aloque

"You are never to see her again", stormed his father. "I never expected that you, a king to be, would cavort with a commoner, a dancing girl even. Have you no respect for your position or mine?".

The words bounced off him easily. They weren't so hard to ignore when everything he held sacred told him that he was right in seeing her, her sensuous form swaying as the sun shrank away almost as in envy of her radiance. He was right in slipping away for their clandestine meets, to feel the sweet agony of waiting for her on the banks of the river, oblivious to the water that joyfully played at his feet. He was right, he said to himself, to fill his mind with thoughts of her, to want to be with her every one of her waking hours, to sleep by her side every hour he spent asleep. She opened to him a different, more beautiful life than he had dreamed possible, just by her presence. With her, he found courage, strength, tenderness, and a will to succeed he did not know he had. She made him a better man than he had ever thought possible. She was no commoner. She was the princess of his heart.

Storms raged outside the fort walls every night that season, and he hadn't seen her for days. His anguish was incomparable to anything he had known. He asked himself if he could live without her, and he knew what he must do. He walked out, called for his horse to be saddled, and rode off into the rain. The raindrops stung his face like a swarm of angry bees, but he held on to the reins and urged his horse towards the only home he knew. He reached the banks of the swollen river which was devouring everything in its new found path, and without care, coerced his faithful beast into the hungry waters. They had no chance against the unforgiving force of nature. the horse was swept away from beneath him with a fearful whinnying, and he was tossed around like a small twig. He flailed his limbs in the direction he wanted to go and the current carried him to the other side. He ran, ignoring his bruised and battered body, knocked on her door and collapsed in her arms. She, wordless, held him close and they reunited in tears of mixed emotion.

When the prince did not return home for days, the king sent for him, and realizing the value his son had for his own life relative to his love, he relented, and had a bridge of stone built over the river that almost claimed his life. The prince married the love of his life and, later, built a city where she had lived.

The fort is Golkonda, the river, Musi and the largest monument of love in the world is our city of Hyderabad.

to all the those who noticed i was gone and were glad for it, boo fer you. and a hearty round of hugs and high fives for all those who might have asked 'hey, where is that dude, aloque?'

if you've been reading me then you'll know that i am a doctor and i had to go away to this small town on the suburbs for a night duty and i haven't gone back since. the trauma of it all was quite unbearable.

drove 40 kms to a hospital with no patients. (already knew that but the government MUST find ways to waste employees time in new ways - common minimum program)  they have a tv there so i decided to carry my VCD player and a couple of movies i wanted to watch to pass the night. got there and found other doctors hanging aroung the tv like leeches and spent a good four hours watching telugu news and trailers of the latest mahesh babu film (new heights in cinematic perversion). also discovered that the telugu film industry now has about a zillion new people i wasn't interested in and was actively trying to keep away from. so fate decides to put me in a small room in a faraway place with 3 telugu movie fanatics. someone up there loves me.

finally people decide to sleep and then the thought that was playing terrible games in my head was about to be realised. 4 dudes on 3 beds put together. i am NOT homophobic or anything but i will choose the urinal farthest away from the one in use in a public bathroom. And i will not share my bed with any degree of comfort with 3 strange guys. (3 strange gals would extend into the realms of fantasy but i am not so opposed to that).

turns out that telugu movies fans with their firs day first show reflexes (never underestimate a TMF) got to the bed first and i (horror of horrors) had to sleep in the middle. damn it! i was hoping for stealing a corner. after a hundred pokes in the ribs and the fumes of mortein blocking my nose, i decided that it was time for a walk, nad discovered that the door was locked from the outside!! who the fuck locks you in? safety measure my ass!! i opt for whatever i was being kept safe from over this.

but i am glad i got up and got out of bed becuse about 2 secs after i got out one of the 3 dudes let one rip PPHHHHHAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPP. REAL WET ONE. needless to say, i wasn't getting much more sleep that night.

next morning we had no water and i had to brush my teeth with lumps of ice broken from the freezer. but that was, by then, not a surprise.

questions abound in redundant verses

that translate my waking thoughts

answers are as far away as the reaches

of horizons distorted by deep desert drought

i am not a seeker of infinite wisdom.

i do not need a fountain of youth,

not even the keys to the kingdom.

my holy grail is a sweet memory of you

that has lingered forever on my senses

our paths will cross, fate and truth

cannot forever hold up their defences.

The harsh noises no longer

jolt our 'refined' senses.

We don't notice now,

around our dream fields,

the steel fences.

Our fellowship, at its end 

breathes now on

a sustenance of suspicion.

Helping hands only hand

out phials of poison.

Plastic and paper.

They are the new religion.

They are the masters,

and we are

the humble peons.

What is it about regional divides, feelings of country and kin, patriotism and sacrifice for the land, that lead people to be inspired, to be larger than themselves, to extend their horizons beyond what they thought was possible?

 I know that all these arbitrary lines drawn on maps are but human creation, made by a group of men to guard their gold over thousands of years, but is there something within all of us more primitive, a deep urge to guard what we mark as our territory, our home? Animals have it. Maybe, despite all the evolution we cannot change some things.

I have days when I sit back and think that the country I live in is in fact not one that I can relate to. I have problems understanding cultures I feel are outdated, politics I feel is a gangsters' front, praying to 300 gods that I do not have faith in, and millions of people going about their lives everyday with a passing remark or two about how they would make India a better land if given the chance. I have difficulty coping with the feeling that everyones' palms have to be greased for the reason that life is not possible without.

There are more things we have that we can and deserve to complain about than to feel proud of. 

I guess then that it would only be natural for me to distance myself from these problems. If I thought about them and give my feelings a chance to be involved, I would be afraid there is too much to fight against, too much to lose with little achieved. Who am I to question or change a system that has, in our co-conspiratorial minds, a facade of normalcy. What can i do alone?

Then I have days when I feel strong, that I can change something, that my education, my ability can be put to use, not planning the first million I want to make, but, the first life I can change for the better. I feel a young voice can make a difference in a country of condescending octagenarians, jaded by life's cruelty, cushioned by convenient morality. On those days, I feel the inherent goodness of all people, waiting for a chance for doing things a better way.

Not all of us can be politicians, not all of us can be leaders, not all of us may believe that this country can the best in the world, not all of us may subscribe to this 'pipe dream'.

But, if, somewhere at the back of our minds, we  can keep the thought alive that we can make a difference, no matter how intangible, if we only recognise our love of this land despite all our differences, despite all the difficulties, instead of pushing it away, then we would have found our identity in this world. I truly believe every one of us loves our home and those who feel they do not, spend life times trying to fit in, when the truth is here for all to see that we are undeniably, delightfully INDIAN. In its acceptance with all its frailties lies a better future. 

I wish such days for every single one of us out there, where ever we are. JAI HIND.

p.s: outlook magazine puts 54% of india's population to be 25 or less years of age. This is our time to take a stand.

news flash! calling all guys!

something amazing happened yesterday.

i was at this restaurant and i saw this totally hot looking babe and by hot i mean good looking, great body, nice smile (not flashed at me and thaz not the amazing thing.) but you get the picture.

due to my extreme ill fortune there wasn't a guy friend around so i tell this to a girl friend and she nodded through it all and then she asked " what was she wearing?" i looked at her for a second and said to myself "ok ok she's a woman. calm down", and then spluttered out.....what the f does that matter. didn't you hear me??? she was HOT!!

and that my friends is the bane of our existence.

here is the amazing thing.

i was driving back home and the APSEB did me the 'favour' of my life and dropped a live wire on my head, and i did a mel gibson. the night wasn't black anymore but an amazing grey with a cheese yellow moon and 7 twinkling stars peeking from beyond the smog ridden (whatz happening to poor mother earth??sigh sigh sigh) sky. oh! wait a min. how silly of me. the sixth one from the left isn't twinklikg as bright as the other ones. i wondered if it was sad and if stars didn't have feelings at all.

my red tee was not red anymore but indigo and my blue jeans were ocean surface blue (on a mid summer day on the equator with the sun 2/7th covered in cumulo-nimbus of course....duhhh!!!). but my thoughts were disturbed by some strange smell of 19.281% alcohol mixed with deer secretions (male, aged 2yrs 261 days, with 4" long antlers), jovan musk, 3days after expiry date. yechhhh!!!

then i walked back to the scene of the accident and hit myself repeatedly with the live wire. you guys do not know how lucky we are. sports rock. metal bangs. women are only graded by apparent temperature and promised promiscuity. red is red, blue is blue, we live on earth, the moon is a mill miles away and stars don't really have feelings.

also every single guy would read this based on the title. and our noses don't crinkle up every 2.5 secs. and we don't call our clothes a new colour after they fade just a little after every wash!

I've tried a lot of different things on this blog and people haven't thrown me out yet, so here goes nothing...

Ever pervasive, omniscient,

the stench of human decay,

nauseously infests the currents

of air, on a sun-less red day,

when battle field Earth is center stage.

Generals gather in their masses

of trained inhumans, murky mortal clay,

to wilful strew the field with carcasses.

They, life-less, look into the scarlet glare,

yet to comprehend its futile despair.

Bayonets wielded by hearts that're clouded

and motivated by crudely atavistic ways,

gouge the living flesh of souls, long dead,

as a steel grey bullet quickly, quietly allays

the realisation that arrives, although delayed.

Crazed hands raised in frenzied unison

feign celebration, as in their survey

lie friends, lie foes, still against the horizon

that's as blood-shot now as it was that day.

Name the victor. Name the vanquished. I pray!

war hasn't really been at the top of my list of favorite things for mother earth for about forever. some help from sabbath's 'war pigs' has to be acknowledged.

It was a dark night. The gathering clouds had made sure of that.  It seemed that the earth, after a few million years of invariant attitude, decided it was time for a change and had suddenly veered off its axis.

 Unseasonal lightning lashed the night sky and left behind a purplish hue, contrasting sharply, beautifully, with the amber lighted domes of the hospital building, a sight that he'd have appreciated on another day. 

The parched earth rushed up into the midnight air to meet the falling raindrops, its sweet smell obliterating the familiar Musi stench. Thousands around him forgot the vagaries of everyday life as they took a deep breath that invigorated their beings.

The first few drops of rain had already rolled down his cheeks. "i cannot cry now. There is still hope", he admonished himself, as the rain gods burst asunder, angry at his ignorance and his senses flooded back painfully. He was making his back from the dining area to the wards. He only went so he could clear his head, to gather the perspective he was searching for. He'd found that the cold chapattis and lumpy dhal did not ease the guilt that made his stomach feel like a bottomless pit.

Her paralysed limbs and weakened heart still served a strong mind. And she was lucky. She had a son who loved her, in whose eyes her age and withered body only deserved more of his love. She complained incessantly, a sign of a strong will to live. He wanted her to complain again. "It wouldn't be irritating at all", he said to himself.

Just three hours ago, thirty six hours into his shift, he'd given her the wrong medication which rendered her unconscious. He knew he had recovered quickly, taken appropriate remedial measures, called the right people, taken responsibility. He'd taken her to the emergency wards himself, all in a rush of adrenalised automation, which had left him more drained than ever. He knew there would be consequences, but none worse than that of his own conscience.

As his senses rushed back, he found it, the perspective he had been looking for, as he knew that his own conscience would have to be held in abeyance and that she was more important than him. The obvious knowledge of what he needed to do calmed him. He took a deep breath and entered the building.

The night passed in an unreal daze, doctor and son tending her, hurting to be tended themselves, looking into each others eyes, mutely, only belief offering the solace that no words could. Their sleepy eyes searched for any sign of her recovery. His trained eyes saw the colour return to her finger tips, which he knew was a good sign, but his training also told him her weak heart could not stand this stress.

The night passed on, as all time must, ignoring all pleas and requests to hold still. And as morning dawned, almost as on cue, a small flicker went through her body, as if she was rousing from a fitful slumber. An hour later, she was hungry and complaining.

Her will to live had saved her. And him. He saw beyond his own texts into the beauty of the human mind, its strong will against all odds. He knew that there were some mistakes that can never be forgiven. He left to pack his belongings to go back home, sat down in the doctor's room and finally cried.

end

This happened a few months ago at Osmania. The doctor did mess up and the woman did live. I have interpreted those events through my own perspective.

its a trial by fire. and no one makes it out unscathed. if you make it out and can still recognise the burning remains of your backside, you'd have done extremely well.

that's exams in mbbs for you. 23 theory papers (when added up) with only sundays as breaks, 14 gruelling practicals within 17 days, ooohhh about 20,000 pages of revision, examiners intent on playing god for the day, and the inherent variability of every human on earth that no text can prepare you for. sounds bad? it's worse than it sounds.

but people during exam week are a far cry from themselves. inherent variability aside, people are transformed into.....

1) SCABs or sleep-deprived caffeine addicted bawlers who are characterised by frizzled hair, hugely swollen eyes, stuttering, incoherent speech and really abnormal bowel movements. if they are not balancing 3 kg text books on their knees while on the indian loo, they can be found in the local STD booth crying at the top of their lungs, yes, bawling to their moms to please let them come home.

2) Runaway Brains - these are the guys who get up in the middle of the night and up it to the railway station causing much grief and lost time to their unfortunate friends who ahve to then drag them back. we had to lock a couple of them inside their rooms just so we could sleep for a couple of hours.

3) The Mosquitos - the absolute pests of medical life. no amount of repellent can repel these guys who sleep all day so that they can study by night. only, when night comes, they are still sleepy, can't handle the tension and go flitting from room to room pleading people to save them. the only people who can save them are the Modis.

4) The modis are the guys who sit up all night just to get their micro xerox in order. these are the guys with small heads and suspiciously large paunches who always seem to have an extra set for a price.

5) then there is dr.r, my senior who lost some time and had to give his exams with me. altogether separate category. the only time he'd study was when he was riding his bike. huh? yeah...unfortunate me had to ride pillion on the way to the exam center explaining the nuances of microbiology.

dr.d has to get a special mention for his fabulous tea which he made at all times of the night for the scabs and runaways but never for the modis or mosquitos. he was the only truly happy soul when exams came around coz he really loved to chat over a cup of tea.

i am glad that its over and done and i got out with only monor burns but i am going back during next exam week just to be part of the madness again!

btw, i was a scab during my first year ! waaaaaaahhaha mom, i am going to fail. let me come home and marry a rich girl. the STD booth guy got real scared!! 

someone told me that marilyn manson had his lower ribs removed so that he could blow himself!! i thought well, whatever and forgot about it.

somebody else told me that the fastest way to get hits on a blog site is to hit it yourself a couple of hundered times.

then it came back in a hurry. i can see how two totally unrelated incidents are in fact, the same.

so guys who are doing this....good news!! the only thing standing between you and true happiness are 2 measly ribs. hell, if you find a guy who needs a bone transplant you will even get paid for it.

and gals who are doing the same, bad luck! janet jackson had her lower ribs removed but that only gave her an amazingly flat, (maybe even concave),  tummy.

i guess you'll just have to continue (c)licking your own sites then.

my apologies to agony's requiem. i can see yer point now.

did you ever have one of those conversations with a parent when you know you've crossed a line you've been striving to build and maintain all your life? not one of those angry conversations where you say things you don't mean but one of those when you are cool and collected, and say something close and personal to you, that you know has to be said at some point in life.

and it changes his (father in my case)  perception of you for ever. you can almost see the light of understanding that there is something that he hadn't calculated in the scheme he had proposed for my life. and the uncomfortable silence (don't you just love them) that followed, both of us knowing that there were no apologies for not meeting each others expectations, both of us realising that being in a family does not imply automatic understanding of each others decisions but trusting nonetheless that we'll come around to accepting each other.

 i'll still go up to his room in the morning and read the newspaper while he's busy on the telephone. the silence between us at those times is always comfortable and also comforting. just a 'good morning ' might pass between us but it does make the morning better. 

my father is a difficult man at times, and maybe as a difficult son i deserve a difficult father.

to think i was annoyed with him when i started this blog. kya se kya ho gaya. thanks guys ( i know you didn't do anything but then i'd have to thank a computer. you understand, then?)

good night hyderabad

happy blogging

to the people who've been reading me over the last couple of days, i know we've kinda established a 'I write, you laugh' routine, or so i'd like to think!

life isn't all fun and games. so gather some courage, your thinking caps and get ready to kiss your homes goodbye. coz, dorothy, we are going to storm some serious issues here.

crucify me at the end of this if you feel like it but just be truthful to your self.

ok...first and foremost let me say keep the comments coming, guys...it's a high to know i am liked.... that there is someone else in this world that laughs at the same things i find funny.

also that this blog wouldn't make much sense if you didn't read the last one. so maybe you should.

i wanted to say something about my first girl friend then. no. no. not the girl i first kissed. that was an entirely different girl. so, there were 2 girls. one i went out with first and then the first kiss. wouldn't blame you for a little irritation at this point.

so i was 15, i think and i thought she'd be my wife and she thought, "when's this dude going to kiss me?"(explaining my excessive enthusiasm on the actual first kiss) and so it happened that she found a guy wit considerably higher testosterone levels than me two months later and i buried my first wife with much grief and bitterness.

thing is i have forgotten, almost even forgiven her. but have you ever been dumped for a guy who is half as smart as you, not even as average looking, and with the brain to body proportion of a stegosaur? then you'll know how i feel, today, 9 years later.

i still have fond memories of how he'd have to shave every single day (saw him at school,yechhhh) and his cheeks would look green....no kidding guys Gaa reee nnnnn. so my endearment for him was fungus face. heard his parents just called him fungu darling. hey, different strokes for different folks?

i know, fungi are living things and might one day be proven to have feelings. so i want to stay on the right side of the fungal political fence and hereby apologise for any ill feelings that might arise from exalting this dude's' face.

bitter bitter bitter....loving every minute.

saw him just recently, just as green and i am just as happy.

i have feelings too. in retrospect, i shouldn't have gone to his birthday party uninvited just to give him fungicide.

to say i am new to blogging would be an understatement. but i am hooked.... the first time is the most exciting time for me, in everything. well maybe not everything, i mean, i would be overly excited to find a bald spot or something, but most things are amazing when they are new.

yes? fullhyd editor

done to death?

things are great when they are new?

point taken?

ok ok no need to get abusive...(another thing that might not be too exciting)

so, anyway... i know why i am blogging, man... i want people out there to read me, to hear what i've got to say and roll their eyeballs, comment, make me think , the whole 31 (flavours at baskin robbins). a few hits wouldn't be too bad either.

talking about first times, still remember the first time i rode my bicycle...was precocious at 4 years old, went off to narayanaguda from domalguda (the names were already given by the time i got there). never got tired of driving since. mom, i think, aged a couple of years that day.

what about my first kiss, poor girl must have thought i was trying to taste her stomach or something and i was grinning like an idiot thinking "tongue action, tonnnngggg akkkkshunnnn, tungakshun un un". think i might have even said it aloud.

i remember her first kiss even better....well apparently she didn't think the first one qualified (whatever, woman! tungakshun tungakshun) she sat me down, said don't move and kissed me, slowly, without touching me at all, not lettiung me touch her, one lip then the other..most sensuous experience of my life. YET.

whoa full hyd editor?

again?

keep off the m&b stuff

aye aye sir

tungakshun tungakshun

what about the first time i  broke up then...when the bitch reached into my ....hey wait a minute ..this is the one about the good first times rite?

f*ing editor threw me off my game.