Blackout! Darkness all about!
Eyes covered by a dense clout!
Darkness emanating from within
reflected on the eyes without!
Bright radiating darkness
with its blistering energy
piercing through mind, body, soul
Ah! the dark! sometimes a marble,
sometimes a coal.
A flickering light, feeble and cold
touches me for a moment too brief,
Nourishing my spirit with it enchanting form
Dispelling the darkness quick as a thunderstorm
Then, realized I, that all along
I was swathed in light,
But it took utter dark,
to know what is moon on a dark night
-Shivam 'DA'
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Life and death- A new perspective
The science of death is known as thenatology. Not many are aware of it, but there is a whole branch of science dedicated to study of death, the ultimate anathema of all that scientific research is aimed at- maximising happiness. Anyway, the point is, death is such an interesting event that it demands explanation. What draws man towards the subject of death is mystique- why a man dies? what is death? what happens after death?
Medical dictionaries have defined death in various confusing terms. Laymen may think death as merely "absence of life". But it brings us to another question- what is life? Is a working brain, beating heart, respiring lungs a sign of life? Then we can replicate them all these days. A stopped can be restarted by cardiac defibrillator, or adrenaline injection, even a heart transplant is done these days. a stopped brain can sustain a body. respirators can start breathing if a person cant. So, with all these gadgets, a person can live forever. But he doesn't. Why?
Bing in the medical field, I have seen both life and death from close quarters. I have seen bodies being autopsied, and alive people being cut open under anesthesia. I was surprised when i saw that the internal organisation of organs was exactly the same in both. A dead man does not physically differ from an alive one. A dead body undergoes putrfaction or decomposition by the action of bacteria. But bacteria are present on us too! Why dont we putrefy then?
The quest for the answer leads to accept that there does exist an entity called "soul", which governs the body. It occupies minimal space and performs maximum work. Brain regulates the body. Who regulates the brain? who watcheth the watchman? I say its the soul.
Lets take an example. We use mobiles. If we just remove the batteries from our mobiles, will they work? No, they wont. They will still have the screen, the sim card, the keys. But it wont work because it has no power. Soul is the battery to our bodies, a driving force.
Medical dictionaries have defined death in various confusing terms. Laymen may think death as merely "absence of life". But it brings us to another question- what is life? Is a working brain, beating heart, respiring lungs a sign of life? Then we can replicate them all these days. A stopped can be restarted by cardiac defibrillator, or adrenaline injection, even a heart transplant is done these days. a stopped brain can sustain a body. respirators can start breathing if a person cant. So, with all these gadgets, a person can live forever. But he doesn't. Why?
Bing in the medical field, I have seen both life and death from close quarters. I have seen bodies being autopsied, and alive people being cut open under anesthesia. I was surprised when i saw that the internal organisation of organs was exactly the same in both. A dead man does not physically differ from an alive one. A dead body undergoes putrfaction or decomposition by the action of bacteria. But bacteria are present on us too! Why dont we putrefy then?
The quest for the answer leads to accept that there does exist an entity called "soul", which governs the body. It occupies minimal space and performs maximum work. Brain regulates the body. Who regulates the brain? who watcheth the watchman? I say its the soul.
Lets take an example. We use mobiles. If we just remove the batteries from our mobiles, will they work? No, they wont. They will still have the screen, the sim card, the keys. But it wont work because it has no power. Soul is the battery to our bodies, a driving force.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Shadows- a poem
Shadows in the dark,
dripping blood and gore,
Shadows waiting to stab the heart
when brought to the fore.
Shadows that are dark,
Shadows of a lighter vein
Each letting out a blood curdling scream
Each writhing in intense pain.
My mind! My conscience! Nothing but a bunch of shadows
that keep me groping in the dark,
SHadows cooing in my ear,
Shadows letting out a screaching bark.
Almost as if a cry for help
to rescue them, bring them out of closet,
but deeply buried they are
in the crevices of my mind
My sins unatoned, my skills unhoned,
that i can't dare face them thus.
Shadows dancing in my eyes,
Shadows playing a dance of death.
-Shivam'DA'
dripping blood and gore,
Shadows waiting to stab the heart
when brought to the fore.
Shadows that are dark,
Shadows of a lighter vein
Each letting out a blood curdling scream
Each writhing in intense pain.
My mind! My conscience! Nothing but a bunch of shadows
that keep me groping in the dark,
SHadows cooing in my ear,
Shadows letting out a screaching bark.
Almost as if a cry for help
to rescue them, bring them out of closet,
but deeply buried they are
in the crevices of my mind
My sins unatoned, my skills unhoned,
that i can't dare face them thus.
Shadows dancing in my eyes,
Shadows playing a dance of death.
-Shivam'DA'
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Burden
Imagine meeting someone you never know, someone in deep pain and who thinks you have the remedy to his agony just because you sport a white apron and a stethoscope round your neck. And you know that all you have done to deserve this apparel is to get 50% or more marks in 1st year of MBBS, which anyone can get after mugging some books. Perhaps this was the feeling for all of us when we entered the Pediatric ward of Shardaben Hospital, our teaching hospital of that term. We were supposed to spend one month here, learning the basics of pediatrics, or the science of little children.
We were all ordered to divide the patients among ourselves for taking ‘history’, or the basic information of the patient, his/her ailment and the ODP or the Origin, Duration and Progress of the disease. We were instructed that since most of the patients would be kids, we would have to engage them in small talk to get most of information and to ensure that the kid doesn’t get bored of our constant interrogation.
I went to my patient who was playing peacefully with his mother. I gently went up to them and introduced myself and requested if they could answer a few questions. They agreed. I began with asking the name. “Ravi kumar” his mother replied. I then began asking basic questions about the symptoms as observed by the parents and the child. Within five minutes however, I had to bring the ‘small talk’ factor into play as the kid was getting irritated. I cheerfully asked, “Does Ravi go to school?” His mother brightened up at this and replied excitedly her laadla is a topper in his class. “He too wants to be like you, wear this white coat.” she said, tugging at my apron. I smiled. Indeed, I enjoyed unparalleled respect here. “Yes, auntiji, why not? One day he will surely be a brilliant doctor.” I said, sprinkling some water from the eternal spring of hope that irrigates a million dreams. My questioning ended soon. In the end, I felt I had built a great rapport. Then came the common question by any patient to any doctor, “Doctorsaab, he will get well soon?” I had no reply to this, but to console her I said cheerfully, “Sure! You’ll see, in a few days he will be playing cricket!” It brought a smile to her face which only a doctor could, even if the doctor in question is a struggling second year medico with absolutely no idea of most diseases.
We were asked to assemble in a lecture room soon for a theory lecture. The lecture ended soon and we were again asked to go back to the ward and listen to the heartbeats of an ‘interesting’ patient. It usually meant someone who displays important signs of a disease. We were supposed to remember them and it becomes easy after examining a few ‘interesting’ patients. With twenty two students surrounding him, it was difficult for me to reach to the patient. I patiently waited for everyone else to disperse. But when I went to the patient, I was shocked. It was Ravi! His breath had already turned heavy and the resident doctor, with a stern look, asked me to ‘do it fast’. I quickly put the stethoscope to his heart. The heartbeat seemed different. The two heart sounds didn’t sound together as they should, and instead, there was a strange rustling sound in between them. “Systolic murmur” said the resident doctor, “Usually a sign of mitral valve failure.”
Oh God! This child’s heart was defective and he would soon have to undergo a valve transplant operation. I knew the mother was staring at me worriedly. After all, I had only given her hope a few minutes ago. There might have been a wild questioning in her eyes, but dared not look at them, for it would burn me to ashes. More than anyone else, I dared not look into my own eyes.
Some burdens break a person. Others make one. I think I will always carry this burden on my heart, and it will always guide me to be a more understanding doctor.
We were all ordered to divide the patients among ourselves for taking ‘history’, or the basic information of the patient, his/her ailment and the ODP or the Origin, Duration and Progress of the disease. We were instructed that since most of the patients would be kids, we would have to engage them in small talk to get most of information and to ensure that the kid doesn’t get bored of our constant interrogation.
I went to my patient who was playing peacefully with his mother. I gently went up to them and introduced myself and requested if they could answer a few questions. They agreed. I began with asking the name. “Ravi kumar” his mother replied. I then began asking basic questions about the symptoms as observed by the parents and the child. Within five minutes however, I had to bring the ‘small talk’ factor into play as the kid was getting irritated. I cheerfully asked, “Does Ravi go to school?” His mother brightened up at this and replied excitedly her laadla is a topper in his class. “He too wants to be like you, wear this white coat.” she said, tugging at my apron. I smiled. Indeed, I enjoyed unparalleled respect here. “Yes, auntiji, why not? One day he will surely be a brilliant doctor.” I said, sprinkling some water from the eternal spring of hope that irrigates a million dreams. My questioning ended soon. In the end, I felt I had built a great rapport. Then came the common question by any patient to any doctor, “Doctorsaab, he will get well soon?” I had no reply to this, but to console her I said cheerfully, “Sure! You’ll see, in a few days he will be playing cricket!” It brought a smile to her face which only a doctor could, even if the doctor in question is a struggling second year medico with absolutely no idea of most diseases.
We were asked to assemble in a lecture room soon for a theory lecture. The lecture ended soon and we were again asked to go back to the ward and listen to the heartbeats of an ‘interesting’ patient. It usually meant someone who displays important signs of a disease. We were supposed to remember them and it becomes easy after examining a few ‘interesting’ patients. With twenty two students surrounding him, it was difficult for me to reach to the patient. I patiently waited for everyone else to disperse. But when I went to the patient, I was shocked. It was Ravi! His breath had already turned heavy and the resident doctor, with a stern look, asked me to ‘do it fast’. I quickly put the stethoscope to his heart. The heartbeat seemed different. The two heart sounds didn’t sound together as they should, and instead, there was a strange rustling sound in between them. “Systolic murmur” said the resident doctor, “Usually a sign of mitral valve failure.”
Oh God! This child’s heart was defective and he would soon have to undergo a valve transplant operation. I knew the mother was staring at me worriedly. After all, I had only given her hope a few minutes ago. There might have been a wild questioning in her eyes, but dared not look at them, for it would burn me to ashes. More than anyone else, I dared not look into my own eyes.
Some burdens break a person. Others make one. I think I will always carry this burden on my heart, and it will always guide me to be a more understanding doctor.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Mobile dating
They say empty mind is a devil’s workshop. It was none the more true for Shyam as he idled away his spare time playing mobile games. One really could not have blamed him, for he was having vacations from college and there was nothing for him to do. Then suddenly, he saw a little icon on the bottom right corner of his mobile screen in which the sim card specific services could be availed. Upon selecting it, he was amazed by the plethora of services which he could avail, ranging from downloading games, ringtones, logos, screensavers and much more. There he saw a small heading- Dating. Naturally Shyam was excited. Anyone who has never even talked to a girl would be excited on the prospect of ambiguous dating. After all, it is only here that he could pass any lewd comment on any girl and still get away with it as the other person did not have any trace of his. He selected the option. The next steps asked him to enter various details like his user name, first three letters of his city and his age group of ‘choice’. Shyam smiled inwardly at the idea of actually choosing a girl for dating. He loved his service provider for providing such a wonderful service.
He sent a message which yielded him a list (he called it menu) of girls who were supposedly dying to meet him. At least that was the perception in the twisted mind of his. He chose one name he liked- vanita, and sent her a cheesy message
Hi darling! Wanna meet me tonight?
In real life, had he dared to say this to a complete stranger, he would have been slapped, first by the girl, then by the bystanders and then by her relatives. But here, he was completely safe, shrouded by the covers of ambiguity that this service provided. He didn’t get a reply for the whole day. Naturally he was disappointed. Soon, he forgot about the mobile and his brief brush with dating.
However, a surprise awaited him the next day as he opened his inbox and saw five messages from vanita:
Yes darling!
Waiting for you tonight!
Be my boyfriend!
My love! I wanna share a secret!
I am gonna die tomorrow! Gonna commit suicide! Only you know it!
The last message blew the lights off Shyam. The first four messages indicated some great deal of fun for him, but the last one simply chilled his mind. That girl, whose real name he didn’t even know, was going to commit suicide and she was telling that to him, whom she has never seen or has never talked with! Somehow, Shyam felt responsible for the girl. After all, he was the only one in whom she had confided what was perhaps her darkest secret. He decided he would try his best to save the girl. He messaged her again:
Darling! Won’t you meet me once before you die? Wanna see your face!
He knew that such a bait could lure any girl. He hoped get atleast some response from vanita. Unfortunately, he didn’t get any. He then decided to try to talk with the company. Perhaps they had any trace of the girl.
He went straight to a service outlet and related his problem. They replied straightaway that they could not help him as he could be a stalker out to harm their client. No matter how hard Shyam tried to convince them, they didn’t budge. Finally, tired of his pestering, one of them told him to contact their head office in Mumbai. Shyam talked to the executive there and related the seriousness of the situation. He repeatedly told that he was no stalker and that he only wanted to save vanita. The executive finally relented and asked Shyam to give his mobile number and said that he would contact Shyam if any details about vanita are found. Also, he thanked Shyam for allowing them to help him. Shyam cursed under his breath.
Time ticked on. No information about the girl had yet reached Shyam. He was desperate, but was totally helpless. What had started out as a pastime had become a matter of life and death for someone with Shyam strangely playing the part of a middleman. The whole day passed without anyone notifying Shyam. He helplessly went to sleep with a feeling of having betrayed the trust someone had put in him.
The next day, Shyam was a part of almost all the newspapers, but not in a way he would have wanted. The papers didn’t show him smiling or lauded him for saving an unknown girl’s life, as he would have wanted, but rather showed his dead body, with wailing relatives all around. The papers screamed only one headline
19 YEAR BOY COMMITS SUICIDE UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES
The police investigation that followed threw up some startling facts. Shyam, who was a second year medical student, was taking therapy for Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID, which is commonly known as split personality disorder.
His doctor told the police that Shyam was actually a mix of two people, a boy named Shyam and a girl named vanita. It had so happened that in his first year, the seniors had ragged him by asking him to pose as a girl complete with sari, bindi et al. they called him vanita which was the name of a girl he liked in school. That was the reason of him suffering from DID. He was Shyam in the day and vanita at night. This ‘vanita’ even had a separate mobile number of her own. The reason for Shyam/vanita’s suicide was not clear, but was attributed to the fact that the ‘vanita’ side of Shyam’s personality was too emotionally disturbed and wanted to end her life. Unfortunately, she even took the life of the person whose body she occupied- Shyam.
He sent a message which yielded him a list (he called it menu) of girls who were supposedly dying to meet him. At least that was the perception in the twisted mind of his. He chose one name he liked- vanita, and sent her a cheesy message
Hi darling! Wanna meet me tonight?
In real life, had he dared to say this to a complete stranger, he would have been slapped, first by the girl, then by the bystanders and then by her relatives. But here, he was completely safe, shrouded by the covers of ambiguity that this service provided. He didn’t get a reply for the whole day. Naturally he was disappointed. Soon, he forgot about the mobile and his brief brush with dating.
However, a surprise awaited him the next day as he opened his inbox and saw five messages from vanita:
Yes darling!
Waiting for you tonight!
Be my boyfriend!
My love! I wanna share a secret!
I am gonna die tomorrow! Gonna commit suicide! Only you know it!
The last message blew the lights off Shyam. The first four messages indicated some great deal of fun for him, but the last one simply chilled his mind. That girl, whose real name he didn’t even know, was going to commit suicide and she was telling that to him, whom she has never seen or has never talked with! Somehow, Shyam felt responsible for the girl. After all, he was the only one in whom she had confided what was perhaps her darkest secret. He decided he would try his best to save the girl. He messaged her again:
Darling! Won’t you meet me once before you die? Wanna see your face!
He knew that such a bait could lure any girl. He hoped get atleast some response from vanita. Unfortunately, he didn’t get any. He then decided to try to talk with the company. Perhaps they had any trace of the girl.
He went straight to a service outlet and related his problem. They replied straightaway that they could not help him as he could be a stalker out to harm their client. No matter how hard Shyam tried to convince them, they didn’t budge. Finally, tired of his pestering, one of them told him to contact their head office in Mumbai. Shyam talked to the executive there and related the seriousness of the situation. He repeatedly told that he was no stalker and that he only wanted to save vanita. The executive finally relented and asked Shyam to give his mobile number and said that he would contact Shyam if any details about vanita are found. Also, he thanked Shyam for allowing them to help him. Shyam cursed under his breath.
Time ticked on. No information about the girl had yet reached Shyam. He was desperate, but was totally helpless. What had started out as a pastime had become a matter of life and death for someone with Shyam strangely playing the part of a middleman. The whole day passed without anyone notifying Shyam. He helplessly went to sleep with a feeling of having betrayed the trust someone had put in him.
The next day, Shyam was a part of almost all the newspapers, but not in a way he would have wanted. The papers didn’t show him smiling or lauded him for saving an unknown girl’s life, as he would have wanted, but rather showed his dead body, with wailing relatives all around. The papers screamed only one headline
19 YEAR BOY COMMITS SUICIDE UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES
The police investigation that followed threw up some startling facts. Shyam, who was a second year medical student, was taking therapy for Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID, which is commonly known as split personality disorder.
His doctor told the police that Shyam was actually a mix of two people, a boy named Shyam and a girl named vanita. It had so happened that in his first year, the seniors had ragged him by asking him to pose as a girl complete with sari, bindi et al. they called him vanita which was the name of a girl he liked in school. That was the reason of him suffering from DID. He was Shyam in the day and vanita at night. This ‘vanita’ even had a separate mobile number of her own. The reason for Shyam/vanita’s suicide was not clear, but was attributed to the fact that the ‘vanita’ side of Shyam’s personality was too emotionally disturbed and wanted to end her life. Unfortunately, she even took the life of the person whose body she occupied- Shyam.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The Patient
Different people have different thoughts about a struggle. Many see aspiring Bollywood actors as strugglers; some see a child who has failed thrice in exams as struggler. But that particular patient in Dr. Shyam’s hospital was struggling for life. He was battling a very advanced leukemia. His hairs were balding due to continuous influx of chemotherapeutic agents in his blood. His looks betrayed his age of thirteen years, and he looked thirty years older.
“Sir, help my son. I know that only you could help him!” the child’s mother cried in front of him. Shyam knew it was a hopeless case, but giving up hope is something which is not taught in medical colleges, and it was definitely not a part of India’s most successful oncologist’s thinking. Shyam decided to take the challenge. He asked the mother of the dying child to leave the child with him for some time, so that he could monitor him continuously. He assured her that he would try his very best and would ensure that the child is given the best facility. The mother fell at his feet. It was a sight Shyam encountered almost daily. But this was special, for he was going to fight the toughest battle of his life. The stage was set for the clash of titans- the worst killer squared off against the best healer.
The best medical books advocate that the first step to conquer a disease is in the patient’s mind. If he wants to be cured, it increases his chances of survival miraculously. Unfortunately for Shyam, he hit the roadblock in this very step, as his young patient, whose name was Nitin, was totally depressed and had lost all hope of living. Worse, he had lost the will to live, which was one of the pillars around which the best doctors built their treatment. Shyam tried all possible methods. He took him to amusement park, but he passed out after the first giant wheel. Negative points. He showed him the famous movie Anand, which was about a similar cancer patient who brings happiness in the lives of all around him, inspite of being in a terminal stage of cancer. The key thing was that he had the will to live. Shyam tried to explain it to Nitin, “There you go my friend. That’s the way to live inspite of facing such a deadly condition.” But the replied was less enthusiastic than expected, “What was the use of being so happy doctor uncle? In the end, he died a painful death. What is the use of being happy after all?” Nitin asked morosely. Shyam had no reply to this.
Nitin’s condition was getting worse daily. Lately, he had even begun to refuse to take the anticancer medications, saying it was of no use, as he had to die anyway. There was no way Shyam could instill faith in this ailing boy that he can live only if he wanted, and not by any anticancer drugs alone. Finally, Shyam found a way to alleviate the mood of his sad patient, “Hey, what is it you like doing the most, apart from sulking and self pitying?” Shyam asked jokingly.
“Well, I like watching TV. Especially cartoons. In fact, my last wish is that I die watching Tom and Jerry. I want to laugh and laugh till tears roll down my eyes, carrying with them my life. Yes, I want to die laughing.”
His replied moved Shyam. The next day, he bought all DVDs of Tom and Jerry that were available. Nitin was excited and happy. Shyam saw a smile on his face for the first time. It was almost like a solitary flower blooming amidst Sahara desert. And, it seemed that Shyam’s little trick was working. Nitin was responding to the medications better. But, the rosy days were temporary. A week after the ‘Tom and Jerry’ therapy, Shyam returned home with a dejected face. His household help was worried.
“What is it Shyam sir?” he asked.
“Well, Ramsingh, I fear the boy has developed metastasis in the brain. We won’t have him for much longer. I am very sad at this.”
As an oncologist, it wasn’t uncommon for Shyam to lose patients. But, Nitin was special. He didn’t have the heart and will to lose out on Nitin. Finally, he tried the last resort of most doctors, which should ideally be the first destination- God. Next day, he locked himself up in his private prayer room. The whole day long he prayed. He prayed to God to alleviate the boy’s suffering.
A week passed by. Nitin was showing dramatic improvement. Soon, he was almost cured. His was a case which is often referred to in medical textbooks as “miraculous” or “inexplicable”. No one knew why he suddenly showed so much improvement, that is, no one except Dr. Shyam.
A month passed by. Nitin’s mother received a letter from Dr. Shyam’s home. It was to inform of Dr. Shyam’s unfortunate demise due to a long standing lung cancer. The man always prayed for his patients, the last of whom was Nitin, said his manservant. Perhaps that’s why he was so keen on saving him. Perhaps he wanted to leave the earth with a clean record.
“Sir, help my son. I know that only you could help him!” the child’s mother cried in front of him. Shyam knew it was a hopeless case, but giving up hope is something which is not taught in medical colleges, and it was definitely not a part of India’s most successful oncologist’s thinking. Shyam decided to take the challenge. He asked the mother of the dying child to leave the child with him for some time, so that he could monitor him continuously. He assured her that he would try his very best and would ensure that the child is given the best facility. The mother fell at his feet. It was a sight Shyam encountered almost daily. But this was special, for he was going to fight the toughest battle of his life. The stage was set for the clash of titans- the worst killer squared off against the best healer.
The best medical books advocate that the first step to conquer a disease is in the patient’s mind. If he wants to be cured, it increases his chances of survival miraculously. Unfortunately for Shyam, he hit the roadblock in this very step, as his young patient, whose name was Nitin, was totally depressed and had lost all hope of living. Worse, he had lost the will to live, which was one of the pillars around which the best doctors built their treatment. Shyam tried all possible methods. He took him to amusement park, but he passed out after the first giant wheel. Negative points. He showed him the famous movie Anand, which was about a similar cancer patient who brings happiness in the lives of all around him, inspite of being in a terminal stage of cancer. The key thing was that he had the will to live. Shyam tried to explain it to Nitin, “There you go my friend. That’s the way to live inspite of facing such a deadly condition.” But the replied was less enthusiastic than expected, “What was the use of being so happy doctor uncle? In the end, he died a painful death. What is the use of being happy after all?” Nitin asked morosely. Shyam had no reply to this.
Nitin’s condition was getting worse daily. Lately, he had even begun to refuse to take the anticancer medications, saying it was of no use, as he had to die anyway. There was no way Shyam could instill faith in this ailing boy that he can live only if he wanted, and not by any anticancer drugs alone. Finally, Shyam found a way to alleviate the mood of his sad patient, “Hey, what is it you like doing the most, apart from sulking and self pitying?” Shyam asked jokingly.
“Well, I like watching TV. Especially cartoons. In fact, my last wish is that I die watching Tom and Jerry. I want to laugh and laugh till tears roll down my eyes, carrying with them my life. Yes, I want to die laughing.”
His replied moved Shyam. The next day, he bought all DVDs of Tom and Jerry that were available. Nitin was excited and happy. Shyam saw a smile on his face for the first time. It was almost like a solitary flower blooming amidst Sahara desert. And, it seemed that Shyam’s little trick was working. Nitin was responding to the medications better. But, the rosy days were temporary. A week after the ‘Tom and Jerry’ therapy, Shyam returned home with a dejected face. His household help was worried.
“What is it Shyam sir?” he asked.
“Well, Ramsingh, I fear the boy has developed metastasis in the brain. We won’t have him for much longer. I am very sad at this.”
As an oncologist, it wasn’t uncommon for Shyam to lose patients. But, Nitin was special. He didn’t have the heart and will to lose out on Nitin. Finally, he tried the last resort of most doctors, which should ideally be the first destination- God. Next day, he locked himself up in his private prayer room. The whole day long he prayed. He prayed to God to alleviate the boy’s suffering.
A week passed by. Nitin was showing dramatic improvement. Soon, he was almost cured. His was a case which is often referred to in medical textbooks as “miraculous” or “inexplicable”. No one knew why he suddenly showed so much improvement, that is, no one except Dr. Shyam.
A month passed by. Nitin’s mother received a letter from Dr. Shyam’s home. It was to inform of Dr. Shyam’s unfortunate demise due to a long standing lung cancer. The man always prayed for his patients, the last of whom was Nitin, said his manservant. Perhaps that’s why he was so keen on saving him. Perhaps he wanted to leave the earth with a clean record.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Terrorist
He is there, spreading his terror,
the world kneels to him, to his scourge
The other is in the minds,
taking the world to destruction's verge
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He likes to kill people, to destroy life
to serve his own nefarious means,
The other poisons the minds of all,
in a way none can hear the victim's screams.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He can be stopped
by barriers, bullets and brawn
The other is entrenched so deeply in the psyche,
That away from it cannot be torn.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He is the one we see
gun-toting, launching bombs, killing brothers
The other is invisible, unseen
and inspires Man to kill each other.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
Which one is more dangerous?
Which one is worse?
The other, my friend, has to be weeded out,
for it is the mankind's horrendous curse.
It is the hate, the hatred we harbour
We dont hear the heart's peaceful sound.
Stop the terrorist within, to kill the terrorist without
Seek the inner peace, if outer peace is to be found.
-SPDA
the world kneels to him, to his scourge
The other is in the minds,
taking the world to destruction's verge
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He likes to kill people, to destroy life
to serve his own nefarious means,
The other poisons the minds of all,
in a way none can hear the victim's screams.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He can be stopped
by barriers, bullets and brawn
The other is entrenched so deeply in the psyche,
That away from it cannot be torn.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
He is the one we see
gun-toting, launching bombs, killing brothers
The other is invisible, unseen
and inspires Man to kill each other.
There are two terrorists the world has sprout,
one is bombing within, and the other without
Which one is more dangerous?
Which one is worse?
The other, my friend, has to be weeded out,
for it is the mankind's horrendous curse.
It is the hate, the hatred we harbour
We dont hear the heart's peaceful sound.
Stop the terrorist within, to kill the terrorist without
Seek the inner peace, if outer peace is to be found.
-SPDA
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Therapist
As a psychiatrist, my practice often involved dealing with all kinds of people. Most are forgotten into oblivion, some interesting maniacs are remembered for some time, but a very few cases are such which are forever etched into memory. One such was the case of Shyam. I will never, ever forget it. It was not the peculiarity of the case which had etched it in my memory, but for the events that followed it.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
I asked him whether he knew that the girl was married or not. He replied that she was indeed married to a psychiatrist. The last word made me jump. My next question was very specific, “Do you know the name of his husband?”
“No sir, I don’t know.” He replied. I heaved a sigh of relief. I asked him the name of the girl. His reply gave me a jolt. “Her name was Sunaina.”, he replied. A series of images flashed in my mind- me marrying a beautiful girl called Sunaina, she complaining me about a psychopath harassing her, she disappearing two months ago and her rotting body being found in a man’s bedroom in a badly mangled state.
This bastard had killed my wife! I took my revolver - a licensed revolver capable of firing 6 rounds, which I kept for emergencies, from the cabinet below my desk. But before I could do a thing, Shyam took out his gun and ordered me to write a certificate, certifying him as a manic. My hands were trembling and I was barely able to hold the gun. Just one slap from him made me drop my gun. The next moment, all I knew was a sound, a searing pain in my chest and a smoking gun.
In the precious few, painful moments before death, I heard him talking on his mobile phone, “Sunaina darling! I have killed your husband. He has even registered me as a patient. So, at the time of crime, legally, I was not in my mind and will not be punishable! Your plan has worked. And yes, that old dead body in my room has been buried. Now, nobody can separate us!”
Sitting in heaven, I am waiting for the two people- Shyam and Sunaina, who have sent me here. As I said, I will never be able to forget this particular case.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
I asked him whether he knew that the girl was married or not. He replied that she was indeed married to a psychiatrist. The last word made me jump. My next question was very specific, “Do you know the name of his husband?”
“No sir, I don’t know.” He replied. I heaved a sigh of relief. I asked him the name of the girl. His reply gave me a jolt. “Her name was Sunaina.”, he replied. A series of images flashed in my mind- me marrying a beautiful girl called Sunaina, she complaining me about a psychopath harassing her, she disappearing two months ago and her rotting body being found in a man’s bedroom in a badly mangled state.
This bastard had killed my wife! I took my revolver - a licensed revolver capable of firing 6 rounds, which I kept for emergencies, from the cabinet below my desk. But before I could do a thing, Shyam took out his gun and ordered me to write a certificate, certifying him as a manic. My hands were trembling and I was barely able to hold the gun. Just one slap from him made me drop my gun. The next moment, all I knew was a sound, a searing pain in my chest and a smoking gun.
In the precious few, painful moments before death, I heard him talking on his mobile phone, “Sunaina darling! I have killed your husband. He has even registered me as a patient. So, at the time of crime, legally, I was not in my mind and will not be punishable! Your plan has worked. And yes, that old dead body in my room has been buried. Now, nobody can separate us!”
Sitting in heaven, I am waiting for the two people- Shyam and Sunaina, who have sent me here. As I said, I will never be able to forget this particular case.
The Therapist
As a psychiatrist, my practice often involved dealing with all kinds of people. Most are forgotten into oblivion, some interesting maniacs are remembered for some time, but a very few cases are such which are forever etched into memory. One such was the case of Shyam. I will never, ever forget it. It was not the peculiarity of the case which had etched it in my memory, but for the events that followed it.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, Sunaina, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
Luckily, to my rescue, came my friend, Dr. Shekhar’s phone. He too was a renowned psychiatrist.
“Hello Shekhar! How are you?” I asked him.
Shekhar sounded anxious and his voice seemed to be trembling, “I have called you to inform you about an attack on me by a psychopath. I have been shot at by a stranger, without any apparent cause. You take care!”
I was shocked. Poor Shekhar was the most decent fellow I had ever met. Why would anyone shoot him?
“But why would anyone shoot you?” I was still not able to digest the fact that someone like Shekhar can be attacked.
“I have no idea. You take care of yourselves.”
“Hey Shekhar, I am having an interesting case. Its about a guy called Shyam…”I talked about the case for some time to take his mind off the shock. But his voice grew worse.
“Hey, is his name Shyam?” he asked fearfully.
“Yes. Why?”
“Is he talking about a girl called sunaina whom he loved and who rejected his proposal to marry him?”
I replied in affirmative. Now, Shekhar’s voice changed totally to a fearful, trembling voice of a person who has seen death from close quarters. “Save yourselves! He is the psychopath who attacked me! The Sunaina he is referring to is dead since two months. He killed her when she refused his proposal to marry him. The police recovered her rotting body from his bedroom. Sunaina was married to some psychiatrist, so this guy is on a killing spree to kill all psychiatrists he meets. Save yourselves before its too late!”
I was stunned. Dazed. Shekhar’s words brought back several vivid images. Me marrying a girl secretly against her parents’ wishes, changing her name from Sunaina to Sunita, she complaining two months ago of a psychopath who was harassing her, she disappearing the next day… this blasted psychopath had killed my beloved sunaina! I looked at him with all the anger I had and was about to hit him when I heard a sound. Everything went into slow motion. Me raising my fist, Shyam raising his gun, his finger pressing on the trigger, my punch about to land on his face and the trigger pressed by his finger. I never got to hit him. Before that, I was shot through my heart, and my eyes closed. Forever.
Sitting in heaven, I must say, I will never be able to forget Shyam.
I still remember the day, 8th January, Monday. I was about to shut the clinic. In fact, I had even sent my secretary home. Then, he came. He was an innocent looking man, the kind which could not even hurt a fly. With demure expressions and teary eyes, he entered my cabin and pleaded, “Doctor! Please help me!” I was taken in with pity on this poor tortured soul. I asked him to tell me what was happening to him.
“Doctor, I love a girl, but she hates me, and I cannot keep her out of my mind! Please help me!” he pleaded again. Now this was familiar territory for me. I had counseled hundreds of cases like him before.
I asked him to relate his full story to me without interruption. He told me how he had seen the girl, Sunaina, two months ago and had fallen instantly in love with her. Next day, he had proposed to her and upon being rejected, he could not digest the shock. He had since lost all interest in life. The plot was too similar to many young boys and girls I had counseled. A long practice often tends to desensitize doctors. What was a heart-rending story for this man was ordinary daily routine to me.
Luckily, to my rescue, came my friend, Dr. Shekhar’s phone. He too was a renowned psychiatrist.
“Hello Shekhar! How are you?” I asked him.
Shekhar sounded anxious and his voice seemed to be trembling, “I have called you to inform you about an attack on me by a psychopath. I have been shot at by a stranger, without any apparent cause. You take care!”
I was shocked. Poor Shekhar was the most decent fellow I had ever met. Why would anyone shoot him?
“But why would anyone shoot you?” I was still not able to digest the fact that someone like Shekhar can be attacked.
“I have no idea. You take care of yourselves.”
“Hey Shekhar, I am having an interesting case. Its about a guy called Shyam…”I talked about the case for some time to take his mind off the shock. But his voice grew worse.
“Hey, is his name Shyam?” he asked fearfully.
“Yes. Why?”
“Is he talking about a girl called sunaina whom he loved and who rejected his proposal to marry him?”
I replied in affirmative. Now, Shekhar’s voice changed totally to a fearful, trembling voice of a person who has seen death from close quarters. “Save yourselves! He is the psychopath who attacked me! The Sunaina he is referring to is dead since two months. He killed her when she refused his proposal to marry him. The police recovered her rotting body from his bedroom. Sunaina was married to some psychiatrist, so this guy is on a killing spree to kill all psychiatrists he meets. Save yourselves before its too late!”
I was stunned. Dazed. Shekhar’s words brought back several vivid images. Me marrying a girl secretly against her parents’ wishes, changing her name from Sunaina to Sunita, she complaining two months ago of a psychopath who was harassing her, she disappearing the next day… this blasted psychopath had killed my beloved sunaina! I looked at him with all the anger I had and was about to hit him when I heard a sound. Everything went into slow motion. Me raising my fist, Shyam raising his gun, his finger pressing on the trigger, my punch about to land on his face and the trigger pressed by his finger. I never got to hit him. Before that, I was shot through my heart, and my eyes closed. Forever.
Sitting in heaven, I must say, I will never be able to forget Shyam.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Prayer
They say beggars are not choosers. How true! After all, they have to accept whatever is given to them, or is, at times, thrown at. Shyam was one such street urchin. The clothes covering his body were someone else’s. The food he ingested was leftover, usually meant for stray dogs and cows. His daily income was about fifty rupees. In short, it was a hand to mouth existence for him. But, to his credit, he never lost faith in God. He always looked forward to that bright sunny morning of his life when he too, like the people giving him something to wear or something to eat, would be happy and would have enough to spare it to a less fortunate one. His first earning always went to a nearby Hanuman temple. One day, the priest there laughed aloud mockingly, “What will a beggar give to the Almighty?” Shyam quietly replied, “In front of him, I am as much of a beggar as Ambani. We all come here, give as much as we can and beg to Him for all good things in life. I beg for my next meal only. The big seths beg for so much money. Now who is a bigger beggar?” The priest had no reply.Such was Shyam’s unwavering faith in God. He was an orphan. The first thing he saw on opening his eyes was the dustbin in which he was sleeping. The first words he uttered were “Kuch de do baba” He got his first earnings of two rupees from a disciple visiting the Hanuman temple. That was why he always donated his first earnings to the temple.Everyday, Shyam prayed for the same things- food, money and a place to sleep. To some extent, his prayers were answered. He got enough money to buy himself some food. If on a particularly unlucky day, he didn’t earn anything, then someone would give him something to eat. Thanks to the rampant digging of roads for pipelines, he found a pipe to sleep. But one day, his fervent prayer was so unique that God himself felt compelled to reply to it. Of course Shyam didn’t hear a sound from the sky or anything like that, which is reserved only for TV serials. All he felt was a sudden feeling of thrill and happiness without any reason. That had been, infact, one of those days when he didn’t earn anything. Today, no body had even given him anything to eat. But, as he walked out of the temple, a short, cheerful person handed him a lottery ticket, saying, “Son, this is my lucky number. You will surely win. I don’t have anything else to give you today. Listen the radio tomorrow at 10 AM. You will know the result. They will announce the names of the top ten winners, and God willing, you will be the lucky one.” Saying this, the man walked away.Shyam could not believe his senses. In his hand was his ticket to fortune, but that was not he had asked for. He was both disappointed and pleased. He carefully put the ticket in his pocket. A couple saw him doing so. They went to him asked him about the ticket. Shyam, in all his innocence narrated the various events that led to the acquisition of the ticket by him. The couple, Shekhar and Shefali, got tempted. “Son, you know what, Lord Hanuman came in my dreams yesterday and told me that a boy named Shyam will be holding a lottery ticket, and if I adopt that boy, our life would be blessed. Tell me son, will you accept us as your parents?”, Shekhar asked. Shyam, who had never known what is it to have parents, was totally moved. He said yes with a lump in his throat. Shekhar grinned deviously, pocketing the lottery ticket.That day, the results were announced for the tenth winner of the lottery. Shyam’s number wasn’t there.“Have we done a mistake by adopting this beggar boy?”, Shefali asked Shyam that evening.“Not at all. He may win the lottery after all, in fact, he may win a bigger prize. And if he doesn’t, we can always throw him out after ten days!” Shekhar replied.After second day too, Shyam’s number hadn’t won. Shefali was now very angry with Shekhar for keeping the boy. She said Shyam was dirtying her carpets, watched TV all day and has a negative influence on their children.“But there is one good point to him. He does all the household chores. Saves the money of the maid. If he doesn’t win, let’s keep him as household help.” Shefali added.“But Shefali, it will be unfair to the boy.” Shekhar objected.“Unfair? Our home is better than those dirty pipes where he sleeps. Our food is fresh and hot. We are giving him clothes. Its just that he has to do some work. That’s all.” Shefali reasoned.Shekhar had no reply to this argument. Days went by. No result on third, fourth or even the fifth day. But Shefali’s complaints were getting lesser and lesser.“Actually he’s a sweet boy. Poor fellow, he has been deprived of his basic needs for so long! No wonder he gapes with amazement at our home. I am happy he will stay with us after ten days too.” Shefali said.Shekhar was pleased with this change of heart, albeit partial, in Shefali. He took great pity in Shyam and wanted him to stay with them, not as a servant, but as a son. He knew Shefali would never agree to this.But, the only bright spot in Shekhar’s family was this little change of heart in Shefali. Otherwise, the lottery results were not yet in their favor. Only two days were left now. Keeping Shyam was now fast turning out to be a dead investment. Any sympathetic feelings they were having towards the boy were fast disappearing. In fact, Shekhar had discreetly packed Shyam’s little jholi. He had planned to throw him out. Even Shefali, for all her motherly feelings, was helpless against the cold light of logic. What the hell was the role of an orphan beggar in their life, that too someone whom they had known since only a week? It was logical that he had to go. He had to face life alone. That was his destiny, they decided. Their behavior towards Shyam changed all of sudden from warm treatment to cold indifference. Poor Shyam was totally puzzled at this sudden change. He had no clue what was going on in their minds about him.Finally, the last day came. The whole family sat around the radio. The announcer spoke in loud, beaming voice, “And now, the prize that we all were waiting for- The first prize! And it goes to ticket number 12456. The lucky winner must come to the city office and collect the prize.”The whole family erupted with joy. It was Shyam after all! He had won! That day was the best in Shyam’s life. The family went out for lunch at the most expensive restaurant, went to watched a movie in the best seats and enjoyed the whole day. Then, they finally reached the city office of the radio station.
Shyam went inside and showed his lottery ticket. He was ushered inside a room full of various buttons and microphones. The person sitting there introduced himself as the RJ. Shyam thought he would give him the bag full of money. But instead, the RJ announced, “Friends! This lottery was a social experiment of our radio station. It was to find the luckiest person in the city. Of course, the one who won the lottery is the luckiest! So ladies and gentlemen, here I present Shyam! So Shyam, what does it feel to be the luckiest person of the city?”Shyam was dazed. He had not expected something like this. No money! What he will say to Shekhar and Shefali, he thought. He stammered, “Err… will I be given any money?”“No, my friend. But you will be recognized all over the city.”“Am I being heard all over the city?” Shyam asked.“Yes. Every one can hear you.” RJ replied.“In that case, I would like to say something about my parents- Shekhar and Shefali. I was an orphan beggar. They kept me with them, treated me like their own son and told me that they will adopt me soon. I had not known what are parents like. I always thought that those with parents are very lucky. Today, I am proud to say that even I have parents, and the best ones in the world. Lottery or not, I feel I am indeed the luckiest person, not only in this city, but in the whole world. Thanks you mom and dad.” Shyam spoke amidst tears.He couldn’t see the scene outside the office. When they heard his speech, Shekhar and Shefali were shocked. What were they thinking about him and what he turned out to be! Both were in tears when Shyam came out with bouquets of roses. Their next stop was a lawyer’s office where they filed papers for Shyam’s adoption. Finally Shyam had his parents.People might wonder, if money was not Shyam’s prayer to God, then what did he pray for so fervently, that God himself had to come? Well, this was what he had prayed“O Almighty, You grant my same wish of food and shelter everyday. Today, I saw a boy playing with his father. I have never known what it means to have a father. Oh God, please give me a set of loving parents, who give me love, who console me when I am sad. Please God, fulfill this little wish of mine.”
The next time Shyam went with his newly acquired family to the Hanuman temple, he saw the idol of God wink a little at him. He grinned back. His life was now complete. The idol looked different to him suddenly for an instance; it had the appearance of a short, portly fellow, with a divine, all knowing smile.God is great. Indeed.
Shyam went inside and showed his lottery ticket. He was ushered inside a room full of various buttons and microphones. The person sitting there introduced himself as the RJ. Shyam thought he would give him the bag full of money. But instead, the RJ announced, “Friends! This lottery was a social experiment of our radio station. It was to find the luckiest person in the city. Of course, the one who won the lottery is the luckiest! So ladies and gentlemen, here I present Shyam! So Shyam, what does it feel to be the luckiest person of the city?”Shyam was dazed. He had not expected something like this. No money! What he will say to Shekhar and Shefali, he thought. He stammered, “Err… will I be given any money?”“No, my friend. But you will be recognized all over the city.”“Am I being heard all over the city?” Shyam asked.“Yes. Every one can hear you.” RJ replied.“In that case, I would like to say something about my parents- Shekhar and Shefali. I was an orphan beggar. They kept me with them, treated me like their own son and told me that they will adopt me soon. I had not known what are parents like. I always thought that those with parents are very lucky. Today, I am proud to say that even I have parents, and the best ones in the world. Lottery or not, I feel I am indeed the luckiest person, not only in this city, but in the whole world. Thanks you mom and dad.” Shyam spoke amidst tears.He couldn’t see the scene outside the office. When they heard his speech, Shekhar and Shefali were shocked. What were they thinking about him and what he turned out to be! Both were in tears when Shyam came out with bouquets of roses. Their next stop was a lawyer’s office where they filed papers for Shyam’s adoption. Finally Shyam had his parents.People might wonder, if money was not Shyam’s prayer to God, then what did he pray for so fervently, that God himself had to come? Well, this was what he had prayed“O Almighty, You grant my same wish of food and shelter everyday. Today, I saw a boy playing with his father. I have never known what it means to have a father. Oh God, please give me a set of loving parents, who give me love, who console me when I am sad. Please God, fulfill this little wish of mine.”
The next time Shyam went with his newly acquired family to the Hanuman temple, he saw the idol of God wink a little at him. He grinned back. His life was now complete. The idol looked different to him suddenly for an instance; it had the appearance of a short, portly fellow, with a divine, all knowing smile.God is great. Indeed.
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