I, Me, Myself

Growing up in a big city, I always had my weekends packed with the myriad of mundane that we metropolitan dwellers are acquainted with. 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?" ... I get a general matter-of-fact shrug and a 'you know ...' look! The answer though remains elusive. 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! However, on this charming afternoon, following a stirring session with Dr.A, a bunch of us headed down a different path. A few scrapes and grazes and a little more uphill effort later we were there, atop College Hill! The view from atop the hill!                  ...

    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. 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. 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.  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...