Scar on the arm

Shiela adjusted her saree . Shifted the band a lil' bit lower .Just enough to let the belly button show.
She looked around . It was almost midnight . The street lamps were glowing feebly . Illuminating the infamously famous street.
She could see the familiar figures lurking by the roadside . Pinki ,in her yellow ,glittery top and tight jeans . Saleema , in her gaudy magenta saree . The new one with the mole on her lips , the fat one in a patched up skirt .

She fixed her gaze on the road again . It was difficult to get clients nowadays . What with those greedy policemen patrolling the streets randomly
With a sigh , she adjusted a lock of her hair , pulled the blouse a bit lower , and rested her back against the Shiva Temple .

How ironic ,that this filthy street should have a Shiva temple . The great ascetic , the yogi with no worldly attachments . Mangal's grandmother used to be such a huge Shiva devotee . She would sit and make the poor boy learn all the 108 names .

Unbidden , Mangal's image sprang to her mind . Sitting by his dadi's side . The thin ,gangly boy ..with such pretty eyes . And an innocent little face ,with a mop of thick unruly hair .
Mangal would keep forgetting one or the other . Ashutosh , Neelkanth , Shambhu ,Mahadeva ... and on and on it went .
He wold run before dadi could catch his ear . Run outside to play and jump with all the rascals from his street !
Shiela could almost recall him jumping on trees ,and plucking mangoes . Or playing 'marbles' on the dusty road leading to the village pond . Riding on buffaloes' backs , and his all tiem favourite 'gilli danda'

Shiela's heart warmed up . Mangal's memories were some of the best things in her  sordid life . Sometimes , she would look at his old clothes ,and hug them close
Ah ! It's one of those useless ,haunting nights . She needed tension , sex , money , grief ..anything , to stop her from thinking this way .
She picked up a stone off the road , and threw it at the dog acoss the street . Stupid bitches ! she could still recall how one of them had bitten Mangal so hard on the arm , the poor boy had a huge scar afterwards ! Oh , how much had she cried .
She had cried still harder  ,when they took Mangal away . Grabbed him , kidnapped him from the side of the  pond . Bundled him ,and taken him away forever . She wished she could hold his hand , someone should have held his hand . And told the poor boy that he'll be saved !

The distant hum of the bike was unmistakable . She moved to the edge of the footpath . Placing herself directly under the street lamp ! The brakes screeched to a halt in front of her . It was half-a-minute before he spoke . Enough time for him to check her out .
"Aye ...chalegi kya ? "
The bike lights flashed in her eyes . She squinted , instinctively pulled her saree pallu a bit lower . The man looked like he was in his thirties . At least , it wasn't going to be one of those zero income nights.
She smiled and heaved her bosom as seductively as she could .
Putting a hand over his thigh , she sat down behind him . Making sure that her right arm was well hidden . It was never good for business , clients didn't like huge scars on the arm .

And ,as the bike started forward . She threw a backward glance at the Shiva temple . 'Ardhnarishwar' , that was one name his grandmother hadn't taught him .
But life had .

Time to act God (short story)

She tucked her dupatta closer . Covered her face with it , almost instinctively .

The crowd was thinning out . It was close to 10:30 PM  . In Delhi , people would have been screaming and honking and getting drunk by the side of the street ,at this hour .

Chennai ,however , was ready to go off to sleep . Good ! good for her .

And as the bus jerked to a stop at some weird signal , Kali looked at her battered old Nokia phone again . The address was crystal clear . She had visited the place the day before , just to make sure .

Loose fitting cottom salwar-kurta , thick glasses and a cheap roadside bag on the shoulder . If only she had put a gajra in her hair , she could have blended in with the local crowd perfectly .

She stifled a laugh , imagining the reaction of the people in this same wretched bus , if she pulled out 0.32 Bore out of her bag and pointed it at someone's head !

Life as an assassin was something she had gotten used to .In the slums of Mumbai ( and later , the juvenile homes cross the country ) she had grown up with the worst humanity had to offer . She knew where to smell the money . And instead of restoring to bar dancing , begging sucking up to some rich asshole . She had done the right thing , sucked up to the mafia , the drug lords , and the 'bhai log' 

Her name ( and her reputation of ruthlessness ) had grown over time  . From pistols to carving knives to revolvers . She had used them all . She preferred pistols though .

Slaughtering a man with a knife , was always messy . no to mention , the widened eyes , the gagging , the choking and spluttering ...and when they would grab her hand and shit !

With a bullet , you could cut off all the melodrama . If you knew where to hit anyways . The only unavoidable detail was the last look of terror , or surprise , or the blank uncomprehending face .

Sometimes , she sat by that victim long after he was dead .Smoked a fag or two . even rolled up joints . there was a beauty about dead bodies , that 'regular' people would never understand .

A sudden stillness , a feeling of calm . She had killed businessmen , doctors ,pilots ,politicians . Men who cheated , mean who lied , men who bribed or men who were way too honest ! 

And once they died , they all became the same . . Rigid pieces of flesh . Burn them , hit them ,poke them ,spit on them ... no effect !

She wondered sometimes , if she had seen too much . If she had become hard hearted , aloof . But ,killing made sense to Kali . The rush of adrenaline , the final blow ... the judgement .

In a way , she mused at times , murderers were closer to God than doctors . They took away all pains , all worries , all sins , the useless differences of 'status' and 'caste' and all that bullshit !

The bus screeched to a halt . And as she got down , her hand cradling the revolver in the bag . She smiled . It was time to act God again .

Shifted to a new address

Here ! I am back to active blogging with my new 'doctor blog' :D

Please do follow ...I promise it will be masaledar ;-)

http://dischargesummaryblog.blogspot.in/

The doctor's first month

So ,I finally passed mbbs ( Finally = 4-n-half years ) . And donned a white coat ,stethoscope , my TopBall 100% smooth ball point pen ,and jumped into the field .

P.S.

1.For more visual effects . Add BR Chopra’s ‘Ath Shri Mahabharat katha’ track in the background . And imagine me as the ‘Kung fu Panda’ . Or , Hannibal Lecter will do too .

2.Also , I know a ‘Mont Blanc’ pen would have looked so good in the opening sentence .My b’day in coming up in March . Get the hint !

So , if you think that sitting in a small government hospital , on the outskirts of Chennai is fun . Think again . It’s SUPER fun .

Provided you have a sense of humour . And , a tube of odomos !

The Injection Phenomenon

As one of my friends said , “When they are kids ,all of them are scared of injections . When they grow up , all they want are injections”

Yes . From headaches , to fever ,to pimples ,to itching ( and I am not elaborating upon the locations ) to ‘appetite loss’ . The omnipresent , sanjeevani-booti of injections !

Sometimes , it’s like a ‘family injection vacation’ . Hamara sukhi injection parivaar !

And you cannot argue . If you do , they’ll take out their past records ,and show you the number of times they have received the same , and survived .

The senior nurse also gives in . “Kudunga doctor . Regular patient”

So , there I sit . Writing one injection after another . Mercilessly . Watching cute lil’ innocent kids burst into heart rendering sobs ,as I finish writing the prescription .

And their moms and dads , smiling as widely as  Voldermort .After he had retrieved the Elder Wand.

The Regular Patient

Ekta Kapoor must visit out local hospitals . She has touched upon every vindictive pleasure our Indian housewives indulge in ,except this .

The joys of taking tablets for free . Oh ! Going to the doctor ,and lamenting over the exaggerated moans and groans and oohs and aahs !

illae sir . not like this .

So , this 80 year old dadi comes in . And , gives us a full description of her ailments . Headaches , stomach aches ,body pain , sleeplessness ,gas , loss of vision . Also , a masaledar version of how her daughter-in-law tortures her , and all her kids are up to no good .

The nurse goes and stands behind her , puts out her tongue and makes a ‘she is cracked’ face! Finally ,the lady takes a vitamin injection , gossips with the nurse ,sleeps on the bench .. and happily walks off .

The 80 year old guy , who asked us if he could take his tablets with his regular dose of daaru . Kind of re-established my faith in humanity ;-)

Then , there is this lady who came in alone on the first day , with her daughter on the second , son on the third , and husband on the fourth.

Add that to the regular group of people who happily sit outside the hospital and chat all day . And there , you have a ‘kitty club’ meeting .

I mean , the hospital’s there . The fan is there too . So are the medicines . Might as well get away from home , and have some fun . Eh ?

PS – The ubiquitous ‘gas problem’ that India has … We could’ve run all of Hitler’s ‘gas chambers’ all by ourselves !

The ‘not so regular’ patient

“Main tera khoon pee jaoonga , kutte”

I think it’s high time we let Dharmendra ji lose on the streets of India . And let him be the Edward Cullen to all those nasty mongrels biting people out there.

So many dog bites , cat bites , rat bites , scratch from the bull’s horn ,bite from another guys’ teeth ( No ! No ! Don’t go there . Not love bites).

The lady who used to get scratching at sharp 6pm every evening .

The old lady who had some ‘gadbad’ in her stomach ( I used up all the symptoms from pain , to cramps to distension to indigestion . But the ‘gadbad’ remained a gadbad )

Add to that ,the aunty ji who shouted at us when we told her to go get checked for TB ( and then stormed out , in full glory )

And the Bihari guy who came with ,”Bhaiya ji , dhaar kamjor ho gayi hai (My stream has become weak) “

Ten minutes of the most embarrassing conversation I have ever had ( Funny / Try giving ‘sex education’ in hindi . You’ll feel my pain )

Aim ,inject ,shoot !

Ah ! The joys of actually giving an injection .

Of squeezing muscles , pointing and injecting those miraculous drugs in there . Except that , it’s a bit tricky .

The injections splatter on your face ,most of them drop on your hands ( And trust me , darling ,you don’t know what ‘pungent’ means until you have smelled Vit.B complex )

The patients moan at times ,shake it when you ask them to stand still . Glare at you afterwards ,stand outside and gossip about how ‘slowly’ you amateur doctors give it .

But as they say , practice ( and hard-heartedness ) makes one perfect !

And so life goes on . Entertaining patients ,entertaining doctors ,tons of injections ,loads of medicine . A smile here , a tear there . And , my dear old stethocospe

If you want to see a sexy doctor ,next time .You know who to call . Consultation charges apply ( lots of love ,and an earful of gossips )

- Dr.Akshay Singh

The nudity within

The Tattered Religions

The 'Nirmal baba' phenomena

SCENE I ( Nirmal Darbar ) :
“Baba , I haven’t been able to study “

“Hmmm …when was the last time you ate gulab-jamun ? “

“I don’t remember babaji . Maybe 5-6 months “

“See ! Go eat them today , distribute some . Kripa will come “

Replace the gulab-jamun with samosa/rasmallai/burning incense/chaat/visiting some old mosque/wearing yellow shirts ….and all kinds of CRAP you can think of .

The man sits on a throne like chair , smiling ,waving his hands and distributing ‘kripa’ . He is omnipresent .

From news channels to entertainment channels to devotional ones .. he has one hour segments booked for himself !

It’s been two weeks since I first heard of Nirmal Baba !

A news telecast showing ‘FIR launched against Nirmal Baba ji’ .

At that time , I thought he must be one of those numerous Godmen spreading their charms ,and left it at that .

But over those two weeks , slowly , grudgingly , my feelings towards him have changed from interest to amusement to wonder to RESPECT !

Respect ? You’ll ask .

Yes , respect for his sheer shamelessness . His outright boldness in coming up and milking the Indian public for all we are worth .

What he is doing isn’t anything new . There have been frauds before him , and many more shall follow .

But his USP lies in the fact that ,he is doing it in the face !

No pretending , no religious gibber-gabber ,no dressing up like a sadhu , no yoga ,no giving ‘pravachans ‘ .

 All he does is , sit on his throne , give people random CRAPPY advice and asks them to give money in turn .

For proof  ,check this out :http://www.nirmalbaba.com/

And the BEWILDERNG ( actually not that bewildering , once you look at it ) fact is , people comply .

They come in herds and bow down to him , citing examples of how taking his name solves half their problems .

( The guy who filed the case , had been depositing 1/10 of his salary into his account every month ! )

The entire phenomenon represents all that is wrong about religion in society today .
The real devotion , real meaning of God , the actual teachings of religions have lost been lost .

At one time ,religion had been a path along which we could find Him ,if we follow it dutifully .

We , have twisted religion into something to be feared , something to be squeezed ( and gained favours from ) , something to be manipulated according to our will .

All we see are our gains . The moment we are told ,

“Go worship your old sandals .It will bring you INSTANT gratification . “

We’ll do it !

Because somewhere down the lane , that’s what religion is all about …fearing , bribing , getting your work done and falling prey ti the eternal weakness , GUILT .

And until this mindset isn’t dealt with , there will be many more Nirmal babas . And many more ‘devotees’ .