Bengaluru rains, filter coffee and one kind Paati

Two good things happened yesterday. One – finally after months of waiting and weeks of scorching heat it finally rained in Bangalore; and second – after years of letting time take its course and getting caught up in life I finally reconnected with my Paati after a long time.

Readers who have followed my blogs since a long time know of my brief stint in Chennai. I stayed for albeit six months until COVID cut my time short. In that brief period I went from the dinghy room in a PG in T Nagar to a semi habitable room in the swanky by lanes of OMR. I cannot explain the relief I had with finally getting rid of the Oliver Twist menu of my PG with watery dal, Pongal which resembled a big blob of glue, controlled portions of edibles and unlimited amount of the food which can at best be described as horse poop – I lost a decade worth of weight in a go. Beyond that, the inhuman living conditions with unventilated hallway, a 4×4 room with just one window and being locked inside like cattle by 9pm on the top of studying 16 hours per day for NEET entrances was the last straw in my emotional state. Within two days I sat in front of the window on my bed sobbing uncontrollably thinking why was I in this godforsaken city 1000s of miles away from my home with no one I could turn to. The weather was hot and humid, and after a point sweat could compete with the flow rate of tears.

Right then a soft breeze flew through the window and the very empty balcony right opposite to my window  which was empty no more but now replaced with a almost toothless Paati with the kindest smile in the world. I hurriedly wiped my tears. She waved, I waved back. She asked me if I was new here – I said yes, I had recently moved to Chennai for my coaching classes in T Nagar. She was surprised by how far I had come from just to study and told me that she had lived there in T Nagar almost her entire life and now she lived there alone with her children and grandchildren settled in the US.

When I told her that I was a doctor her face gleamed. Suddenly she quipped, “Why don’t you come over ma? I will make you some coffee”. My affection and nutrition starved brain put all thoughts of parents saying don’t talk to strangers, don’t take food from strangers and most importantly, do not go to strangers’ houses! I made my way giddily down the quaint staircase, opened the front gate and jolly well went around and then realized my folly – I never asked for the house number or name !

Then I used logic and all coordinates of geometry to arrive at the conclusion that this particular house could be Paati’s. As I was gallivanting into the compound, ignoring the “Beware of dogs!” sign on the front gate, somebody waved to me from the next gate – Paati’s household help who told me she was waiting for me upstairs. I sheepishly grinned and made my way up. It was a rickety staircase leading up to the first floor with traditional south Indian architecture. The moment I reached the top Paati welcomed me with huge smile.

“Hello ma, so nice of you to come visit me. Come, come sit down”, she waved at the sofa. I sat down on it. She told she’ll be back in a bit and went to the kitchen. The TV was on with some Tamil song on it. My vocabulary by then, note a week of stay, was limited to ‘Yepdi irkenge? Nallarka” and I planned to use that to the fullest extent to charm people along with my moderate exposure to Tamil movies and songs especially the one by A.R Rahman – yet this song went above my head.

Paati returned with a brass tumbler of filter coffee which I eagerly took a sip of – my senses exploded. All my tiredness, frustration, the pain and struggle which had led to my hasty decision of coming to Chennai – melted in the warmth of the another human being who had taken in a not so little girl lost in the city with no one to turn to, no familiar language with and no familiarity with in seconds.

“It’s so flavourful, Paati. I have never tasted coffee like this before”. She chuckled at my glee – “It’s filter coffee ma, I do not have anything else. I ground the beans and make it myself everyday”. I nodded along appreciatively. As I sipped a little more I noticed the garlanded photo of a thaata infront of me on the showcase. She followed my sight.

“My husband was a doctor too”, she said with a fondness that would betray that almost a year had gone by to his death. She told how he used to be a general practitioner who loved to treat patients at meagre amounts and was quite known in T Nagar. This house was built by his blood and sweat and every part of it decorated by her. They had had a simple wedding but a stronger marriage where he used to be quite busy with his work. It had been their 50th anniversary when he had decided to take her to the temple she had been begging him to take her to after finally finding time out of his busy schedule – when they came back, he collapsed on the sofa and passed away from a massive heart attack. Now despite their pleas, she did not want to leave the house and go to her kids settled in the US. I smiled and let her talk about him, you could see the sparkle in her eyes every time she mentioned him. The air in the house spoke of him, each of his memory so delicately preserved. She would look at his photograph longingly in between and talk lovingly of him. In the age of Tinder and Bumble, situationship and other godforsaken terminologies that gen Z has devised there was this woman who had found solace in her husband’s memories. I hugged her.

“You’re so sweet, Paati. I will visit you everyday. From now on you are my Paati”, I told off. She chuckled and patted my head.

Thus began weeks of evening coffee sessions at Paati’s place. Every time I would feel down with my preparations, worn down by the MCQs, Grand tests and life I would make my way to Paati’s place where a piping hot filter coffee would wait for me. Every visit would have a bit of thaata’s stories in it. One day when Paati looked a bit down and I urged to do her checkup she took out thaata’s stethoscope lovingly. She told me how she loved Savitri amma and Shivaji Ganeshan; and I told her how much I loved ‘Ok Kanmani’ and sang ‘Malargal Kettaen’ for her. This unconventional friendship raised several eyebrows at my home and hers. My aunt would listen to my story with horror and reprimand me of how I could be so trusting of strangers and her sisters who came to check in on her thought i was some con girl fleecing her. We sent them a selfie of us for verification and chuckled over it on another cup of coffee.

When I cleared my entrances, she was overjoyed, “Oh please apply to some college in Chennai ma. I know you love this city”

“Sure, I would Paati”, I quipped. Yet destiny had other plans and I would not only leave T Nagar and shift to OMR to join corporate but then even COVID would cut that short to transport me back to Rourkela and finally Karnataka where I would end up doing post graduation. Yet I promised to visit her from time to time.

The first new year’s and in between I kept in touch with her over call – every time I heard her delighted voice I would remember her smile and feel her warmth and blessings wash over me. Then the pace of residency took over, then life happened and somehow in the midst of all Paati was pushed to the back of my mind with that ever constant fear that considering her age, would I able to take it if I called and it went unanswered. I let it go.

Yesterday morning as I went through my twitter timeline I came across this particular tweet which said how we should make time to talk to the elderly even if they are strangers who look out for that connection in their lives and become happy with this small act of kindness since their days are numbered – and I remembered my Paati whose act of kindness and connection made one not so little girl navigate the big city independent life once and in an act of bravado I texted her –

“Good morning Paati

Been a long time since we spoke

Hope you’re doing well and remember me

P 🙂 “

I sent the text and waited. No reply. A dread filled me, but I pushed it back. Hours went by, I went to work, got lost in OT and OPDs and forgot about it. I came home and started helping my mother in the kitchen since my parents have been visiting for a couple of days and suddenly my phone pinged –

“Hi P, what a pleasant surprise

I never expected from you

How are you?

Completed PG?

May God bless you always !”

I choked. It was raining in Bangalore after months of wait and my Paati was hale and hearty, replying to me. I immediately called her. That familiar happy, delighted voice came through – “Hi P, How are you? What a pleasant surprise! It is so nice to hear your voice! Where are you ma these days? I am 92 now!” My heart was overfilled. That voice was so calming to hear after years and I could picture her smile as if it was yesterday. I enquired about her health, she couldn’t move around much anymore but was still managing. Her sisters used to come check on her. Her grandson was married to the Chinese girl he was dating the last time we spoke and she was still making her filter coffee. She urged me to come visit her whenever I was in Chennai and I mentally booked a date to go to Chennai just to meet her.

After I put down the call, I wondered, life has been so kind to me with it’s varied experiences. I have lived in so many cities by now and found so many varied experiences in them. Some kind and some not so – yet there’s always one person I would always remember the city for. Be it one of my dearest friends in Delhi who brought me hot soup when I was sick despite having known me a couple of days in coaching. Be it someone who helped me settle into the city of Bangalore and the crippling initial days of fellowship with his calming presence or be it my Paati with her hot cup of filter coffee in Chennai.

When people take a look at me they see the long exciting life and achievements I have lived, but I can tell you that for every step that I have taken in life it has always been possible because of that one act of kindness by someone who didn’t realise they are so significant in my journey. Through all the unkindness and troughs I have lived that one simple act of kindness or love has washed over the pain of the rest of the days.

As I navigate one of the most confusing times of life right now personally and professionally, reminiscing about this particular incident brought me significant joy. Through those dark days, Paati served as my light – someone who came from nowhere and turned my world around to give me the strength to push on and reach where I am.

We never know whose lives we’ll touch or who’ll do it for us will we?

Love,

P.

#womeninsurgery and other things ft. Happy Women’s day!

“It’s a beautiful day to save lives”, a line from the show Grey’s anatomy which took a million girls by storm and thrust them into a surgical career to follow into the footsteps of Meredith Grey – someone I would learn off much later, connect to and sometimes be appalled at because of the hot mess she is. I had no clue, not a wee bit that looking at women in surgery and being a woman in surgery required such nerves of steel.

It’s a beautiful day today to pen down a post on what my almost inconsequential baby steps into the field of surgery has meant to me. From watching my mother run back and forth from home to hospital at any time of the day gulping an entire roti in bites of four – to me repeating the same pattern and barely managing to see my beautiful 2bhk that I maintain with sky high rent while working 90hr weeks and an NBM more than my patients.

The world has changed most definitely – there are more women in surgery – you have no idea how heartwarming it is to see when someone who said they are confused whether they should take Pediatrics or Pathology (because that’s what expected of ideal female doctors to get into and build family in a nurturing role that allows them to balance home with) instead of taking surgery, finally taking the surgical branch. There are more women in Super speciality surgical branches  even though a female pursuing an Mch degree is considered as ‘too ambitious’, ‘unsuitable for family life’, ‘won’t manage home’ and deemed unfit in the marriage market because the ones who make the demands are like fiefs sitting in a bazaar bartering women by the degrees and wanting the moolah alongside the demands of “Will you step back when it’s time to plan a family?” I had met a gastrosurgeon once who told how he led a busy life with 16-18 hours surgery and was unable to contribute to home yet he expects the surgeon wife in a similarly demanding field to be okay with him coming and going as he pleased and taking a step back when needed. He proudly declared how his friends had earlier told that a surgeon wife would be unsuitable.  It was almost funny, yet ironic. I have always watched how my father despite not being from the medical field has taken an almost indulgent share in my mother’s flourishing obstetric career braving her late night labour calls and OTs by dropping her back and forth from hospital sometimes sleeping in the parking lot. Never making demands of what a ‘conventional wife’ must do. Thinking of new ways to see her grow in her career and I have realized for every brave woman in surgery there also a braver partner who supports her through it. The ones who remind them that they got their back through it all. May we all be blessed with them.

Being a woman in surgery is knowing all this and also battling the learning curve alongside. While your biological clocks keep ticking you are their struggling in the OT under the lights. Your bodies through period flow and cramps standing through 12 hour OTs performing to its best –  because in surgery neither there are excuses nor sorry. You only get one chance and you have to grab it. For women these chances are also quite rare to come by.

I did my residency in one of the prestigious colleges in Karnataka – yet there was a whispered adage in the department – your life goes smooth in this department if you are a guy. The guys clinked glasses with the professors in private and in the classes gave mind numbingly stupid answers only to get away with it and be performing a procedure alone in OT the next day. The beauty of it was your self doubt would keep  increasing exponentially while they muddled in their ignorant bliss to glory. With surgical learning curve being so steep, you were left at the very negative odds of it. There are times you wonder if you should have taken a more female friendly branch – Dermatology or perhaps OBG. Yet somehow my uncle’s face during his last days of battle with cancer kept haunting my brain and I wondered what is this field which despite having a family of doctors we could never decipher or beat. Thus began my journey into it.

Four years down the  lane do I regret being in a branch that literally sucks my soul and makes me doubt myself everyday as I begin from the scratch – learning, unlearning and learning again? Yes, most definitely yes. There are times I feel I could have taken a medical branch and just been at it. Sometimes even the most ridiculously sweet patients, stories and gooey mush my heart is  in with the countless number of compliments, blessings that my patients give me falls short when a male surgeon misbehaves with me or tells me how girls are not fit for this – when the male locker room talk in operative procedures makes me feel like running away from the crassness of it all. When you do not get the same respect as a male surgeon by the nursing staff who treat them with more gravitas. Where your talent and skills are kept to the side and you can be just reduced to someone hit on or ogled at. When sheer exhaustion takes over with the balance of personal and professional. When yet another family friend – a doctor couple – tells my parents that they made a mistake letting me get into Head and neck surgery because guys do not see me as wife material. When yet another duty, yet another long shift and yet another exhausting day at work doesn’t leave me with the headspace to talk to my loved ones and suspect if everyone is actually true? That as a girl I might have forayed into something that’s professionally exciting yet personally draining. Maybe it’s time to take a step back?

But again I hold the scalpel and get the shivers like I did the first time – the happy ones – and as I slice open a neck I realize I am doing something that none of my forefathers, family or friends have dreamt of doing. I get to see the things that no one in my vicinity has done and tell a silent prayer to that little girl who dreamt big dreams and is getting to live it. I do my OPDs and rounds and ward rounds and know that I bring an empathy that most men can’t and that’s what sets me apart every time a patient smiles and remembers my face even after days.  I get handed a oddly sketched drawing by a patient’s child who wanted to give me a chocolate or get a text from patient I discharged home happily a week back,  “thank you happy women’s day for all that you do so exceptionally” or get hugged randomly by a patient or an ajji through a difficult diagnosis and know that some way I have impacted and made someone’s life better. When I am in my night shifts or in between OTs and have someone to ask me if I ate or slept through my shifts and bear my mood swings through it all and I wonder – being a woman in surgery is not a big deal once you have the right support system for it? Having parents who nitpicked yet let me grow academically/ professionally to the fullest which many, many, many girls step back with the lack of fills my heart with plain gratitude. No one will ever understand the sacrifices it takes to be family or a friend to a female surgeon – yet people do, and I am grateful for it. I am grateful for all the mess I am and every person who takes the pain and pleasure in unraveling it. Being in an unconventional path might have taken its toll, but in the end I have been left only with the realest ones.

As women we have held ourselves back for far too long by confining ourselves to the purview of what can be done or cannot to a point we don’t even know what we want anymore. We do not take credit, we do not make our presence known, neither our sacrifices or the work or love we put into the tiniest of things in our day to day lives. Here is to speaking up more, letting our presence known and most importantly letting ourselves be okay with acknowledging it.

So, here’s to all the brave women and braver #womeninsurgery – may we know them, may we be them and may we raise them. To having the magic of scalpel in our hands.

Happy Women’s Day ! 🙂

Love,

P.

PS:

The sketched chocolate my patient’s child gave me. ❤️

PPS:

In my happy space.

End of the year ruminations ft. My way or highway?

With the earth taking a revolution around the sun, the optimists scream new year, new me; the realists scream it’s just a change of calendar; the pessimists might just say fuck it and do what they are doing anyway. I had been wondering for a few weeks, ever since my last post of how I don’t want to make resolutions – which category do I fit into. Maybe I am the veritable cat on the wall – I have always found it difficult to grab a polarized opinion. Being on the fence helps me know that I can always take the comfort of either side as the tide changes without committing to the consequences of each. So maybe, my first resolution for 2024 is to start making resolutions. To be less on the fence and more in tune with what I want. Setting boundaries – or in my case discovering boundaries and setting them.

There was this beautiful quote in Dear Zindagi, Shahrukh looks and Kiara and says, “Agar hum apni zindagi ka steering wheel apne haath mein nahi lenge na … toh koi doosra driver seat par baith jayega”, and I feel this is so important in every context. Boundaries look like fences to us which is why I have always used them rarely, it is only off late I have realised that boundaries are a way to gatekeep my own desires and needs from anyone who is not me – be it my friends, siblings, extended family, colleagues, lovers or even my parents. There is a certain guilt or shame that comes to me when I don’t pour into them. A certain dissatisfaction when I am not going all the way out to do something they want. That’s something I can work on in 2024.

2023 was the year I made a lot of changes. Getting out of residency and its set pattern of ways to finally live in a city, work more independently and live independently opened up a thought process I lacked before. When we are kids there are so many things we learn to live with – my mum got Nescafe for coffee and Tata tea for tea. Now that I am nearing the end of my twenties and living in her own flat and having the liberty to do things on her own, every day I am learning newer ways to do life. I find I like Bru and Cothas coffee. When I want to make a cup of adrak chai, I like to use Brooke bond.

Residency and its toxicity had put my brain in survival mode for a long time – my nervous system was jumpy and I had developed coping strategies that people would not normally choose in a healthy atmosphere. Finding a good Fellowship program and mentor that literally said, ” Happy holidays, enjoy, no worries” when I asked to extend my holiday from 2 to 4 because I was clearly guilt tripping asking for one at the first time made me realise that life actually changes with the boundaries and the consideration to your own self you put in them.

Living in a hostel having the liberty to just open the door and having someone to talk to makes you find a comfort zone of the same routines, the same parties and the same conversations. Living alone and the loneliness that came with it helped me discover things I like to do on my own again. I started writing again (albeit, rarely), no one guilt shamed me for just taking a book and spending my time reading it in a cafe, I could pick up my bag again and wander in museums and streets taking in the culture of things I have never seen before, I discovered I could again cut out the noise and listen to songs and found newer genres of music and newer songs I liked. In a world that asked me to settle I tried dating someone for the first time wholeheartedly who brought a newer perspective to everything I thought I deserved and ways I could be treated – having someone as a rock solid support system to give you the liberty to pursue other things in life was calming in ways I had never felt before. Understanding that even in such relationships not taking it for granted and investing time and effort to keep regular check ins without making it just a part of your routine and vent out was the second lesson. Trying to move on from something that significant quickly by using quick fix mechanisms and not acknowledging I am hurt was third. Breathe, pace out, new lovers will come, yet let me acknowledge that what I had was significant and worth crying over. You don’t lose someone you see your future with everyday, and even in that loss if you are alone – it’s okay. I discovered different ways to do things and the way I liked to do it. I found different opinions on things but my own voice in it. Also, no one can decide your timeline except yourself.

There is a certain beauty in knowing the year is ending and a new one starts – because even if a part of me is realistic to know nothing will change, a part of me is also hopeful that with a new year comes the new possibilities of things and newer ways of doing it. Even if the settings are the same and life is following set patterns and cycles of things – I will get the chance to do the same things in a different way and get a different outcome.

Adios 2023, you were bittersweet. 2024, I am ready for your lessons but I have a few tricks of my own now. I believe you will be a gamechanger – mostly because you start on a Monday. *Facepalms*

Cheers.

SUNDAY BLOG FT. THE SOCIAL GAME

Just the day before, I came across a new set of NMC regulations that curb how and how much “celeb” doctors can engage on social media with their target audience, which got me thinking about how social media has impacted us enough to take over the legal system as well. We need rules and regulations now to dictate our social media behaviour. Something so innocuous as a technology made to connect people has taken such a draconian shape that we need to disconnect from the same. Our lives are governed by algorithms and our needs replaced by wants. Where people used to have knowledge before, they have opinions now. Meaningless ranting and information overload has taken over our timelines and we do not know what to consume and what to let go anymore. This leads to me to think – that soon there might be something known as ‘Information Overload syndrome’ or ‘Social media exhaustion’.

As we scroll through our timelines going through countless tweets, articles, posts, photos, memes… do we really understand the kind of media bytes we are feeding our brain? The kind of cannon events we go through per second which earlier probably we went through over weeks or months? The kind of eyeball grab which sends our nervous system into an upheaval – an emotional rollercoaster of sorts.

Not just that, by giving our headspace to such people we have not only perpetrated an entire band of social chimpanzees dancing it out trying to grab the most eyeballs and get money in return. As each and every person becomes a social media influencer,” do we really find it acceptable to take half baked opinions from people who are not experts in the field. It’s akin to getting Botox done by an untrained person who has taken a two-week rapid course in Aesthetics with no primary medical degree — disastrous. Remember when we were kids and looked up to APJ Abdul Kalam or Nelson Mandela? Now imagine instead of them speaking about their work with their vast expanse of knowledge and understanding of their own field, they spoke about 5 ways to apply concealer to hide your dark spots – would you go for it? With changing algorithms to perpetrate the influencing, influencers, and the influenced, people like Musk are slowly monetizing what used to be supposedly ‘free speech’ in all its literal and metaphoric terms. Putting speech into money brackets, with premium users being allowed more access to words and more reach, are we progressing to a world where money will decide the mass thought process?!

What was an innocuous childhood play with dolls has now been cleverly marketed so and so that we have an entire platoon of girls from all ages dressing up in pink to go watch Barbie which has a substandard plot with a clever feminist angle of marketing. A random female whose racial/ body shaming slur over a Pakistani girl who married a guy in her neighbourhood has been made ‘viral’ and being asked to come on talk shows?! Five years back the account which begged for follow to each account on Instagram is now a well known travel influencer ‘influencing’ people to buy into the travel consumerism which has been funded by their own likes and eyeballs. Where does this end?

We have created an unnecessary culture of consumerism feeding consumerism. The big conglomerates to keep this wheel going are doing their best to add perks and voice to these chosen social media chimpanzees. Such is the trend, I wouldn’t be surprised if in the next few years, “What do you want to become when you grow up?” will yield – “I wanna become a Social media influencer and get the gold play button” as goals.

My teacher in primary school used to say – the tree with the maximum number of fruits, bends.

I feel the meaning and depth of this are lost to our generation. Where the maximum number of likes, retweets, and shares takes precedence, people are willing to decimate others just to prove a point. Incessant rambling and ranting. With increasing space for people to express they have forgotten the art to just listen and understand before they retort. Why do we have the feeling to be right at all times? Don’t we learn from differences?! Knowing that people have something different to say and add value to a standpoint is what adds flavor to a debate. Have we forgotten the art of debating? Is it just an elocution now? Or worse – just a podium speech with the audience having a ball of word limit stuffed into their mouth?

Just some thoughts to mull over a long weekend.

P.

Again?

There are feelings

Solitary

Empty

I feel mostly

Yet feelings have no meaning in them.

They are mixed –

Like every other attachment I’ve felt in the past

Careless

Idiotic

Like a summer sunset you would miss out on for the accompanying heat.

But the feelings feel different this time

It’s a strange mix of yearning and guilt

Being the perpetrator and not the victim

Being the loved not the lover

Being the one who didn’t stay

The one who didn’t say.

And now that I feel this

I feel it’s good to have overlooked, over loved, over cared in the past

Because this guilt,

This burgeoning ball of guilt

Makes me feel I have fallen

With no arms to catch me,

Because I had cut them myself.

When life gives you a 2020 –

I have finally found out the cure to my writer’s block or if I could put in in a more appropriate way the cure to my long lulls of writing inactivity even though my 2020 resolution was to write frequently, and I have ended up making it the resolution for the upcoming, right at the door 2021.

So, the cure to it is free time and a mind at rest. After a whirlwind year that has changed my life completely – I am finally bidding it a goodbye right where I started it – the city of my aspirations and inspiration – Hyderabad; with the people I love the most and I couldn’t be more motivated to come back to the greatest love of my life – writing. So, here we go, the blogpost wrapping it all up.

Admit it or not 2020 was the answer to everyone’s deepest adulting wishes – to relieve childhood once more.

2020 shuttled every grown up, self sustainable, independent, hard working, frustratingly mechanically living 20+ adult back from their stereotypical weekday pe kaam-weekend pe aaram locked down in their hometowns. A huge flush of all my IT friends “making it” in their metro lives came back to my sleepy town. My own brother left for Odisha for what was to be the longest stay after thinking that the day they left for their engineering college was the last day they got to spend time at home. I was also a recipient of the new normal for a few months then, after being shuttled out of Chennai from my carefully curated life back into my hometown – short-lived until I started my residency. It was a twist of fate for everyone. The lockdown opened our eyes to all the words that came after the “what if’s we had been keeping in our minds. It gave us all the time to be kids with pastimes that didn’t just involve chugging the maximum number of beers again. From Dalgona coffee to playing Ludo King, from jamming on my guitar on Zoom call to picking up those unread novels again; the lockdown gave us life beyond careers – making us realize what we had been missing. Making me realize what I had been missing. It gave me all the time in the world to get over the things I thought I could never get over. 2020 helped me heal.

Yet, 2020 also shuttled me to a space I had only been planning for since 2012. This was the year I got to live all my dreams. I always wanted to live and work independently in a metro city – I got to do that at the beginning of the year itself when I got a job in one of the leading corporate hospitals in Chennai and got to experience the corporate life. The sheer joy from getting a salary off my hard work, paying my own bills, getting to live a life beyond work, getting to spend and splurge on myself was a high of another kind. If that wasn’t enough, I also cleared my NEET-PG entrances surprisingly on the first attempt; convincing me of the fact that sometimes you get things when you are actively not wishing for it, so maybe the concept of destiny exists. Not only did I get a PG seat but I got that in Karnataka – a longstanding dream since a decade. I can’t explain the moments of sheer disbelief I have that I am in Karnataka doing residency! And in the college whose photos I had since and mildly wished to be in 2012. Everyday I get to don the one attire I really love – my scrubs and go off to work. Every day is a new challenge to grow better than the day before. Every day reminds me of al the milestones I have yet to reach and achieve.

I was a small town girl once who wanted to live and grow old in the same town once, within the boundaries my father had set for me – not until one day I had the courage to scale it all. Now that I have seen everything that I can have, I realize the wish list never ends. Yet you might end your peace, happiness and real joys of life in trying to achieve them.

By giving me everything I dreamt of, 2020 has also taught me how when dreams turn to reality, they might not be as dreamy as they seemed.

Life has turned for better, but it’s the adulting version of better. Everyday I wake up exhausted and tired from the day before. My sleep deprivation hits an all time high trying to juggle being a junior resident with a normal functioning human being who needs a break. Now that I am at home and can reflect on my life in Belgaum, I realize I’m far off the mark I have gone from when I started it. I was dropped off at my hostel gate with three bags and wonder-eyed; so much that I didn’t even look at my mother leaving in the cab. I made all efforts to come away from my past, not realizing that’s what kept me, me. Every day in the hospital I run around thinking everything I do is changing the world, yet now that I sit on this chair overlooking the balcony with flowers and vegetables planted by my brother, my Maa cutting up vegetables, my mom and sister trying to fit into 15″ of a phone screen because I was not granted enough leaves to be able to go all the way to Odisha and ended up coming to Hyderabad – I realized that the life of peace and love I had been searching was already here. Glamour, glitz, fame – everything attracts me since childhood – I am the kid who has always been and always loved the spotlight. Yet, the fact that I forgot the ones who put me there is dawning on me now. What’s the use of being the spotlight if you don’t have someone cheering you. What’s the use of having good days I can’t celebrate with my family? What do I do on the bad days I feel so lost wanting to run away and sleep in my mother’s lap – the safest place in the world?! I realized my folly when a patient boycotted me for not knowing his mother tongue! All the things I had left for all the things I could have not realizing I didn’t need them.

But then I cannot be that ungrateful and dissuade everything over a toxic workplace and workload that takes a toll on everyone’s mental health – when I also have few things to be thankful for. Starting off with my friends – when people said you won’t be making friends in residency they were so far off about my lot. I might not have them on the days they are also busy and broken from the department – yet I have them tugging me on food cravings, Sunday brunches and spontaneous Goa trips. When I fall sick I have someone getting food to my hostel room door and through the scary dark room ultrasound finding. Life has found a small address in hurriedly drunk coffee before morning OPD and after evening round blasting. The picturesque residency images have been replaced with barking seniors, unreasonable demands and a department that is bent on sucking your peace and blood. Yet every single day that I see my naivety slip away I also know that all of it is preparing me for a future I never had the courage to dream of. I know that when I became a part of a glorious institute I should have been prepared for the yin and yang that came with it. I know exactly who I am and how too much of goodness is also an invite for the world to feed on you like vultures – and all of this is toughening me up for the greater battle that lies after residency.

So, here’s wrapping it up – my 2020 with all it’s highlights and lessons – knowing that this year has given me the time, space and opportunity to rise ahead in life and emotion exponentially! I started this year off with red wine, long drive and UNO with the fam – and my entire 2020 has a slow melt of it. Hoping that 2021 gets us out of the lull with all the essential teachings from 2020 and adapting it to a hopefully COVID-free world.

So, when life gives you a 2020, you learn from it to make all your years better! Cause admit it, we’re never gonna be this chill ever again. So, enjoy while it lasts – exactly three more days of it.

Happy new year (in advance) folks!

Letting go

A lot of time has passed now,
To make me feel okay
About everything that went wrong
And everything that went our way.

Some days I feel it’s my fault
Some days it’s yours
Some days when the fight won’t resolve
Destiny takes up the blame for what should’ve been just ours.

You see,
I don’t hate you
And now I can’t love you
The wound you gave me was just too deep.
For any healing that might have taken place
That one careless word you said –
Is enough to make me rethink
And re-evaluate what traipsed between us in deeds.

Even fate has put me far away,
To ever take that road back to you.
I wonder if I should accept it as the logical end
And move on from something that I had very well thought through.

They don’t understand why I am hung up,
They don’t understand because they haven’t tried to understand you the way I did,
But knowing how you took one second to unravel it all in your ego
I wonder if I ever understood you at all to play by it?!

So be it,
I let go of you
And I’m not naive anymore
To believe in setting love free and to wait if it’s true to come back to you.
If I let you go, I mean it’s gone
Or will there be some karmic pull of true love to make me run right back to you?
Nevermind,
Anyway,
Another man another day,
For tonight I let go of you.

CAN YOU AND I STAY POSITIVE IN THIS LOCKDOWN? Ft. Coping Strategies

It’s so hard to stay positive when we are trapped in a pandemic situation and on the top of it depressing news are getting added up – it only makes me think of the times which were simpler – like drawing a smiley face on my bread loaf in Apollo when I finally got to eat food after working at a strech till 5pm. The truth is even those days were hard, but we were too caught up in our lives to debate why it’s hard – now we are stuck, in our homes without work – some unfortunate ones away from home with a lot of work and recession looming overhead.
It’s frustrating and frankly depressing. What can we do? I created a list for myself to turn to whenever I’m depressed and want to check myself. I hope it helps you too 🙂
1. I find that sometimes the best way to get out of the cycle of negativity is to count your blessings amidst it. You can keep a journal – count the things you are thankful for. I keep one, and it’s a great thing to look back when you are caught up in the dark with no sight if light. Just spend 15 minutes with it every day and record the things you are thankful for! You might realise you are having more fun in this lockdown that you realise 🙂




2. Makeover. This the absolute best time to get yourself a makeover. And I don’t mean the outer one – an inner, spiritual makeover can gift you a better future where you have the right coping  techniques to deal with tough situations in a better way. I started therapy for this; and I am being tremendously helped by it. Ofcourse I am still not done yet, progress is slow – but the slower things are the deeper they impact. I can’t wait to come out as a better person and be a better friend, daughter, sister, partner to people post this lockdown 🙂



3. Pamper yourself. Skincare. Haircare. Yes, now I am talking about the outer makeover too. Now that you don’t have to show up for work expose yourself to pollution and grime – it’s the best time rejuvenate what you’ve lost – oil your hair everyday : No one is going to call a champu, because no one can see you sitting at home! 🤷🏻‍♀️ Geddit? Moisturize, scrub, detan, massage yourself with inexpertise (salon wali ka massage bohut yaad aata hai 🥺). Just unlock that lockdown glow.




4. Workout, workout, workout. I can’t stress on this. A simple workout has the ability to make yourself feel better by decreasing stress hormones and increasing the serotonin, the happy chemical. Today morning I felt so fucked up after reading about the vizag tragedy I spent minutes scrolling my twitter feed, reading, debating, getting stuck in a negative loop – but one dance fitness class with my favorite trainer Naveen on Cult. Fit later – I was back on track.




5. Practice clean eating. It’s hard I know, when your body wants to make that 10th plate of maggi when you’re so lazy to cook for yourself three times a day when the maid doesn’t come – but c’mon yaar! That new diet you’d been waiting to try but couldn’t because of bad hostel/ PG food/ cook adding too much oil to stuff – now you can happily indulge in it. Clean eating with lots of fruits and vegetables and minimal oil has been shown to boost happiness. So add those reds, greens and orange to your diet, will you?




6. Try spending time with your family. If you are away from them video call and talk. If you are fortunately like me stuck with them in this lockdown, you can spend a lot of them with personally. Help them with their chores. Try to make their lives and home brighter as our parents are getting old and need our support now more than ever. Some of us who are going away for higher studies, this might be the only time we get to spend them – so use it wisely. Talk to them even if you risk running into awkward conversations that make you want to break the lockdown and runaway like – marriage! *Squeals and hides*



7. I remember when I was a kid we used to have very long summer vacations. Summer in Odisha can get pretty hot and you could be pretty sure whatever date they had given for the holidays to end – it would keep on extending – just like this lockdown. I loved it then, I wonder why this was bothering me now – mostly I realised because then we used to appreciate our time alone – now we need a lot of distractions to make us feel better about ourselves. This lockdown is the perfect excuse to indulge guilt-free in your hobbies. If you are a photographer then improve your photography skills. If you are a writer, write each day. If you love to read books, read one if you have or download a PDF and read everyday. I feel this lockdown is God’s challenge to everyone who said they needed time to be able to follow their passion. Aapke paas duniya bhar ka time hai ab, fir aapka excuse kya hai to have a profession that compromised on your passion?




8. Last but not the least, chill the fuck out of this lockdown. Kya pata itna free time dobaara kal ho na ho!


Cheers,Parnini.

DEAR VIKRAM FROM #THAPPAD – WHAT YOU AND I BOTH NEEDED TO LEARN FROM AMU

Vikram, tumhari galti nahi thi. I needed to start with this. You know, few days back in my locality a neighbor filed a domestic violence against her husband; when her husband hit her she filed an FIR, she stood in the dead of night in the rain not going inside the house – it surprised me in the most surprising way. I thought it was brave of her, not that it was logical – why didn’t I think a man hitting his wife is something that can be resolved, Vikram? Maybe because I have seen a drunken uncle beat his wife and watched her never walk away and people hail it as the ultimate sacrifice for keeping the family reputation intact. Maybe because I have seen the women in my family being taught their place too. Maybe because my mother defends that and tells me I should obey when my husband will ask me to do too. Maybe because my mother tells me stories of how when a man cheats on his wife it’s always because the wife never kept him happy; not that he cheated. Maybe because my father would tell a woman who speaks creates family problems. Maybe because the guy I dated in college told me he didn’t consider me wife material as I have a lot of opinions. Maybe I did tone down for him – removing myself from social sphere, wearing only ethnic, lowering my voice and self to find his place under him. Why did I want to be under him, Vikram? Do we come from the same conditioning? Do we think everything can be compromised as long as we seem perfect to the world with having a relationship than working out a relationship?

How can it be your fault when even my mother, my Maa, my aunts, my conditioning of years and years has taught me to compromise. How can it be your fault when I see what you did and I found Amu’s response unreasonable too. How can it be your fault when I saw those one or two kisses or a hug you gave here and there to the efforts Amu made and thought it was enough too. How can it be your fault when in my family men decided what women wear, how they talk, how they behave, their pitch for years and my mothers never chose to protest; sometimes not even me. How can it be your fault when a family’s reputation is always greater than a woman’s needs. How can it be your fault for doing everything a middle class man has been taught to do?

Vikram tumhari galti toh bilkul bhi nahi thi. You went to office, you worked, you tried to best in your work – it was great, I cheered for you. I am a career minded woman – I know how difficult it is. The pressure of having to perform, the office politics, the deadlines, the meetings, the appraisals… you know. It’s perfectly reasonable to burst out – I do myself – on my Maa, my mother, my best friend, my sister – but I wonder why never on the guy in my life. I thought I was a feminist, I am the equal in the relationship – but I never make it hard on the literal “man” in the relationship. Maybe, a part of me has accepted the conditioning and compromised. Maybe a part of me feels, it has to bend to a man and massage his ego always. How can it be your fault when the woman never knew how she deserved to be treated? When Amu admits that “hum dono mein sab baraabar ka tha.. woh office sambhalega aur mein ghar”, it sounded so simple – hogayi hai emancipation – but home is not only about household work; it has relationships and emotions too; she never distributed that load with you – how is it your fault?

When you went to Amu’s house after she leaves your home after you hit her and offered her a hug, a simple apology and an ornament as a gift to ask her to come back – I was floored. If I was in her place I would’ve come back – why are my expectations so low, Vikram? My father always taught me how I should be ruthless in my career, i followed it; he taught me to be ruthless in the world and reign over it, I try to do it; but that night when he and I were discussing he said how Sita should have towed the Lakshman Rekha and she faced all she did as she didn’t listen to the advice of her elder. I asked him who is the elder – he said Ram – I asked innocently, “By age?” – he replied, “No, by being her husband.” “How being someone’s husband makes you their elder?”, I told this to my father and he said I will have a lot of problems in my marriage in future. Even my aunt tells me this every time I tell her a guy treated me poorly – she tells it’s something I have done. She never sees how the guy mistreated me in the first place for me to burst out on him. In the end you said you hit her because you thought you had a right on her; is this what my father and aunt meant too, Vikram? Is making a guy my husband or my partner allowing him to draw the lines for me? Is it letting him treat me whatever way he wants and me having to be the one that compromises and massages his ego each time? Don’t I need to be taken care of emotionally too?

Vikram tumhari galti thi aur meri bhi. You know I love fairy tales. I was even obsessed with Twilight. Now that I am 26, my best friend tries to convince me of even liking Christian Grey. But you see the pattern right? Emotionally unavailable men, with supernatural skills or unnatural wealth as their only saving grace. Unhealthy romances with the guy being so unsure of his feelings he decided to fuck up the girl’s brain too; the love is in the chase – not the man. The love is in the outer covering, not the insides – when millennial girls are raised on these, will they demand healthy guys who know how to treat a woman right ever? They won’t. I have seen the media of our parental generation – if it taught them unhealthy marriages; my generation media and movies has taught unhealthy romance. Arjun Reddy and Kabir Singh is famous – psycho guys who control the woman of their life and are toxic to every other girl calling it love. I think just like Amu and you took a break from each other finally to understand how you both can grow as healthy individuals to begin again with or without each other in the future – our generation needs to revaluate what’s love and needs to grow too.

I hope you and Amu find each other again at a later point of your life when you have figured out your shortcomings. Yes, I don’t denounce you as bad – how can you bad when you were conditioned to behave that way. We can’t decide where we came from – but we can definitely decide where we to go. I hope you find your place, even if it’s not next to Amu as her husband again – I hope you both are great parents to your child.

Love,

A girl who will try to be Amu from now on.

***

PS : I am glad to be living in times when a movie like #Thappad is being made. It has taught me how to demand not only a financially secure future with a man but an emotionally secure future too. It has laid out roles for everyone in this. If you are a girl’s father you get to look at Amu’s dad who was rock solid support for Amu from start till end – and even didn’t hesitate chiding his son from misbehaving with his girlfriend trying to save him from being another Vikram. If you are a mother-in- law it teaches you to be like Amu’s mother-in-law in the end letting her go and be happy. If you are a neighbor it’s being like Dia Mirza in this movie refusing to give false witness to save Vikram’s ass and tell that she had a wonderful husband who respected her and treated her the right way – he shouldn’t try to obliterate the respect she has for men-kind. If you are stuck in a bad love marriage like Nethra looking for escape outside marriage, trying to find your lost lover in another guy, maybe you need an escape from the marriage itself; not try to honor lost love by sticking to an unhappy marriage and fuck up the guy’s life outside your marriage too. I thought the housemaid’s ignorance and acceptance of her poverty and living will always let her accept that her husband bashed her up to show that he is a man every night. If she could rise above that to stand up against her man – can’t we? We can. If you are the man who I build my future with reading this, I hope you know now what we both need to bring to the table. I won’t compromise and I won’t let you too. Let’s be equals, for real.

“Just a slap?”

“Just a slap par nahi maar sakta.”

Self Quarantine and Thoughts : Day – 1

It’s a strange feeling to be back home. I had never planned on being back. Three days back I was completely unaware that my life will take such a turn that it will initiate a series of events leading up to this, but then, there’s a strange peace at being in a place that’s familiar to me in these stranger times too.

I have travelled about 2000 kms in the past three days by whatever means of mode possible as trains and buses and all modes of transport are being cancelled. I have taken a flight from Chennai to BBSR, a car from BBSR to Bam and back and a near death car ride from BBSR to Rourkela ( my home ). No long hugs, no contact, as the situation demands – a sanitizer, masks, gloves lie on my study desk as my sister is in the midst of her boards which now stands postponed till further orders, and I need to maintain a safe distance from her.My maa still can’t resist herself and keeps on pampering me with home cooked food all the while maintaining a safe distance, as she has to sleep next to my sister in her room. And, I’m struck by a strange feeling. It’s a wonder, at how many simple things we have taken for granted till today.

This is a strange world now. You don’t need social media influencing, you don’t need to know 10 different ways to style an outfit, you don’t need #ootd, you don’t need to take that dangerous selfie to appear cool on Instagram, you don’t need amazon delivery boy bringing you a parcel each day, you don’t need to post a picture of #whatsonmyplate everyday, you don’t need to make your life happening everyday… You just need to live. Life has been forced to the bare minimum.

You yearn for a touch, hug and contact with your loved ones. You yearn for fresh air and long walks. You yearn to sit on beaches and watch the sun set and rise again. You want to go out with your loved one again. You love the humdrum routine of braving the traffic and making to your work again. You yearn to interact and crib about work to your colleagues again. You appreciate every morsel you get. Your parents talk of going back to village. White supremacy and materialistic life has been banished overnight; simplicity and minimalism have come to fore again.

I don’t need that Goa trip in August of 2020. I just need a beach and my friends most of all. I don’t need concerts and dinner dates. I just need a meet with my loved one. I don’t need the latest outfit in the shade of lilac. I need to wear something to go out again (if I can). I don’t need an exorbitant bank balance and a penthouse apartment ten years down the line, I need to be able to live somewhere with the one I love, near the ones I love going to a work that leaves my brain semi happy and even if not I can discuss and crib it over a cup of tea with my partner at the end of the day.

Nature in it’s most indigenous ways has brought the human race down to the knees and given itself time to heal. May we survive this. May our loved ones survive this. May we learn from this. May we value every meet, hug, kiss we get. May we value meaningful human contact. May we value our world, before it’s too late; or is it too late?