Humour at death bed

Among us are certain individuals endowed with extra ordinary power to laugh at odds, misfortunes, calamities befalling them and even when death confronting them. Like this time, I was on annual vacation in Kerala in December 2010. What a gulf goers usually do during their vacation, is to pay lightning visits to his friends and relatives to renew the friendship and refresh their memories. Last year when I called at the house of a close friend and former colleague of mine, his wife confided to us the painful story of his hospitalization and admission to ICU where he had to be kept for more than ten days and that all of them were alarmed at the possibility that they would not see him alive once again . I was at a loss how to face him or what to ask him , let alone  console him. When I began to grope for words, my friend who had just been discharged from the hospital intervened and came to my rescue. He shook hands with me and began to enquire about  my children especially about the elder ones who were so close to him while he was living in Doha. With smiling face he began to describe what he had happened to him: “My wife might have told you that I was in the hospital. It is because of the fact that we are sometimes compelled to remind others that there is an organ in our body called heart .I am a heart patient,  and my wife   is diabetic and therefore we are partners even in ill-health”. Since he was laughing when he  spoke to us we shared his “joy”with difficulty. By the grace of God he is still leading normal life with his family at his native place.

The other day we had been to the house of a maternal uncle of my son in law who died of kidney failure. He had a history of struggle with diabetes. His house was packed with mourners from different walks of life.. I knew that he was not a political leader and that the mourners were not there to express their “deep shock at the irreparable loss or unbridgeable gap”. He was a common man who won their hearts  through  his lighthearted approach, simple life and innocent jokes. I know him since 2001 when the engagement ceremony of my daughter with his nephew was conducted. The ceremony had coincided with my eldest son’s admission to Aleppy Medical College. When he met my son during the ceremony he congratulated him saying “ I wish you all success. When you graduate and work as a doctor , I will come to see you with diabetes in my hand”. When I narrated this incident to one of the mourners, he testified that the deceased had always had an unusual sense of humour.

During the marriage ceremony of my daughter conducted after one year from the engagement, he noticed that the electric switch board in our living room was covered with clourful grazing papers normally used for wrapping presentation items. My daughter had done it not to expose the wooden box to the participants in the function. She told us that he had later asked her whether the switch board itself was one of the gifts presented to us on the occasion of her marriage.

When his father passed away a few months prior to his death , the newspaper that carried the death news introduced his brothers as retired engineer, Kerala State Electricity Board employee etc. whereas they had nothing to mention against his name . After reading the newspaper, he commented saying that he should have been introduced at least as a kidney patient.

Once a journalist colleague of my son in law fell unconscious and was taken to hospital where the doctors disclosed to him that he had only one kidney and that was why had fallen unconscious. When he resumed his duties after being discharged from the hospital he told his colleagues who congratulated him on his recovery: “ I have been, hither to, proud of being the owner two kidneys . You know the truth now. In lieu of being proud of having two kidneys, I suggest that all of you undergo a medical checkup. It is possible that some of you may have only one kidney .

The other day when I met a friend of mine I enquired about his younger brother who also close to me. He said that he met with an accident recently and died. Though I was sorry to learn about his sad demise, his brother narranted the incident   in such a way  that one would fee that  his brother had gone for shoppping..

By the father

GOOD MORNING, YOU ARE DYING !!!

PATIENT: “Sat sree akal Ji” (form of wishing in Punjabi)

“Doctor Sahib, Apna reporte ayaa hai” (Doctor, my reports have come)

DOCTOR:“Babaji, thuade Ghale me cancer hai” ( Uncle , you have a cancer in your throat)

PATIENT:”Achha Ji”(Local term for Yes sir, but it comes so spontaneously that what it actually means is that I heard something but I didn’t get any thing)

“Waise teek hai na” (after all that is normal, right)

It is interesting to watch how people receive bad news. During the last two years I have had the opportunity to see patients with bad prognosis day in and day out. Thanks to being in a prime institute of my country, India, I have developed an expertise in spelling out the death certificates to the patients. There was a time when I used to avoid such situations on purpose as I had considered myself emotionally inefficient to deal with such cases. But it was when I had to do my thesis on oral cancer that I developed this touch in spelling out misery.

People react to their disease in different ways. Everyone has their own unique way of defending pain. Some cry, some get angry at themselves (and at the doctor), some deny it all, some defy it,some withdraw into themselves, and some get ready for the fight. This depends on many factors such as whether the patient is a male or female and on his or her educational, economic, religious and social backdrop Therefore as a resident doctor it is very important to assess the mental and emotional capacity of the patient before you spell it out. The trick is to say the truth without provoking the patient, to be tough but without hurting him , emotionally bonded to the patient but within the limit that you never become his or her sympathizer.

A patient once came to my late OPD in the late hours with a CT scan report. As I had already packed up my instruments and was ready to leave I was a bit reluctant to entertain him. But he told me that he had not brought the patient and just needed opinion regarding the CT finding. I saw a huge tumor involving most of his nose, sinuses and nasopharynx. Seeing the amount of destruction it caused to the bones around I could say that it was highly malignant. I told him that his patient had a malignant tumor which was rapidly progressing and destroying his body and most probably was not amenable to treatment with curative intend. He sat there and heard the whole sermon of doom. Then he replies,” I hope everything is all right then”. I sat wondering which part I or he had missed . I told him that we could not cure the patient who asked me whether everything was alright. I told him that it was not the case and that his patient was dying. I asked him to bring the patient and we would explain the rest.

It is extremely difficult to explain the prognosis to women. However informed and educated they may be , they have this inborn character of cracking up in such situations. An old man with carcinoma of larynx in an advanced stage had been coming to my OPD. Each time I sent him for biopsy he got lost and came to my OPD next time without the results. So this time I insisted on him to bring someone from home. But to my dismay, a young lady in twenties had accompanied him. I preferred to explain the prognosis to the old man rather than to the lady. But she told me that she was a distant relative and was a nurse working in a peripheral hospital which comforted me. At least she must have seen patients like this. I sent the patient outside and started explaining the bad prognosis of her uncle’s disease to her. She told me she was expecting this for sometime seeing the smoking habit of her uncle. I told her that the biopsy was just to prove the diagnosis; even though we were 99% sure it was cancer. She was calm and composed. She said she would later break the news to the relative and left. I was sorry for the patient but was happy for my accomplishment of breaking the news to a women and not making her cry for the first time. After 5 minutes she rushed into my room her eyes red and raining with tears. She told me she could not face her uncle being informed that he was going to die. She began to cry loudly and other patients tried to notice. I asked her to calm down and be stronger. Things like this could happen to any tom, dick and harry . I have a fixed protocol of lines to calm patients down. It took me around ten minutes to console her and she left wiping off her tears. I felt a little relieved but still waiting for that woman who can receive the bad news.

We have our own ways not to frighten the patients because majority of patients coming to us are scared either of the disease they have or of the surgery we perform. So one wrong word would make them run and hide at their homes. It is very easy to convince the patients that they are ill . After all that is what they expect when they come to us. On the other hand, it is very easy to make a patient disagree with surgery. Just explain the procedure in layman’s terms and he will never allow you to cut him open. Most of our patients are neurotic which simply means that they are obsessed with disease. The moment you tell them they are normal, they either switch the doctor or keep increasing their complaints and visits. So we try to formulate terms and conditions which would satisfy them. Globus hystericus is the most fascinating among them all. Seen most commonly in women, this condition just means that the patient has a feeling of a lump in her throat but there is nothing wrong. If you tell her she is normal, she would just come again and again. If you tell her the fancy name, she will be happy irrespective of whether you treat her or not. Such patients are very happy with relative gimmicks like diet management, exercise, steam inhalation etc though none of these is a definite treatment. Not all tumors are dangerous or deadly , so it is very important that we don’t frighten the patients and make them count his days. So we have got wordings which would explain to him the disease perfectly. These words are just locally evolved and have the same meaning, but the idea it gives to the patient is different. Like for instance, a ‘Gant’ is a swelling which is benign, a ‘rasoli’ is supposed to be a similar swelling which is more dangerous and everybody understands when we call a swelling a cancer. A ‘sojish’ is a small ulcer or oedema , a ‘chala’ is a similar ulcer but more dangerous and next stage is a cancer. Since the boundaries between these terms are pretty vague, one must use them very carefully or else the patient may get misinformed.

The only time I don’t like my patients is when they become careless and don’t follow my instructions. A patient had cancer in his larynx which was treated by radiotherapy. He had come for follow up after 6 months and had not shown any evidence of disease. I examined the patient and there was still no evidence of the disease. I removed my facemask to tell him the good news but noticed the foul smell of tobacco smoke. I asked him whether he started smoking again. He reluctantly told me that he has been smoking for the last 2 months. I got so furious that I shouted at the patient so violently that even my co-resident, who was an occasional smoker got frightened seeing my hatred to smokers . How could he start something which caused his disease at the first time? He has not understood the gravity of his disease and the extent of damage it could do to him and his family. I was under the false impression that we had conquered the disease while the patient himself was conspiring against me. I threw his card away and told him to get lost. He sat there and stared at me. I told him not to see me again until he quit smoking. I knew this was against doctor patient conduct, but my care for the patient had overwhelmed my conscience. The other patients started explaining to him the importance of quitting smoking and that I was behaving like this because I cared for him. May be the patient would never come to me again, but at least I made my point clear to him.

As a doctor we are often accused of being emotionally blunt. Especially surgeons are considered rogue and emotionally attached to patients. Some say that how can we bond with our patients and later cut them with a scalpel. But the truth is surgeons unknowingly get attached to their patients even if they don’t want to. But we often try to hide this by behaving indifferently because most of the diseases we deal with have bad prognosis and urgent decision making and action is of paramount importance. So being emotionally attached to our patients would really interfere with such a decision making. This reminded me of a joke which floated in the facebook. Physicians and Surgeons go for duck hunting. When the ducks fly over them the physician, the Internist points his gun, but does not shoot. "This bird certainly looks like a female mallard, but I must rule out geese , and swans. A juvenile Mesopotamian sea duck would look exactly the same!" the duck flies away. The surgeon comes,” look it flies,BOOM, then turns to the pathologist and asks , what was that?.

By the eldest son

Singing birds and sweet mangoes.

In this world of ours unfortunately dominated by chaos, confusion, tension and turmoil, every one is looking for a bit of relief , a little space to relax and a ray hope. A singing bird or a melodious music or a beautiful butterfly that seeks  to suck the nectar of flowers fluttering its wings or the fragrance emanating from jasmine flowers is apt to give man what he is badly in need of these days.

Apart from these blessings of Nature there are certain aspects of human behaviour that grant us mental satisfaction and contribute to our peace of mind. The other day we had been to the house of my wife's friend to hand over a book my wife had borrowed from her. I waited on the ground floor of the building whereas their apartment was on the first floor so that my wife could hand over the book and return quickly since it was already 10 P.M as people in Doha are in a hurry, during winter season, to dine and go to bed after wrapping themselves in warming blankets to plunge into sleep induced by the cold weather . My wife did not come back quickly but their eldest son came down telling me that his father was calling me to go upstairs. Though I tried to apologise, he insisted on his request and I had to follow him. While my wife was chatting with her friend I sat in their living room talking to her husband explaining why I was waiting on the ground floor instead of entering their house When the chit-chat between the two housewives went on for while , I began to remind my wife that it was already too late but her friend tried to assure me they were not at all disturbed by our presence and that their bed time was 12 midnight .Despite that they were not expecting us, with in a few minutes two plates of chapattis and a bowl of chicken curry were placed on their dining table. Then we found them literally begging us to accept eat something. Though our dinner was ready at home, we began to eat while both of them stood beside us requesting us to eat more and more. His wife was taking chapattis from our plates and tearing them into small pieces to facilitate our dining. She told me that she presumed that the curry prepared by her might not be as delicious as the one prepared by my wife which could be the reason why I was hesitant to eat . We were like obedient students before them as we could not escape from tight grip of their warm hospitality which had a special flavour unmatched by any item in the menu of any hotel in the world. What mattered were not the dishes on their dining table but their open-hearted approach and extraordinary cordiality that have left an indelible imprint on our minds. It disturbs our minds when we think that we will not able to reciprocate their hospitality when they visit us next time however hard we may try. We believe that God has chosen such persons to be an epitome of those sublime characteristics.

I remember a man who used to invite me to join him for a cup of coffee when ever I passed by the traditional teashop in our village in Kerala he used to frequent. When I apologised, he seemed to be annoyed. My initial reaction was some sort of astonishment or even resentment as I wondered why he was annoyed at my unwillingness to join him as if I had to wilily-nilly obey him and I even thought that he had no right to force me do something I didn’t like . It took me some time to realise the sincerity of his purpose, the selflessness his motive , that his was not a perfunctory act for he expected nothing from me in return and he would gain nought save the pleasure he derived if I accepted his invitation. If I acceded to his request, he was instead going to loose a few bucks .If he had asked me to do him a favour prior to his invitation or thereafter, his invitation would have been tantamount to a diluted version of bribery

Once when I was living as a bachelor in Doha, a friend of mine who was living with his wife in a humble house invited me to dinner. The dish prepared by his wife was handmade pathiri (pancake made of rice flour) and some curry. I asked her why she took the trouble of preparing handmade pancake instead of preparing it using a home appliance called “pathiri press” as other housewives do . Then she told me that during one of their visits to our house in Kerala, when my l mom was alive , my wife was trying to serve them cookies and cakes which is the usual method among housewives to treat their guests even these days as it saves time and requires no efforts on their part . But when my mom saw this , she told my wife that it was not the proper way of treating guests, volunteered to prepare handmade pathiri by herself in front of her and asked my wife to serve them what her mother in law had prepared .My friend’s wife told me that it was from my mom that she had learnt to make handmade pathiri. She added that handmade pathiri was softer and more tasty as its contents include ground coconut as well. Though the financial status of the host counts, it is not the main contributor to the satisfaction of the guests. I remember one of my late maternal aunt who was so loving and affectionate . Her husband was a man of principles who always wore pure white shirt and dhoti which he himself washed until his death. Such persons never think of earning money and hence he was suffering from financial problems throughout his life and trying hard to make both ends meet. But every one who visited their house testified to the fact that what they witnessed there was an atmosphere of affluence bestowed by their selflessness, humility, love and care for their guests. Their financial problems had had no adverse effect on the impression they created in the minds their visitors. On the other hand who ever visited the house of another maternal aunt of mine, whose husband was rich, owned properties and lived in two-storey building in those days complained of a gloomy atmosphere and dead silence in their house.

Our mom taught us not to disappoint any one who knocked at our door even “ if the person came to us on a horseback” .She did not always have a money to give those approaching her as her husband was just a farmer who was trying hard to meet the day to day expenses of his family. Therefore she sometimes gave them the shirts or dhotis her children were using without telling them. When we returned home we found our dress items missing and quarrelled with her.

Our villagers still remember that my mom had hosted whoever visited our house regardless of their financial status . Last year when I was on vacation in Kerala, an ailing person whom I met told me how my mom used give him Kanhi (rice water soup) when he visited our house to purchase fresh mangoes from mango trees grown in the plot of land where our old house stood. Neither those mango trees that gave us different types of sweet mangoes nor my mom who used to care for them are with us today. When I sold the last mango tree to a timber merchant as it stood so close to our house and its branches began to cause damage to the roof , I thought I could plant another one to give us the same type of large fleshy sweet mangoes. But though we have more than three mango trees in our plot of land today none of them is similar to it in terms of taste or shape.

A few weeks prior to her sad demise in 2000, my mom was hospitalised. When her condition worsened, she expressed her wish to see me. By the time I reached the hospital in Kerala where she was admitted she was in the ICU unit .Since the moment she saw me, her condition began to improve and she was transferred to general ward. She soon regained the power of speech she had lost, began to speak to the visitors and even crack jokes with those visiting her. We decided to take her home and look after her with the help of a home nurse. At home she was looked after jointly by my sister and brother’s wife. Her condition seemed to improve and my sister returned to her house. We thought that every thing was going well but a couple of days later all on a sudden when I was having lunch she breathed her last due to cardiac arrest .Even when my only sister hugged me and wept, I don’t know why I could not follow her . It seemed that my feelings were frozen or it might be that one needs to be brave even to shed tears. If one cannot weep even at the death of his mom, nothing else in the world can make him cry.

By the father

Weird facts

On a fine morning she was walking though the coconut grove close to her house in the company of her husband who happened to be a journalist. Being enchanted by the coconut trees laden with green and ripe coconut bunches, adjoined by paddy fields full of lush green rice plants he commented saying " What a splendid sight ". She gazed at him and said "oh, you are thinking on these lines but I am now reflecting on what will be my situation if a coconut falls on my head ".

When her husband narrated this incident to her father, the latter tried to convince him that she could not be criticized for such a mentality since it is a question of "genetic disorder", because she had imbibed such a characteristic from her father only. She is , fortunately, an exact replica of her beloved mom in terms of her physical features or else it would have been rather hard for her parents to find a groom for her and her husband , a handsome gentleman, who has now tolerated her for a number of years, would not have accepted her as his bride. She should have inherited at least a little bit of courage and confidence from her mom and but has instead absorbed pessimism, anxiety and irrational fear straight from her dad, an epitome of such feelings. Her dad is so delicate and touchy that when there is a very slight leakage in the water tap at home he gets upset; when he goes meet a person he speculates that he will be absent ; when he drives his car he thinks that the car next to him is going to hit him; when he waits for some one he imagines that the person will never arrive; when he goes for shopping he expects that the item he is looking for will be out of stock ; when his children are late to reach home, he imagines that some thing wrong has occurred and so on , so forth.

He remains a passive spectator, let opportunities pass without seizing them and then cries over the spilt milk. He is aware of the fruitlessness and absurdity of such behaviour but cannot help it. He is notorious for his lethargy and laziness. His friends say that it is his wife’s dedication and loyalty that has made him so inactive since she spares no efforts to keep him healthy and happy. She does everything for him including those chores expected of him as a man let alone as a husband and when ever he extends a helping hand to her, she begs him not to do so since he never does anything properly and therefore her work load will increase and not decrease. Every day at 6 am his breakfast is ready on the dining table; she never forgets to remind him to take fresh gooseberry along with turmeric powder prior to his breakfast to control his blood sugar ; when he returns home from his office lunch along for with plates, knives, forks and bowls will be waiting for him, he has just to eat it and wash his hands and that too he does not do properly and the result is that she has to replace the towel hung close to the wash basin frequently as it is always full of oil and stains; his wardrobe is all the time full of ironed shirts and he is very often perplexed as to which dress he has to put on; when he goes out she ensures that has buttoned his shirt properly and advises him not to rush while driving .Last year when they were on vacation in Kerala, a doctor told her that her husband looks younger as she looks after him very well.

He always looks gloomy, moody and tense as if some misfortune is going to befall him. However he may try, he finds it difficult to smile at others when they smile at him .Though he has seen his friends patting and some of them even hugging their wives and children while coming home after a long absence he could never do so. He was shy even to kiss mother when she was alive. Only once could he do so, that too when she had been hospitalized during the last days of her life. But before kissing his mom, he remembers how he ensured that none was watching him and when he did it at last he behaved like a thief trying to steal something.

Once at Kochi airport while his wife and children were waiting to receive him, he came out of the airport, spoke a few words to his children , loaded the luggage in the taxi, got into to it and did not even bother to look at his wife who was there waiting for him . She was naturally very sorry and told her children that she should not have waited for him at the airport. Such a situation has the potential to provoke any women however humble and sincere she may be, but she continues to be loyal and serve him as if nothing unpleasant has happened..

While living as a bachelor , he used to tell his friends that he did not like to invite some one to join him in his life journey just to share grievances and suffer as he could foresee the trouble and turmoil in the offing. He knew that his cousins younger than him had already married. But he forgot the fact though he was physically fit for marriage, he was fiscally unfit for marriage especially his house at that time was an old one badly in need of urgent repairs. On the occasion of his sister’s marriage , a lady belonging to groom’s family who attended the function had pointed her finger to the wooden roof frame of his house being eaten by termites and announced that his home was unsafe. More over his mom was ill and it was very difficult and tiresome to look after her.

A couple of years after his arrival in Doha he traveled to Kerala after borrowing some money to get married at a time when he was drawing a low salary that could just support his parents at home after meeting his expenses in Doha . She should have had the common sense to think that marriage was not a joke and that he should not violate his own promise not to let any girl suffer by joining him as a life partner in such a situation.

His parents especially his mom used to pray to God in tears to take care of this timid toddler of hers as her maternal instincts would have told her that her son was so inept that he could be easily fooled by any Tom, Dick and Harry. Therefore God has been so benevolent to him and rarely does he face obstacles in his life save those created by his own thoughtlessness and stupidity.

Here he is celebrating the 33rd anniversary of his wedded life and living in peace and happiness with his loving and caring wife and children. What else doe he want and why he is restless? These are the two questions, he is yet to find an answer.

The Father

Days of dearth

Those were the days when our villagers could not even dream of electricity and many houses in our village situated in Kerala, South India, had to depend on kerosene lamps. It was a small pyramid shaped aluminum container filled with kerosene with a round wick made of cotton at its top which burned and lit the houses. Children learned their lessons , their moms cocked food, the family ate their meals and the elders conducted their discussions ; all in the dim light and flame of these small kerosene lamps. These lamps had to be kept out of the reach of children who might try to play with them , burn their hands or other parts of their bodies or spill the kerosene on the ground leading to unpleasant situations Even elders had to be careful while approaching these lamps or else the wick might go off and plunge the house into darkness or the power cut described by the present day politicians as load shedding to fool their unfortunate electorate.

When people went out during night time, they used what was called “choottu” in Malayalam which is the tail end of dry coconut leaves made into a long round bundle which were lit from a lamp when ever they wanted to go out during night time. When they reached their destinations those “traditional torches” were put off and were re-lit when they wanted to use it again. There were, however, many in those days who did not even bother to use this "choottu" during their nocturnal movements. They went to wherever they wanted to visit unmindful of the risks of groping in darkness .

In nineteen sixties our village had only one or two lower primary schools where students could study up-to Class V. The classes were conducted in sheds where our teachers taught us telling us stories stressing the importance of moral values and the sanctity of human relations. I still remember the story of Mannamkatta ( lump of earth ) and Kariyila ( dry leaf) who went for a picnic . When it rained on the way, Kariyila covered the Mannamkatta to protect it from the rain and when wind blew Mannamkatta lay on Kariyila to save it from being blown off .But the tragedy occurred when it rained accompanied by wind as water carried mannankatta away and the wind blew kariyila off. Though this was the story of two inanimate objects, I don’t know why I still feel sorry for them.

The Govt High School in the nearest city Chavakkad was situated around 5 miles away which meant that the students from our village had to walk 10 miles a day to and fro to attend high school classes since there were no bus services and the national highway running through our village at present was then an unpaved path full of white sand . During the rainy season, crossing the canal in wooden overloaded boats to attend the classes was risky and the ponds on the road side overflowed making it difficult for the pedestrians to find out where the deep ponds beside the road side were. Once on my way to the school, I stepped into a road side pond and thus dipped myself in the pond. I had no time to return to home to change the wet dress and had to attend the classes wearing the wet shirt and dhoti . Umbrellas were of course used during the rainy season but in times of heavy shower and wind, they were of little use. One umbrella was often shared by two students. When they walked, each one used to put his hand on the shoulders of his 'umbrella mate' clinging to each other which created a sense of cooperation, sacrifice and unity among students.

Despite the boom created by gulf goers there are still people in our village who cannot afford to make both ends meet, those having no financial means to treat deadly diseases they are suffering from, those who cannot get their   daughters married as  the grooms demand dowry in terms of money and gold but one feels relieved when he finds that days of exploitation and tyranny practiced by some greedy land lords are now dead and gone .

The father

Perennial pleasure and pricking pain

Have you ever enjoyed watching a hen walking with its beautiful newly hatched chicks of various colours and designs ? Keep watching the chicken, take one of them in your palm and try to touch their extremely soft feathers, you will have a tranquilizing experience as if you are inhaling  the breeze blowing from somewhere. The method of hatching chicks using a setting hen seems to be dwindling even in villages of Kerala .In an age of instant pleasures, fast food, supersonic jets and electronic super highways , people are rushing and have no time to waist . Why should they wait for three weeks to hatch eggs using a hen when there is egg hatching machine to do it in a couple of days and as there are hatched chicks available in plenty for sale in the markets apart from chick vendors who roam the villages trying to sell them as hot cakes.

Where ever they go people are always reminded that they are living in a world in which the survival is for the fastest and not for fittest as their great grand fathers once used to teach their children . Nowhere can this rush be better felt than when you are on the road either in a car or on a motorbike . Drivers seem to have forgotten Winston Churchill’s saying “ Drive slowly we are in a hurry “. You see hasty drivers trying to overtake you and sounding their horns even if your car has broken down. While doing so, they trample down the rights and feelings of their fellow drivers, sometimes on purpose and on some other occasions inadvertently

In Kerala some of the Malayam words have assumed new meanings these days to reflect the changing trend. The Malayalam phrase “adichu polikkuka” which literally means cause material damage, for instance, is now used as an adjective of pleasure or enjoyment . Therefore if some one tells you that it was “adipoli party”, don’t think that there were commotion and violence in the party but it only means that the programme was grand and jovial . Innocent tricks and jokes employed in the past to tease the grooms on the wedding days in Kerala have now given way to violent and irrational practices causing violence and even material damages . Such ceremonies are described as Adipoli parties which can thus now be interpreted in the true sense of the term. Indian classical dances with slow and study movements of the human body parts and invoke an awe and respect in human mind are now giving way to break and disco dances with fast and acrobatic movements which produce an instant and intoxicating mood in the mind of the viewers.

Once some years ago  while on vacation in Kerala , I purchased some newly hatched chicken from the market and brought them home. Then my better half asked me whether they were vaccinated and told me the story of a “ veterinary specialist” who roamed our village offering his services to vaccinate chicken against bird flue and how clever he was in chasing and catching the chicken which were let loose. At the end of the day, he turned out be an imposter since most of the chicken he had vaccinated which were otherwise healthy died within a couple of days.

The chicks I bought were placed in a chicken coup which was a very small concrete room to protect them from mogooses bent on catching chicken in our area . The room was heated with an electric bulb and my kids enjoyed feeding them every day. After a few days or so I do not know why it occurred to me that the heating in the coup was insufficient . The devil in me made me replace the bulb with a higher voltage one. Since I thought that they were comfortable with my heating strategy I did not care for them one or two days as some one else was feeding them, though it was not the case,. After one or two days I heard them crying unusually and when I approached the coup to my dismay I found that that most of them had died of high temperature and two or three of then were in a critical condition. I picked them up and poured some cold water on their body but I could save only one since other ones soon died as my rescue attempt was too late. The rescued chick grew up into a beautiful hen which had special place in the mind of my family members. In those days when I used to chat with my family while they were living away from me in Kerala , my kids used to bring “ the only survivor” in front of the camera and show it to me. Even the other when we were watching some old videos posted in the Face book page of our son Munnu , he pointed to a hen walking proudly courtyard of our house telling me that it was the one I had saved from the fire chamber . I still feel disturbed when I think of the chicks that had died as a result of my thoughtless behaviour. In those days I had even compared the incident to a holocaust and the coup to the gas chamber employed by Nazis to torture innocent lives.

By the father

Bed Space to "read"

" Bed Space to let ", these words may sound strange for those who do not live in Gulf countries but the gulf expatriates are so familiar with this ad on road sides, in local newspapers, notice boards of shops and supermarkets. Bed space is a term conveniently coined by real estate brokers when the rent rates escalated at alarming rates in Gulf countries a few years ago. It is a 5.5 x 3.5 feet double-story jumbo iron cot ( mind , not double story building) rented out by real estate dealers to accommodate their customers or preys. The monthly rent for a bed space exceeds US$ 250.

In the past a normal size room had four single cots and thus accommodated four persons only but under the " double story " system , they can easily include eight tenants . These tenants are allowed to use the empty spaces under their cots into which they dump their belongings including suite cases they brought with them from their homeland, the bags and other stuff they have purchased to take home. Those who have the very rare and strange habit of reading will have to "store" their books as well under their cots. If the tenant happens to be an ultra modern netizen , add laptops ,CDs ,mobile phones, telephone chargers etc to the inventory. The remaining space which is nothing other than very small holes or gaps on their cots and beds are comfortably inhabited by bugs , the national animal of the gulf-goers which help them get rid of the superfluous blood they have and save them from thrombosis.

These "costly" cots are in the habit of groaning whenever their riders try to move right or left . Even before these tenants start dreaming or resort to reveries, they have to ensure that that persons under or above them does not smell it.

It is in this narrow space where the expatriate life of an average gulf resident buds , flowers, nurtures and expires at the cancellation of his visa. The brokers follow a divide and rent policy whereby they rent flats, divide them into very rooms, furnish them with several beds paces, sublets them to their customers , lives in their own rent free bed spaces and save some money at home. Among such investors are Keralites who should constitute a part of the curricula of MBA graduates of these days.

The tenants of these bed spaces always enjoy everlasting spring since they remain bachelors regardless of whether they are married, have children or not and even when they become grand fathers since the gulf governments and media relish in calling them like that.

Those who draw a little more salary and own neck ties of their own are promoted into executive bachelor status. The fact remains that 65% of those who have the minimum income required for bringing their families to live with them in the gulf are” family status-less” expatriates since they cannot afford to support their families after bringing them a matter the self financing institution administrators should consider while fixing NRE quota . In the Malayalm movie " Pulivaal Kallyanam" when the gulf character played by Salim Kumar jokes saying “ my father is a bachelor and my grand father a chronic bachelor” it would have a serious connotation had he meant the so called gulf bachelors . It is not known if the screen play writer had these bachelors in his mind while writing this dialogue.

By the Son in Law

Random reflections

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you

upon the wind, Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, And dance

upon the mountains like a flame.

William Butler - Yeats The Land of Heart's Desire.

Its always wonderful to watch the people around you especially in a big city like Dubai. You can see all sorts of people from all corners of the world ,not something you can expect to see in your hometown, especially from a coountry  where I hail from like India. In Kerala, when you walk around the street with earphones plugged, everyone will notice you. But in a big city like this they don’t care even if it is i-pad that you have in your hand.

Last time in Dubai, we were in the Mall of Emirates, one of the proud achievements of the city .It was wonderful being there ,but what I loved the most was the people moving around me…the Americans, Africans, Europeans and once inside this building you will forget that you are in a desert land…far away from the home of majority of the citizens living there.

In the mall of emirates ,its not the luxury shops like BVLGARY or Louis Vuitton that attracts you ,its the crowd mixing around you. .so many people all in their own world, yet stranger to everyone around them .Another aspect I like about Dubai ,they treat everyone equally ,even if you don’t carry designer bags on your shoulders or wear designer foot wears ,you are equally welcomed in any luxury boutique, but of course, when they see the size of your pocket their respect increases, which is, I guess a ‘natural phenomenon’ in any part of the world.

One thing is quite certain even if you don’t buy anything. You walk and walk and walk through endless passages and get stuck right in the middle not knowing how you ended up in that particular place .But luckily for us ,we had already planned that we all will walk together ,sticking to each other so there is no chance of missing anyone in the group.

We happened to see the Ski Dubai, the first indoor ski resort in the Middle East which offers an amazing snow setting to enjoy skiing, snowboarding and tobogganing, or just to play in the snow. Whether being young or old one can enjoy the unique mountain-themed attraction that you see in snow countries. Though it is an artificial world, it was so successful in attracting the people that it is now one of the busiest area in the mall. They play all sorts of game, make snowman or throw snowballs at each other and have all the fun that you have in winter season. I guess the people from the cold countries will feel more like home when they enjoy it there. It was beautiful ,especially about the winter jackets and shoes that make you wear…,and with -4 degree Celsius around you, you will definitely forget that it is happening in a desert land. This is what we call modern advancements, both in lifestyle as well as technology.

It would no doubt be a shame if I don’t mention the marvels of architecture in the building. It is the second largest shopping mall in the Middle East(after Dubai Mall, world’s largest mall),and have one of the largest indoor ski area. The Dancing water in the front entrance is another beautiful sight one must not miss.

We went to the mall by the metro train, the Red Line they call it. It was about 6 in the evening when we started the journey. We could see the whole city being covered in the darkness with lights seen here and there ready to welcome the rest of the night .It was a beautiful sight because you get an aerial view of the city from the train.

Speaking of heights, I remember the time when above 3000m from the ground ,in the aeroplane, one wonders how the cloud will feel like when we just pass our hands through them .Looking down, I get all sorts of scary ideas like childish nightmares when we imagine what happens when the plane just breaks in the middle and you go down. I would imagine that there would be an unending ocean beneath me with lots of giant whales and frightening sharks swimming around , ready to gobble you down once you hit the water. Then nobody knows you are there, no rescuer knows you are in the belly of that fish. I wonder if at all I were to swim, in which direction will I swim? Because you dont carry a compass in your packet every time and never at the time of boarding the plane. Then I will remember my tiny heroes from”Finding Nemo”,the little cute Nemo and his friends. Or may be there is the little mermaid and she will take me deep down to her world and treat me as her guest for the rest of my life. I will be so glad if I were to live in a world like that, far away from the grim realities happening around you. Then I could live there forever ,swim around with friends and play with them all the time. A fiction that is never going to happen.

Growing up reading Grimm Brothers fairy tales, I love those stories and used to dream about that wonderful world. Like many millions, I too enjoyed a lot when these stories were made moving pictures. What would it be like living in the castles and roaming around the beautiful gardens with guards on all nook and corner to protect you? How good would it be living in stone huts and yellow farms everywhere, with just bread and butter to end your day? As a kid we wish if all our favourite cartoon characters come alive, it would be so nice to play with them. Tom Thumb and Thumbelina, I will make them beautiful beds to sleep on, and the cute Mini and Mickey, to be part of their lovely stories, and the darling Donald Duck and the naughty Goofy ,and yes, of course I saw them all too, in the Dubai Mall of Emirates, to entertain the new generation kids, and the kids enjoy them well.  

By the Niece

Life and Death

As soon as one is born, one starts dying.

Luigi Pirandello, Henry IV

Life is a creation of God which has always baffled me. Should I call it a creation, or what else should I term it, I don’t know. One can clearly differentiate between  a live and dead person. But what exactly is life. Is breathing the sign of life, as one can stop breathing for minutes and still stay alive. Is it the beating of heart, as one can stop the ailing heart for hours during open heart surgeries?. Is it a functioning brain as we see a number of brain dead people living in vegetative state for months? .Where exactly is life in our body?. Philosophers would call the heart to be the abode of life. while scientists would like the brain to be the core of life. When does an embryo get life? I took my wife for antenatal viability ultrasonography scan , where I saw a beating heart in an embryo just more than 2 inches  in size. The first sign of life ! but what about the cells which united to form the embryo at the first place. They travelled long distances and crossed many hurdles for the great rendezvous. They too were live and energetic.

 

If life is so miraculous and mystic, so is death. As a doctor this is the most difficult question I have faced. When to call a person dead? When I am called up towards a dead or dying person, my heart aches and my mind termbles. It is called declaring a death. It means the person is already dead and everyone knows it. You just have to confirm and proclaim it. It is a very tough situation. When you go there, you would find a very monotonous air. Some of the relatives would be standing by the side of the bed waiting for my arrival. Their faces resemble the dam waiting to open its shutters. They would be staring at your face like some Amazonian animal. Watching carefully your every movement like the animal of prey. Scrutinizing the pulse you palpated and the heart beat you checked. Each time they would look at your face for a hint about the situation. Still not ready to open the gates of tears. Some of the relatives might have already started to arrange for the ceremonies informing other relatives, arranging the chairs for visitors and starting to chant verses from the holy books. I often ponder what my role there is. Just to say the word and break the silence. I find this job tougher than that of Yamraj or Azrael or Hades ( angels of death) for they have to just follow orders. May be they too would be there waiting for my death sentence. The moment the proclamation is made , there erupts starts a violent cry from all sides. You feel as if you have condemned the patient to death sentence.

The most beautiful description of death I have read is from a short story “ The kite maker” by Ruskin Bond.” The voices in the street grew fainter, and Mehmood wondered if he was going to fall asleep and dream, as he so often did, of a kite so beautiful and powerful that it would resemble the great white bird of the Hindus—Garuda, God Vishnu's famous steed. He would like to make a wonderful new kite for little Ali. He had nothing else to leave the boy.

He heard Ali's voice in the distance, but did not realize that the boy was calling him. The voice seemed to come from very far away.

Ali was at the courtyard door, asking if his mother had as yet returned from the bazaar. When Mehmood did not answer, the boy came forward repeating his question. The sunlight was slanting across the old man's head, and a small white butterfly rested on his flowing beard. Mehmood was silent; and when Ali put his small brown hand on the old man's shoulder, he met with no response. The boy heard a faint sound, like the rubbing of marbles in his pocket.

Suddenly afraid, Ali turned and moved to the door, and then ran down the street shouting for his mother. The butterfly left the old man's beard and flew to the mimosa tree, and a sudden gust of wind caught the torn kite and lifted it in the air, carrying it far above the struggling city into the blind blue sky”.

Declaring a dead in a hospital is much easier , but dramatic. Most often the relatives might have been briefed regarding the grave prognosis of the patient and their mind would be well set to receive the news. But here we are obliged to perform some rituals as I would call it. Unless the patients general condition is good and the death state occurred due to some acute reversible cause ,the resuscitation efforts are usually futile. The cardio pulmonary resuscitation which the patient receive would often put a morbid patient from a state of dead to a no man’s land where he is neither dead nor alive. The violent compressions on the patients chest often breaking the rib bones stimulating his weak heart to beat and the endotracheal tube inserted into the patient’s throat providing artificial ventilation would temporarily put the patient into a period of uncertainty, but the patient would eventually succumb to the inevitable. I remember a joke I read in a journal. The guardian to the gates of the heaven once heard a knock at the gate. He eagerly opened the door but saw no one there. We he returned he again heard the knock. He again opened and to his dismay no one was there. This routine repeated 4 to 5 times and at last he found a happy person when he opened the gates. With a bit of anger the guardian asked the person,” were you playing silly pranks with me”. The person replied,” I had a heart attack few minutes ago, that is when I knocked the door the first time , but the poor doctor was resuscitating me”. A flat electrocardiograph (ECG) would often confirm the death. There is no wails or howls, just a silent mourning as everything is as expected and explained.

Life is considered pleasant and cheerful and death is often gloomy and mournful. Someone has rightly said that when you are born you cry and when you die others cry. Life and death being antagonists, it is quite true to say that every moment of life is a step towards death.

- the eldest son

"Literature is the cemetry of communication" Terry Eagleton

How often do we search in vain for a word to translate a thought

properly into words? Sometimes however eloquent we may be we

can never express what is in our hearts. When such emotions

are expressed spontaneously a writer, I believe, is born

and through him literature as well . When a writer looks at a flower

what he sees is not the petals, sepals, stamen or the stigma but

its softness, its fragrance ,its lustre that glistens in the

sunlight. It transports him to another world where the factual

features of the flower gets fused with his imaginative and creative

capabilities. His mind becomes pregnant with thoughts and

emotions. In a moment of tranquillity they overflow

spontaneously. Words come naturally to him just like leaves

that sprout on the branches. Thus literature becomes a living

monument that transcends facts and reality.

Literature is fiction but it gives us a deep understanding of

the reality. It is difficult to define happiness scientifically and

there exists no technique to detect or measure happiness. In factual

description it always remains elusive. But a writer uses his magic wand to

instil, evoke and make us experience happiness. Literature

may bury meaning but it enlivens and enriches our experience. it

widens and empowers our visions, thoughts, feelings and

imagination. It colours our dreams and paints pictures in our

hearts. It awakens our sleeping mind and performs the miracle of

converting deserts into oasis and orchards within moments.

Man is not a product of logic alone but a creature of emotion

and so literature goes directly to his heart. It remains there

giving us a variety of feelings. Hearts may agree with what the head

disapproves . That is why someone said "sometimes when a writer, tells us

about hell, his presentation makes us look forward to a trip to hell"

 

By the daughter

At the end of the day, we are just mortals

“ I am dancing, spinning around, happy in the last rhythms of the life I love. When the music stops, when I can’t tie my bow tie, tell a funny story , walk my dog, talk with Whitney(my daughter), kiss some one special or tap out lines like this , I ‘ill know that Life is over . It’s to be gone”.

This how Mr. Dudley Clendinen concludes his soul-stirring article in the International Herald Tribune dated 12th July, 2011. Former national correspondent and editorial writer for The New York Times and author of “ A place called Canterbury”, he is dying of the degenerative disease, Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or A.L.S known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. Even if he uses all the available medical technology , it will leave him in a few years “ a conscious but motionless ,mute, withered, incontinent mummy of his former self, maintained by feeding and waste tubes, breathing and suctioning machines” In lieu of that and having been treated for the last 22 years , he has now decided to welcome death as one of life’s “ greatest, most absorbing thrills and challenges”.

Despite the advances in medical research deadly diseases like cancer, stroke or Alzheimer’s disease continue of claim thousands of lives .I personally knew a multi-millionaire in our village who died of cancer more than a decade ago. When I visited him during the last days of his  life when his doctors  had told him that his days were numbered, he was chatting with his friends and relatives in his living room as and no sign of sorrow was seen on his face whereas the people around him looked very gloomy.

Mr. Clendinen describes how he has adapted himself to the disease:

“ I sometimes call it Lou, in his honour and because the familiar feels less threatening. But it is not a kind disease. The nerves and muscles pulse and twitch and progressively , they die. From outside , it looks like the ripple of piano keys in the muscles under my skin. From inside it is like anxious butterflies trying to get out. It starts in the hands and feet and works its way up and in or it begins in the muscles of the mouth and throat and chest and abdomen and works its way down and out …. We don’t live as long because it affects our ability to breath early on, and just gets worse”

His mastery of English language, wisdom, and philosophical outlook are explicit throughout his article, that too when he is suffering ..

He adds: “I am having a wonderful time. I have a bright beautiful talented daughter , who lives close by, the gift of my life …..I don’t know if she approves ( my decision) .But she understands . Leaving her is one thing I hate. But all I can do is to give her a daddy who was vital to the end and knew when to leave”

Keralites know how the celebrated Malayalm film artist Oduvil Unnikrishnan, in spite of being afflicted with renal failure or so, continued to act until his death. People  saw in the last couple of movies he had appeared how the disease had transformed his physical features and how difficult it was for him even to speak.

When one watches a moving movie, reads a splendid essay, meets a humble person, deals with an honest character, or sees a human being or animal suffering, he will feel like sharing these experiences with some one dear or near to him . Only then can he feel relaxed and heave a sigh of satisfaction and relief

By the father

A rainy day

RAIN , RAIN GO AWAY

COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY

LITTLE JOHNNY WANTS TO PLAY

When it rains, these nursery rhymes written in 17th century or earlier are apt to echo in one’s mind. These simple and straight forward words represent ancient version children’s chit-chat with rain and an old pattern of their interaction with the nature. It has been raining in London these days . When you realize Londoners’ love and care for nature and how a large number trees of grows in the heart of the city even on road sides undaunted by loggers, you do not wonder why it rains here even at the height of summer season But my friend ,Isam, an Iraqi refugee living here for the last 30 years, says that God loves Britons and ipso facto they are never subjected to extreme temperature witnessed in other parts of the world.

Since I have arrived from a region notorious for scorching heat of the sun and the temperature there soars even up-to 50 degree Celsius, rain drops have a special flavour for people like me.Every one knows that in Gulf countries rain is a very rare natural phenomenon and even if it rain it lasts for a few minutes and causes road blocks and traffic accidents since the soil is not ready to absorb water. Some times it does not rain at all during the whole year and prayers are conducted in the mosques imploring God to shower His blessings on them.

Men of letters have said that rain is an incentive for creativity and for them rain is love, mercy and even death . Stories and poems have been written about rain and films have been named after this natural phenomenon.

Rain rolls me back 50 years when I used to go to sea coast accompanying my relatives during the monsoon season to “see the sea” and watch its hill like waves thrashing, splashing and roaring like lion . Children were warned not to approach the waves lest it should carry them away just as as it sometimes swallows  even the huts of poor fishermen living on the seashore. I recall how we stood on the sand close to the sea and watched with curiosity  the waves wiping out every thing on the sand including the words we wrote on the sand criticising Kadalamma or Mother sea though we were advised not to do so and incur her wrath.

What I missed in those rainy days was the scarcity of my favourite food item fish since fishermen were unable to take their boats to the turbulent sea amid breaking waves. My parents knew what fish meant to me and my late mom had once told me how her mother in law( my paternal  grandma) after appeciating  my abnormal appetite for fish, had advised her that the only solution to satiate my unusual fish eating desire was to let my sister, who was then about 5 years old, be married to a fisherman. It was a coincidence that she was later in fact married to a person engaged in fish business. I remember that when I visited their house together with one of my relatives for the first time before finalising the matrimonial alliance, we were served with rice and fish curry albeit it was too early to have dinner at that time and it was not the usual  practice to serve our guests with such a dish.

Rain reminds me of my paternal grandma whose face is still in mind though she had  passed away  50 years ago when I was around 12 . I was told that she loved me very much though I was not too young to appreciate her love but I can remember a number of incidents  to testify to her selfless love for me. Now recall that fateful night when my mom,some other relatives and neighbours gathered in her room in our old house. When I was advised by my mom not to enter the room , I could smell that something was wrong and my body began shiver. When I woke up next morning she was no more. As I could not bear her dead body being taken to the grave yard, I ran to her brother’s house from where I watched the funeral procession passing by that way.

Nearly a decade ago, my daughter showed me the photo of the grandparents of one of her class mates in her album ..Their innocent faces shining out of love are still in mental screen. “ Ask them what loves means” , this was the comment my  daughter  wrote the under the photo. Those who could live in the shade of grandparents' love are indeed blessed ones,

By the father

In search of his father

“ I call myself an only child, but I could very well be one of many siblings. I could be predisposed to some potentially devastating disease. Because I do not know what my father looks like, I could never recognise him in a crowd of people . I am sometimes overwhelmed by the infinite possibilities, by the reality that my father could be any where : in the neighbouring lane of traffic on a Friday during rush hour, behind me in line at the bank or the pharmacy ……. I am sometimes at such a petrifying loss for words or emotions that make sense that I can only feel astonished by the fact he could be any one”. , so wrote Mr. Colton Wooten  in his article in  the International Herald Tribune dated 29th June, 2011  enititled “ A plea to sperm donors from a son” .. He tells us that it was at the age of 5 that his mother divulged to him that he was born through artificial insemination and that he, born in 1992, did not think about that until 2006 when his teacher assigned to his class a genealogy project for which the students were supposed to research family history and create a family tree to share with the class. He describes how he had to cope with different situations when questioned about his father and ends his write-up saying

Colton Wooten does not find fault his mom when she, closing on her 40s, found herself unmarried and childless and opted to have a child through artificial insemination. She had arranged a consultation at the University of North Carolina Fertility Centre in early 1992. During the visits that followed, she examined the profiles of the sperm bank's donors , compared favourable traits and credentials and picked up one. He adds that he had visited the same centre hoping to find out at least the name of his father but was told that no files were saved for anonymous fathers for anonymous donors and no information could be given to him. He adds he understands the reasons behind keeping sperm donation anonymous “And yet the void that many children and young adults born from artificial insemination experience from simply not knowing transcends reason”. What he argues is that such babies should have the right to know who their donors are.

Reacting to Colton Wooten’s article, Ms Leah Leeder from Israel wrote how she, who is a single mother by choice of a beautiful two year old daughter, was moved by his article which reminded her that she should prepare herself for the day when her daughter starts asking her questions about her so called biological father.

One is in fact bewildered while coming to know that the artificial insemination widely used in the past for animal reproduction is now being applied in the case of human beings as well .It is true that the giant leap in the filed of science and technology has afforded us with numerous comforts and facilities and made our lives easier than ever. One, however, very often wonders whether Science alone can give us happiness and peace of mind. Here comes the role of ethics which act as a safety valve in our lives. It has to be admitted that there are several questions science fails to  answer.

**********

" Tears are the silent language of grief " - Voltaire

“Oh, the poetic mind that  compared the tear drop to a women,
My kudos to you, kudos to you, kudos to you … “

These are lyrics from a famous Malayalam movie. Crying has always been the duty and the prerogative of women . The burst into   tears the moment they are touched  by  both sorrow or happiness. The never ending TV shows and Reality shows just thrive on the tears of our female population. Crocodiles and women are  known to use tears as a weapon to survive. It is still a controversy whether the crocodile tears are to lure their victims, or that they cry for the preys they are eating, or whether the crocodiles really have a lachrymal gland or not. Whatever be the issue, crocodile tears have historically been compared to false feeling. However, Women shedding tears to escape a difficult situation is well known.

“O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!”

Shakespeare in Othello Act IV, scene 1


But have you ever seen a grown up man crying. It may be as rare as an eclipse but the most heart breaking and unappreciated event. How many times have we seen the media projecting a weeping man? It may be not be as heart breaking as a women’s tears, but when you try to understand that unlike women, men cry only when he is unable to control his grief we should appreciate his tears.

We had a 18 year old girl admitted in serious condition in our ward. She had some disease in her nasopharynx which was slowly killing her. She was accompanied by her mother and maternal uncle as her father had abandoned her. Her uncle was a healthy six foot Sardarji in his mid forties. His face never showed any signs of sorrow. He was always ready to get any investigation for her niece. She had been referred from many hospitals and by the time she came to us she had lost her consciousness. We had either a malignancy or an invasive fungal infection in our mind. But her radiology and biopsy were not giving any conclusive diagnosis. The disease had already taken her sight and now pushed her both eyeballs outside. The sight was horrible to watch even for the hardest heart .But day by day her condition worsened and we had nothing to offer her. We usually counsel the escorts of such patients to take them home and wait for the inevitable. This would at least decrease their financial burden and let the patient spend the rest of his or her life peacefully with relatives. As a prime institute, we are not allowed to dispose of any patient without giving them treatment, so these patients are classified as Discharged against medical advice or DAMA. They are not given any discharge booklet instead given a paper where details of the disease and treatment are written. While I was writing the DAMA certificate her uncle came to me and said to write the situation of the girl clearly. I got a bit annoyed partly because of the guilt that we could do nothing for the patient and partly because he was interrupting me. I told him that this paper would not help her in any way as she has already been rejected from most of the centres before coming here. Suddenly the uncle burst into tears telling me that that it was not for her further treatment, but just to show to the police official during their way home. He was afraid that seeing the pathetic state of the patients, they might suspect some foul play and stop them. I had no words to console him, but to hand over him the DAMA letter at the earliest.

A young man was admitted in our emergency following road traffic accident. He had lost vision of one eye due to a fracture which was pressing on to his optic nerve. Usually such injuries had poor prognosis as patients reached the centre much after the critical time in which surgery was possible. All we could do was to get the necessary radiological investigations and discharge the patient on steroids and wait of the vision to improve. We usually try to discharge patients from casualty as early as possible in order to reduce the load in causality. But getting a patient worked up in emergency is tricky. It requires great persuasion and effort from the part of the doctor and patient bystander to get them quickly. Usually what we do is to frighten the bystander by exaggerating the disease so that they show interest in getting the tests done. I had advised computed tomography for the patient in the morning and by evening I came to see the patient and they had not got the investigation done. I furiously told the father of the patient that if you deliberately delay the investigation the patient will lose his sight permanently and don’t blame us for that. I hastily left the casualty. But by the time I reached my duty room the father came behind me crying to save his son’s vision. I felt guilty as I knew that there is very less chance that the investigation would change his treatment and my only intent was to encourage the father of the patient to get the investigation done. I consoled the father and told him that we have already started the necessary treatment and it is the nature of the disease to improve only slowly.

A man in his twenties came to me last week at the outpatient department. He had an ulcer overt his tongue which was diagnosed to be cancer from an outside centre. I often think that seeing so much cancer patients almost daily, I fail to appreciate the gravity of the disease. He had comparatively a smaller ulcer of about 1 cm which was virtually curable with surgery and follow up. So I didn’t feel it a necessary to counsel and comfort the patient regarding the disease. I filled up all his investigation reports and looked at his face to explain to him where to get them done. His eyes were flooding with tears. Then only did I realize that for me even though it was only an early lesion, for the patient he was diagnosed with a disease which for a layman was virtually incurable. I took time in explaining him that he need not worry and to get the investigation done early so that he can be operated at the earliest. He wiped his tears and touched my feet while leaving. But I am sure that it needs more than words to comfort his heart.

Tears, be it of male or female had been given importance from time immemorial. But men are always reluctant to open up naturally or forcibly for the fear to lose their macho. My better half always makes fun of me when she sees my eyes fill at the end of the movie. Recent studies have shown that crying increased life expectancy by acting as a stress relieving act and also a means to excrete toxic metabolites. Dr William Frey, who studied the physiology of tears and author of 'Crying: The Mystery of Tears', says: 'It is no accident that crying has survived evolutionary pressures. Humans are the only animals to evolve this ability to shed tears in response to emotional stress, and it is likely that crying survived the pressures of natural selection because it has some survival value.' So women don’t under estimate the role the operas play in prolonging your life expectancy and men don’t be ashamed to wet your partner’s shoulders when you feel so.

- By the eldest son

Humane Values

The great quality of human beings, to be loved and cared for by the people around him had begun during the creation of the first man itself. It started when Adam(ASW) opened his eyes and was greeted with peace, he returned the greeting to the angels around him even though no one had taught him before. It so happened that he was really well adapted to the New world around him and was able establish relations with the surroundings, with God, the angels ,the Jinni and the delights of the paradise.

When the second human being, Eve, joined him it was another dawn in his life, where they started socializing. As the generations went by, there developed the family system, then the societies ,which evolved into the countries and nations, and was people were divided based on certain discrimination like languages, social practices and so on.

But until the twentieth century everything followed the same pattern except for the teachings of the Prophets of God ,whose words travelled fast and wide across the globe. Then in the electronic revolutions and technological breakthroughs, the world seemed to be shrunk as if from a large watermelon to a tiny grape. Everything seemed to be travelling short and wide, we are now capable of doing anything from one corner of earth and reach another corner within split seconds.

However it is too pathetic when we look that human relations and find that they have lost its previous warmth, selflessness and sincerity and have now adopted a new definition and perspective . It is quite relevant when we say good news travel slowly, while the bad news travel fast like a supersonic jet . The deeds so far considered as sinful both in the eyes of the religion and society are being transformed into a norm, and the rules and regulations are amended to suit the new lifestyles. The influences of all the societies in the world, whether east or west and mostly the negative ones are felt in our society. But now the world scenario has changed, it has become a single society as if under a single thought, where you can buy anything you want if you have money including ‘education’ which is being marketed as an item of the shopping list.

One wonders how people get attached both in psychologically and personally to a person on TV screen without bothering to know his/her background. They seem to experience the pain, the happiness, curiosity and almost all the feelings the hero have on the screen. The manner of how we bind ourselves to a person who is totally unaware of our existences, surroundings and cultural background is incredible. It should be treated as a wonder in the human creation rather than the technological advancement. This sort of attachments can also be felt while reading a book or an article where we feel the presence of the character and also the author himself. It shows how easily and unknowingly our body and soul are affected irrespective of whether how great or weak we are . It is like how Imam Abu Hamid Al Ghazali said, human is like a mixture, a mixture of the trio; devil ,angel and animal(human does what an animal does.eg.;eat and drink).It is according to his will power he prioritises which one to dominate the other two. Hope we all dominate the angelic qualities above the other two.

By the Niece