rocky and uncertain. The disparity between the large number of people and the minimal number of mental health professionals is perhaps the biggest impediment. It will be a while before this ratio is rectified. However even if the people in need can access the existing resources , that too can make a significant difference. And the first step here perhaps is to spread awareness. The media must be lauded for its efforts to raise this issue and discuss it in the public domain. Celebrities talking about their battles with these issues too will help shatter some of the stigma that's stuck on. Although the picture seems murky, it's important to know that help is available for those who seek it. One needn't go through this alone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, as the slogan goes, <i>let's talk about this!</i></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-71212152298691139892017-04-02T13:40:00.003+05:302017-04-02T13:40:44.303+05:30ONE NIGHT AT THE DOCKS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>This story was written back in 2010 as an entry for the Deccan Heral Short Story Competition. Back then I was a second year medical student, and was fascinated by diseases of the mind. Now having taken up Psychiatry as a specialization, I re read it, and I must say it's quite an accurate description( save for fictional liberty). </i><br />
<i>..................................................................................................................................................................</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Raman, how much exactly is eight times thirteen?’, I
queried.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the fag end of
the day, my feet were aching and I didn’t exactly pride myself with regards to
my mathematical abilities. All I wanted was to tally the change, finish the
cursory submission work and head home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘One hundred and four’, rapt came the reply.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This boy had a sharp mind. Pity he didn’t put it to much use
but to place bets at the bar that he’ll shortly be heading over to; to
intoxicate himself to the point where he can’t tell one from the other<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘And that’s that.’, I sighed signing the log book , bringing
to close yet another day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Good night Mistri Sir’, Raman called after me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I nodded at him and set off towards my one room apartment,
three lanes and five cross roads across.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wiped another bead of perspiration off my forehead as I
walked across <st1:street w:st="on">Marina Road</st1:street>.
It was quite a warm night spare the salty breeze that came blowing across the
docks. It was past eleven, yet the docks were bustling with activity<b>. </b>From
where I stood, the far ends of the docks were visible. After some time, I
headed down on the path home to retire for the night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke the following morning in typical fashion. Taking in
the sweet smell that came in from the sea each morning, I went to Velu’s Mess.
Over <i>chai </i>he’d tell me all the local
gossip, in which I had no particular interest. But then, whilst narrating one
of his more meatier stories he’d spare me an extra <i>chai </i>or the odd rusk. And this seemed to be just that occasion…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Listen to this hot news!’, he pronounced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I did habitually, I nodded. I would savour the chai and
the morning breeze while Velu would go on to psycho analyse and verbally molest
the character and reputation of every sane person it the vicinity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Murder at the docks!’, I heard Velu read from this
morning’s paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So this wasn’t the usual gossip eh!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“A little past 12 a.m.
early this morning, West End Limits Police Station received an anonymous call
informing them about a suspected murder of an old man at the far end. Upon
reaching the site, the police found the victim lying unconscious in a pool of
blood. He was immediately rushed to the Government Hospital, whereupon he
succumbed to injuries. It is believed that the patient suffered a fatal blow to
the back of his head. Further inquiry has revealed that Jayaram, aged 59, worked
as a security guard at the West End Port. Having finished his shift at half
past eleven, he was on his way home when the incident occurred. Investigations
are on and the police are unclear with regards to both the motive and the
culprit. This incident follows in the wake of two other similar murders in the
above mentioned area, the most recent being…”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Ratnamma!’, Velu recalled from memory . <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was of course referring to the boisterous fisherwoman who
met her end a fortnight ago. Well, she was quite old and her fish off late had
been as dead as the shells I used to pick off the beach as a kid, yet it was
quite a brutal end. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman though, I must add, was feisty! I doubt that there
was single living soul in this city with whom she hadn’t haggled!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wasn’t it only a week or so before she died that she and Velu
had had a face off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Velu had ticked her off for serving up yet another batch of
stale fish. They had stood arguing and exchanging insults. Velu was a mammoth
of a man, but Ratnamma‘s battery of
verbal volleys were more than a match for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meanwhile, having drained the last sip of my second cup of
chai, I stood up to leave. I was on my way out, when Velu called out after me, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Mistri sir, be on your guard! You never know who it’ll be
next!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
………………******……………..*******……………….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was after I’d bathed and stood offering my morning
prayers that I noticed someone approaching my apartment. It was that pest of a
landlord, I realized, Raja. He had once been a jawaan in the army, but at
present lived life in tatters. He had fallen wayward, his family having wisely
abandoned him a while ago, his main concern now was as to where his next <i>‘quarter’ </i>would come from.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple of loud raps on the front door announced to me, his
unwelcome arrival.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What is it Rajanna?’, I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I have decided to increase the rent from this month. It’s
going to be seven hundred and fifty now!’, he stated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stench of putrefied alcohol mingled with <i>beedi </i>smoke was intolerable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘What! This isn’t done. How could you?’, I protested.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Nothing doing!’, he proclaimed and before I could utter a
word, he slammed the door on my face and stumbled down the stairs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That thieving scoundrel! I cursed him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seven hundred and fifty rupees for this rat hole? Preposterous!
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Had I the means, I wouldn’t be living in this neighbourhood
which in fact was more akin to a sewer, resplendent with cons, crooks and criminals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I would have to ask Leela for some money. I sadly
thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing not what else to do I headed for work. I stood waiting
for a good twenty minutes, before Raman finally arrived. Together we readied
the bus and began the day’s work. Work, as I had realized, was the only
constant in my life, and it seemed to have a calming effect on me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As conductor of Route 315, I headed as I had for over thirty
five years, with Raman at the helm, towards <st1:place w:st="on">West End</st1:place>.
It was a three hour route that cut across the city, and we did this four times
each day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat down on the front seat. It would not be until at least
Rose hill that the first passenger would get in. The crowds would only come in
when we neared Town Hall. And as predicted, I settled into my usual routine of
issuing tickets, verifying bus passes, haggling with the odd passenger or two
for change and throwing the occasional miscreant out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…………………************………………..************………………………….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was only later that night, I remembered the cumbersome
events of earlier that day. Back at the office, I put in a call to Leela.
Luckily, she was at home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Appa, how’re you? I’m so sorry I haven’t come to visit you
lately. I’ve just been too busy at the hospital!’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Goodness, this girl can go on endlessly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘It’s okay Leelu.’, I replied. I then went on to explain my
current financial situation and added, ‘so if it’s possible, can you kindly
lend me some money?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Oh! I’ll come and see you on Sunday morning.’, she said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tone didn’t sound very promising.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sighed and put the phone down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What would I do if Leela didn’t give me the money. I had no
savings. I’d spent every paise I’d ever
earned on Shanthi’s treatment. I wasn’t even in a position to borrow from
Raman. He had loaned me two thousand rupees for Shanthi’s funeral, and I still
hadn’t cleared that debt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh good God! What would I do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t possibly force Leela. Afterall that she’s done
for me … and for how long have I known her, only a year or so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Leela worked as a nurse at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Curzon</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Memorial</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place>. It was in that
very hospital that Shanthi spent her last six months, debilitated by a type of
cancer, which spread through her blood like a serpent. It was in this manner
however that Leela became close to my wife and me. We looked upon her, during
that period, as the daughter we never had. Eventually, Leela had adopted me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She now came to visit me, sometimes, a couple of times a
month, sometimes only once.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had grown very attached to her, the only way I sustained
my interest in this dastardly life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was as I walked down <st1:street w:st="on">Marina Road</st1:street>, immersed in these thoughts,
that I thought I heard muffled footsteps. I turned behind …<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I screamed, my weary heart was pumping like there was no
tomorrow, I gasped for air and ran, ran as fast as those two feet of mine would
carry me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could hear the
heavy thumping of my pursuer’s footsteps. I ran harder, soon the only sound
audible was that of my heart pumping. It was only when I reached a corner
alley, did I dare look behind. The street behind me was desolate…I stopped to
gather my wits, I barely even recognized my surroundings. I was panting, my
head was hurting, I flopped to the ground. I don’t really know how long I lay there
like that, when a voice jerked me awake, ‘Mistri what happened?’, it was Velu.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was relieved…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A persistent grazing noise awoke me. It took me a while to
gather my bearings. I was at home in bed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every muscle in my body tightened. The sharp pangs of fear
spread like venom through my substance. Someone was out to get me! Oh what
could I do? The flimsy door would offer absolutely no resistance if whosoever
it was tried a fraction harder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, just as
suddenly it had begun, the noise stopped. The ensuing silence was eerie and
surreal. I couldn’t gather enough courage to open the door and investigate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, after a prolonged period of contemplation , I
approached the window by the stairs. Holding the window ajar, I looked out into
the now rather still night. It was pitch dark, the moon probably hidden behind
the black clouds. Whoever had been at my door earlier, had disappeared into the
thick veil of darkness. The breeze felt damp. Imminent signs of a storm. I
continued staring into the blank darkness. Presently, the silence was shattered
by the shrill, high pitched howling of a pack of stray dogs. My nerves were at
tipping point, I was shaking, the icy cold winds sent shiver after shiver down
my spine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, in the flash of lightning that ensued, I saw it…. Saw
the form that had attacked me with a club earlier that night. The burly figure
was hunched over something. The approaching storm bought with it gusty winds,
which threw at me what at first seemed like vague noises. Then as I grew
accustomed to the whistling winds I thought I heard some people speaking. It
was hard to tell. I craned my neck, trying to decipher the syllables, but only
managed to gather bits and pieces of the conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
‘ Tomorrow
night!’… ‘…it’s not over.’, ‘ put an end…’ and then, I heard it…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
‘Mistri…’ … <i>my name!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
I was paralysed
with fear, I hung limply onto the bars on the window.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<i>They
were out to get me! My life was drawing to a close!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet again, my brain regained it’s basic capacities only
after what seemed like eternity. With great difficulty I dragged myself to bed,
but sleep was unwilling to caste it’s soothing spell over me. I woke up
repeatedly that night, drenched in perspiration and reeling in the wake of one
nightmare after another. I was exhausted, rationality evaded me. The line
between fact and fiction was fast thinning!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time I woke up the following morning, the sun was up.
The clock told me if I didn’t leave soon, I wouldn’t make it in time for
today’s shift. I considered calling in sick, but my financial position wouldn’t
allow me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still hadn’t recovered from the events of the previous
night, but the only way to get over it seemed to get back onto my bus. There in
the midst of hundreds of people, in broad daylight, surely hunters couldn’t get
me!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So quickly, I got myself together and rushed to work. Raman
was already there waiting for me. I considered putting in a call to Leela
before I started off, but couldn’t bring myself to trouble with some more of my
problems. The only option seemed to be to confide in Raman, and so I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He thought it was incredulous, nevertheless he offered to
walk me home that evening.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so the rest of the day passed with no further
excitement. Infact, by the end of the shift, I was quite at ease. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the shift had concluded, Raman walked back with me as
promised. Back on Marina Road, no one attacked me this time. Within a few
minutes we were at my door step. Raman hung around for a while, and we stood
there talking. A while later, I bid him goodnight and headed up the stairs to
my apartment. No sooner had I put my foot down on the landing than did I see
the sight that stunned. Rajanna was there, a menacing look on his face,
bloodshot eyes and with the club in his hand. He took a wild swing at me, I
dived. He missed, I too missed my footing and went straight down the stirs. I
screamed out for Raman. Luckily for me, he wasn’t more than a couple of yards
away. Seeing me lying in a heap, on the bottom stair, he rushed back to try
help me get back onto my feet. ‘It’s okay, just get him’, I yelled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Raman looked baffled. <i>Oh!
How difficult was it to comprehend!</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally Raman realized and bolted out of the stairs. Minutes
later, ‘ but sir, there is nobody up here!’, came Raman’s voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘ quick look in the house, don’t let him get away!’, I
yelled back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slowly I managed to get back onto my feet. By now, Raman was
back downstairs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘sir, I checked thoroughly, surely there is nobody up
there!’, he pronounced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good God! What was going on here!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recounted to him as
to what had occurred once he’d left. Now he too seemed alarmed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Should we inform the police’, he queried.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘No!No way! They might be watching! It’s potentially
lethal’, I said, alarmed by the very thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We both stood quietly. Not knowing
what to do!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At long last, he said, ‘Sir I
suggest you come home with me, it’ll be better for you this way.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the lack of a better idea, I agreed.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At raman’s house we sat down for
dinner. After dinner, Raman excused himself and went out, probably for a smoke
or a nightcap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was quite fine for about half an
hour, when like a bolt from the blue, I heard someone call out my name. I
clearly recognized it as Velu’s voice and headed towards the back door. That
was my mistake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His powerful fists grabbed my arms
and then another pair of hands slithered around my neck. I gasped, kicked and
screamed. Raman came bursting through the front door. But he stood, fixated to
the point!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Help! Help!’, I screamed again,
my hands and feet flaying. They were choking me, and the more I struggled the
tighter, they held me. <i>What in the name
of god was wrong with that boy! Didn’t he see my plight?...<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then, realization dawned on
me, the boy was wasted, too drunk to tell what was going on!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was it, the fingers
constricted my airway, the lights were going out…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At first I couldn’t tell what was happening. I could only
make out vague silhouettes. Then someone’s fingers clasped my hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘How’re you feeling appa?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The phantasma I had endured came back in torrents. I was now
wide awake. I opened my eyes and there staring me in the face were Velu,
Rajanna and Raman. It was then that I was finally able to appreciate the state
of affairs. It had been staring me in the face all along, it was I who had been
blind. That’s it, they were all hand in glove, Raman, Rajanna and Velu. It all
fit in. Velu’s warning: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>‘Mistri sir, be on
your guard! You never know who it’ll be next!’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Raman luring me to
his house. Rajanna and I shared a fair history of animosity, he ’d
be ready to send me packing anytime. … <i>but
what could be their motive be?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s when it dawned on me, of course, it was the family
heirloom, the priceless dia…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I yanked myself free from the hand that held me. I screemed
and kicked. My body and mind knew that this was it, the final battle. I punched
and pushed. Hands flew at me, tried to bring me down. But I was a man possessed!
I battled on, <i>now or never</i>! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
This was
pointless, the more I fought, the harder they came down on me. I sreamed and
wrenched but to no avail. Many more med held me down and tied my hands and
legs. ‘Leelu, help me!’, I said feebly. But she stood in the corner sobbing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
What happened
next, I can barely recall. It was a haze, I barely could swallow and all I remember
are harsh neon lights.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
…………………..***********………………*****************……….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
I had a warm cup
of <i>chai</i> in my hand, they were
tremulous. I looked disbelievingly at Leelu. My voice quivered as I spoke and
my mouth was dry. I looked at her teary eyes as she stroked my head. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<i>But how could this have happened. </i>I
looked at her eyes again and then back down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<i>I had imagined all of this? It wasn’t real?
You mean to say Velu and Rajanna didn’t attack me?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;">
Leelu
sighed. “ It happened in your mind Appa, you have Schizophrenia.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.5in;">
…………….*****************………………*************<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-16760272445157762872016-06-09T00:36:00.001+05:302016-06-09T07:05:28.058+05:30Musings of my mind!!!<p dir="ltr"><br>
On a balmy night, as I tredged across the campus, freshly painted with the evening's shower, I let my mind wander. Not wander as we often do, unaware and unconsciously... but more of a permitted wander. One where I encouraged my thoughts to take flight, jump spectrums and pick up rich embellishments from the environs around. <br>
      This is a campus I've now lived on for 14 months. It was , as a matter of fact, love at first sight. The day when I first set eyes on this quaint mini-town with its spatter of stone buildings and and cottages from a bygone era,   ... it seemed like the someone had dialled the sleepy town setting on a time machine. As I moved a year and a half later to live on this campus , my affection only grew stronger. <br>
The walk replenish my parched soul, and I realised how caught up I'd been the last few months that I'd barely taken time for this leisure stroll.<br>
As I pondered , time flew by and here I am, all set to bid adieu to this beautiful place . A poignant nerve stirred within.<br>
Change is almost never welcome it seems, routine it appears is perfect.<br>
For those of us who've made peace with status quo, change is a harbinger of inner turmoil . 'Change is for the good!', they say. Then why is it that we resist it with all our passive might.<br>
The answer to this may lay in this quote I once read, by K. <u>Salmansohn</u> , which talks about how much of the pain in life stems from having fallen in love with a life plan, which doesn't work out. It's not really change that we're apprehensive about but the uncertainty that stands on the other side of the threshold. <br>
Uncertainty is exciting, yes, it's also anxiety provoking. The what ifs and the  buts. Whereas routine has that unspoken comfort, the decadence that comes with knowing what to expect. <br>
Yet, for each of us change is good, change is necessary and above all else change is inevitable. It's the excuse that drags us out of the rut. It's the view from the other side of the fence. A shift of paradigm, a chance to gaze at a different horizon. And as the ever familiar sun cruises across this horizon we'll all find a way. An answer to all the ifs and buts, a new cozy spot, a new warm embrace. <br>
Life goes on.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I came here , inspired by this quote... <br>
        " <b>Much of the pain in life comes with having a life plan that you've fallen in love with , but that doesn't work out. Having to find a new life </b><b><u>plan</u></b><b> hurts. The trick is to not become attached to any particular live plan and to remember that there is always a better, even happier life plan out </b><u><b>there</b></u><b> somewhere</b>." <br>
        -- Karen Salmansohn </p>
<p dir="ltr">And as I leave I carry these words along. </p>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-28701952252384142832015-12-31T23:04:00.000+05:302015-12-31T23:04:00.368+05:30 5 minutes of introspection <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">So it's the fag end of the year and I ask myself where was I last year at the same time?!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">And how is this any different from what it was 365 days back?</span><br style="font-family: sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Have I done all that I set out to do? To see, hear and feel... Have I had happy conquests and numbing losses? What've I learnt? And more importantly, what've I unlearnt?! </span><br style="font-family: sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Have I lived atleast a few days to the fullest, enough to refresh my spirit? Have I looked on upon the wondrous valleys? Have I gazed at the starry sky with a heavenward prayer at my lip? </span><br style="font-family: sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: sans-serif;">As the clock ticks towards closure on another chapter, I vow, to break free of vows! To wonder, to wander. To imagine and to discover!</span><br style="font-family: sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: sans-serif;">To breathe in the happiness of the human spirit, to relive the warmth of hug on a moonlit night! </span><br style="font-family: sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: sans-serif;">To live ... To life!</span></div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-3382479361766172122015-09-13T12:57:00.003+05:302015-09-13T12:57:33.860+05:30The Sands Of Time...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It gushes forth, a harried flurry then a steady drizzle.<br />
Yet as I peek though the hourglass , my mind is at a standstill.<br />
The last few grains trickle by unflinched.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxx2WXe-XY8dKzSo4Zl-CzthMdcboUxSoMEuONAkCMSzF5KzAPsUH-yxkNfTZesfyIw0EK3XLBFus7h3maLwpMSPFxUGSHFf9VD606kVUQ2Q5r4HL0UCdG6Ceu61ycXkeZDDh/s1600/instabokeh_2015913125258462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxx2WXe-XY8dKzSo4Zl-CzthMdcboUxSoMEuONAkCMSzF5KzAPsUH-yxkNfTZesfyIw0EK3XLBFus7h3maLwpMSPFxUGSHFf9VD606kVUQ2Q5r4HL0UCdG6Ceu61ycXkeZDDh/s320/instabokeh_2015913125258462.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-28901042459103119102015-09-13T12:39:00.000+05:302015-09-13T12:39:10.552+05:30A journey into your mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Into your mind i peek,<br />
Yet I hear not the speak.<br />
The myriad oddities you do utter,<br />
While you smile and mutter.<br />
I know not what goes on out there.<br />
Boiling in your minds inner lair.<br />
But as I look into yonder,<br />
I can't help but wonder,<br />
Oh dear boy, what is it that you need,<br />
To my medicines will you not heed,<br />
And yet you battle each day,<br />
To understand or to be understood I can't say.<br />
<br />
Through the annals of history I pore,<br />
You're story so unique yet shared by so many more.<br />
<br />
From Bleuler to Schneider,<br />
Sure our knowledge has grown wider,<br />
But yet not can I tell,<br />
The voice will be banished to hell.<br />
<br />
But m'lad,<br />
This is the journey we embark upon,<br />
For every night has a dawn.<br />
And so it shall be,<br />
The caverns of your mind one day light shall see.</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-90496290836127827152015-05-24T16:57:00.002+05:302015-05-24T17:00:29.884+05:30Saturday afternoon in a quaint town!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Growing up in a big city, I always had my weekends packed with the myriad of mundane that we metropolitan dwellers are acquainted with.<br />
<div>
And so, since the time I've shifted to this quaint little town , nestled in the belly of this hot, fire breathing land, the first question I ask of the locals is," What do you do here on weekends?"</div>
<div>
... I get a general matter-of-fact shrug and a 'you know ...' look! The answer though remains elusive.</div>
<div>
But of course, there's this big beast called google which has intruded all our lives, and so be it the charming countryside or the bustling city centre , we're doing much the same thing. Selling our souls to the internet!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, on this charming afternoon, following a stirring session with Dr.A, a bunch of us headed down a different path.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A few scrapes and grazes and a little more uphill effort later we were there, atop College Hill!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m1CcaRNtLaNDbJUl6t7_1L9-6BEVcwju4kizhyphenhyphenTit9mTnOF_4tZIrN-xwjXyrfFso2czU8irP-VJA61M1oPoe5vjjLu3JUVYVg7b5u04lllE1CC5I1x9GwKrTMVdIxGRiEaT/s1600/IMG-20150523-WA0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m1CcaRNtLaNDbJUl6t7_1L9-6BEVcwju4kizhyphenhyphenTit9mTnOF_4tZIrN-xwjXyrfFso2czU8irP-VJA61M1oPoe5vjjLu3JUVYVg7b5u04lllE1CC5I1x9GwKrTMVdIxGRiEaT/s320/IMG-20150523-WA0008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The view from atop the hill! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTbrE8T5Sm_awykuipH4aTwDYJgJ6yYRhXBsLo2BzGtmJ42ojW_5SWTMWV5p52q9GrpkzkxBduAGmN2tgY_u-7QwOb6PndcA82Q3aMmSbwHE2S6Riww8TAxG4xGZ0lluTMnWr/s1600/IMG-20150523-WA0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTbrE8T5Sm_awykuipH4aTwDYJgJ6yYRhXBsLo2BzGtmJ42ojW_5SWTMWV5p52q9GrpkzkxBduAGmN2tgY_u-7QwOb6PndcA82Q3aMmSbwHE2S6Riww8TAxG4xGZ0lluTMnWr/s320/IMG-20150523-WA0009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Ah! Cheers to the friendship!<br />
<br />
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<br />
Conquering the fear!<br />
<br />
<br />
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A quintessential modern hazard! The Selfie!<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
Sai ! The cutest member of the trek! :)<br />
<br />
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<br />
A moment to ponder , looking down from up there!<br />
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<br />
That's the whole bunch of us!<br />
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<br />
The kings and their scepters after the conquest!<br />
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Celebrating new friendships! :)</div>
<div>
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<div>
... And that's how high I jump! ;)</div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-12845558519718698522015-05-03T15:51:00.005+05:302015-05-03T15:51:59.711+05:30The Lost Sheep Of Modern Medicine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><b style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
the mad rush of today’s outpatient department , even as I noted the duration of
his cough and enquired about the tremulousness of his hand, I could , feel the
ticking hands of the clock breathing down my neck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
corridor outside my tiny room was overflowing with the sick and the needy,
ebbing with tales of pain and sorrow. They sat there pleading to be heard,
hoping to be understood, and above all, praying to be cured. I felt overawed by
this sheer deluge that was now at my doorstep, people, families from far and
wide were here, having battled long queues and prolonged waiting lists running
into months just to obtain this appointment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Would
the next few minutes they spend with me put a name on their suffering, or would
they still be wandering in the dark corridors of ambivalence, oscillating
between hope and despair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The next few minutes, that is all I have to
understand this person’s elaborate story spanning a third of his life, a story
of his pain in the arm , and how he lost his job, that of how he was previously
the sole bread winner in a family of six, and the repercussions this had on his
state of mind and how that in turn worsened his pain , and how he had taken up the
bottle in a means to end his sorrows and
how all of this had lead him to today where he no longer recognized his wife. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
wife sat beside, holding back tears that were threating to flood my calm
clinical mind. I empathized with the family, I put myself in their shoes, the rather
uncomfortable, and worn out shoes to the already aching heels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">How
could I bring a glimmer of hope over their furrowed brows? I had a dozen more
questions in mind, both clinical and humanitarian. The differentials were
stacking up in the back of my mind, yet they were vague and fuzzy, I need to
pore over some more details, some old reports, talk to the daughter, I needed
more time!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I jolted back to the reality of my crowded
OPD. The next patient was already peeping through the flimsy curtain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
deftly jotted down the history, the details afforded to me by my brief yet
thorough physical examination, I noted that there was no acute emergency, at
least none from a doctor’s and medical point of view, ( I tried not to think of
the fact that for the stricken family, the gravity of this situation of theirs
was no less than an absolute emergency ) . I noted the differential diagnoses
that I had arrived at and I moved on to the management plan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">What
diagnostic clarity I lacked for the want of time to delve deeper into the
history, I tried to make up with the help of the wide array of diagnostic tools
I had at my fingertips, the laboratory investigations, imaging modalities and molecular
level tests. I picked the best ones for my patient and handed it to them along
with the usual slip for a review appointment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
patient’s wife looked at me confused, how could these tests, whose names she
could barely pronounce, help cure her ailing man?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
tried to explain to her how this worked, and she seemed reassured, her faith in
my white collared coat, in the degree hanging on my wall and above all in the
legacy of my profession had helped ease her doubts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
thus I made it through a long day in the out-patient department. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Yet
I couldn’t block out the gnawing thought at the back of my head. Was I doing
justice to my patient?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Are we,
the modern clinicians doing justice to the legacy of our great forefathers? Are
we giving ourselves sufficient time to delve into the history?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
the halls of our great medical schools, it is often said that history reveals
90% of the diagnosis. That is a resounding number, far better than any PET or
PCR. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It
is not merely the story itself, but how the story is told, what is mentioned
and sometimes, more importantly, what is omitted, that leads us to the
diagnosis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">An
anonymous quote sends out this ominous warning. “<i>A doctor who cannot take a good history and a patient who cannot give
one are in danger of giving and receiving bad treatment!”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Not
just the history but a thorough physical examination, will tell us most
diagnoses without having to drag our patient through a battery of tests. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
enunciate my point, merely looking at the nails of a patient can help us diagnose
Cyanosis (which is indicative of a respiratory compromise), Obstructive Lung
Disease, Inflammatory Bowel Disease, Infective Endocarditis, Iron deficiency
anemia, Liver cell failure,Psoriasis and Renal failure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
beauty of the physical examination is that it can be performed anywhere and is
the fastest modality in an acute emergency setting. If done right, it can help
the doctor literally scan a patient from top to toe in a few minutes, and
voila! Here’s the diagnosis! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
unfortunately these time tested medical practices have fallen by the wayside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So
why then are we denying ourselves these crucial tools? Those that have been
honed and handed down to us over the centuries.<br />
Is it the numbers that is pushing us down this road? The need to see more
patients, to write out more prescriptions and ultimately to reach an agreeable
number on the balance sheet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Is
that what is eating into all our time? The precious minutes we owe to our
ailing patients. Each extra minute spent with one patient, is a minute less to
see an extra patient. Is this the eternal tug-o-war of quality vs quantity?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
often the bond that a doctor establishes with the patient, that’s the most
important determinant in how well the patient fares. This rapport that is at
the crux of all our treatment strategies takes time to be established. Are we
then able to give them this time? Given time, the patient himself will tell you
all you need to know about his illness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It
has been observed that most patients feel reassured ones the doctor palpates
and examines them. The mere act of looking into the patient’s eye, examining
them and offering a word of comfort, has done us good for centuries up until
now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Moreover
bedside discussions have been at the epicenter of medical teaching, and there
is no reason to abandon it. Seeing a sign demonstrated on the patient,
auscultating a murmur, these are irreplaceable, even in the era of the
internet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
quote William Osler, one of the clinicians par excellence, <i>“He who studies medicines without books sails an uncharted sea, but he
who studies medicine without patients, does not go to sea at all.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Technology
and its advances are no doubt very important to the development and progress of
medical science. CT, MRI and 3D printers have allowed us to view the human body
like never before. Yet they were never meant to, and they cannot supersede the
basic history and examination sequence. It’s here that our clinical acumen and
the armory of investigations will aid in putting the final puzzle together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
other words, trying to arrive at a diagnosis without a decent history/clinical
examination is like trying to predict what a picture puzzle will look like when
a significant number of pieces are missing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ours
is a profession that deals with life and its myriad complexities. It therefore
takes another human being to feel the pain, touch the wound and heal it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Plato the renowned Greek philosopher rightly
said, “<i>The greatest mistake in the
treatment of diseases is that there are physicians for the body and physicians
for the soul, although the two cannot be separated.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tests
and drugs will most likely cure the patient’s physical ailments, but will we
heal the mind?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
the daily interaction with the patient, the physical presence of the doctor,
the empathy in the physician’s eye that, the primeval bond that forms between
two beings when one helps the other, this is what is at the heart of our
profession.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> But has this era of corporatization of
healthcare, cutting edge investigations and other modalities, meant to aid us,
curtailed our inherent instincts of sitting at a patient’s bed side.
Floundering in this vast sea, are we treating then the X-ray or the patient? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
ancient Chinese wisdom proclaims, “<i>It’s
easy to get a thousand prescriptions but hard to get one single remedy.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
wonder if in this nearly mechanized world, will the empathy in medicine, the
art of eliciting a history and the clinical examination die out altogether.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; letter-spacing: 1.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Are we, the clinicians of this era the ‘lost
sheep of modern medicine’? And is it time for a relook?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-29580064287646913612014-09-11T08:34:00.002+05:302014-10-16T23:05:02.581+05:30A WALK AMONGST THE STARS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i>This story was written in the summer of 2013 as an entry for the annual Deccan Herald Short Story Competition.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
As she nuzzled against me, I felt the warmth of her little body, the slow breathing<br />
<br />
synchronising with mine. Her almond eyes tightly shut, her somnolent mind led<br />
<br />
for a walk amongst the stars.<br />
<br />
I remember the very first time I held Maya to my bosom. My blood was still<br />
<br />
throbbing following the eight hours of intense labour. I was drained, parched and<br />
<br />
broken. Yet true to her name, those little fingers, as I entwined mine with hers,<br />
<br />
wielded a magic wand. No sooner than did I peer into those brown eyes, that I<br />
<br />
was healed. My baby.<br />
<br />
The tiny steps she took, were momentous milestones in our lives. Her tiny feet<br />
<br />
traced a path the lit its way into our hearts. First a coo then a call, our little girl<br />
<br />
was growing up fast.<br />
<br />
It came as a bolt from the blue. One day my little girl was jumping and playing<br />
<br />
about, walking into walls, losing her balance on the bicycle even as her father<br />
<br />
held her, and the next day she was tripping down the deep caverns of sickness.<br />
<br />
It was a Saturday afternoon that we’d taken her out for an ice- cream. She’d lost<br />
<br />
her incisor, and after a bout of sobbing, a few negotiations with the tooth fairy,<br />
<br />
we’d all stepped out. The first sign was when she declined the ice-cream. Never<br />
<br />
one to say no to anything sweet, my little one ,a trait that she’d inherited from her<br />
<br />
mother, I put it down to her childish whims. Her headache having been attributed<br />
<br />
to playing all day long in the sun, I put the tin of ice cream in the freezer.<br />
<br />
The Sunday morning, I’d woken Maya up, only to find her listless and lethargic.<br />
<br />
It took her father and me a whole lot of coaxing to get her through her breakfast.<br />
<br />
But even her favourite story, and Polka her stuffed pig couldn’t afford much<br />
<br />
success as the day progressed. Finally, she surrendered to sleep in my lap, early<br />
<br />
that evening. As I put her to bed, I noticed she was running a fever.<br />
<br />
Adversity brings forth a startlingly different response from each person. When<br />
<br />
we are stirred to our depths, shaken, jolted, what simmers forth is the myriad of<br />
<br />
emotions that exemplify life.<br />
<br />
A diagnosis of leukemia, is still, very much an ominous announcement. And<br />
<br />
when it strikes as close as your very own four year old, a bitter chill scorches<br />
<br />
through your insides, one that words hath failed to describe.<br />
<br />
X-rays and scans, tubes after tubes of blood being sent back and forth, and stark<br />
<br />
white envelopes holding within, your fate. As you wait anxiously in the doctors<br />
<br />
office, and he looks poignantly albeit with a scientific detachment, to pronounce<br />
<br />
the verdict... the claws of fear, the mind numbing chill.<br />
<br />
Yet barely a moment later, I was lucid. My analytically trained brain, having<br />
<br />
devoured the facts was running its mental checklist. On the other hand my<br />
<br />
husband had succumbed to the one human flaw, emotion. Overwhelmed, his<br />
<br />
strong paternal façade had caved, and sobbing uncontrollably he clutched our<br />
<br />
sick yet confused daughter.<br />
<br />
To explain to a four year old child how an illness, and in particular cancer works<br />
<br />
is a challenge. One that takes not only the explanatory power of a doctor, but<br />
<br />
also the reassuring capacity of a parent. Yet no amount of scientific knowledge<br />
<br />
on my part could satiate her.<br />
<br />
I held her, I hugged and kissed her, and I whispered a silent prayer in her ear.<br />
<br />
In my own search for an answer I had transcended the realms of science, the<br />
<br />
boundaries had seamlessly blended with those of spirituality, a quest for an<br />
<br />
answer in the beyond. A vague journey had begun.<br />
<br />
What followed was months of multiply tiny battles. Battles against malignant<br />
<br />
cells which had invaded my baby, battles to keep my retching, toxic toddler<br />
<br />
going, battles I faced against and with my husband, as we watched our only child<br />
<br />
on the brink of complete destruction. A battle which you fight both within and<br />
<br />
outwardly, much like the chemotherapeutic drugs, which destroys from within to<br />
<br />
fight outwardly –the malignancy. Ultimately, in this lethal tug-o-war, where there<br />
<br />
is a blind distinction between the elements that make you and break you, its<br />
<br />
anybody’s guess and blind faith that you need to tell you which side it is, that’s<br />
<br />
going to make it.<br />
<br />
And much like all great battles, I fought this too is no less an arena. A Paediatric<br />
<br />
Cancer Chemotherapy Unit is the Azkaban of our real world. As you watch sick<br />
<br />
children being wheeled around, tubes running in and out of their tiny bodies,<br />
<br />
anxious parents sallowed by fear and sadness, subconsciously you sink.<br />
<br />
Yet at the same time, you stand together united by the same harsh fate.<br />
<br />
If it is empathy that I felt on one hand, on the other my whole being resonated<br />
<br />
with one question, “ Why me?”<br />
<br />
It’s a question each one of us will ask at some or the other point in life. And that<br />
<br />
day was my turn. I fought with the universe for answers, I cussed and cursed,<br />
<br />
I swore, then again I swore off yet many other things, I threw wagers, forged<br />
<br />
negotiations, pleaded, fell to my knees, implored, prostrated my self, give me my<br />
<br />
little one back.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless she fought with childish fervour. That gave me hope.<br />
<br />
She made friends with the nurses and doctors, the other kids, she made her<br />
<br />
father and me read out endless stories, narrated them over to all and sundry.<br />
<br />
She tried to learn the name of her medicines even, and being unable to grasp<br />
<br />
those sharp names, she made up sweet kiddish monikers for these lethal toxins.<br />
<br />
Each chemo cycle was like the long up hill, the week in between an insufficient<br />
<br />
breather. We had our little triumphs and tribulations with each fresh blood count.<br />
<br />
The three of us striving to protect our cocoon in the face of an opponent that had<br />
<br />
swallowed millions.<br />
<br />
But with each passing day, we passed from the bleak to the bleaker.<br />
<br />
One such night, in the dark as I held her hand, and watched her shift around<br />
<br />
in an uncomfortable sleep, groping for me in the darkness, she took my hand<br />
<br />
and asked, “ Mamma, am I going to become a star?” ... her childish reference to<br />
<br />
Alas soon after one balmy afternoon, even as I watched my husband tell her and<br />
<br />
Polka a story, I felt her squeeze my hand, just as she fell beyond the veil into an<br />
<br />
eternal slumber.<br />
<br />
The first few days after a devastating loss, the mind develops an unknown<br />
<br />
strength. So it was with me. Even as I whispered a teary adieu, I had enough<br />
<br />
lucidity to carry out the nitty gritties of the after procedures.<br />
<br />
But as time goes on, you let your guard down, the memories the storm had<br />
<br />
brushed aside in a heap begin to unfurl. Every pin that held your tattered<br />
<br />
existence together gives way, you fall by the wayside, in a futile heap.<br />
<br />
The cold bleak winter of my life followed. I lived amidst the gaunt shadows,<br />
<br />
withdrawn, the blinds down on all windows. I shrunk into my own den, shunning<br />
<br />
the world, refusing to be touched by the warmth of the rays.<br />
<br />
I was alone. Endless conversations followed in the darkness, with darkness.<br />
<br />
It was an unlit meandering path I chose to take , and I walked alone.<br />
<br />
Because its only in the immediate aftermath are there people to help you. But as<br />
<br />
times moves on, its up to you to pick up the pieces, its up to you to heal.<br />
<br />
As the months went by, my husband resumed work, he had begun to heal. I<br />
<br />
grappled in the darkness.<br />
<br />
I shunned all help; my journey had to be alone.<br />
<br />
The voice grew louder,<br />
<br />
The darkness deeper.<br />
<br />
Echo after echo resonated my pain.<br />
<br />
The caverns are haunted,<br />
<br />
Not very much unlike how I’m taunted.<br />
<br />
My despair is resounding.<br />
<br />
My insides are gnawed at by a hollow something.<br />
<br />
I see no respite,<br />
<br />
I see no light.<br />
<br />
Eighteen months that had gone by had taken with it a life time.<br />
<br />
Nobody could replace my Maya, my baby girl.<br />
<br />
Then one fine day, coaxed out of my den, I stepped into the sunshine.<br />
<br />
My hapless husband wearily eyed me for signs of healing. I was unmoved by the<br />
<br />
exuberance of the tiny humans around me. My armour of despair, still intact.<br />
<br />
Then, “Are you my mummy?”, the shrill voice of a little girl spoke.<br />
<br />
As she entwined her fingers with mine, the icicles began to thaw.<br />
<br />
Little Leia was snugly asleep. Polka the pig was her favourite toy. And her<br />
<br />
favourite bed time story was that of her Big Sister who walked amongst the stars.<br />
<br />
I would heal.<br />
<br />
........................x............................x..............................x....................................x.....................................</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-1332521463843519052014-09-05T17:47:00.000+05:302016-02-07T12:16:14.274+05:30Book Review: The Mistress Of the Throne<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
An insight into the intriguing lives of the Mughal dynasty, especially their women and in particular their daughters... The Mistress of the Throne is a semi fictional memoir of the unsung princess Jahanara and how she played a defining role in shaping India's history from behind the veils.<br />
A powerful, independent and strong character, born perhaps about 500 years ahead of time, her remarkable life, her vision and her sacrifices appear to be the less chronicled aspects of what undoubtedly was the Golden Era of the Mughal Rule.<br />
Her unparalleled love for her eccentric family is remarkable. As an adolescent she was thrust into the forefront of royal responsibilities soon after her mother , the legendary Mumtaz Mahal breathed her last, yet this Persian beauty wore the title of Shah Jahan 's Empress and that of a foster mother to her siblings with grace and dignity. <br />
The melancholy of her own life not withstanding, she was the will behind the Taj Mahal, thus immortalizing her parents' epic love story. Her architectural vision also lead to the design of Delhi's famous Chandni Chowk, whether this was a tribute to her own lost love I do not know.<br />
The book also delves into the bonds shared by Emperor Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal's children, their early lives and how it shaped Indian and Mughal history eventually.<br />
Mistress of the Throne by Dr. Ruchir Gupta is a very interesting read, a book as mesmerizing as the times and the woman it chronicles. <br />
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-47351662494717941442014-07-24T19:37:00.006+05:302014-10-16T23:09:58.909+05:30To Write InVerse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The blue sky, the bird and the butterfly,<br />
In all their cerulean glory, for my attention do vie,<br />
I strain my brain to not give a grain,<br />
Putting to work all those years of train.<br />
<br />
Teasing me with a sweep and caress,<br />
The evening breeze seeks to ease my brows creased with stress.<br />
<br />
Yet I persevere, hard and fast,<br />
But I do fear my will won't last,<br />
Alas, I have been at this for the day past.<br />
<br />
Yet, to my master, I implore,<br />
The myriad distractions shall you ignore!<br />
Dear, hippocampus , I've a lot of work you see,<br />
Do, I can't , all that which would set my spirit free.<br />
<br />
And so despite the finger itch,<br />
I must put in the next stitch.<br />
Yet, I see how you're writing without a glitch,<br />
And now the urge to have me read has reached , a fever's pitch.<br />
<br />
Ah well, about physiology, (for now), the devil may care,<br />
For I will pick up that pen and lay my thoughts bare.<br />
<br />
Thus,<br />
I write, frigid and terse,<br />
And out flows this rusty verse.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*<i><b>to all the connoisseurs out there :I do apologise for this is unintentional.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I very rarely do rhyme,</b></i><br />
<i><b>Not much more than rosemary and thyme ;</b></i><br />
<i><b>The writing bug , occasionally I choose to nurse,</b></i><br />
<i><b>The result is this piece of poetry inverse! </b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-12077351193413896922014-05-24T23:01:00.000+05:302014-10-16T23:09:39.872+05:30THE JUNIOR DOCTOR<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I woke up this morning to the very reassuring news that govt MBBS doctors in Karnataka are to see a salary hike , and it will now see them cashing in on 60K a month!! <br />
<br />
Yayy that's great news for my clan! And even more so for "<em><u><strong>MY CLAN</strong></u></em>" i.e. all those fresh MBBS graduates <strong>(read #babydocs, #jrdocs, #jrs)</strong> at the mercy of mankind, coursing through all of Dante's hells to arrive at the ultimate prize ... a PG seat! <br />
( associated perks : fulfilled ambition, reinstilled sense of self worth, a job and a salary, recognition, a SPOUSE!!!, ... and I've also heard whispered in some corners 'Happiness!!')<br />
<br />
And so as we course through this phantasmic journey, unmindful of the endless night duties, the thesis terrors, the next quest for DM/Mch and other what nots that will follow in the post PG life...!<br />
<br />
As the rest of the world scales great heights ( specifically with regards to their bank accounts), we trudge along the dreary path where exams are mile stones and any, ANY, known pleasure is a potent stumbling stone, akin to that dreaded <em>Snake </em>on <em>99</em> that can barf you all the way back down to 0 on the game board :\<br />
<br />
The journey is a thankless toil, a bootcamp, a nightmare all combined and magnified a hundred times...<br />
You think I'm exaggerating , well here's an insight;<br />
At ages 23-26 heres what "My Clan" is doing:<br />
8am to 8pm reading and re reading all that was taught over a span of 5 and 1/2 years .. which is actually an amalgamation of everything that manking learnt from Hippocrates'(the Father Of Medicine) era to what the NEJM (or for that matter some other journal in some far corner of the world ) published as of this morning!.. <strong><em>this Ladies and Gentlemen is what comprises our"COURSE SYLLABUS"!</em></strong><br />
<br />
A far far cry from the happening lives of our peers! <strong>#nonexistentSocialLife</strong><br />
But hey, saving lives is no easy feat eh?!?<br />
But yes none of us look as 'fab' trying to do so a la Jackson Avery...<br />
<br />
That said Greys Anatomy has made this profession of ours more glamourous in the eyes of the lay man. Then again, the very famous 'On Call Room' of Sloan-Grey Memorial is not a reality in our day to day lives, nor do we run into a <em>McDreamy</em> or a <em>McSteamy</em> very often !!!( two questions absolutely everyone asks me when they realize I watch Greys)<br />
Unfortunately Shonda doesn't script our day to days!<br />
<br />
And as the rest of the world breaks new barriers, we are further bound and tied down by new legislations, malpractice insurances, bonds,QUOTAS, licenciating exams and the lot!<br />
All as we try to follow our passion to learn more about this magnificent machine, the human body!<br />
<br />
Yes, the general public is very distrustful of doctors, and definitely I accept not without reason , there are a fair number (that I've seen in my very short career thus far) who are in it for reasons that they shouldn't, and hence the apprehension is understandable. But by and large, there is a vast majority who are truly passionate and work very hard day and night! <strong>#truePassion</strong><br />
<br />
Yes eventually we might be able to afford that all elusive BMW <strong>#loveTheBMW</strong> , but that's after spending a good part of our twenties being largely broke (and perennially hungry) ;) ... <strong>#by2Coffee</strong><br />
<br />
And thus we work our way through countless books, solely focusing our attentions on Messrs. Harrison, Bailey and Robbins , adding 'dysdiadokokinesia' to our vocabulary, learning the 'idiosyncrasies' of life, and fighting the every day battle against- '5 and 1/2 years to become a hard core cynic' (as a popular daily newspaper termed the MBBS course ), all because we will one day learn enough to qualify as 'good doctors' and serve the society.<br />
<strong>All because we truly love what we do!</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-28802162331048969762013-04-19T21:20:00.000+05:302014-10-16T23:07:04.621+05:30The Season<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
... Came in as the summers' breeze,<br />
first a whiff,then a caress;<br />
and soon all was at ease.<br />
<br />
Such was the magic, such was the charm,<br />
the cold countenance melted,<br />
leaving the insides soft and warm.<br />
<br />
The spring flowers bloomed and the bees held sway,<br />
the hues grew brighter each passing day.<br />
<br />
The fairy lights i noticed like never before,<br />
for you were with me for ever more.<br />
<br />
But as autumn heralds a bitter chill,<br />
dark clouds marooneed over yonder hill.<br />
<br />
Quiet grew the songbirds, <br />
the lesson in absence learnt;<br />
your silence speaks louder than your words.</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-22631459563427808462013-04-05T22:54:00.001+05:302014-10-16T23:11:26.039+05:30MUSINGS OF MY MIND- A FOOLISH JOURNEY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One bright and sunny morning, I wake up to the not so startling realization that the world around me is filled with fools!<br />
Old fools and young fools, flowery fools and mute fools, tall fools and fat fools, pretentious fools, and a whole lot of plain ol' fools! There's just an epidemic of foolishness it appears, and if you don't walk around with all of your bodily orifices firmly plugged, you might as well catch it!<br />
<br />
So once this happy realization has sunk in, and your mind is in the midst of a thunderstorm even as the sun outside bakes all and sundry, you try hard.... to 'reason'!<br />
The what ifs, and yets, the maybes and the may nots..... your effervescent brain dons the garb of the 'Devil's Advocate'!<br />
And so it was with me!<br />
But argue as I may in the court of my mind, I have not much to say, for the defendant is the devil itself, a fool! A waste of time, of space and of my grey matter!<br />
Were they made to entertain us or to annoy us, I know not, yet they're all around!<br />
<i>The company of fools doesn't auger well. </i>An ominous saying.<br />
<br />
I take a deep breath, let me not be swayed, they shall not lead me astray!<br />
I calm the inner turmoil.<br />
It's the heat outside that's leading me down this path I tell myself.<br />
Yet my insides seethe the fire refusing to be doused, fight I shall, my blood boils over, the nostrils flare, my blood shot eyes personify the deep anger. In one swift move, I can see the end of this. The means to this end lies right in front of me, all I have to do is to extend my arm... I do so, with slow, steady hands, and in one quick swagger i gulp down the bottle of cold water!<br />
I settle down for a nap. When I awake the sun would've abated, and left behind a few lesser fools.</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-62994900152186635242013-02-06T11:27:00.000+05:302013-02-06T11:27:01.023+05:30SS-1, Chapter-4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The following morning, the lady woke up. The lawyer had left,
for his morning walk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> After a strong dose of
caffeine and popping yet another aspirin, she turned her attention to his
closet. The previous night’s coat having been identified, was given a quick yet
thorough search. This going down in vain, she turned to the drawers, then the night stand, the book shelf… her initial
caution being abandoned, things were now flung helter skelter, the room in a
mess.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The crucial piece of evidence remained elusive.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">I’m being silly and
paranoid!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Half relieved, half tired she sat down by the study.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> The neat velvet
packaging was unmistakable. The blue box, the golden embossed logo, unmistakable…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Half an hour later, she was still sitting at the table,
twirling it with her fingers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Hell was beginning to
take a human form.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Presently the doorbell rang, only to be replaced by the
clattering of metal on tiled floor. The stones rolled out, and the intricately
set pattern in pieces, what was left of the necklace lay limply by the wayside.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The lawyer stared aghast at his wife, their gaze met for a
brief moment, her’s red with fury, his steeped in sorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">‘My dearest, for all
the years of love, for all the battles we fought, and for all that’s to come in
life, I love you!...’<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> He held the note in
his hand, she stared at it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable. The more he stood
their looking into her eyes, the more it pained her… shamed her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Her judgment had been hasty, without even a hearing. The
prejudices of a feminine mind had cost her her better judgment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Unable to deal with the riot within, she collapsed into his
arms, a wave of relief washing over her, the serenity restored over her
countenance. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">As they stood there, at one with each other, at one with the
blue skies, and the white mountains, time stood still in the valley. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">As he eased his wife into the chair, he inwardly thanked the
years he’d spent mastering his craft, after all, a lawyer had to hold a degree
in trickery.<i> The same facts can be made
to look a little different in different light</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">‘ <i>I love you…</i> <i>my dear Ms. X</i> ‘<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">So read the rest of the torn note that he’d retrieved, to
show his wife, from the ruins of the jewellery box. But this part she’d never
read. He crumpled it further in his pocket. The thought of the attractive
brunette, an old client, relegated for now, into the archives of the brain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">And whilst the lady rested, the crumpled bit joined the fuel
in the fireplace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> ...........>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<...........>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<............</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-55389695762580046012013-02-06T11:19:00.002+05:302013-02-06T11:19:29.560+05:30SS-1, Chapter-3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> The middle aged woman
was deep in conversation with the Colonel’s son, a smart young lieutenant
himself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The lady walked around the pillar to get a better look at
this stranger, but her effort was to be in vain, for some of her friends barged
in between and struck up conversation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">A couple of drinks, a dance or two, and few random
conversations later, the lady had quite settled into the flow of the
festivities. Despite the strain of the past fortnight, she surprised herself
with the amount of enthusiasm she could muster. And so, the gaiety continued…
and it would have, had she not noticed the hems of the silver gown, yet again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">This time, the lieutenant had disappeared, but the woman was
in conversation with another man, his back to the dance floor. Her face was
pale, but the dark brown of her hair and eyes, coupled with the sharp nose, and
high cheek bones made it an attractive package. Then there was that hour glass
frame, the generous bosom. The long slender fingers brushed his coat’s lapels,
before resting on his shoulder. As the pitch began to rise, she swayed
gracefully, matching her moves to that of her partner, the lawyer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">‘It’s only a dance’,
she thought to herself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">But she was soon heard, telling anyone who struck up
conversation with her, that Ms. X powdered face had been conquered by the
‘crow’s feet’, the pearls were a fake and despite it being the first time that
the lady had seen her, she assured some of the more naïve guests, that the
woman in question had put on a good ten pounds in weight!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">A dance rolled into ‘few dances’. The lady now had a throbbing
skull, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to pop the aspirin.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">It was as the particular number reached a crescendo, that she
thought she saw Ms. X slip something into the lawyer’s pocket. Their eyes, with only each other to gaze at,
conveyed a million unspoken words. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">The throbbing in the lady’s head was now a frank, incessant
pounding. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Soon after the lawyer, was by his lady’s side. And seeing as
she was quite unwell, they quietly retreated home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Hell hath no fury,</span></span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;"> they say<i>, as a woman scorned!</i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-69257109873239154732013-02-06T11:12:00.003+05:302013-02-06T11:13:07.212+05:30SS-1; Chapter 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was at one such lazy afternoon when quite a few ladies had
gathered at her home for tea that the lady of the house first heard about Ms.
X. A wealthy spinster, she came each winter to the valley, laid her manicured
claws on an able male, usually labeled quite a ‘catch’, and after a
blink-and-you-miss it romance in the valley, made away with him, into the dark
under belly of the city below. Nothing more would ever be heard of her rich and
handsome-prey, yet she’d return the following year, intact, her pristine smile
et al.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This had happened very many times over the past decade or so.
But no one spoke about it in front of her, for:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">a.)<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The valley people were well meaning,
dignified, and didn’t per say probe into anything that wasn’t their business.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">b.)<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, Ms. X seemed to be quite high
up in the echelons of power, or so it would seem.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so this trend had settled into being the rumour
mongerers’ staple.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Age is surely catching up! The lines are showing on her
face.”, the women recall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ah! But she’s still quite a fine specimen. ”, the men
retort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “But how is she even
managing such swift divorces?”, wonders a local woman, out aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To which, “Quick out- of- court settlements”, says the
eminent lawyer, offering a technical opinion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so the afternoon is spent regaling the new comers with
anecdotes about some of the more colourful aspects of valley life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was a further fortnight of routine valley life, when the
missus got a distressing call. Her only sister had been taken sick, and was at
the hospital. The sister being childless, it was up to the lady to be by her
sister’s side. And so she did, packing her bags and going down to the plains,
the very next morning. She left the
lawyer behind, seeing as there was no particular need for him, and either which
way only one person would be ample to help her brother in law handle the
affairs at the hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A hectic ten days followed before she could take leave of her
sister, who having spent a week being tested and treated, had now been eased
into convalescence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so the lady returned, exhausted, yet eager to be back
home. She missed her husband, after all, it had been quite a while since they
had spent this long a while apart in their many years of marriage, speaking of
which, there were only two days away from celebrating their Coral (35<sup>th</sup>)
Wedding Anniversary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Barely had she managed to unpack and find her bearings, than
she found herself in the midst of much fanfare and celebration. This time it
was to be the Annual Ball in the Colonel’s house, to mark the onset of local
fete, which would culminate with Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They had gone all out with the festivities, she noted. The
entire valley was shimmering with fairy lights, the cheer in abundance, and the
colonel’s property was as resplendent as a newlywed bride!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #e69138;">It was in the midst of this fanfare that she caught sight of
the flowing gown, and the striking figure it adorned.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-8355086575967704642013-02-06T10:57:00.005+05:302013-02-06T10:59:52.416+05:30Short Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><b><span style="color: white;">My entry for DH short story contest 2012</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></i>
<i><b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></i>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">KISS AND TELL<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: red;">Chapter 1</span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nearly done, there you go!”, he
commented, putting down the saw and admiring his handiwork. His tall frame was
drenched in perspiration, but his eyes sparkled with the satisfaction of having
completed his task. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Though a shade over sixty five, the
former lawyer, thought his wife, looked… well resplendent. Despite the generous
sprinkling of silver hair, the lines of wisdom which creased his temples, he
still radiated the same powerful ‘something’ which drew her to him all those
many years ago!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A shy smile homed in on her face, as the memories of the
glorious past streamed in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The first time she set her eyes on him, as a gawky eighteen
year old in the bus, she thought him attractive, but it was only when they
spoke, a long time later, that he truly won her heart. The courtship, the
romance, she was well and truly swept off her feet. He was witty, intelligent,
handsome, yet there was a mysterious something about his persona that drew
people to this charismatic lawyer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Having caught sight of his wife stealing a glimpse at her
reflection in the window pane, the lawyer’s lips curled into a grin. He
observed, her hair was swept back in a callous bun, her flowing dress held
effortlessly onto her curvaceous figure, her once chiseled features now
softened by age. Suppressing his analytically- trained brain, he just continued
to stare, he didn’t need a reason to love that woman before him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As the couple settled in with their hot mugs of coffee, on
the front porch, the last rays of the season held them in warm embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It had been nearly two new moons since the couple had moved
into their retirement home in the valley. Having spent four or so decades
carving out distinguished careers, raising their family and living amidst the
general hullabaloo of life, the soul craved some calm and quiet. This being
impossible to wring out of the hustle and bustle of city life, they had decided
to abandon it altogether.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their new cottage was nestled deep within a wood of oak
trees, the gurgling river which fed the valley flowed a stone’s throw away, and
the hue of the lilies sat in stark contrast to the pale of the environ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The local community too, was well knit and warm. They had
wasted no time in embracing this respectable couple, he a lawyer of repute, and
she a dedicated teacher, who had retired as Principal of the Mission
school. The locals had gone out of their
way to help the couple settle down, and feel at home. The post-retirement life
was perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Life in the valley
was simple. People didn’t crave power and prestige; they didn’t haggle in
boardrooms, or fight power wars in the back rooms. There was no place for
greed. They just worked hard, to earn a living and live their life…and that
they did to the fullest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> So if the day was spent plying their trade,
the evenings were spent in the pleasant company of friends and neighbours. So each
evening, since their arrival, the couple had been ushered to and fro, once for
a game of charades, then a garden party and so on. Despite all of this being
quite novel to them, they’d quite enjoyed it. The food was sumptuous, the drink
flowed, and the conversation eclectic. Their views, like life itself, were
simple and the truth came out hard and straight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">But as ever, amongst the women, gossip held sway. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-61550874359141659812012-12-04T17:04:00.001+05:302012-12-05T12:01:57.472+05:30BABA- I LOVE YOU<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dad, or Baba as I call him, has been and continues to be
an inspiration. What he has taught me over 22 years, are the pillars of
guidance and strength which I look upto both in rapture and despair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The relationship I had with my dad, was not a very
conventional one, at least I would think so. For starters I am very much like
him, impatient and perennially in a hurry! So as you would imagine, we had our fair
share of arguments, but the part I liked the best was, every argument could be
settled with a ‘Sorry’ and a tight hug within the span of an hour if not sooner,
and voila.. just like that we were friends again. This is one of the most
important things I picked up from my dad very early on in life. If he, my dad,
my hero, could apologise to me then I should never consider myself beyond an
apology, and if I’m at fault I’m always ready to.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of the other
cherished memories are of going with him of Cubbon Park and Vidhana Saudha
every Sunday, of going to <i>kaka near National
College</i> for pineapple and bhelpuri. We sure did have a lot of fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQ078lFW90rGVgk4U-iB_758F-uLJuolMrHpLzhrpUKSPiUIT486F9OWwjsrIwKvBhcsexGbU28iPN2ywXZ2D-BVp8IgP2i99fH6Gj5wm4664v4rH5pmud2OTySixzDVowa13/s1600/DUBAI'11+468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQ078lFW90rGVgk4U-iB_758F-uLJuolMrHpLzhrpUKSPiUIT486F9OWwjsrIwKvBhcsexGbU28iPN2ywXZ2D-BVp8IgP2i99fH6Gj5wm4664v4rH5pmud2OTySixzDVowa13/s1600/DUBAI'11+468.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><br />
<br />
The one passion my dad and I share is Sports. My dad was a
very good sportsman; he dabbled in everything from tennis to hockey, football,
table tennis etc. in his younger days, even going on to captain the Vijaya
College crickets team (something he was very proud of)! And so as I grew up, in a family of sports
lovers, I too got drawn towards sports! So be it cricket or football or Formula
1 my dad and I would catch it, either live at the stadium or on the TV. If it
was a cricket match, our house would be
packed with friends and relatives; shouting, screaming or praying, but having a
great time nevertheless. And then there would be other times, we’d stay up through
the night to catch a football match happening on the other side of the globe,
and yeah, if I were supporting Manchester United he was sure to support the
opponent, whoever be it! Even at school he encouraged me to take part in all
the sports, and even though I never won as many medals at it as he did, he was definitely
proud!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<br />
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<br />
The last one and a half year, has been a very tough period
for us as a family. With my dad’s health fluctuating, and with the numerous
trips we’ve had to make to and from the hospital, it took a toll on all of us. We
had our moments of disagreement, frustration and sheer disillusionment, yet his
spirit, positivity and zest through it all was heartening. Each day, he would
put in his best during physiotherapy, surround himself with people, and even on
his last day, he promised my mother he would get back on his feet within ten
days! And this coming from someone who endured 5+ surgeries and some incredibly bad luck
during an 8 month period! And despite barely being able to walk, he was on top
of his job, working from home for a significant part of this period! <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Work and in particular TITAN, was the most important thing
in my dad’s life, apart from family, and consequently TITANians have come to
become an extension of our family. I wouldn’t call my dad a workaholic, because
he was doing something he loved. Work was his passion, and so he always yearned
to give more, or as is TITAN’s motto, ‘<i>to
be more’! </i>And so the work he did, the relationships he built at work came
to define him as a person. His commitment, integrity and genuine effort to put
in his best for the company are a few of his traits I hope I can inculcate.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF97KEKO9icRGbop3IZmOx3foSYO5o9Ts43BI_xLqymwKIRXXea9rszRts7pxJ9tbFRYUGgFIvH4Y7rOQDmKep59JE-1oJdgTWrB7HzBYMm8wzW8NVXSYXheHSZnRzNcwh_r3k/s1600/IMG_0741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF97KEKO9icRGbop3IZmOx3foSYO5o9Ts43BI_xLqymwKIRXXea9rszRts7pxJ9tbFRYUGgFIvH4Y7rOQDmKep59JE-1oJdgTWrB7HzBYMm8wzW8NVXSYXheHSZnRzNcwh_r3k/s1600/IMG_0741.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WITH CHILDHOOD FRIENDS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
His energy and enthusiasm is perhaps something else people
will remember him by, he was a ‘loud’ person with a booming voice, quite
intimidating perhaps to people who didn’t know him that well. You never wanted
to be the one to cross him ,yet I know him as a very gentle and kind human
being. He genuinely loved and cared about people around him, and he loved having
lots of people around. It would be fair to say, that he was the life of a
party! And as for his friends, he always stayed close to his childhood friends
in Shankarpuram, he cherished them and the memories and times he spent with
them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bonds he formed through life teach me some of the more
practical of life’s lessons.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xDGxxD7eGRDT7boRlSjZTZgV7-R5IiDO_qkF4rBhYMyCBPsX5BGmGliH5-Xk5kx_TYB-rVzgVKLrGJMcOKTA-RaAq9uwy22TxXUkm6Dv_mc0csvQJ-9_IzNhJgO8xeDJAPLo/s1600/DUBAI'11+291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xDGxxD7eGRDT7boRlSjZTZgV7-R5IiDO_qkF4rBhYMyCBPsX5BGmGliH5-Xk5kx_TYB-rVzgVKLrGJMcOKTA-RaAq9uwy22TxXUkm6Dv_mc0csvQJ-9_IzNhJgO8xeDJAPLo/s1600/DUBAI'11+291.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">OUR EXTENDED FAMILY<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OqZB30BklGDj5BDJ9lxJATNa2VuViqmPEBFBsodlHVedOU7JxD884iE9d2ZG3AJOizvL7lBHzbV9Co11U_ZvkdUyNc3sJThm5GrkPk5m8cLkOBVKcLXsi0R1H0kLLROK2cmV/s1600/family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OqZB30BklGDj5BDJ9lxJATNa2VuViqmPEBFBsodlHVedOU7JxD884iE9d2ZG3AJOizvL7lBHzbV9Co11U_ZvkdUyNc3sJThm5GrkPk5m8cLkOBVKcLXsi0R1H0kLLROK2cmV/s1600/family.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AS A 6 MONTH OLD WITH FAMILY AT VIZAG</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My dad was never an overpowering figure in my life. He always
stood there ready with guidance, yet he let me make my own mistakes; he would
set down some ‘absolutes’, but the rest was for me to experiment and learn in life.
He always gave me the freedom to choose for myself, but the earliest values my
parents taught me are I suppose, the reigns that guide me. And so, I wouldn’t
say he was my friend, but he most surely was a friendly parent.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moreover, his words, that whatever you choose to do in life,
if you do it whole heartedly, and put in your effort, nothing can ever stop you
from reaching your goals. And this he taught me by example.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2xDiXWRwfU_AGfrU-tsq47BaVMDsqZgh2SrLPdb0D23OWcfApjbYuEtBpW2G5Q40o7hTt4wgeh716ikqR_z1zm_NwdT0r4I-6fLLFiG2KrzdxvhbyX0mjVqIKA33WGby72F8/s1600/baba+n+me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2xDiXWRwfU_AGfrU-tsq47BaVMDsqZgh2SrLPdb0D23OWcfApjbYuEtBpW2G5Q40o7hTt4wgeh716ikqR_z1zm_NwdT0r4I-6fLLFiG2KrzdxvhbyX0mjVqIKA33WGby72F8/s1600/baba+n+me.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am extremely proud of who my dad is, the way he lead his
life, and I hope I can one day be both the daughter and the doctor he is very
proud of!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmioVIGzf_wbGolIWfwoPP-Q5e5InQ2djRS-FeNYsVHgUOvlRYxZcB2xwsQVEVLKMGa-GNnOuXkrPbFBAs4jaDZgc-1DFPfybpgNVy4Pw4RfLft3UN1X-D9pRb6l8G3Kruiq8/s1600/DUBAI'11+480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmioVIGzf_wbGolIWfwoPP-Q5e5InQ2djRS-FeNYsVHgUOvlRYxZcB2xwsQVEVLKMGa-GNnOuXkrPbFBAs4jaDZgc-1DFPfybpgNVy4Pw4RfLft3UN1X-D9pRb6l8G3Kruiq8/s1600/DUBAI'11+480.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, despite it being extremely sad without him, I do not
mourn, for he always wanted the people he loved to be happy. I truly believe that
he has moved onto a better place, yet I know he’s always holding us in a
protective and loving embrace. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And as he sits there in his special place amongst the stars,
watching us, all I want to say is “I love you Baba, and I always will, really
really”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Lr33XERWy3KsQMxLfmkSkW3kwSbxhybhWoZWy3PLcPdOXKKYx8ZrN5o_B4dQ5sAXiYLbZRr2UwMZcHYKaCv5JV7ndtwSej9l6GLt7AStAW7O_NjVXR00LOJFp0d9s5Fz-4Rd/s1600/DUBAI'11+281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Lr33XERWy3KsQMxLfmkSkW3kwSbxhybhWoZWy3PLcPdOXKKYx8ZrN5o_B4dQ5sAXiYLbZRr2UwMZcHYKaCv5JV7ndtwSej9l6GLt7AStAW7O_NjVXR00LOJFp0d9s5Fz-4Rd/s1600/DUBAI'11+281.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<h2>
<i>To honestly put into
words all that I feel about my dad, is next to impossible, and I’ll always feel
that something is amiss, but for now, I ‘ve put in my best!</i></h2>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-37467408526642726902012-05-26T14:04:00.000+05:302012-05-26T14:04:14.482+05:30Best quote I read today...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 35px; padding: 2px 2px 0px 0px;">
<span style="color: red;">As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let us down, probably will. You'll have your heart broken and you'll break others' hearts. You'll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them, and you'll cry because time is flying by. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, forgive freely, and love like you've never been hurt. Life comes with no guarantees, no time outs, no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell someone what they mean to you and tell someone off, speak out, dance in the pouring rain, hold someone's hand, comfort a friend, fall asleep watching the sun come up, stay up late, be a flirt, and smile until your face hurts. Don't be afraid to take chances or fall in love and most of all, live in the moment because every second you spend angry or upset is a second of happiness you can never get back.</span></h2>
<div class="byline" style="background-color: white; font-family: Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin: 8px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: red;">- <a href="http://www.boardofwisdom.com/default.asp?topic=1010&search=Unknown" style="font-size: 1em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Unknown</a></span></div>
</div>Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-5179824499568225272012-05-02T20:54:00.001+05:302012-05-02T20:54:50.063+05:30CRAZY EASY SPORTS QUIZPut on your thinking caps, rekindle the grey matter ... And GO!!!!
1. Why do teams wear different colours during 'home' and 'away' matches in football?
2. The fans of which famous football club are called 'Los cules' , and why?
3. Sergei Bubka is an Olympic stalwart in which discipline?
4. What were the mascots of the Beijing Olympics?
5. In Motorsport, which contemporary driver goes by the nickname, 'the doctor'?Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-27742426678954867572011-10-29T21:14:00.000+05:302011-10-29T21:17:52.047+05:30TRYST WITH THE HIMALAYAS- PART I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXJDCona0xMrHGYaSW0ibRH8TnpnhIwPmkFygH5OdBeDE5AzXnsJuSIs4glqpQfCs1EF6_VPWAag7EOqQvtOMaXrhiJsVsPYnpE-EjgpUyBL8WF4RPv7TKhCIifpUP4brmP__/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXJDCona0xMrHGYaSW0ibRH8TnpnhIwPmkFygH5OdBeDE5AzXnsJuSIs4glqpQfCs1EF6_VPWAag7EOqQvtOMaXrhiJsVsPYnpE-EjgpUyBL8WF4RPv7TKhCIifpUP4brmP__/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+058.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">INTO THE HIMALAYAS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvRmthPvoPMdhFuGMU1wkftM1mIhS52uElSZIIE3OQjkRPUIX2Zd0Cv6l0I6ZP3gBgaqRDylbB0XF8wBpsrub8zX72v57ccL5xfTIhe6j9c-poVbgWLQmqpxqfO3aS0LyTNWE/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvRmthPvoPMdhFuGMU1wkftM1mIhS52uElSZIIE3OQjkRPUIX2Zd0Cv6l0I6ZP3gBgaqRDylbB0XF8wBpsrub8zX72v57ccL5xfTIhe6j9c-poVbgWLQmqpxqfO3aS0LyTNWE/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+061.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GUIDING THE LONELY TRAVELLER</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwkF1s4x8rBUSud5_9B-fCFbiZVrbgJnbymyOoiUEo8hM86KZVORb0dikgkp7bZ8znTHUkEp5CJrV9iNkSo7owyKFnBVOGwI2Q8AnZEAzjoVrEULRkMteGdq5-ddYh3_sZj3Q/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwkF1s4x8rBUSud5_9B-fCFbiZVrbgJnbymyOoiUEo8hM86KZVORb0dikgkp7bZ8znTHUkEp5CJrV9iNkSo7owyKFnBVOGwI2Q8AnZEAzjoVrEULRkMteGdq5-ddYh3_sZj3Q/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+110.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IBEX!!!! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGrwauKQRpKEmXEat4Y-5zHqxENcS1pczpbOwcqi9bxWDaL6VElXAzDT9GvZUWyPDCIaA4O4M6ihzBHl8cO5H26wxkkUY2zudsCNFrhHZvPHglfdHrVBAt6yDQ10FgLPNYC_3/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGrwauKQRpKEmXEat4Y-5zHqxENcS1pczpbOwcqi9bxWDaL6VElXAzDT9GvZUWyPDCIaA4O4M6ihzBHl8cO5H26wxkkUY2zudsCNFrhHZvPHglfdHrVBAt6yDQ10FgLPNYC_3/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+133.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brrrrr!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOU-K7yQ-tS9RHEudhh_JJphI4GmdARW5reoxZWLgNs1joY9n8ppvrvSQ7UoXunLA1U0AXXY9SPDLy4xHUCpLt2hkmK7P7bzO25aR8C-Nn2OqUq_3LOZ_NPl8huV71_BsRmI9/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOU-K7yQ-tS9RHEudhh_JJphI4GmdARW5reoxZWLgNs1joY9n8ppvrvSQ7UoXunLA1U0AXXY9SPDLy4xHUCpLt2hkmK7P7bzO25aR8C-Nn2OqUq_3LOZ_NPl8huV71_BsRmI9/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+134.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CONQUERER OF MOUNTAINS! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhMlSf23Lk-3zlg1d0fZ1fI40tpP5tmidGq4b0T4ZYvYHwMjDydgf5HD__ioA5IRtOHnjq0tcpVA18E-wZRtfYH1XxC9tPLlKg1j0kw9palUDFzQbPt5gObIlFbFSy_b8OCtH4/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhMlSf23Lk-3zlg1d0fZ1fI40tpP5tmidGq4b0T4ZYvYHwMjDydgf5HD__ioA5IRtOHnjq0tcpVA18E-wZRtfYH1XxC9tPLlKg1j0kw9palUDFzQbPt5gObIlFbFSy_b8OCtH4/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+145.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NATURE AS THE ARCHITECT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP829dIDbSd4xMpdtfU_kMe7Pl9qX-mQtpL2GiDNS0tnPQ_yOMdl7AyVCz8_DUcqLosecT9Mq727O6vuRCuZCJ6DSqigKSS_sWgKUqOjtssfNbkUqFLP-AKykpBUOWajFcQtUA/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP829dIDbSd4xMpdtfU_kMe7Pl9qX-mQtpL2GiDNS0tnPQ_yOMdl7AyVCz8_DUcqLosecT9Mq727O6vuRCuZCJ6DSqigKSS_sWgKUqOjtssfNbkUqFLP-AKykpBUOWajFcQtUA/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+245.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">212 EME... Lovely Hospitality! :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrs6Xu1gINYcElHfmAzkBRbucn0lLkqj_HgDulqgX3PAqqwUgLlEyrlBYBNGVp1Fky4SwWTKKpCkv2vGdfJIfbTAnHtUk8onHTU9rHUd-ouj8EsstBQkAMekb43qIDW6dL7ZNP/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrs6Xu1gINYcElHfmAzkBRbucn0lLkqj_HgDulqgX3PAqqwUgLlEyrlBYBNGVp1Fky4SwWTKKpCkv2vGdfJIfbTAnHtUk8onHTU9rHUd-ouj8EsstBQkAMekb43qIDW6dL7ZNP/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+278.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE SUN DISAPPEARING BEYOND THE HILLS AT KHARU, LADAKH</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKdRDCYxUbfO5L-S8ZI-ACE-bWdG4W_0uB6aLFtQDRcZwO4MKqG6Lx8eRdQ3uoCGdVYQjtAxuxSmzsBgzb1w-IXW7b4U-dT9aFFIgvpVoi3QfIZSR6o0ExCi9Mog3pAUp3pHH/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKdRDCYxUbfO5L-S8ZI-ACE-bWdG4W_0uB6aLFtQDRcZwO4MKqG6Lx8eRdQ3uoCGdVYQjtAxuxSmzsBgzb1w-IXW7b4U-dT9aFFIgvpVoi3QfIZSR6o0ExCi9Mog3pAUp3pHH/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+285.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIKSEY MONASTERY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHv53kUDYC9WUlVT84aImEZDA8OXQzql3tKqllTL-dZ64FTvwyfP8aiN37CQTgwvOmLnhnM6k1N58tz1rUw_5IeFeoCzTHcx7c4OzPQyVmLJkfTTmPIYTyrsTYf5up74IdjWp/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHv53kUDYC9WUlVT84aImEZDA8OXQzql3tKqllTL-dZ64FTvwyfP8aiN37CQTgwvOmLnhnM6k1N58tz1rUw_5IeFeoCzTHcx7c4OzPQyVmLJkfTTmPIYTyrsTYf5up74IdjWp/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+320.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE VIEWS JUST DON'T CEASE TO AMAZE ONE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80PH6JKIlQK1A4Nk-2eTF0Va2iSzRn_MXyXUoVo8RUZRwOZLkuOF52lYqmW8LA8HbJbQ_ZTT2i5VwPNn7uXKAKLEUfU4aBkuZ3S36VU7uaAD5FwYbUleaeXSQ1-YY2bx2WhY4/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80PH6JKIlQK1A4Nk-2eTF0Va2iSzRn_MXyXUoVo8RUZRwOZLkuOF52lYqmW8LA8HbJbQ_ZTT2i5VwPNn7uXKAKLEUfU4aBkuZ3S36VU7uaAD5FwYbUleaeXSQ1-YY2bx2WhY4/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1ST LOOK- PANGONG SA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutwFjV5awdmq_9RJlOsE6vjotRqIe1G8t1tzqCc2WofnuKi694jDXuZfM4y1RFirwRaex8lgEqUMJPKmOtN2QdBJaK25sc9esJkfxd9zQ89w7v0p06M1LSoygHV1lX57BAZbH/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutwFjV5awdmq_9RJlOsE6vjotRqIe1G8t1tzqCc2WofnuKi694jDXuZfM4y1RFirwRaex8lgEqUMJPKmOtN2QdBJaK25sc9esJkfxd9zQ89w7v0p06M1LSoygHV1lX57BAZbH/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+354.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE SERENE BLUES</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhushOmiWw_Yp-PdK9bTcMCDUT_MFLIBbJ2UhBksLtLszp3pvgiym97q78dC3wRMTB2JxD9f9n3j3OUcx0pB5UDdDl2LO96cq1tkZ-1lbAs40LRK0srcdjceq-vNYcp4Dxfuio7/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhushOmiWw_Yp-PdK9bTcMCDUT_MFLIBbJ2UhBksLtLszp3pvgiym97q78dC3wRMTB2JxD9f9n3j3OUcx0pB5UDdDl2LO96cq1tkZ-1lbAs40LRK0srcdjceq-vNYcp4Dxfuio7/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+360.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MYSTIFIED BY THE MAGICAL HUES</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuNnRZOvIH8Rah09R7f1OZet8fTBUo9qXmqpCD6BfOiZiSJrhKdXefxHOpVT43M7CHoCImMuLj7rxNf0IllaB7DiI9igBCCdJ74gKY03nHM1otOTJw57u1a6t8diM9cepO5J6/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuNnRZOvIH8Rah09R7f1OZet8fTBUo9qXmqpCD6BfOiZiSJrhKdXefxHOpVT43M7CHoCImMuLj7rxNf0IllaB7DiI9igBCCdJ74gKY03nHM1otOTJw57u1a6t8diM9cepO5J6/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+386.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PARADIGM SHIFT?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMuSugTbUeoWqezUJ9-Pl_MwRIwjWQ6SvjMFsOBnpVCdFQ1nHKQ655GvFxLpkN1wAdkohn1iwqt_vPSGI4cGFsw_mXuQAfKh5UugTlxkqJBZ8DT_AdsXSrKHwH6KSgzdPafeS/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMuSugTbUeoWqezUJ9-Pl_MwRIwjWQ6SvjMFsOBnpVCdFQ1nHKQ655GvFxLpkN1wAdkohn1iwqt_vPSGI4cGFsw_mXuQAfKh5UugTlxkqJBZ8DT_AdsXSrKHwH6KSgzdPafeS/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+486.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">REACHING OUT INTO THE COLD<br />
... en route to Khardong La</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT0BA4A0FhLVvzKu975xTNnjugntk-XVFmvhQ_YoPVR-mpP1lv8kbqMQ2TJrtx_mHAeuA0Jr48pZBxqO1dSPf_8kRKmV2hiDLrhAfuSsGnCnoqIq2PZUaBNhg4HtE75qI2AVm/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT0BA4A0FhLVvzKu975xTNnjugntk-XVFmvhQ_YoPVR-mpP1lv8kbqMQ2TJrtx_mHAeuA0Jr48pZBxqO1dSPf_8kRKmV2hiDLrhAfuSsGnCnoqIq2PZUaBNhg4HtE75qI2AVm/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+358.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aww!!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlby455dAAQqe0v-dVW1P2pBVMMnL17b1-vUDYdWwbY4HuYOiXD1Sh0UgBFZN-HKP8cykucuSQDHveE6xgYgcxRs7MWVv0aN7hjpXDXw567lpjhWIlRt4LGetFqI-e48hh1aH/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlby455dAAQqe0v-dVW1P2pBVMMnL17b1-vUDYdWwbY4HuYOiXD1Sh0UgBFZN-HKP8cykucuSQDHveE6xgYgcxRs7MWVv0aN7hjpXDXw567lpjhWIlRt4LGetFqI-e48hh1aH/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+357.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PICTURE POSTCARD PERFECT!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSnBuiPOHQ-nTYP4BDMg8BBmuaf0VjMLTId32xik4VCSmmf2MJUH5x_GpTQ5u2loyJQ-GILOGIQk69hOlBrzFIPk5vN8LwaDbnXCdkoM3z3DXULuZeAt-VityrY9Y8FXCwEdg/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSnBuiPOHQ-nTYP4BDMg8BBmuaf0VjMLTId32xik4VCSmmf2MJUH5x_GpTQ5u2loyJQ-GILOGIQk69hOlBrzFIPk5vN8LwaDbnXCdkoM3z3DXULuZeAt-VityrY9Y8FXCwEdg/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+356.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH PANGONG.... Continues!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncvz35oHN67H76SQoLtgeboA57P3LRk3n_eBu6gBt3dh3Qgj9auU6yDV5iSQJ3b1e2Dmdw9RM33WhD82zxUjXQcoiTyyU9I8vDjtck7pCOL2N-zwdpFnRkIN2uLb7XCU7si8q/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncvz35oHN67H76SQoLtgeboA57P3LRk3n_eBu6gBt3dh3Qgj9auU6yDV5iSQJ3b1e2Dmdw9RM33WhD82zxUjXQcoiTyyU9I8vDjtck7pCOL2N-zwdpFnRkIN2uLb7XCU7si8q/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+375.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE NEW INHABITANTS... MIGRANTS?<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZvUTIC3u87v9JkvUIVYfns7gPCvXk4_kVq7NVfdvEx40xku40Z64znoM0oN39JNiIefwesRNqmiH576oiryRXYZ73B-7OfTAqK3CIDGuQfm-wsC_TfNantalktvmLSsn2HoG/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZvUTIC3u87v9JkvUIVYfns7gPCvXk4_kVq7NVfdvEx40xku40Z64znoM0oN39JNiIefwesRNqmiH576oiryRXYZ73B-7OfTAqK3CIDGuQfm-wsC_TfNantalktvmLSsn2HoG/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+371.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NATURE'S CANVAS!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah4Etya6hZAubSX46o8SVeC_zuarf03HebAtPUXF-HjicVMv5qaphb4uKx2TeZj0yRd5s-au8TitLbV0CiEZOdDPN4RU4bSWWjVoqeb9F38I5IUV64ezraqoBa4WQYmIrIaKj/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah4Etya6hZAubSX46o8SVeC_zuarf03HebAtPUXF-HjicVMv5qaphb4uKx2TeZj0yRd5s-au8TitLbV0CiEZOdDPN4RU4bSWWjVoqeb9F38I5IUV64ezraqoBa4WQYmIrIaKj/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+397.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHEN INSPIRATION STRUCK...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUZF5zwSE3nTViJDjHu2wlATVGe5Bo02kBfKlqAxwe70B70297sMnT-OBbdnVANInJSXkPQXGy-xG85FtnnQ_mVedYTZaELdN2eSn0QqOxQw08MU950apA1SkNckNEG9oguw2/s1600/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUZF5zwSE3nTViJDjHu2wlATVGe5Bo02kBfKlqAxwe70B70297sMnT-OBbdnVANInJSXkPQXGy-xG85FtnnQ_mVedYTZaELdN2eSn0QqOxQw08MU950apA1SkNckNEG9oguw2/s400/chitti_Jsp-Pangong+374.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...AND MORE BIRDIES ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0LADAKH33.7524919 78.668239532.9076024 77.404811999999993 34.5973814 79.931667tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-8964996334814220372011-10-10T23:33:00.004+05:302011-10-10T23:34:00.554+05:30The HARDER Way To Do Things<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Taking on a task, each of us has two paths (usually) to the end... One is the easier/street smart way, the other the conventional/ 'proper' or 'correct' way of doing things. The former isn't necessarily wrong, it's just that it's veiled by the hues of grey! perhaps an appropriate analogy would be : Fast-food and home cooked meals. Fast-Food is savory and in a world where time=money, it's a tailor made alternative, yet it's not very artery friendly, and over years slowly draws it's toll! Then again, these days, 'the end' is what counts and not the 'means' one employs to get there... But is this 'the end justifies the means' approach necessarily apt for every situation?<br />
As I see it, it's a personal choice. Like Albus Dumbledore points out, 'in life we all have a choice between what is right and what is easy...' The path chosen by each of us often determines who we become. No doubt, that each of us can justify why we chose one or the other, but the question I ask why aren't more people choosing the harder yet correct path?<br />
The answers, I imagine, are numerous.The dread of working that hard, an urge to finish fast, simple laziness or merely the fact that in today's world we're all looking for instant mixes!<br />
<br />
On my recent trip to Leh, a few things helped me gain perspective:<br />
1. At the Siachen glacier, the Indian Army sits guard at -70'C<br />
2. The BRO builds the worlds highest roads, in the most extreme of temperatures, placing jagged rocks when all you'd want to do is curl up with a hot water bottle.<br />
3. There are people who sit by feeding weary travelers in More/Pang... amongst the loneliest stretches of land anywhere on the planet.<br />
<br />
What is it that motivates these guys?<br />
What if The Army chose the easier path... curled up under a blanket instead of putting up a vigil?<br />
What if the BRO shelved their shovels ?<br />
.... These people have no alternative by passes to their ends, yet they go about barely complaining, at most times content with what they're doing. In comparison, most of us have to make these choices in controlled environs, not on the enemy's footstep or in nature's endurance test, that in itself takes away the 'hard' from the hardship.<br />
<br />
To all the fast food consumers I say, 'All the very Best'... but I'd much rather work hard than have my conscience work hard at me!!!!</div>
Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-31497107221007249172011-06-20T20:06:00.000+05:302011-10-10T23:39:24.427+05:30Dubai 2011- Lunch at The Burj-Al-Arab<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdXAh-MZoZaRHuFukMTwzRte4HsbneXoqoO3rpk33w-r3SL0dFjYm1NdGeTNf1EWiI-S3a6tlC_FRjlPgu3Wajn5uQNWc9LBit0ByL6bjuvzC2wY_vhNhWl4Kyx6IB0tMZaNI/s1600/DUBAI%252711+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdXAh-MZoZaRHuFukMTwzRte4HsbneXoqoO3rpk33w-r3SL0dFjYm1NdGeTNf1EWiI-S3a6tlC_FRjlPgu3Wajn5uQNWc9LBit0ByL6bjuvzC2wY_vhNhWl4Kyx6IB0tMZaNI/s320/DUBAI%252711+003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27349875.post-81567643847105385162011-06-01T20:48:00.000+05:302011-06-01T20:48:52.388+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSAr-PWep-biJ7rw4O4knCMu6gqowb0_42nWnKrpEBsejzBiAS9OQ" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSAr-PWep-biJ7rw4O4knCMu6gqowb0_42nWnKrpEBsejzBiAS9OQ" /></a>This people is a Hula Hoop!<br />
I've wanted to learn how to twirl it for some time now, and i managed to get my hands on one today... But boy! It's tough!<br />
Anlil' bit of history, the Hula Hoop has been around for a while now, gaining in popularity in the early 20th Century... It's apparently named after a popular Hawaiian dance form, famous for the 'hip shaking'! It's a popular toy with kids, and for adults an effective form of exercise(especially for all of you cribbing about that adipose walking by your side )!!!<br />
Well, I've bet I can do this, and I'm no Shakira... so well, it's a big ask!<br />
But like the YouTube video i watched said, 'patience is the key'!!!<br />
But, challenge accepted!<br />
I'm on it guys, and shall master it over the next 3 months ;)!!!<br />
Keep you posted!<br />
<img 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" /> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> HAPPY HULA HOOPING!!!</span></div>Nivedita Sudheerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05712732479928117586noreply@blogger.com1