A teenager is born today

13 years back, in a dimly lit hospital corridor, a tensed up expecting dad walks his paces up and down. His wife has been in labour for more than twelve hours. The doctor hasn’t come yet and there is no word from the nurses on when he is expected. This doctor is the final word in gynaecology in that town, so all he could do was to wait. All of a sudden there is activity around the labour room, the delivery has started and the doctor is on his way. He reaches, and goes swiftly in without talking to anyone. News comes out that the baby’s head is out, but since the mother is tired, they are trying the suction now. Suddenly the doctor rushes out, and tells the waiting man, that it has to be a caesarean now, shift her to the operation theatre immediately. Even through the utter disbelief and shock, he didn’t realise that he was about to go through the most nerve racking few minutes of his life. There was no attendant to move her to the operation theatre, so he and her cousins carried the stretcher, with a semi conscious expecting mother in it. The biggest shock was yet to come, the elevator of the popular hotel- turned hospital would not fit the stretcher. They can’t move her in the wheelchair with the baby’s head almost out. All they could do was run and hope they do not tumble, and make her fall. They ran up 3 floors through the narrow staircase and moved her into the operation theatre. There was anger despair and absolute helplessness. As they gasped for air, the news came that a baby girl was born. I and Kavitha were thus blessed with our baby girl Anandita. 

Today as I remember those tense moments where we almost lost our baby due to sheer non-competence, I have no anger. I realise today that we have a fighter of a daughter, who would make her mark one day, fighting her way up, as she did on that night. It makes her even special, and everything she achieves on her grit and will, makes me feel special to be her dad. 

Today, she turns a teenager, the next phase of her life.  Yes, I miss her childhood, I miss her running up my arms as I would reach home, I miss her sleeping on my chest, I miss her crawling up to be cuddled on my tummy, I  miss feeding her, I miss bathing her, I miss carrying her in the middle of the night when she would refuse to sleep, I miss playing insane childish games at two in the morning, I miss rushing back to home in the mid of a work day when she refuses to go back home without me, I miss myself crying when she would fall sick, I miss my baby . I realise, I may never be able to do any of that with her again. Because, today she is a teenager.

Girls grow up differently, and I wonder why they grow up so fast. Today she tells us to be mature, expects us to have more realistic discussions with her. She writes her blogs about parenting. And I think, I have not grown up beyond that nervous man outside the dimly lit hospital corridor, but she has grown, and will continue to. 

Happy Birthday to my teenage sweetheart. 

Happy Birthday Ammu.

Aamir’s wife, Col Mahadik and the Tolerance meter !!

Aamir Khan tweeted that his wife is scared for her kids safety seeing the levels of intolerance in this country and wanted to move out. It's her view and has all rights to say so. Since then they have been targeted by the religious, nationalist and tolerant hypocrites all over. Some comments are pure insane but some are sheer abusive. One has the freedom to express their views in this country and no one has the rights to abuse them for that. There has even been a PIL filed against him (?). The saddest part is the comparison with Martyr Col Mahadik’s wife’s comments on her kids being committed for a career in army vs Aamir’s wife’s comments.

I have huge respect for Col Mahadik and his family.I have friends who are in border fighting the same bastards who martyred him. But it’s totally wrong to compare Col Mahadik with Aamir.

Our hero concepts are wrong. How many times have we discussed martyrs here?? Who was Aamir’s wife till yesterday? A nobody!! But we have enough TV time, Print space and social media activism to dissect and discuss what she said probably in a bedroom conversation to her husband. We will forget and move on, when another nobody makes another remark, but we still won’t have time to discuss the real heroes; the guys who fight the real enemies at minus 60 degree temperature to give you and me the freedom to sit , sip a coffee and do this armchair activism.

Who is the most worried about Aamir and family wanting to go out of India? Not the people who live here, but those who left this country for what-so-ever reasons to make a life out of India. The NRI’s. They are all over the place slamming Aamir. Why did they move out of India if the love for the country paramount for them? He is the hypocrite who comes out after taking the oath as an American citizen and spills his anger all over Aamir and family for them wanting to move out of India.

Is there intolerance?? Yes there is. When a set of people decide what one should eat, say or live in, that is intolerance. What our tolerant folks are showering on Aamir family is intolerance. There are comments like, Go to Syria and join “their people" in Isis. They don’t even realize she is a practicing Hindu. What Aamir and his wife practice in their home is tolerance, towards another person, and their beliefs.

Is it religious against Aamir? I think so!! The same hindutwa forces wanted Sanjay Dutt to be released on humanitarian grounds.. No one asked him to be deported to Pakistan. Aamir or his wife has not done a bigger crime than Sanjay Dutt.

Yes we are intolerant and our meters have hit a new low.

On another note, though I understand the sentiments and the emotional outburst of Col Mahadik’s wife, and totally sympathise with her, I think it's wrong on her part to commit her kids to army careers. It is wrong to put that pressure in any kid for any career for that matter. They should grow up and decide if they want to become a commando or chef.

Totally Beefed up

The whole comedy surrounding the beef ban took me many years back. 1996 to be precise. 

Myself and my cousin brother  had recently moved into Bangalore city. For some time we stayed with his sister,and then moved into a house of on our own. It cant be called a house. It was rather a room built on the terrace of a commercial complex. But, we had enough time in our hands especially over the weekends. 

One such crazy weekend, we decided to cook beef. We had no clue how to !. We went to Yeshwantpur and bought couple of kilos of beef. Yes, 2 kg for two of us. What were we thinking ? Only Gomatha knows !! Now that we had the beef, it had to be sipped down. So we bought some spirit.a bottle of rum.

How do you cook 2 kgs of beef ? My bro seemed to know. So in went the beef into a pressure cooker. He told me it cooks slow. So slow it was!! . The rum was vanishing as the pressure cooker kept whistling tirelessly. Beef wasnt getting cooked it seems ! And we were running out of patience and rum. The latter being a tougher commodity to replace. 

My cousin took out the beef from the cooker finally. A tawa replaces the cooker. Various masala powders get sprinkled generously and the beef is getting prepared well ,for our taste buds to feast. After a while, probably when he got bored stirring it endlessly, my cousin takes some out into a plate and serves our first ever self cooked starter. We both have a piece each. I chew it to what seemed like eternity, and after gulping it down with a generous doze of rum, I look at my cousin. He was trying to come in terms with his beef adventure himself. 

After an hour, the only progress was aching jaw bones and  heavily sloshed  head. Two kg of beef was still staring at us. I felt it was ridiculing me, or may be I was in fact drunk. We kept our egos in the pressure cooker and proceeded with a huge vessel full of beef to our sister's house. She took one look at our culinary production. I don't remember if she laughed or cried. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyways.

She took the beef into her kitchen and in half hour came with a remixed version of our very own original preparation. Needless to say, that smelled eatable. We realized why we should not have experimented so much. 

We all feasted for a week on beef. Yes, a whole week !! That officially is the last time I bought beef. We had so much of beef that it took the excitement of craving for beef away. 

Now that someone wants to ban it, it might be enough reason for the crave to be back. 

Now, I'm Ready to be beefed up again. 

The Justice about Injustice - Aruna Shanbaug and Sohanlal Walmiki

I'm not sure if this is Justice about Injustice or if it is Injustice about Justice ... 

I was surfing channels the other day when I heard this name again “ Aruna Shanbaug” and  I ended up  tuning into a debate on Euthanasia.

Yes, I do have my strong opinion that Euthanasia should be made legal, and a person like Aruna is the most deserving case of humanity through mercy killing. But this is not about Aruna.

This is about Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki. He is the sole reason that a young nurse, has been left to live a life of pain for the last 39 years.  Many would have read about her, for those who have not, this is what happened.

Aruna was 25 year old nurse working at the King Edward hospital in Mumbai. On 29^th November, 1973, while she was changing after her shift, she was sexually assaulted by a ward boy of the same hospital named Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki. He choked her with a dog chain and then proceeded to rape her. On realising that she was in her menstrual cycle, he changed the plan and instead sodomized her. He left her bleeding, after robbing her of her jewellery and watch. She lay there undetected till the early hours of the next morning when the morning shift started.

The asphyxiation cut off oxygen supply to her brain, resulting in brain stem contusion injury and cervical cord injury apart from leaving her cortically blind. She was bereft of the power of speech and expression. She lost the ability to control her muscles, use her limbs and worse, lost her memory. In other words, clinically she became brain dead!. Now Aruna is permanently bed-ridden, curled up in an awkward foetal position for the last 39 years ! !. Her friends approached the Supreme Court of India with an appeal for mercy killing or Euthanasia. The three-member medical committee set up under the Supreme Court's directive, checked upon Aruna and concluded that she met "most of the criteria of being in a permanent vegetative state". But the Supreme Court rejected a plea for Euthanasia, and she continues to EXIST.

Now what about the man who did this to her ?. Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki was sentenced to 7 years in jail. His charges ? Robbery and attempt to murder. The police had registered a case of robbery and attempted murder, and not rape. The case of anal rape was kept concealed under the instructions of the Dean of KEM, Dr. Deshpande.

He walked out of prison and is believed to have started life fresh in some part of the country, with a new identity. Ironically it seems he is a ward boy in some hospital.

Is that the price one pays for putting a hapless victim through endless suffering for the last 39 years? A mere 7 years of state hospitality? Who pays for the sufferings of a young nurse who was to get married soon?

The same law which denied her euthanasia plea, forces her to live through the pain till she dies naturally. The same law also provides for Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki to walk out scot free, after 7 years, get a job and new life and total freedom. Added it has given him complete anonymity. You cannot even trace him down, no images, and no whereabouts whatsoever.

If this is justice, what is termed as injustice?

PS : Sources/credits : Data & Images from google search and other sites. I have consolidated the information, and have tried my best to check its authenticity. But I request the reader to use your best judgement.

An Auto ride in Bangalore- An unusual one

Bangalore is known for its unfriendly and rude auto drivers. I was not expecting anything different that evening, as I was forced to take an auto rickshaw since my car was given on service. It was drizzling a bit and the auto drivers were unrelenting to take me to my destination. Some 10-12 autos later, an auto driver stopped and agreed to take me. Surprisingly he did not even ask for the Rs20 over the meter they usually ask.

A few minutes into the drive, I could sense that the driver is kind of lost. He was wiping his tears probably, I was not sure. He took a wrong turn and I told him that. He came back to his senses and said, sorry. I asked him if he was ok. He didn’t say anything for a while and then told me that he has been running around since early morning and hence was a little tensed up. I asked him what happened! His wife was admitted in the hospital for delivery, and the doctor has asked him to arrange for blood and more money as it would be a caesarian.  He is out to make some extra money than sitting in the hospital. Moreover, his sister, whom he was taking care of even after her marriage, refused to help him financially, even though she had money with her.

I kept listening to him, as he opened up more. His elder daughter was in school, and she studies well. She wants be a doctor. He was afraid, if he would be able to teach her well. His dad died when he was a young boy, and he has been an auto driver ever since. His mom was diagnosed with cancer, and he had to spend all his earnings on her treatment. He had met with an accident few years back and his right leg was shattered. He cannot sit in one place for more than few hours. So driving the auto is also a challenge.

At one stage he asked me, why someone like him is tested every day of his life. I asked him, when he had the accident, did he wish to live or not. He said, every second, I wanted to live as his daughter was waiting for him. I told him that it is the reason he should be happily living. Think of the day, your kid will become a doctor and how would you feel about it. Your second kid, who will be born today, will also make you proud. Is it not enough reason to live? We spoke more and more.

 As I was reaching my home, he turned back and asked me “mai ek gaana gaa saktha hum sir”? I said, “ tumhara auto hai, mast gaao” . He had an amazing voice and he started humming “Mai zindagi ka saath nibhatha chala gaya”. I joined him.

At no point of time he asked me for money or even gave me a hint that he was expecting a favor from me. All he did was talk to me all the way though the 40 minute journey.

As I got down from the auto, I paid him some money. I told him, I don’t know how much is in the meter, and this is not a favor I’m doing. I want you to buy some sweets with the extra money and give it to your daughter, and tell her that she should study well and you will make her a doctor.

He got out of the auto. He was crying. He hugged me and cried more. He said, “Bhai, this is not for the money. Thank You for talking to me. Had I not met you and taken another passenger, I would have probably come under a bus or truck today.  I'm going back to the hospital, Jo Hoga Dekha jaayega”.

So many of my neighbors were staring at me with disbelief ! But I felt at peace and I walked back still humming “ barbaadiyon ka shok manana fizul tha, barbaadiyon ka jashan manatha chala gaya…. Mai zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya “…

sHappy pOnam

The poet who wrote “ Maveli Naadu vaaneedum kaalam, Maanusharellarum onnu Pole”, would not have thought that, his description would come true in today’s Kerala. Surprised ? Look no further, its your friendly neighborhood BEVCO counter. No caste, No creed, No rich-Poor, No matter it rains or shines, No divide what-so-ever. We the proud ‘Prajaas” of Lord Mahabali, wait patiently for our turn obediently. We may fight for a movie ticket; we may even fight at a temple entrance to get in first. But in the Bevco queue, all such egos get subdued. And then they say, mallus are ego-centric??

As we welcome Onam, the common man replaces the O in OCR, OPR and OMR with Onam. Instead of Happy Onam, he finds a kick in wishing each and every one: “ sHappy pOnam” .

This Onam again, the race is not about who does the largest Pookalam. The keenly awaited race is if Chalakudy Bevco would beat Irinjalakuda and Karunagapally to retain the championship for the highest sales in a Bevco counter, and then again, there is nothing official about it.

No matter Spain, which has just about the same population as Kerala won the football world cup, we beat them hands down by gulping in more liquor to celebrate their victory.

Isn’t it surprising that for such an awakened population, who can actively support a hartal in the drop of a hat, we never had a hartal to protest against the innumerable and unjustified hikes in alcohol rates? So what if we cannot have a hartal, we protest by drinking in an additional peg to wash out our ill-feelings about the sadist government. That’s our spirit!

Our per-capita consumption of alcohol is more than 8 liters. Some say, if Kerala was a country, we would figure in the Top-10 drunken countries in the world. Malayalis are fighters, and they very soon will beat the likes of France and Czech to the 1^st place there also.  Which other population contributes 40% of its state revenue by drinking their livers out?

But again, think of this. The poor Malayali has to manage these records by compensating for all the holidays BEVCO has, including 1^st of every month for stock taking, Republic day to Independence Day, The death anniversary and birthday of anyone who was someone and the numerous Hartals which we celebrate as our state festival.

As someone asked, should we not celebrate Independence Day by raising a toast than being made to sit dry? Food or rather Drink for thought may be?

Cheers and Happy Onam to all Malayalis, oh sorry “sHAPPY pONAM” 

Me and Time

The Alarm rang again... I need a way to permanently shut him down.... for ever ,I mean.

I never wore a watch, cos it reminds me of time. Nor did i ever keep a clock at home. I never liked time anyways. I would wake up when i woke up and sleep when i slept.

Why is my life time bound I thought. I slept late everyday, a late night movie after my daily quota of whiskey or whiskeys on the rocks.
The party went for long . Dont remember who dropped me, but someone would have. They had to be back in time, unlike me. Who ever dropped me, I thank you .
Oh yes, yeah,,, I do work .

I chase time lines, or do time lines chase me? I'm not sure.

Now, , Im waking up ............cos the alarm is still ringing.