Beggin'

 Reality is a horror story

Scored with a haunting melody

Life is cruel, people claim

A dog eat dog world!

The law of the jungle!

A jungle, yes, of concrete monoliths 

Peopled by cold, unfeeling machines

A man is on the street 

Hunched under the relentless rain 

Hand outstretched, pride dead in his acidic stomach

It's his fault, of course, rustle the Chinese whispers

Why can't he stand on his own feet, as I do, they declare

Riding past on the backs of their ancestors, 

A cocoon of privilege, wrapped like a kashmere scarf

A woman is on the street 

Draped in the colours of the world

Hand outstretched, a prayer on her lips

It's his choice, of course, the sheep bleat

Why can't he be like the rest of us, normal, they wonder 

Putting on their blinkers of prejudice,

A mask of conformity, designed by the factories of intolerance

A child is on the street

Armed with an infection smile

Hand outstretched, eyes blind to the cold world

It's his luck, of course, the sound echoes 

Why isn't he in school like the rest of us, happy, they question 

Stepping over the gates on their high horse,

A wall of entitlement, separating us and them 

Humanity is on the street, 

Trampled by our indifference

Hand outstretched, begging for our attention

It's not my problem, of course, mankind implores

Why can't you look away like the rest of us, selfish, they grumble

Making their way into their ivory towers, 

A nail in the coffin, man, woman and child buried under six feet of apathy. 

Choose.

Life sputtered into existence

Crawled out of an evolutionary cesspool 
Or draped itself on Michaelangelo's canvas
A miracle akin water to wine
Choose.

Life fused into existence
Love's culmination, seeds of joy
Blooming, growing, fighting
XX or X Why
Choose.

Life laughed into existence
Disdain for convention, apparent
Music, for the soul
Doctor, without a begging bowl
Choose.

Life rose into existence
Summits, a child's play
Woman. Entrepreneur. CEO?
But what will people say?
Choose.

Life plummeted into existentialism
Knocking on death's door
Weeping, questioning
Do we choose to live,
Or live to
Choose?

X and why?

A soul, driven to endure
Cards of irretrievable fate dealt
Weaving molecular connections
Of infinite curiosity

Princesses, in castles, not
Taught of Prince Harming
Who stalked women, as deer
Prey hunted, lacking fear

With trodden maturity
Age, a hidden Whisper
Volume, hair synonymous
As opinions, unheard

Romance was futility
Bliss, ignorant
Flowers bloomed to wither
Men, born to lie

A pedestal for love
Broken by passion
Women and sex?
Utterly Fucking Ostentatious

Columns written, unafraid
Feminist pen capped
Thought crime was Orwellian
1984, averted

Finally,
The wait was over.
The future,
Arrived.

10 Reasons Why An Appendectomy Is The Perfect Vacation You Never Thought Of

Disclaimer : This comprehensive list may leave you in literal (and/or; proverbial) stitches. Please consult your nearest medical student before reading.

While the title of this clickbait-esque piece promises actionable results, you will notice that the effort required to achieve them is conspicuously absent (as such things usually go). This is where you are in luck, as the only effort an appendectomy requires of you is the patience of dealing with doing nothing all day. Also, mind-numbing pain with every breath, cough and sneeze. But let's focus on the positives.

Now that it has been established that I have lost my marbles (appendix, actually), bear with me as I chronicle why this might be the perfect vacation you have never thought of.

1. Surprise!

    What transports you from enjoying a quiet post-exam/conference weekend to a writhing mass of uncontrolled pain and anguish in a matter of minutes? Suicide Squad. Appendicitis comes a close second. The unpredictable element of this disease was demonstrated remarkably in my case. One moment I was dancing to the tunes of DJ Wala Babu in our college basement (no h8 plox), and 48 hours later, I'm in a hospital bed using flowery language to "converse" with the nursing staff. This also goes to prove that there is a correlation between terrible Hindi music and life-threatening health conditions.

2. Don't hate the player, hate the game.

   You'll be happy to know that you can do absolutely nothing to prevent the onset of appendicitis. While this is generally not something to be pleased about, in the context of the shitstorm of blame that will inevitably follow, you're entirely free of liability. Your boss/principal has to find another outlet for all that frustration building up from the bevy of atrocious DC offerings. Please remember that this is coming from a sleep deprived 2nd year medical student, so my word is go'spiel'.
 
3. Emergency life-saver

   An appendectomy is an emergency life-saving procedure. Is that quarterly review taking too long or will that Professor just never shut up or do you want to leave in the middle of Suicide Squad without seeming like a DC hater?! Keeling over holding your belly screaming 'Oh, my appendix', will probably smoothly extricate you from these situations without any fuss. Easy as spelling Laparoscopic Appendectomy.

4. VLCC, who?

  Prior and post an appendectomy, you are required to maintain NBM (nil by mouth), which is basically medical slang to prevent you from shoving absolutely anything down your throat. It also happens to be fantastic life advice for some people. No, I'm not insinuating anything, orally or otherwise. Back to the meat of this point, I was starved for nearly 3 days, losing all that puppy fat I hadn't accumulated over the years.When everyone who comes to visit just wants to fatten you up, you know you've achieved that beach body you've (I've) wanted since you were 13. Moreover, they're removing a part of your intestine. Lose-lose.

5. Wet Dreams

  You read that right. Putting it as indelicately as possible, you're not allowed to get your stitches wet, so enter sponge baths. The hot nurse that induced law-suit inviting thoughts in your head has to rub you down, from head to toe, with soapy warm water.... Or you could get as lucky as I was and land yourself a middle aged mustachioed man who will make you wish that the anesthesia had never worn off. But remember children, man lives to hope. For sponge baths. From hot nurses. Always.

6. The one with the morphine

  "All the world's in pain, and all the men and women have morphine". - Snoop Lion Samhita

 The weekend has arrived, all your dealers are in jail, and you really want to give Mary Jane some company. Fear not, an appendectomy is the one stop shop for all your higher priorities. Get yourself some of that really good stuff, on demand. For everybody who thinks Mary Jane is/was Spiderman's girlfriend, that's exactly what I meant.

7. 1 month your slave(s)

  You are not allowed to lift, bend, push, pull, run, cough, sneeze, breathe etc etc for atleast 2 weeks post surgery. Any indication of work being delegated to you can be met with a hand to your stitches, a wince of agony and a soft "It's okay, I'll work through the pain", and watch how everyone scurries about trying to put you out of your misery. Work it well, and you can milk it for a solid 4 weeks. Who thought that the answer to an overbearing boss, nagging spouse and lazy colleagues is a bandaged abdomen and theatrical ability.

8. Free Lunch

"Mujhe appendix do, main tumhe medical certificate doonga." - Dr. Tilak, Azaadi Hospital

There is something called a free lunch, despite what Jessica Pearson says. The insurance pays your hospital bills, you get paid leave from work. If you discount the fact that you might not actually be able to eat lunch for a while, you have yourself a technically sound freebie. Not so often that life throws you one of those, and all you have to give up is your appendix. Let it go.

9. Bragging Rights

Who wouldn't want a chance to say Joker's iconic dialogue "Do you wanna know how I got these scars?" and mean it? Bill Weasley had them on his face. Al Pacino was called Scarface. Scars are cool. And also nearly invisible in the case of most appendectomy procedures. So if you have a prominent scar after your appendectomy, please go to the doctor. It's infected. And potentially life threatening. Do not use this as a pick up line. All you will be picking up is the hospital bill.

10. LOL.

 Lots of love, duh. Your laughs out loud will be limited to the virtual realm till your stitches are removed, unless you want to spill your guts everywhere. Every colleague/friend that you may/ may not know exist and their sister will use you as an excuse to get out of dates, engagements, watching Suicide Squad etc. You'll never want for company and everyone leaves when it starts getting awkward. It's the perfect party scene that you'll never have.

While these 10 reasons might seem highly convincing arguments to embark on this journey, I don't recommend googling the symptoms and definitely do not advise faking them at your convenience. Anybody who does wish to employ such methods must keep in mind that this is a single use excuse and hence, must contemplate it's effectiveness before execution.

Well, what are you waiting for? The change that you've been waiting for, conveniently, comes from within.

So fake it till they take it.












 

When life gives you lemons...

When life gives you lemons...

I googled this phrase the other day, wondering how it actually ended, and as quite often with the internet, I wasn't disappointed. If you have a citrus fetish, or feeling a little thirsty, you're better off drinking a glass of lemonade than reading this article. Maybe not. 

Yahoo, which has deigned itself to be my default search engine by some mystical alignment of the stars (there is a joke about love hiding in this sentence somewhere) and a measure of laziness, declared some possible endings to this phrase, which have no roots in literary fact, but are nonetheless absolutely profound. I shall list some of my favourites below, along with the philosophical significance they don't hold in my (your) life. 

1. When life gives you lemons, make grape juice. 

       

      On first glance, you'll probably dismiss this as a waste of a stranger's time and grey matter (and your own), but pause just a moment and you'll realise that grape juice might just bring all the boys to the yard, after all. But from a philosophical stand point, and this is what this piece is all about, anon #1 is encouraging you to not just think out of the box, but to rid yourself of the box entirely, which is not bad advice entirely. Refer to Schrodinger's cat for reasoning. Also, if you succeeded in making grape juice from lemons, then congratulations, you just made Prof, McGonagall a very happy person. You have received an 'O' in your OWL. 

 2. When life gives you lemons, start a lemon orchard and then use all of your lemon money to buy a lime orchard, beginning your citrus monopoly.

    Quite straightforward financial advice. From an anonymous source. On the internet. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing. But if your mind is set on potential financial suicide, then go on, I'll prepare a convincing noose. What anon #2 has concealed so very well in mundane finance, is a motivational speech, which touches on exploring your potential as a citrus magnate, which fits right in with every child's dream of infinite lemonade. If the words touch and child in the same sentence made you feel uncomfortable, you might want to see a psychiatrist. Immediately.

All citrus fruit investments are subject to market risk. Please do not read anything on this article before investing.

3. When life gives you melons, you have dyslexia.

   You might have read that right, which means there's something wrong with you. Or you might have read that wrong, which means you might have dyslexia. Confused? Me too. But I'm writing this piece. Anon #3 is quite the social activist, what with slipping dyslexia awareness into a joke. Or he/she has quite a sick sense of humor, because how makes fun of dyslexics? Oops.

That concludes our brief (but profitable?) foray into the realm of citrus philosophy. Thank you for spending, what Word Counter says should take you two minutes to read. Not accounting for dyslexia. Oops.



... you might want to thank your dealer, because that was some quality stuff. Wink.

Ajab Internet Ki Ghazab Kahani

  We, Indians, are an amusing lot. If you've noticed, whenever a discussion about foreign presence in a country comes up, you can bank on an Indian proudly saying, "Eh, you know, India has never invaded any country, like ever.", while casually engaging in sexism, misogyny, communal unrest and female infanticide in the same breath. We, Indians, are an amusing lot. We are a country that gives directions based on time and movable landmarks. I can imagine an Indian giving directions to go to Mars, "Haan, go straight up for around 3 minutes, you'll see a big ball of fire on your right, no no, don't go there, take the free left and keep going for 300 days."

But the thing that gets me everytime is the way we categorize our internet. As a college student of all of 10 months, and as an NRI enjoying infamous speeds back home, the thing that breaks us first, if diarrheoa doesn't do it, is the agonizingly slow college wifi. It is not uncommon to find a student ensconed in a cupboard or perched on a shelf, because '3 bars bro'. As getting a separate internet connection in a hostel is a laughable fantasy, we avail the concept of an internet dongle. Facing dire straits, I found myself in the office of a local internet service provider, you know, because the internet is too slow for "Skype".

The following is a real life, albeit slightly exaggerated, incident. (Names have been withheld due to fear for life after recent Vyapam Scam incidents.)

"Sir, you are a college student?", to which the answer unfailingly is yes. Smiling as a Muslim smiles at a goat on Bakri Eid, he reached for a box on the shelf.
"Sir, this is the best offer for college students, 20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, just for Rs.999". I was dumbfounded. Unlimited internet for a month at that speed for a 1000 bucks? Surely, there was a catch. But, of course.
"So, I get unlimited internet for a month for Rs.999?".
"No Sir, 20 GB unlimited internet." Trying to wrap my head around having '20 GB' and 'unlimited' in the same sentence, I put forth the following reasonable conclusion.
"So, you're saying this offer is for 20 GB for one month at Rs.999."
"Yes, Sir, 10 GB unlimited morning, 10 GB unlimited night." Now, he was just playing with his food. I wondered what sheer confusion tasted like.
"But you said 20 GB?"
"Yes, Sir, this offer is for 20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, 10 GB morning, 10 GB night, just for Rs.999." At that point, Inception seemed to make more sense, so I just gave up, and called a friendly senior ( Yes, they do exist), who assured me that it was what I indeed wanted. I purchased said internet package and bolted before further assaults could be made on my intelligence.
And scene.

For my readers, who might be wondering if I didn't belong in a mental instituion, let me translate what just happened, with experience gained in hindsight. What, our dear friend, the internet salesman, meant was that the internet package would avail me to 20 GB of data at a speed of 9.8 MBps for a month, after which the speed would be regulated to certain pre-determined, much slower, limits. I still haven't figured out the 10 GB morning-night deal, but let me assure you it does not come with a complimentary breakfast.

What is now an amusing anecdote, is a prevalent scene across India. Seeing huge billboards advertising the very same 'Limited data, unlimited internet' is not uncommon. Fellow NRIs and other unsuspecting Indians, this is what it means. You are welcome.

It also provides us with an answer to the quintessential Indian question.
"Kitna deti hai?"
"20 GB unlimited internet, one month validity, 9.8 MBps speed, 10 GB morning, 10 GB night, Sir!"

Jaago, Grahak, Jaago!

AIPMT – The Entrance Exam Extravaganza

May 4^th marked an important (read : career deciding, life ruining etc etc) day for medical aspirants (me too!) nationwide. While being Star Wars day, it also played host to the All India Pre-Medical Test, an exam which enables one to get into premier (or so they say) Govt. and private medical institutions (or institutes) across the country.  

It was quite the festival for smart people; I was sharing my exam centre with around five to six THOUSAND students, most fresh out of school and raring to go forth to decide their lives. No amount of man power is enough to successfully discipline so many young adults, and quite surely, mayhem ensued even prior to our entry into the exam hall. The girls outnumbered the guys three to one; I really don’t see where the problem with the sex ratio is.  

What is a day in India without a strike or a dharna called? Incomplete. But not the 4^th of May. Mid-way through our exam, our ears were met with the sounds of loud hollering and general chaos. The purpose of the demonstration is something only Morgan Freeman knows, but the vociferous chanting soon fizzled out and died, akin to the rains in B’lore, leaving us to write our exams in relative peace.

An entrance exam in India is a family affair, extending to joint families even, with grandpas tottering around with walking sticks a fairly uncommon sight. Some turned it into a family outing, with my uncle alleging that he definitely saw some picnic mats and elaborate luncheons. Groceries and local eateries, in and around the centre, probably had the best business day of the year. The auto-drivers had a field day as well, charging outrageous amounts to anxious parents pleading with the gods of the traffic jams and such for safe passage.

An entrance exam affords one an opportunity to observe at close quarters the various kinds of students that comprise your competition and your peer group through college life.  The following forms a comprehensive list as to the type of students I found at the AIPMT, and which I believe applies to most other exams :

       

      1. The Freaks and the Geeks aka Sherlock and the Rainman : 

      The former lot are like Sherlock, freaks of nature capable of solving most problems with no apparent effort,    their brain cells making impossible connections to arrive at the answer. The latter like the Rainman, have prodigious memories and/or are hard workers, committing vast amounts of information to their cranial data banks. These students are the ones, who walk in and out the exam hall, with smiles on their faces, knowing fully well that it’s their names that are going to be in the newspaper.

          2. The Starks of Entrancehell :

This is where the junta (me too!) resides. The students with above-average intellect and moderate preparation who fervently hope that what they haven’t studied won’t be tested. They can be found tucked away in quiet places, notes in hands, feverishly invoking the old gods and the new. While some of the Starks might survive, most of them will perish at the Red Wedding.

       3.The Rahul Gandhis :

Why are they writing the entrance exams? Because Mummy(or Daddy) said so. These are students who want to do journalism or arts, but whose parents want them to do a basic degree first. They are characterized by their sullen expressions, and a singular response to most questions, which may or may not be ‘Women Empowerment’.

      4. The John Watsons :

These students have already been accepted into universities abroad or at home, but are writing the exams because their friends are doing it. Moderately intelligent and loyal to a fault, they’ll be the ones with confused expressions on their faces, as they watch their friends (who may be Sherlocks) discuss theories they’ve never heard of.

All in all, writing an entrance exam in India is an unforgettable experience, one that you’ll cherish or curse to doom’s day. It’s also the place to be, if you’re looking to meet smart young adults your own age (wink wink). I’d better get back to studying (read : watching  TV shows) for my next entrance now , lest I turn into the unfortunate Rob Stark. I wish my fellow aspirants the very best of luck, and pray that they score less than I do. Just kidding. Maybe.