Hidden page in a medico’s diary

Look at me, I’m a doctor to be, a medico studying MBBS in Govt. institute… look at me, I wear the apron, no matter how the environment is hot, and hang the stetho around my neck, as a garland for victory in the entrance exam… no matter it’s functioning or not. This looks gracious, I know… I know it has no other use. My ears are not yet trained to differentiate the heart sounds; I hear them even when the stetho is switched off. Tell the kids not to be scared of me; I won’t give injection, as I can’t hold the syringe. I confuse in subcut and intra-dermal, all I do is intramuscular. Never have I tried my hand in intravenous. Out of vein IV is a main problem here.

Look at me and my genius, I know nothing, still people call me a scholar. Look at me and my ambitious nature, except proper studies I do anything to be a topper. I repeat the parrot’s fission to score in the exams, if that fails I don’t hesitate to use cheats and frauds. I lure the post graduates, hang out with anyone, use my ‘X or Y’ factor, and attend and arrange ‘wet’ parties… only to know the questions before the exams, and to be favored in the oral exams. ‘Morals’ is a word not present in my dictionary… all I value is marks.

Look at me and my capacity to understand, I write FQs on lung cancer… but like my pathology professor, I too am a heavy smoker. Atherosclerosis, liver cirrhosis are present in the ‘markings’, but alcohol and fatty foods are the things I crave for. I don’t follow any of the physician’s principals, except the one saying, “never accept your fault.”

Look at me and my idealism, unlike the weak ‘normal’ creatures, I never flow away in emotions. As an ideal doctor, I’m apathetic to the pains of the patient, for me ‘It’s’ just a written case for exam. I have to suppress my laughter in ICU, and attend the labor ward with popcorns in my hand.

Look at me, I’m a to be doctor… and Beware of me, I’m tomorrow’s practitioner.

the marine

the mind and the madness

just a... dream world

It was a hospital… yes a hospital, and that too of here, with everything right from the nurses, medicos, proper doctors, and of course patients and relatives. Nurses had their regular uniform, with no change, and doctors were wearing the same unwashed dirty Aprons…


I thought I was having one more nightmare… something like my live life, something I’m used to observe… I thought the nurse would now shout at that old patient… the doctor would tell the relatives of that old stroke patient to carry him to home for it was useless to keep him in the hospital as the stroke was irreversible. The blind girl would receive few mocking laughs… and that accident patient in the causality room would lose battle with life… the poor grandma would pray the doctors to save her money and the doctors would deny saying that MRI facility isn’t available as it was a government hospital… the angio fibroma boy would lose his life because of excessive bleeding during the surgery, and that diabetes uncle would get infected after the amputation operation…


I was preparing my heart… but it gave a painful sprain like contraction instead of the usual moan, when I saw the nurse’s smile… Nurses can smile! The stroke patient had got the treatment and left the hospital walking, talking and laughing; the blind girl had her own functioning beautiful eyes… poor grandma was still there but was smiling while holding the reports of the MRI in her hands, the MRI machine here was functioning, and there was another instrument… more advanced! The accident patient had got all his organs repaired with cultured organs from his own tissues… and the angiofibroma had got treatment with nano robots… without surgery. The diabetes uncle was happy with his brand new leg, and control of diabetes… … I needed to admit myself in the ‘Cardiac Care Unit’ to avoid an heart attack due to powerful fountains of joy…Oh my goodness… there was something like Cardiac Care Unit here, in this government hospital, with nano instruments to take care of narrowed blood vessels, tissue cultures synthesizing heart valves, part of heart walls and even complete hearts, with the patient’s own genetic composition… I tried to see the date; might be it was a day in future… but couldn’t see the year! I thought to go to the Obs- Gyn department and to see the conditions of females there…


… but the voice of ambulance started becoming shriller and shriller… as if a mosquito was singing… no there were many, I killed one of them with a slap on my cheek… and got my dream aborted. I had to wake up, to study… I was to have my Obs- Gyn exam. I had to pass, so that I could make my dream true…


But I really wanted to live in that dream… permanently! The mosquitoes shouldn’t have waked me up; hey did I notice there wasn’t a trace of these mosquitoes in my dream world?

A lost worrier

Once I saw a worrier, lost but surviving for hopes
The pain was visible as were the wounds,
I dared to ask her the cause of her mourns…
It was the loss, she told me in her words,
“Followers become criticizers,
And loved ones emit hatred…
Pride and honor flow away with the blood
It’s all related to win or loss in life’s battlefield.

It’s hard… hard to be confident
As confidence, like fair weather friends, requires a piece of achievement.
The blood, the wounds, the pain is valueless…
…If it’s not accompanied by success.
The loser is always alone,
As the crowd follows the victor…
The sacrifices, the wills, the daring is rubbish,
…If it hasn’t lead to a triumph.

Tears may be there…if the emotions are intact
Or there maybe eyelids …trying to cover the dryness of the mind
There may be a grimace, advocating the pains…
…Or a fake decoration with the loser’s smile.
Smile, tears or may it be a grimace…
For it there is no one to look at.
No one to hold hands, no one to convoy
No one to assure, no one who relies

The loser is friendless… with all humiliations
Garlands of mockery are ready to welcome
The loser is a subject of making fun
…Or a lesson teaching not to challenge the situation.
Collection of misery, host of grieves, a live disappointment
A loser is a disgusting thing to look at…
A cursed person, a live omen, feeling of sadness,
…a loser is something that evokes aversions.

But may it be a winner or a loser
…A worrier is always a worrier
Losing in one battlefield doesn’t end the war
Anything can happen in arena of life
One battle ends to welcome another
Losses occur only to test the capacity of the soldier
History salutes them who become winners after a loss
Also there are losses losing battle with the loser…”

it was a... dream

I was driving on a lonely highway as it was four o’clock in the morning; my big neuro lab was waiting; neurons in culture dishes were whispering, and the newborn brain imaging machine was trying to control its heartbeats for today it was going to be tested for the first time… my heart was also racing with record breaking speed; I remembered last time when it had broken all past records, when I had tested my equipment to change destined synaptic connections in live animals without any genetic alterations… and now it was racing again with some more speed; I thought I should slow down, least I should meet with some accident. Speeding on such rough road wasn’t a safe thing; but since when my road had become this bumpy? The roughness increased with arrival of huge mountain like stones and there were thorns welcoming me with their painful pricks… this wasn’t the road I wanted to go… this wasn’t the destiny I had planned to meet… I had lost my path, there was no one except the darkness and stones and thorn pricks…

I lost my balance, and started falling in a dark disgusting valley, opening directly into the hell… I shouted and got my sleep broken, only to find myself sitting before my lifeless computer, beating my hailstone like head, hoping for birth of some little spark… if not fire. I was a fire… in the past; I remember. Is it extinguished… or mere hidden, fearing to get smothered due to lack of any stimulating factor? I miss myself, for my life has become a wet piece of wood emitting tears of smoke in an attempt to get the fire… I need sun; I need some warmth, some air; I’m tired to get entrapped in these clouds. These dirty, dark, shapeless clouds like stigmas are staining my life… masking my soul, eclipsing my hopes… and choking my dreams. I crave for fresh air… I need a breather, an escape… just one… one chance to prove myself.

But I’m a prisoner in an honored jail; and the walls of this jail are thick, and it has a big ruthless lock with no key… and is unbreakable; I’ve broken myself in attempting to break free from this, several times, and have nurtured many wounds; sour, infected, bleeding… they are far away from getting healed. And there are scars, contractures, kids of some milder wounds which have got wrongly healed, ready to restrict my every movement… to weaken my every effort. As if I’m surviving with a big weakness, as if I’m an old debilitated paralysis patient seeking joy in memories of the past… not daring to think about the hopeless dark future… something like the dark disgusting valley in that dream, leading me directly to the hell…

And I want to convert that hell and others into heavens… I don’t care even if my life becomes a live hell while working on my heavenly dreams. And that’s why I need an escape. I want to use my wings, want to spread them to their full and fly in the sky of my dreams… I need freedom. I just need a chance to break free from this rusted golden cage… or unnatural strength to shatter it, or my lost fire to melt it, heat it to its evaporation point. I can’t…. I really can’t sustain to be confined…

The game of life...

Hurricanes come sometimes, disturbing our lives; sometimes life seems like a particle of dust aimlessly following a storm… or a piece of detached dried orphan leaf, destined to get destroyed. Sometimes efforts give pains only and no rewards, legs get tired after following an aim, and the aim seems to be a mere mirage. Floods come sometimes and wash away all of our hopes… sometimes killing draughts occur, deserting our minds. Disasters come to test our patience sometimes; sometimes life seems like an endless voyage through the ocean of disasters. Expectations get killed sometimes; sometimes frauds occur without any expectations. Sometimes life itself seems as a fraud… or a failure; sometimes we doubt whether we are alive and why…

But… everything above has a positive side. Hurricanes teach us to fly like a weightless particle or to stand the pressure, detachment teaches freedom to the leafy life. Mirages show us the things, that are not existent and waiting for us to come into existence… floods, draughts, deserts give us the reason to survive, to save others from those sufferings. Disasters are the milestones on the way of success, more we cross them; more we get close to our aims… or are garlands of victory, more valuable than expensive diamond sets. Killers of expectations teach us true love, which is defined as ‘that what is done without any expectation’… and warns us what they’ll feel if we kill the expectations of our loved ones. Life is like a thriller movie, more the danger, more is the adrenalin rush… more the suspense, more we miss our heartbeats.

Now tell me… is life a loss, a lost game? Or is it a plain luck that we’re still ‘not out’ in our life’s game? We’re alive, means we still have a chance to win... and sometimes losing also is a fun.