Between thoughts and words

Within a few minutes of starting the clinic we got news from the village nearby that Mrs. M had passed away. The news of Mrs. M's passing was constantly in the back of our minds as we went about seeing patients and treating them. We had a full clinic that day and immediately following the clinic, we had committed to conduct a medical camp for children who were orphaned by COVID 19 in the nearby region. We were unsure whether we would even finish clinic early enough to head to the camp. But surprisingly the clinic slowed down and closed sooner than we expected. There was time to visit Mrs. M's home quickly before we can head to the camp. My colleague and I went in her car and as we neared Mrs. M's village, my heart started racing. I have witnessed so many deaths of patients, relatives, friends and even students, and have attended funerals. But it never gets easy. With a lot of trepidation we reached the village. It was not difficult to spot. Mrs. M's home is right on the...

Trigger Warning - bullying, suicide attempt content.  Yesterday I saw a young boy in the clinic. Our clinical encounter last for roughly 20 minutes and it is strongly etched in my mind. I was disturbed for a long time even after I had come home last night. I am still thinking about him. My predominant thoughts when I think about this 15 year old boy studying 11th standard in the local school are helplessness, a gross feeling of insufficiency as an adult in the community and still not being clear how to help him.  My colleague brought him to me so that we can see him together. The boy had repeated episodes of fainting and falling over the past 6 months. He had lost consciousness and fallen at different times which were totally sudden and unpredictable. Sometimes, he had fallen at home, sometimes in school. The mother said at those times he completely became cold and lay still like a log of wood. We spoke to him and got more details about these episodes. It was not making sense ...

Suzanne Koven in her article titled “What is a Mentor?” published in the New England Journal of Medicine wrote, “…a true mentor is someone who has more imagination about you than you have about yourself”. Today is 5 th   of September, Teacher’s Day in India. It has been particularly sentimental for me, because I resigned my job as a teacher about 7 months ago. Teaching is not my main job nowadays. I have been reflecting all day about my teachers and how they have influenced my life and what being a teacher meant to me.   When very important events happen, the Universe pauses for a second and focuses all its energy on the event. I know this, because every time I think of the moment I stepped into Room 101 in Apollo Hospital to meet Dr. K.P. Misra, my teacher and mentor, I feel that the whole Universe paused for a second. It was a transformative moment. Initially it was just awe and wonder of being so close to such a great man, an exemplary teacher and one of the most compassion...

One of my friends met me after a long time last week. She told me "I felt like giving you a Jaadu Ki Jappi" (a magical hug). She meant that I looked sad (her perception!) and she wished that a 'magical hug' could make me feel better. While saying this she also said, "...self-care is very important. take care of yourself first. Working for the society and everything else comes secondary..." In recent times there is a lot of discourse on self-care. Self care is popularly defined as adopting behaviours which ensure a complete state of physical, mental and social well being. In the context of chronic diseases like diabetes and high blood pressure the word self-care refers to adopting healthy life styles like reducing carbohydrates and fats in diet, following regular physical activity, avoiding smoking and alcohol and practicing yoga and meditation to maintain good mental health. However, even when someone is healthy and do not have any illness, self care has bee...

  It has spoilers. Since you must see the movie, there is no point in reading it before you see it. Read it after you see the movie. If you are disturbed the way I am, these words cannot do any justice to the intensity and depth of the feelings that you will experience. If you are not touched by the movie, these words won’t matter. Therefore, on second thoughts, don’t read this. You can ask me, then why have you posted this. I am writing this post because I am feeling helpless. I am feeling sad, angry, frustrated, happy, elated, and all other emotions. Long after I left the theatre my mind is still playing those visuals. I won’t be able to work, sleep or do anything else unless I get these reels of emotions and thoughts that are running in my head as words on this post. That is the only reason I am writing this.    Throughout the movie, I had this nagging sense of helplessness and paternal feeling for young Sivananaindhan. I wanted to run into the screen, hug him tight, a...

If we trace the origin of myths and lore, they start as small routine events in everyday life. These become history. Histories slowly evolve and become myths and stories and these become embedded into culture and tradition. I remember my mother scaring me into having foods that I did not like as a child by saying, “If you don’t eat, I will make   poochandi   come and get you”.   Poochandi   is a Tamil word which refers to someone with a scary appearance. It is said to be derived from the two Tamil words “ poochu ” meaning someone who has smeared their entire body with the holy ash   vibhuti   + “ aandi ” meaning someone who is clad in just loin cloth, has long matted hair and is a devotee of Lord Shiva. This used to refer to an   aghori , with a very scary appearance. A mother must have scared her child by creating the scary image of this   aghori . This became a routine practice and the word got integrated into the Tamil lexicon. This is just an ...

Temples have played an important role in my life. A small temple of my early childhood that I recollect vividly is the   Karkodi Amman   temple in Nungambakkam. We used to live in Kumarappa Mudali Street and stone’s throw from there was this beautiful temple. There used to be metal railings on either side of the sanctum sanctorum to demarcate where people must stand to see the Goddess and offer their prayers. I remember climbing on to these railings as a child and performing mini gymnastics on them even as our mother would pray. As we circumambulate the main deity, towards the left side of the shrine there would be a drain where all the water, milk, curd, fruits, tender coconut and other liquids used in   Abhishegam   (washing the Goddess) would flow out and collect. Sometimes the drain would get clogged, and all the liquid would accumulate there and create a revolting odor. I can smell it even as I am writing this. I remember running round and round the main shrine,...