That plane between feeling needed and feeling used

 The fortunate man at some point in his lifetime recognizes that invisible plane between ego and consciousness. It happens when he recognizes that his need to be feel needed by a woman, and feeling used by her are two sides of the same problem: his ego. The  fortunate man understands this; the unlucky one becomes bitter and digs into his misogyny.

The Disappearance of Dr Beavers- Chapter 1

 It all started when Nurse Quincy lost a bet to a fellow nurse. A silly bet—but we’ll get to that. The punishment was simple: she had to work a full shift with Dr. Beavers.

The rest of the nurses were delighted. Opportunities to one-up Quincy didn’t come often, and they weren’t about to waste this one.

Don’t get me wrong—Quincy was well-liked, in the same way people like broccoli or a good pair of scissors: undeniably useful, quietly underappreciated, and just a little easy to resent.

Which brings us to Dr. Beavers. He was a numbers guy.  Administrators loved doctors who stacked their patient lists.  Beavers showed up on time, and like a tornado, he tore through his daily list, leaving behind bewildered or at times hair- on- end patients—a trait that might remind you of Bugs Bunny. But the similarity ended there. He lacked the cunning, the sarcasm, and certainly the quick wit. Like Bugs Bunny, he was quick to retreat from areas of brewing conflict. Another reason, his disappearance was puzzling.

Quincy, on the other hand, was reliably generous with her trademark scowls.

Still, anyone who knew them both would say the same thing: Quincy got the job done. Beavers’ unshakable calm came not from confidence, but from a remarkable inability to notice the storm clouds gathering around him.

Anyone who thinks that being oblivious is a handicap for a doctor would be right. Yet Dr. Beavers had achieved “success” at a young age and was, in fact, the clinic’s lead physician. But as he was soon to discover, his rise came with a series of falls, each steeper than the last.

This clinic was unique—not because of high cure rates, affordable health care, or short wait times. It was unique because of a phenomenon the health system administration called Net Zero: for six straight years, no physician had been hired, and neither of the two doctors had left.

“Unheard of in the twenty-first century,” boasted Mr. RASH, the head honcho of the system. His real name was long, but he intensely disliked titles like CEO or COO. To him, they lacked panache and failed to capture the swagger of his remarkable work. So he renamed his role “Rock Star Administrator of Hospitals.”

The nurses, with their inbuilt genius for alphabet soups—SBAR, I-PASS, AIDET—pounced on this with delight. Behind his back, they whispered: Mr. RASH is here.

And Mr. RASH was the last person to see Dr. Beavers alive.

On that fateful morning, Quincy arrived at the clinic at 6 a.m. sharp. Adept at multitasking, she sipped her cold coffee while brooding and vengefully grinding any ice cube that dared climb the oversized straw. She paced the empty clinic, re-enacting Lamaze classes from two decades ago.

“I’ll kill Beavers if he does to me what he did to Siri,” she growled. Fernand Lamaze’s spirit beat a hasty retreat.

Quincy was referring to Beavers’ regular nurse, Siri, who was out on medical leave for uncontrolled smiling—the only way she knew how to cope with mounting stress.

Then Quincy's face broke into a sardonic grin  when she remembered how she got out of jury duty a week prior.

Dr. Beavers’ disappearance caused a furor. Work nearly ground to a halt. All the physician duties fell on the shoulders of the clinic’s only remaining doctor: Dr. Joy.”

Of thrumming silhouettes

 The city's silhouette thrummed ever so slightly to the rhythm of its bustling life.

Goals for 2026

 I have just one goal this year: not to have a firm opinion about anything. This will allow me to handle life with grace and equanimity.  To accept that those who would have evoked in me sentiments such as anger, irritation, or even contempt, are just that way. Their ignorance should not make me feel anything. Not annoyance, or disgust. 

I will remember grace and equanimity for 2026 as my mantra. I give myself up to 3 misses in 2026. That's a tall order.

About tiny fingers

 Trigger warning: Not an article for those who have visceral reactions to the mention of medical terms, body parts or weird smells.

Many years ago, I did a rectal exam on a patient who was admitted with rectal bleeding. Later his nurse told me that the patient said, " Thank God she has tiny fingers."

" That's a plus point of being tiny," I replied with a laugh.

But it triggered a memory from the time I had graduated high school.  My tiny fingers stood between me and my musical aspirations.

I wanted to learn the violin. My music teacher, a professional violinist said no. Your fingers are too small.

What about a piano, I asked.

Do you have a piano with at least three octaves, he asked me?

No. 

I was downcast. I had barely convinced my dad to allow me to learn music. He would not pay up for a piano. Not because he could not afford it, but because he believed that spending money on anything other than books and food was a waste of money.

So my music teacher and I settled on the guitar. After learning the guitar for five years, my teacher wanted me to learn a second instrument. The violin, he said.

I looked at my fingers in amazement. Did they grow longer at 23 years of age?

I reminded him of his concerns five years ago. He was wishy washy. Or maybe it was a memory issue. 

Either way, I moved to a different city for more medical training. And that was the end of music lessons. Later my teacher died of sudden liver failure. 

Fast forward a quarter of a century later, I take care of patients with cancer including rectal cancer.

There is a saying where I come from ( Kerala, India) : " A good doctor's touch can heal many a wound".

When some of my patients achieved what we call a complete pathological response ( no cancer found at the time of surgery after receiving chemo or radiation or both), I told my nurse, " It must  be the touch of the tiny fingers".

She laughed out loud.

Descriptive writing

 Word painting by Rebecca Maclanahan

1. Descriptive writing must be:

-sensory

-concise, focus on the musical quality of the language

- creating movement in the context of the story: things in a state of activity

- use of figurative speech

-has to serve the larger piece, therefore the description has to be effective 

2. Evoke all 5 senses

The simple act of boiling milk

I have a friend who loves gadgets. Her kitchen is a mini showroom for Amazon products. She once told me that she purchased an automatic milk boiler to eliminate the distress of spilled milk on the burner.

It got me thinking. It's true. No one likes to clean up the singed residue of what was once the decadent, frothy richness of a bowl of milk. And why? Spilled milk reminds us of what we lack and what we often refuse to acquire: the will to be in the moment.

If there is one act that teaches us mindfulness, it is boiling milk. We have to be fully present, constantly stirring the pan, adjusting the heat, and knowing when to turn the flame off.  

But first things first. Let's start with choosing the vessel. Steel vessels have monopolized the traditional market as the gold-standard milk boiler. Most homes in India, except the ones that have opted for an automatic milk boiler, have a dedicated steel vessel exclusively for this purpose. While non-stick pans or even clay pots may be considered, milk and steel are naturally paired. 

Here's why. There is something reassuring in observing a steely yet shiny vessel restrain an opaque mass of milk as it progressively simmers to boiling point.  The distinct aroma that emanates and settles on the olfactory nerves does not impact impervious steel. 

Let me digress for a moment to the memory that springs alive from the remarkable redolence of a pot of bubbling milk on the rare occasion I choose to do so. It is the smell of my baby's toothless gums, freshly coated with warm milk. All the travails of a newborn's mother wash away in that moment. It was often the best part of my day when I inhaled a lungful of that gummy incense.

There's something innately maternal about boiling milk. In India, we address the cow as " go mata." "Go" stands for cow, and " Mata" for mother. Throughout this daily morning ritual in most homes, the matriarch of the house or the servant stands guard, stirring the pan lest a layer of charred milk sediment form at the base of the vessel. As with the spilled froth that cannot be salvaged, the thickened brown carpet at the base of a pan reminds one of one's lack of attention. The punishment: extra hard scrubbing at the tail end of the morning's pile of dishes.

At times, the act of stirring may seem counterproductive. Watching silently, you see tiny whirlpools of milk seething here and there. Then, with your steel ladle, you part the froth and stir as if to calm a geyser. The froth seems angry, but you remind yourself that it holds the best of the bowl.

You stay focused, noticing that the foci of hot springs disappear momentarily. This is the most dangerous moment. A ping on your phone, a loved one's plea to help discover their lost keys, socks, or tie tugs at your quintessential maternal cords. The greatest temptation at this point is to turn down the heat and address the distraction. And voila! Your return is marked by hissing, seething insurgence of the neglected milk as it tumbles down the edges of the hapless steel vessel that had been holding the fort until now. The flame has been partially or fully extinguished. The pungent, tarry scars of neglect are evident on a modern flame-free countertop. 

The greatest lesson to the negligent milk boiler is the mandatory wait before the mess can be cleaned up. Until then, your failure will be evident to everyone.  And for you to wallow in misery for the rest of the day. It was not the milk that tumbled headlong into the flame but the matriarch's veneer of competence.

In conclusion, the act of boiling milk is sacred. It is an act that cannot be coupled with any other. Nor is it one for a woman who prides herself on multitasking.   As with all relationships, there comes a point where the vessel cannot contain the agitation without a conscious effort to turn off the heat.

A good book on editing

 I read a good book with useful tips on editing

Cut it Out by Laura Swart

1. Avoiding too many little words that can clutter the main idea: identify content rich words, use sensory words, watch the punctuation, delete pompous and dull words. Combine long luxurious sentences with short punchy ones.

2.  Is, have and will: I am, they are, he is or she was, they have been

3. Avoid passive voice: look for "be" and "by"

4. Avoid progressive tense: "ing" unless required by the context. Use simple present and simple past tense.

5. Avoid repetition within paragraphs of key words or phrases

6. Avoid colloquialisms, choppy sentences, overloaded sentences, uncontrolled sentences and fragments.

How feeling secure translates to success: What Shah Rukh Khan can teach us

I watched a YouTube clip of an interview with famous Indian actor Suneil Shetty. About Shah Rukh Khan, the "Badshah" of the Indian film world, he said: " He's a gentleman, charmer, not just for women, and he's the most secure man I have known."

Another actor, Johnny Lever, said of Shah Rukh Khan:" He is hard-working, especially when it comes to what he does not know."

I have always envisioned Shah Rukh Khan as playing my guardian angel with his wit and wisdom. During one of his interviews, Shah Rukh advised: " Approach problems with kindness."

Shah Rukh Khan is the epitome of success to an average Indian. He came from humble beginnings, faced dire financial straits, got a Master's degree, and pursued the love of his life. He has remained married to her until now. His life is his message. 

Secure. Hard-working. Kind. Charming. 

Shah Rukh Khan is the complete deal. I admit that I have not found his acting as compelling as Manoj Bajpai, my favorite Indian actor. However, I still admire Shah Rukh for his personal qualities and his journey to success. 

Yet, there is much to learn from Shah Rukh as a symbol of success. His journey from humble beginnings to becoming the symbol of India on the international stage is truly inspiring.

I have reflected on why I am so selective about who I bring into my inner circle. I know the answer: I want to protect my energy. It's a conscious choice I make to empower myself and ensure I invest my energy in the right places. What I need to understand is if it is the right approach.

Shah Rukh and I are both Scorpios. Like him, I am an unlikely introvert. In an interview, Shah Rukh claimed he is introverted and shy. My need to avoid energy-draining individuals created a need to detach from those I perceived as inauthentic in my personal life.

I want to utilize my energy for good, or " Karma Yoga."  I do not wish to spend time on fruitless conversations. It's fruitless to me but not to the person who wants to "share. These conversations are different from mutual sharing. What I mean by this is a one-sided conversation with someone who needs a professional therapist. In India, friends are there to listen to you and advise you. When I needed a sympathetic ear, I learned that it turns off people to listen to your troubles.

I learned to process issues, develop ways my mind could cope, take action, and move on—with kindness to those involved and me—no hard feelings. I like to say hard feelings are like giving away your hard-earned income to someone you dislike. Rent is expensive these days, and the room in one's mind is a loft with a view of the Hudson.

What is the role of a friend? I don't believe in blind support that reinforces another's flaws. I want courageous and insightful friends to point out my blind spots. I hope to be that friend to others. The problem is, most people don't want that. They want someone who reinforces their false beliefs.

Every one of us has a journey to make. A friend does not have to walk your journey for you. They can point you in the right direction if you are seeking it.

I highly recommend Carol Pearson's " The Hero Within" to help us understand our journey. It has been as impactful to me as the Five Love Languages.

At what point does one detach from an individual who shares ( or dumps) their problems without the motivation to solve them or at least take any action towards that?

Does that make me unkind? I wish I could get Shah Rukh Khan's perspective.

Themes in movies or stories in general and how to design a character

 My all time favorite movie is The Sound of Music.

As the title implies, the theme is about how music brings about positive change specifically love in the loves of the characters.

The message is that music is the language of love. Music helps Maria channel her love for God into the love for a family. Her misbelief is that she is meant for a life of service to God as a nun and therefore must not love a man.

Why Did My Doctor Leave? the moral of the story is this: Do not make excuses to support people of bad character. In the long run, the harms outweigh the benefit.

The theme: Smart people know who's most valuable and who is worth supporting. The story questions how we decide who is most valuable. Should our loyalty be to doing the right thing or to a person or organization?

For Richard, his misbelief is that loyalty to a person or organization especially when financially advantageous, is the right thing to do even if morally wrong. He has grown up that way, heavily under his father's influence, knowing that his father is a womanizer and has ill-treated his mother and step mother.

Humor in movies: patterns for writers

 Growing up in Kerala, India, my favorite story tellers were Sreenivasan and Sathyan Anthikadu. Sreenivasan is a talented writer and actor. Short statured and dark, he often played the comical side kick. Even when he played the hero in a story he wrote, he was self effacing. His character fitted his appearance- a short, ugly man who marries a beautiful woman to the detriment of his mental stability. Or a spineless man easily influenced by his wife. Or an unattractive goldsmith who exacts revenge upon the pretty girl who betrayed him.

Among my favorite movies is the political satire Sandesam. It is the story of an elderly man who has an unjustified pride in his children, especially his two sons who he believes will become great political leaders. While the audience recognizes this misplaced faith, the meat of the story deals with how the protagonist recognizes his folly and rectifies it.

1. Satire in the dialog

Sreenivasan as a writer is a master at inserting a truth at the most uncomfortable and unexpected moment.  He breaks the tense situation by making a character say something true, but inappropriate for the situation.

-in Sandesam: there are many such opportunities. A scene that has gone down in history is the one of the two brothers arguing about international politics and one taking offence at his brother's jibe about Poland.

The audience laughs because a character is taking offence at something no one really cares about. The humor comes from a silly person's obsession with something irrelevant to the average person.

Exercise: create a character with a weird obsession or delusion, giving opportunities for others to inadvertently or purposefully give offence.

Sandesam also provides laughs by portraying human tendency to brag, exaggerate and even lack of language skills leading to misunderstanding.

2. Fear and deception

This appears to be a surefire way to elicit laughs. An authority figure with a dislike of an entity, quality or institution, his subordinates pursuing the same entity and covering up, getting discovered or almost discovered, then digging in to the subterfuge with hilarious outcomes.

3. Interaction between individuals

- this can be friends playing a prank on each other, or going against each other's wishes in front of a third party who is oblivious to the charade one of them is pulling. Friends can support their friend in the deception or completely blow apart the cover

-individuals in opposing camps going at each other verbally with subtle or not so subtle jabs

-Selfish individuals advocating for their needs at inappropriate moments when someone is in dire straits

-individuals on the same side of a tense situation going at each other. A play of words including misunderstanding a language, using or misunderstanding slang out of context.

4. Blackmail

Another hilarious Malayalam comedy was called "Odarathu Ammava Njangalkku aalariyam".

The premise was a flirty elderly man who got away with such behavior because women did not suspect he was being flirty given his age. Three young men befriend him in the hope of learning his "technique". However, when they lay their eyes on his daughter, the friendship shatters. The three men gain access to the elderly man's house under various pretexts, threatening to expose his one night at a cabaret. How he manages to get rid of the three men and the back and forth between them sets up a laugh riot.

The short films I liked

Here are the few short films that have left a lasting impression on me:

1. The Raisin

2. Love at first sight

3. Aath Aana

4.  Batti 

Let me analyze it one at a time.

The raisin is the story of an angry old man living isolated in the moor. We see his desolate existence cooking a meager meal of roasted potatoes. He tries to find balance by buying ten kilograms of chocolate covered raisins even though he doesn't want to eat them. I found this symbolism interesting. A lonely man who instead of the obvious solution to splitting his sack of potatoes into two, has chosen to accumulate something unecessary. Soon we find out he has other baggage: prejudice.  The first one we think seems fair. After all, no one likes dishonesty. The other seems harmless but needless. After all who hates squirrels? Then we see how he pivots the conversation with a woman who it is later revealed had come to his home in an act of kindness. We see him forcing this old woman to count raisins previously stuffed in his underwear. You may wonder why did this nice lady humors him. That's the point. Nice people tend to humor mean ones and suffer for it. So although at the end, he realizes he was wrong and accused a perfectly nice woman of being dishonest, even though she was only "guessing" something, he took his prejudice against "dishonesty" to a different unreasonable level. The emotionally satisfying ending for the viewer lies not just in seeing the look of remorse on his face, but the actual consequence: food getting burned in the oven. Another symbolism for your bottom line will be affected if you are distracted by needless hatred. Yes, hatred is the word he uses to describe his sentiments against liars and squirrels.

What is the message of The Raisin?

Needless hatred, no matter how justified you think it is, can harm you and make you look like a fool.

Rethink your deep seated prejudices.

How did the storytellers design the story?

The protagonist who narratest the story in the first person starts off eliciting some sympathy because we see him trudging up a desolate plain carrying heavy load. So although he is shaded negatively, the viewer is interested in knowing about his life. Then he veers onto the negative with his hatred of squirrels and liars. 

The protagonist is an old man who you can feel sorry for, but at the same time believe is a person with unnecessary prejudices. You see how he loses something important i.e his food for the day because of his prejudice.

The middle of the story: The part where he stuffs his underwear with raisins. This seems rather unusual. And then how did the old woman know what was in them?

Who would be the protagonist of a story if I wanted to convey the following messages:

1.  Your true intentions will always show

2.  Arrogance and bitterness are qualities that go together just like anxiety correlates with fear of the unknown

A little girl's freedom

 For I am a little girl scampering barefoot

On the crunchy sandy beach

Toes squeaking in moist delight, 

Shallow foot prints, breath-long each

Disappearing beneath a foamy accordion

Behind the bay, a turquoise tide pool

Sea turtles lay basking in the sun

They slide into the waters, silky, cool

The soft sand at the bottom of the pool

Glistening like melted innocence.

 

I race up the cliffside rocks 

Weeds, thickets and thorny brambles

Up and up I reach a mountain tarn 

Cobalt blue enzians rim its edges

Buttercups and fireweeds, poppies and bellflowers

Teasing the wind, swirling in ecstasy

On the  eastern horizon, a grey hut of stone

Lone, silent, dark and alone

Tonight I sleep beneath the glorious sky

My head resting on the grassy knoll

Moments from now, the stars will emerge

As the spilled cherry cream of the setting sun

Sinks into the depths of the ocean's whorls

Tonight I will sleep with the naughty stars 

Winking, dancing, wild and untamed

Peaceful, rested, free and unclaimed

Cradled by the cosmos' demulcent glove

Enveloped in an infinite gossamer of love.

Of feelings and fragrance

 

What do feelings and fragrance have in common?

My short answer is that with both feelings and fragrance, what you perceive is not the essence. Rather, look beneath the surface: where did that sensation come from? Go find the source and do more.  

Yogis would advise you to take note of your feelings at any given moment and then let it pass. Live in the moment. But what about strong sentiments which humans feel are legitimate enough to warrant life-changing actions? 

Perhaps it is time to recognize that all emotions are fleeting. They may be as delightful, yet as capricious as the heady scent of a wild jasmine. 

Would you be silly enough to lament the loss of "that feeling" upon which you made a life altering decision, only to regret it years later? Anger, sorrow, shame, are all impermanent, unless you allow the sentiment to morph into an ugly monster without addressing the source.

If you "feel" that a career in Medicine is right for you, and you act upon it, you have allowed that feeling to transform into action that sets your life on a different track. But is it fair to expect that the same feeling  to remain constant years after your career has taken a life of its own? So why do we expect feelings to last in romantic relationships  after navigating life's rough waters?

If feelings were like fragrance, isn't it silly to mourn its loss ?

Mother's Day when you are not sure whom to celebrate

My random thoughts on Mother's day weekend:

Celebrating mothers everywhere: single mothers included

 A very Happy Mother's Day to all of you: the women who have worked hard to raise children and their supportive families. Some women may disagree with the second half of the statement. Many may be legally or effectively single mothers soldiering on with parenting responsibilities after being excluded from the crowd and relegated to the fringes of society. To these mothers I say: the tough get going when the going gets tough. It's an aphorism I learned as a kid, and it has helped me live my life on my terms.

What if you have never had a loving mother?

All over the world, children grow up without a loving mother figure. And it does not matter if your birth mother is alive or not. It's whether you received that special warmth and how it has affected your ability to nurture your child. What do you feel on Mother's day? Anger? Loneliness? Forgiveness?

Mothers and sons: how should daughters feel about mothers day?

Growing up in India, we did not have a specific day to celebrate mothers. Mothers were revered in general, especially by sons in Hindi movies. 

In real life too, I noticed mothers were openly partial to their sons. I wondered if that would be so if their daughters brought in dowry and not sons. If a family had to pay money to get their son married off, would they have rejoiced as much?

It helps to have a Goddess to pray to: God is not always a man

In Hinduism, devotees pray to Goddesses for beneficience. Goddess Lakshmi for wealth, Goddess Saraswathi for knowledge and Goddess Durga as the mother Goddess. And it has nothing to do with feminism. It's been this way for tens of thousands of years.

What about evil mothers? 

 Call it history or mythology, Hindu texts have several examples of evil women as mothers too. 

Here are two examples:

1.  Kaikeyi: Lord Ram is one of the most venerated Hindu gods. Kaikeyi was his father's second wife. She had been fond of him, but as it dawned on her that her step-son's ascension to the throne would deprive her of her influence on the throne, she conspired to send him to the forest for 14 years while crowning her biological son. This is the inciting incident in the epic story of Ramayana, one of the two best known Hindu mytholgical and religious epic stories ( the other being the Mahabharata). The space is restricted to detail the disaster that unfolds. But  you can find it easily online for those unfamiliar.

2. Lord Ayyappa's story:  Lord Ayyappa is a popular god in India' southern state of Kerala. He was born out of a union between Lord Shiva and Mohini ( Lord Vishnu in the form of a desirable maiden). The childless king of Pandalam adopts the infant boy ( Ayyappan) he found on the river bank. As he grows of age, his step mother conspires to get rid of him. She sends him on a dangerous mission: to get the milk of a tigress. This she hopes would lead to the boy's death. Not knowing that the boy is an incarnation of God, her ploy fails. Ayyappa returns with tiger's milk as his step mother desired, riding on the back of the tigress. The twist in this story is that Ayyappa punishes all women of child bearing age from entering the shrine dedicated to Ayypappa atop the Sabari hills.

And yes, dads do it too. But that is for another time. If you are curious, look up King Dhritharashtra, the blind king whose devotion to his son led to the horrific battle of Kurukshetra in the epic of Mahabharata.

As a mother, may your motto be: I will do my best by doing what is right for humanity. By allowing my offspring to grow to its full potential. Not by assuming my child is the best but by giving it my best. It's  a hard thing to do. But as these enduring tales have shown us, securing our kid's future by ANY means possible can perpetrate evil. 

So I leave this mother's day with one thought: do you as a mother ( or a parent) feel justified in doing anything if you think it will help your child? Even if it harms another? Even if your child is not the most deserving candidate for the title? 

Leaked documents in Mughal India

 It's been over three years since I published The Final Puzzle.

The main antagonist was an Islamic cleric by name Badauni. He was inserted into Akbar's close network by the clergy to thwart Akbar's permissive and tolerant religious views. Upon his arrival however, Akbar tasked Badauni with translating Hindu religious texts to Urdu, a task he considered heresy. 

Akbar was never swayed by Badauni. In fact, with time, Akbar abandoned Islam and embraced his new order of faith called Din-i-Illahi which incorporated the best tenets of all faiths in the land. Unfortunately, this religion did not survive Akbar.

Badauni kept a secret: a frank and critical account of Akbar's reign. It was published only after Akbar's death in 1606. Although Akbar's son Jehangir acceded to the throne after his father's death in 1606, Badauni knew that Jehangir did not much care for his late father. There were even rumors that Jehangir may have fatally poisoned Akbar.

Knowing Badauni's dislike for Akbar's religious views, one has to interpret his account with a sack of salt.

In light of the recent document leaks case, I searched JSTOR website for leaks in history and could not find any. It is probably because any leakers in a kingdom invariably "disappeared" for good.

And just for kicks, here is something I found about educational curriculum in 16th century India.

"Every boy had to read books on the following topics: morals, arithmetic, agriculture, house management, the rules  of government and medicine."

Which brings us to the question: what about the education of girls? What jobs did they do?

I am reading an interesting article called " Middle Class Women in Mughal India" by A Yasmin.

I will write about the salient points from this interesting paper in my next post.

Chemo Day

 The lake outside my corner room

shimmers in the morning sun.

Rays of hope, they seek their way,

piercing through the naked glass.

Glistening drops of liquid drug

pause, then down the tubing flow.

Rush of warmth around my neck,

Flush, a tingle, soon I lapse

through misty shafts of time gone by.

Listless brittle falling hair,

Sore and flaky, dry, cracked lips,

No spit to smooth my peeling palms,

Or lift those achy arms and hips.

Stay positive, my doctor said,

Chemo’s old, take a pill instead.

Thrilled I was to move ahead,

Not so fast, my head it said.

Wrapping pressure, fluffy clouds

Circling softly around my ears,

Blurry eyes, listless stare

Vexing, stippled rash that spread

Stay positive, my doctor said.

An extra pill, then close my eyes

With care I tread, a foggy path

through rocky cliffs.

My team I trust, they cheer each step

Up or down the cryptic vale,

Words like cure I’d love to hear,

The doctor, tense like helpless deer

Trapped in poison nettle vines

Sighs and says, I’m not divine

Months, perhaps another year.

No magic orb I have my dear,

Stay positive, my doctor said.

My spirit, tenacious, gracefully glides

On the rink of hope, fear subsides.

Straddling life and afterlife,

Peaceful now, let go all strife.

P.S: A poem I wrote a while back.

How does exposing one's upper body indicate respect to others?

 2022 was the year of the woman. Dictionary.com's word of the year is "woman."

In the United States, arguably the wealthiest country in the world at any time, the year's events, including elections, highlighted women's rights as a core issue at stake. Halfway across the globe in Iran, women have risen against the perceived oppressive practice of keeping their hair covered in the name of a different religion. But we all know the issue is bigger than reproductive rights or God wishing a woman to keep her head covered. It is about using religion as a pretext for one half of the human race to control the other. Therefore, I found the story of the upper garment revolt from southern India fascinating: how Christian missionaries helped women of lower castes gain the fundamental right to cover their breasts.

Please take a moment to read Maddy's blog linked here https://maddy06.blogspot.com/2018/02/the-breast-tax-and-upper-cloth-movement.html about a sordid aspect of history from my home state of Kerala, India.

Although the caste system was never intended to be rigid when initially conceived in Vedic India, it became an immutable barrier to progress over time. It was the norm in medieval India in southern Indian princely states for only women of upper castes to cover their breasts. Women of inferior castes had to keep their breasts exposed in deference to those above them in society. Those who dared not comply received humiliating punishments.

The East India Company and Christian missionaries assisted these oppressed women in fighting the system, but on condition. They had to convert to Christianity.

Some argue that women in these areas had always chosen to walk around half-naked. That the British were doing them no favors. The Brits forcefully imposed their morals and standards on the natives. Maddy's blog article and other articles make the same argument. There was no shame in keeping the upper body exposed until women were ridiculed by their sisters who had converted to Christianity and started believing in the modernity of keeping one's breasts covered. 

So is flashing one's naked body insulting and therefore punishable by law as we believe it now in civilized society, or allowing women to walk around half exposed, the more advanced way of living? What we believe is decent and acceptable changes with time. And every society probably believes ( perhaps mistakenly) that they are the most advanced humans alive.

Judging any individual's actions from another era is challenging because humans are guided by existing societal norms.

I would argue that this discussion would be moot if a core issue were not at stake: a woman's right to choose what to do to her body.

As long as that choice is compromised or even up for debate, we are no better today than we were centuries ago.

 

Is honesty important in close relationships?

 Does " I want you to be honest with me" conflict with the sentiment " I want you to support me unconditionally"?

This is the crux of the debate in Stephanie Murray's piece in the Atlantic on Dec 12th titled: Should friends offer honesty or unconditional support? It is a worthy read.

She argues that while some advocate for complete honesty, we have a culture of passivity. Friendship is a choice and, therefore, expendable. In other words, people tend to hold back on being forthright with their friends even where red flags are abundant, justifying silence by offering the alternative: being there for your friend when their bad choices blow up in their face, and they need support.

She ends with this sentence: ( she is referring to being honest if you are looking only for close friendships)

"But if it’s friendship of the closest sort that you are after, it’s a risk you’ll have to take."

I will be honest. I like honesty to the point that I wonder if my obsession with the truth comes off as brutal and unsupportive. It has been a challenge for me since childhood. As a cancer doctor, I have been trained to use professional but compassionate language at work. 

It is part of my daily work to discuss how much time someone has when diagnosed with advanced cancer.

 I don't use the crystal ball analogy some doctors use ( " I don't have a crystal ball to predict") because I find it incredibly patronizing. Of course, the patient knows you are not a tarot reader or some gypsy lady. So I keep it short: "It is hard to predict, but in my opinion, based on how you are doing now, it could be...."

I grew up with intensely critical parents.  I have fine-tuned my ability to distinguish between constructive feedback and gaslighting from envious individuals. This has resulted in an inbuilt lie ( or B.S) detection system. So it was surprising to recognize that most people find it hard to accept unpleasant truths. But then I realized: most folks do not have overcritical parents. Our need for societal acceptance has decapitated our instincts-- that embedded GPS within our souls meant to guide us away from danger.

Which is where good, honest friends should come in. But if our friends too are motivated by acceptance, what then protects us from the dangers of our blind spots?

Are we facing this barrage of disinformation because of our culture of passivity that focuses on the listener having a "pleasant "experience, even if ultimately harmful? One can point fingers at this culture in the emergence of social media and the internet to provide ratings to people and businesses. 

I was once at a yoga class where the participants discussed one of the core principles of yoga: non-attachment, something I knew of, growing up in India.

A lady in her mid-forties openly acknowledged that she had issues because of her relationship with her son, which others, including the boy's dad, had described as unhealthy. The concept of 'non-attachment 'triggered her. Her opposition to this ancient principle of living was forceful and passionate.  

When this woman completed her oral arguments in defense of her excessive attachment, she had forgotten why she was in a yoga class.  But what I found disappointing was the yoga teacher's passive nodding as if in agreement. She did not challenge this woman or tell her that the core principle of non-attachment was not up for debate. Rather it was her choice whether to adopt that principle. And the reason for this passive and dishonest approach was simple: it was a business. The yoga teacher may have wanted the participant to write a good review about the business, so she did not feel the need to expound on that topic, even though a yoga teacher or guru has a fundamental duty to impart knowledge. Or the teacher was a product of the culture of passivity, preferring instead to let the participant take as much as she wanted from the class.

This was, of course, a class in the US. I wondered if a guru in India would have passively accepted a student arguing that attachment was an acceptable quality to practice en route to attaining a yogic lifestyle. Probably not. Don't get me wrong: anybody is welcome to have an opinion. You can believe that ivermectin cures COVID and that attachment to people and material objects makes you a yogi or even a yoga teacher.  Your beliefs may make you happy in the moment, but they won't get you where you want to reach.

One of my former colleagues told me about his two daughters, aged 8 years and 4 years, fighting and how the younger one seemed adept at gaslighting.

Half in jest, but probably coming from submerged childhood pain, I laughed and told him:

" Make sure you are fair to the older one. Don't let the younger one get away because she is cute or small or whatever justification parents use. Or else your older one will turn out like me. A rebel who speaks her mind."

He laughed and said: " I would not mind a daughter like you. There is nothing wrong with standing up for what you believe in and speaking your mind. With you, I know exactly what I am getting. And I would trust you any day over someone who keeps quiet when things go wrong."

I was surprised at his remark because no one had ever seen my honesty as a strength. Or at least said so. For that one friend who felt this way, probably a hundred have moved away because they have no appetite for that kind of bluntness.

But because it is friendships of the closest kind I am after, that is a risk I have always been willing to take.

P.S: This article has nothing much to do with history or medicine. But history has taught us that passivity among the majority unknowingly contradicts honesty in those few willing to speak. It can compromise large chunks of society when faced with existential threats.  Just look at our recent pandemic!

The sexually transmitted disease known as " The Ship"

 This winter would be our third with COVID. While it has not entirely disappeared, and the threat of another deadly variant ravaging the world remains possible, masks have slipped off as the virus recedes.

Humanity has been plagued by pandemics. Many remain treatable, although restricted to certain groups of individuals, often lacking in education and healthcare access. This is particularly true of sexually transmitted diseases. Perhaps, for this reason, monkeypox failed to elicit the terror COVID did.

I have been thinking about diseases that have lingered for centuries.

Here is a question: Which disease did the Russians call " The Polish disease" and the Poles call " The German disease?"

If you guessed "syphilis," you are correct!

In my home state of Kerala, India, syphilis is referred to as "kappal" or "ship." The natives believed that sea-faring European traders brought syphilis to the land.

Here is an excerpt from " A brief history of Syphilis" by M Tampa from the Journal of Medicine and life.

From the beginning, syphilis has been a stigmatized, disgraceful disease; each country whose population was affected by the infection blamed the neighboring (and sometimes enemy) countries for the outbreak. So, the inhabitants of today’s Italy, Germany, and the United Kingdom named syphilis ‘the French disease, the French named it ‘the Neapolitan disease’, the Russians assigned the name ‘Polish disease’, the Polish called it ‘the German disease’, The Danish, the Portuguese and the inhabitants of Northern Africa named it ‘the Spanish/Castilian disease’ and the Turks coined the term ‘Christian disease’. Moreover, in Northern India, the Muslims blamed the Hindu for the outbreak of the affliction. However, the Hindu blamed the Muslims and in the end everyone blamed the Europeans.

Read the full article here