Searching for Happiness in a textbook of Medicine

"Death is biologically, legally and literally an absolute and irreversible event"

Is it?

I was trying to read a chapter on sudden cardiac death in a textbook of Medicine when I came across the above definition ( pulled way out of context though). This set me off into one of my tangential thought processes that I have often been rightly accused of getting lost into.

I never finished that chapter, spending the next few days trying to make sense of death, hoping that trying to make sense of the end may eventually bring some sense into understanding Life.

For one, Death is an absolute event. The effect of Death on other people is not. The effect of death of different people at different times in life is also not absolute.

My grandfather passed away when I was a teen. His Death made me sad. I still missed him once in a while. This was vastly different from the time a year ago when I lost a close cousin. It left a huge void in me as though a part of myself had died. The sadness crept into most aspects of my life though I gig not let it show up. It truly is magical what all a smile can cover up.

What was so different between the two deaths? Both people were very dear to me. Both were very intelligent people I looked up to. The only difference was with my emotional maturity at the time of these two deaths in my life.

The past few years has changed me a lot. And as I look back a lot of it had to do with losing people in my life while I was realizing that Death is in fact absolute. But realizing this affect can help empower our own lives.

A lot of us have been at this point in our lives more than once but have chosen not to act because of the constraints of our mechanical lives and having to live up to the standards we are expected to.
Break Free of that monotony and you will see the beauty of life that exists out of your comfort zone. You don't have to take up an expensive adventure or travel to exotic places to be happy. Happiness is usually in the smaller things we do everyday. It exists in uncovering new knowledge. Knowledge is a very potent healer for grief. It takes your mind off things that are depressing and open up new thought portals.

I found happiness in a lot of places most people would would believe, like reading new poetry, repairing old instruments, "speaking" to a stranger using sign language, playing a tune on guitar, contacting absolute strangers across hundreds of miles on Ham radio, patiently looking at a great blue heron catching a fish, in walking for miles without a plan, in snapping pictures where most others never saw a picture. As long as there is something new to learn, i will never be empty.

Knowledge is endless, explore at least a lifetime of it.

EVK Sarma - Bujji Annayya

It has been two years since I've written on this blog. I stopped writing after I lost a dear friend, who was like a brother to me. Today, with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes, I write to tell you of my brother Bujji who passed away yesterday.

Bujji, whom I called Bujjannayya, and others knew as EVK Sarma was nothing short of a legend to me. The Tall Dark and Hansome guy, who was the cool kid of the family, and the apple of his mother's eye. He was full of life, always had a smile on his face, even during the worst times.

Very few people know of this, but he gave me my first pocket money. During my teenage years he'd come by the house, and before he left would leave me with a hundred rupee note. "Whenever you need some cash, give me a call. Don't trouble your dad" he'd say. He loved my parents more than me, and was well aware of our financial state.
Six weeks before my EAMCET, i went on a joyride on his hero honda splendor bike and crashed it on road no#45. My dad was shouting at me, while he shielded me, convincing them that the damage to the bike was minor ( it wasn't) and we should be happy that I didn't sustain major injuries.

When I joined medical college in Kakinada, he gave me my first mobile phone. I will never forget that night I waswaiting on the platform at Samalkot station where he'd meet me for a few minutes as his train from Vizag to Hyderabad stopped there, to give me the mobile(that beautiful orange screen alcatel) , a couple of hunderds to get myself a sim card and balance.

Sarma spoke straight from his heart, fearlessly when he knew others couldn't or wouldn't speak up. He was an embodiment of life. He'd be the life of every party, and the guy who cared to get you safely home from every party too. He could never say No, not to me, and not to his sisters. He would convince his parents for anything his sisters asked, and for things they couldn't ask.

When most people pass away, we feel that we could not tell them how much we loved them while they were here. This wasn't the case with Sarma. Bujjannayya know how much I loved him. He knew how much everybody loved him. But God was in dire need of angels and summoned him to get to heaven early.

I know you are watching us from above, and we all miss you a lot. you will keep living on in our memories until I join you at the gates of heaven. Rest in peace my brother.

Brothers Forever

Last picture of Vishwam taken on thursday evening, 29th october, when he came to see me off.

For most people in the world, their first journey out of country brings in a lot of beautiful memories. Mine are scarred forever.
Hardly a day after reaching the US, I came to know that my friend Vishwam was no more. He was the last friend to meet me before my flight. He was not just a friend, he was more of a big brother to me, who broke his promises of visiting me in the US. 
Have known him for about two and a half years now. The first day i met him, He was freaking out on top of the Bhongir Hill, because he was terribly afraid of heights. That day at breakfast, Vishwam was pleasantly surprised with my voracious appetite and was among the select few who could match it with his own. He founded and made me a part of a foodie group aptly called " We live to Eat". He fell asleep waiting for our order to be served at a Chinese restaurant on my birthday.
Vishwam stretched the boundaries of physical endurance. From being unable to swim for ten metres to swimming 1.5 kms at a stretch, it took him mere weeks. Running long distances in terrific timings, the speed with which he progressed was unbeatable. So much so that when people accomplished something incredible, we would say that the achievement was Vishwam-level. 
He still keeps inspiring me to look at life with fresh percepectives and that everyone has the right to represent their perspective. "Even if we can't agree, we will learn something from their view." 
Have heard many times when people say " I lost a part of my soul with him" but this is the first time I could completely relate to it. Will be meeting him in heaven after a long time. 

I could keep going on about him but it doesn't matter. Life will never be the same without him.
Am pretty sure that right now he must be freaking the hell out of God in heaven because of his fear of heights and his comments on the food there.
Love you Vishwam.

Unfriendship Day

Was listening to songs in the "sleep" playlist on my phone when the melodious voice of Mahendra Kapoor started teasing me with "Chalo ek baar Phir se ajnabee ban jaaye hum dono"
How true were the lines written by Sahir Ludhianvi!! The line means something like..
"Let's become strangers and stay that way"
It is sung by a heart-broken singer to his ex-girlfriend wishing they had never fallen in love, wishing they had remained strangers. I know a lot of people who would want to say that to their wives now.
But on a more serious note, I 've had some terrific relationships in life that suddenly seemed to vanish into thin air (If your narrow mind read that as terrific affairs, I don't blame you... you would qualify as an asshole at heart though). Am too inattentive to realise why that happened.
Why did people I could swear my life on, suddenly cease to be friends?
Why, despite my best efforts to get back in touch (after a small gap of few years), they refused to be friends again?
It pains me that I am not part of their lives anymore. I miss all the attention I used to get from them (Typical Libran you would say!). This doesn't happen with the hundreds of acquaintances we encounter in life.
And the closer you were to people, the more it pains.
The pain is so bad that you wish you had never been anything more than strangers.
Worse is advice from people who themselves are an epitome of emotional stress, who tell you that "At least, you've gained experience from all this!"
If given a chance, I'd like to wipe all that red from my memories and start afresh.
 I'd like to "Unfriend" them all!

Yes!!! That's the word!
That's the best part of FaceBook.

Remember, a few centuries ago, when we all were part of a 'happening' site called Orkut and shifted to facebook?
We were in awe of the hugely involving game called 'Mafia Wars' and to progress in the game, you needed to have more facebook friends who played the same game!
Soon,  I started to accept just anyone's friend requests. So much so that at a point of time I was friends with 3000 people of whom I knew only a 100 or so.
Slowly, as I grew (both in maturity as well as rotundness), I found out that 'Mafia wars', 'Farmville' etc were called MMOGs or Massively Multiplayer Online Games. That No matter how many hundreds of levels I crossed, the complexity of the game would just keep increasing and that I'd Never win!
Then a lot of my real friends started increasing on facebook and I was, for the first time in years, irritated by the 'game posts' which I had stopped playing.
Like Gautam Budhdha, who suddenly gained enlightenment under the bodhi tree, I found this awesome option called "Unfriend"

Just as the first Sunday of August is celebrated as 'Freindship day', let's start observing the third Sunday of September as 'Unfriendship Day"

On this day, I will unfriend all the people who are a pile of unnecessary emotional baggage in my life.

And also, on this day, We could unfriend all people who are in our friends' list and whom we do not know in real life. You never know how many of them are creeps who may stalk you or use your personal information from facebook for their own personal gains!
You could optionally unfriend those irritating folk that repeatedly send you "candy crush" requests.
You could Unfriend that Aunt, who starts gossiping as soon as you are tagged in a picture with people from the opposite sex!
Whoah! This actually has infinite possibilities!!!

In life too, the dictum "less luggage-more comfort" is true. The lesser your emotional baggage is, the happier you will be!

Happy Unfriendship Day!

My 2013 in 24 pictures...

 

There were thousands of great moments, many never were clicked in pictures... Here are a few pictures on how my life was in 2013..
A lot of pictures with others in it were excluded to protect their privacy.

My First hike.... Thanks to my cousin Sindu for that late night call...

 

my first jump :)

 

Descending in the dark...

Then came the slackline....

top-roping and bouldering...

Republic day hike...

Ghattupal hills...

 

 

My love for my Guitar was kinda insane....

 That insane 570 km bike trip...

 

 

Then my parents joined me....

 

Yes, I am sitting on my dad's shoulders :)

 

 Then came the adrenaline stuff.... 

 

 

 

 

And loads of others, including two half-marathons, one Duathlon, horse riding, ATV rides, Zip-lining, swimming.... Guess they'll make it to next year's collection. 

Mud and weed...

I was on my way back from Lahiri resorts in Pathancheru, where I had been a volunteer for GHAC’s Hyderabad Mudrun 2013. After two days of awesomeness, fatigue seemed to seep into my body as I had a tough time negotiating the potholes on the road back home. I needed a small jolt of adrenaline to keep me running, and nothing works better than exploring the unknown. So, looking for that evasive adrenaline, I took an unfamiliar right turn on to the service road of the ORR.

The next five kilometers was effortless cruising on the smooth tarmac, at speeds that would make my mom unhappy and my bike proud, came to an abrupt halt at Kodur junction where the service road ended into two kachcha roads.

After enquiring from a couple of villagers, decided to take a kachcha road that would take me into the city. Thereafter it was a blissful, slow bumpy ride for five more kilometers with fields on both sides and beautiful landscapes.

I stopped after I heard someone cry out. In the mango orchard on my right a couple of guys were beating up a small kid. I am not a hero, and not really built to fight but I am no coward either. I used the whistle attached to my hiking bag and ran towards them after locking my bike. Am not sure whether it was my heavy army-style trekking boots or the loud whistle, but the two guys took off leaving the bleeding kid, one of them dropping a small packet from his pocket.

The kid was around ten or eleven years old, bleeding from his mouth and forehead, and wincing in pain. I carried him back to my bike where I administered first aid. One of the few advantages of being a doctor is having an extensive First aid kit, apart from the knowledge of using it properly.

“Nee perenti?” I asked in telugu.”What is your name?”

“Telugu goththilla, naanu Kannadiga” he replied in crisp Kannada. “Ninn Hesarenu?” I asked again. (Thanks to my profession I had mastered all the south-Indian languages except for Malayalam.)

He told me that his name was Nandu. He was twelve years old, from a village in Bidar district of Karnataka. He knew no one in Hyderabad. I went back into the orchard and picked up the packet dropped by one of the guys who beat up Nandu, and immediately recognized what it was.

I drove to the city as soon as I could and got a chest X-ray done for the kid. The X-ray confirmed my suspicion of a couple of rib fractures. Knowing there was nothing much to be done there I took him home along with a few medicines I bought at the pharmacy there.

My dad saw me park through the window and shouted “Aah, at last you are home! Was really bored for two days!” My mom opened the door and said “you were supposed to be home three hours back! Oh, who is this? And what happened to him?"

I got Nandu comfortable in my bed and told my parents about the incidents that happened earlier, showing them the packet I found. My mom didn’t seem to know but my dad asked “Is that what I think it is?” I nodded my head.

In my hands was a packet of Ganja, or (For newbies - also called Weed, marijuana, or pot). My job at the de-addictioncenter, NIMHANS hospital told me that the packet I held was worth a good amount of money.

After sometime, I started a conversation with Nandu. He told me that he ran away from home a three months back, and came to Hyderabad. While trying to find work, he was spotted by a person called Seenu, who promised him a job and took him to his house. There he met a couple of other kids and Seenu’s friend Yusuf.

The job was simple. Nandu had to carry small packets of weed hidden in his clothes, in city busses to different places, where someone would collect them and send Nandu back to Seenu’s house.
Nandu was happy with the food and clothes Seenu gave him and everything seemed fine, until today when he lost a small packet while getting down a crowded city bus. Seenu and Yusuf, who refused to believe Nandu, were angry about the loss and started hitting him until they saw me approach blowing a whistle. I enquired about Nandu’s parents and called them up. Nandu’s tears of joy replaced his pain as he spoke to his dad for the first time in months.

Nandu’s father and uncle took my address and started for Hyderabad. I then enquired if Nandu could recognize Seenu’s house. He replied affirmatively saying as he was traveling in city busses, he knew exactly how to get back.

Letting him take rest, I left for the Narcotics cell at mehdipatnam. Though I was initially apprehensive about getting involved with the police, all my doubts were laid to rest with a friendly approach from Mr Sreedhar, a sub-inspector I met there. It was already late in the night but he accompanied me home and spoke to Nandu , while I played the interpreter. Mr. Sreedhar told me that he needed Nandu to lead them to Seenu’s house in the morning.

The next morning, I spoke to Nandu’s father who arrived, and explained to him about the Mr Sreedhar’s plans. Though he was initially reluctant, he agreed to send his son with us.

That evening, all the regional news channels were abuzz with the daring police operation which apprehended a gang involved in drug peddling and rescued five kids who were being used as drug couriers. The police also seized a huge stock of Ganja and other drugs from them. The same night, Nandu left for his home town with his father.

It has been four days since I took that unplanned right turn near the ORR. And my face lighted up when I picked up my phone today. Nandu was home, recovering and very happy. We spoke for a long time about Seenu and yusuf being arrested. Just before I cut the call, he told me to tell my father that he will fulfill his promise.

“Dad, Nandu was saying something about him fulfilling a promise. What was that all about?” I asked my father.

My father, who is an accomplished journalist, raised his head through the book he was reading and told me “It was nothing. He said he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up, and asked me how he could do that. I told him to always follow what his father told him and study well, and that's exactly what you did. He promised me He'd do that” and slipped back in to his reading.

Courage...

My ICSE exams had ended a couple of weeks back and I was already getting bored. Youtube and facebook had nothing interesting on. So, I googled my name and was bombarded with search results about Abhishek Bachchan, the movie star. Happens when you share your first name with someone so popular.
I retried with my surname instead. One result made me curious, and I opened it. What I read stirred long repressed memories...

We used to stay in Hyderabad in those days. Our house was built when I was too small to remember, but what struck me as peculiar was that inside our gate, was a huge empty space, just beside the house. Something that wasn't in any other house in the neighborhood.
This 'empty' land , I was later told, was equal to the place our house was built and was sold by my dad to his sister, my aunt. The place was full of weeds, trees and rocks and full of moles!
I am a pet lover. My dad doesn't allow pets because the loss of his dog in his childhood had scarred him badly. But, I am terribly afraid of moles. Mice are cute. Moles are scary.

This fear was increased by the terrible screams my mom would let out whenever one of those horrible rodents wandered into our home.
I would suggest killing all of them, but being in 2nd grade, I didn't have a clue as to how to do it. But, my mom, wouldn't even think of hurting a fly (literally)and would reject the idea outright.
My dad, had a huge company, which used to construct a lot of buildings, and was always at office.
We had a huge roof top garden including a bonzai mango tree, a lemon tree and lots of roses.
One day, I saw a small but fat cat behind the lemon tree. It wouldn't budge when i tried to shoo it off, and my mom told me to leave it alone. She would in fact leave milk near the lemon tree for the cat.

"Mom, the cat so small yet has a huge tummy, like Raghu uncle. It doesn't need any more milk! " 

Mom said that the cat had babies in it's tummy and would, in a few days, give birth (whatever that meant) to kitten. She was worried that the moles (being so huge) would kill the cat.

The beautiful day arrived and i saw six cute kittens! And boy were they hungry! Lapping up all the milk poured by my mom in minutes! I wanted to touch them, but the small cat would scare me with her sounds.

The gardener came to mom the next day and told her all the moles were killed by the cat. He disposed off about 12 dead moles. I puked for a long time after looking at them. "Mommy, how did the small cat kill all of  them? they were so big!"

Mom just said "you will understand someday..."
 
The next day, mom and dad were whispering in the dining room. They stopped as soon as I went in. Mom looked tense, had tears in her eyes. I have never seen my mom crying until that day. I tried to ask  her, but she said that I wasn't going to school for a few days.

I didn't care about anything else after she told me that. I was so happy! I could watch cartoon network and pogo all day now!

Mom now used to lock the door all through the day. There was a police uncle at the gate sometimes. Mom wouldn't let me go out and play, but I could play Super Mario on her laptop as long as I wanted to.

The bell rang and I jumped to open it. Two uncles, wearing scarves, asked if my dad was home. One of them had a beard, sticking out of his scarf. When I said "no", they pushed me and came into the house. My mom came running as soon as she heard me scream.

The bearded guy caught me tight and showed my mom a big dirty knife. My mom started screaming but stopped as soon as she saw the knife. I was still crying, and had no idea as to what was happening.

They were about to take me to their white van outside when my mom said "Leave him alone, I have money and jewelery here. You can have it all, but leave my son alone!"

The other guy followed my mom and she gave him a bag. Then, she went into the kitchen where she had a lot of money in one of the steel boxes. After a few minutes, the bearded guy  took me into the kitchen. On the table was a bundle of money. The bearded guy said "Thanks for everything. Your husband can pay the rest and then we will let go of your kid"

Suddenly, my eyes started burning , and I could not open them. All I could hear was the men screaming. I knew someone was taking me out of the room.

I was out of the house, and realised I was with my mom. Trough my teary eyes I saw that her saree was full of red stains. Soon, there was a lot of police at home and I slept off.

It has been eight years since that day. We shifted to Delhi two days later. I was never told what really happened that day.

"Kanna, Dinner is ready!" my mom called out.

I snapped out of my memories, wiped my tears, closed the news page, with the title 'Housewife stabs kidnappers, using chilli powder to blind them, to protect son' , went down running and hugged my mom, and said "I love you mom".

My mom was pleasantly surprised and asked "what happened?"

I didn't tell her, but I knew now, how the cat managed to kill all those moles.