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We doctors, are suspended in a strange state of limbo. Gone are the days when consultants treated patients like minions who had to accept their judgment without questions. Also are bygone the days, when concoctions from bottles of various sizes were mixed together and passed on as panaceas for all ailments.  The compounder who would dutifully carry the doctor’s bag and keep the clinic running like clockwork is also, now an extinct species.

We are now in an era where hospitals are treated like business with business models, plans, huge glassed buildings and air conditioned offices. The targets they have to meet to get such a huge gargantuan venture going, loom large in front of the doctors.

The reason we are in a limbo is probably this- that at heart we are still pompous old world people who believe in our skills and dealing with a patient who does not believe in it brings us crashing down to reality!

A lot of patients now behave as though they have come to a hospital for a business transaction. They give us money and we give them health. When the deal works well, everything is hunky dory, but when things go awry, the doctor bears the brunt of it. And how. He is beaten up, the hospital is ransacked and the staff are manhandled, before the good old police finally reach the scene.

In such a scenario, it is not strange that doctors develop a defensive attitude of not accepting our mistakes. And mistakes do happen. After all we are humans. Only, we deal with other humans!

Though treatment procedures have been standardized for years, first in the lab, then on hapless animals and then tried on humans to prevent any mishaps, we know that patients react differently to different drugs. At least 1 in 10 patients and their illness does not behave as obediently as we expect. According to a study in Australia, about 18000 deaths occur in a year due to medical errors! A lot of times the body plays tricks on us. Placing red herrings, leading us on a merry path to a destination, which is exactly at the opposite end of where we want to be. We have to start afresh then. Slightly more cautious and worried. And rarely, it does happen that we mess up bad. And it does end in the patient’s demise. A valuable but a very sad lesson.

Unfortunately, in our profession, accepting our mistake is taken as a sure fire sign of guilt. We only have the freedom to accept our mistakes when we are doing our residency, when the worst we have to face for this is the wrath of our teacher.

Therefore, when I read “Do No Harm”, by Henry Marsh, a neuro surgeon from Britain, I enjoyed it immensely.

First, because it acknowledges that we as doctors are human and need to get it into our head that failures do happen. He has portrayed himself as genuinely as possible. That, at times, he is guilty of losing his temper, sometimes his decisions have been made by how tired he was or how the weather was behaving! This admission according to me, was extraordinarily brave. l have made some purely selfish decisions, but till date ,have great difficulty in acknowledging it! It is always easier to defend myself. And hence, the greatness of this man, who has actually put it on paper.

Secondly, the book also gives us examples of the times when things do not go as expected. The moral being- catharte, accept, console, move on- but do not forget for next time!

Thirdly, that vice versa can also happen. Those whom we expect the worst to happen, go on to outlive their children and we end up being at the end of condescending glares and living room gossip. So to learn to communicate the truth, but not to give out ultimatums. Instead, to be gentle and as hopeful as possible.

Lastly, but most importantly, the book gives us insights about knowing when to stop our work and accept that nature has to take its course. As doctors we sometimes get carried away by the drama of keeping the patient alive by all means. But the consequences of such survival may be more of a burden than help. Like when the operation is a success, but the patient ends up in coma for years. The relatives are at a loss financially, emotionally and unable to take a decision about the future!

Do no harm is a book which deals with such difficult questions and circumstances which every doctor faces but is unable to voice out. It is honest, upsetting sometimes, but definitely re assuring for two reasons.

One because, it gives a sense of solace that the dilemmas shared by doctors all over, are not unique.

Two, because come what may, being honest with the patient and family, brings alive a bond akin to what was present eons ago- a sense of understanding, and a trust level which allows for acceptance even if we inadvertently harm their dear ones.

How I wish this book was a part of my medical school reading!

Describing the indescribable- Pangong Tso

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There are times in our life, when we are left searching for words to fill in a near adequate description. And failing. Pangong Tso, is one such experience. Whether to call it a lake or an experience is confusion enough. No adjective is adequate enough to describe the sight of it or the over whelming feeling that goes with it. Yet, let me try my best to tempt everyone to get rid of any inhibitions and get going on the next flight to Leh, before you get too old to combat the altitude sickness!

Not a journey meant for the queasy or soft bummed, a five hour drive on one of the scariest and weirdest roads lead you to Pangong Tso (by the way, ‘tso’ is lake in Ladakhi- and I really love the way it sounds, so Tso it is!). Weirdest because, the landscape changes from one extreme to the other within the span of a few kilometers.

You just get used to seeing endless barren brown mountains, when with the sudden flick of nature’s fingers, you see really rocky ones (the kind that scare you of an avalanche). This is followed by snow capped peaks near the Changla pass, which is then replaced by dusty ones which blow sand storms. Suddenly, from nowhere are green closed valleys with boggy streams, which are home to handsome, sleek stallions –right in the middle of nowhere leading to nowhere! The valley then turns into a grey sandy desert followed by another green stretch filled with half mongoose half dog like creatures called marmots!Phew!

Marmots!
Boggy streams, with the horses far away!

The weather is equally quirky- as if playing with us! One moment you are huddled in sweaters with the windows of the car drawn up to the next, when you are fanning yourself hard with the sleeve of your sweater and then suddenly you are wishing fervently that you have not left your windcheater behind in the hotel!

The only solace all through the journey is provided by the driver stopping over at a small joint for some very much needed and equally yummy honey ginger tea near the Paagal Naala bridge( apparently called so, owing to the difficulty in assessing  the moods of the stream!).

Just when you are resigned to watching the whole spectrum of browns around you-BAM-you are zapped with a sudden sparkle of vibrant blue visible from between the mountains. A blue that is so dazzling that it blinds- the first sight of Pangong between the mountains.

Pangong means “High Grassland Lake” in Tibetian. Situated between three lands, India, China and Tibet, we get only one third of the lake which then flows into Chinese territory. The line of Control runs somewhere in between the 134 kilometer long lake which is almost five kilometers at its broadest and situated about 14270 feet above sea level.

Seeing Pangong lake can turn an atheist into a staunch believer in God. I say this because, though most things appear to have a scientific backing, there are things which are so extra ordinary that they almost seem impossible.

Take for instance the fact that it is a SALT water lake! Apparently because there is no outlet for the water,  and so salt deposits have built up over the years.

Or the fact that though there are almost NO fish or aquatic creatures in the lake, there are hordes of Brahminy ducks, geese and sea gulls cackling around  looking extremely well fed and healthy! What do they even eat???

Or the fact that the lake even got formed, because Ladakh gets almost no rain! So how did so much water happen to be?

And the best  lies in the changing colors of the lake which very much looks like the shade card of asian paints. Suddenly vibrant blue to suddenly green to turquoise and then a moody angry grey in a span of two hours –a visual feast.

I can count atleast five shades of blue in this pic!

You suddenly realize that you are really miniscule in nature’s scheme of things, and begin to understand the vastness of the universe! Though there were a minimum of two hundred tourists around, there was such a sense of tranquility. The others seem so far away and no sound reaches you apart from the soft lapping of the crystal clear waters on the shore.

The only regret about the trip was that we could not stay back to see the sunrise or the sunset, which are supposed to be spectacular! And the fact that, at the beginning of the summer, the lake is still frozen enough that you can have dinner sitting on it (if you are willing to risk a frost bitten back side).

Nevertheless, Pangong Tso, seems as close to heaven as it gets…or probably is actually a small piece of heaven that God sent for us as a sample! Truly, the indescribable!

A lesson in simplicity from the land of Julley-Leh.

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The first sight of the mountains from the plane-close enough to touch!

Nestled in the midst of a ring of mountains, belonging to the Kunlun region of the Greater Himalayas, is a land whose landscape and ethos are startling different from what we are.-Ladakh.Watching these people makes me feel a tad jealous- because they have mastered the art of living in the most barren and difficult of places without a complaint. Infact, with a smile and a julley(which is hello).

To say that the landscape is barren, would be an understatement. There are barely any trees or water bodies around. For around six months of the year, there is hardly anything to do, but bear the brunt of the weather. Children do not have school for almost four months, in lieu of the winter. Travel is tedious and fraught with the danger of avalanches and bad weather.

But once you set foot into Leh, you are swept away by the magic that Ladakh is. I have always been a conformist –my idea of nature has been green, lush and abundant. Never in the wildest of my dreams had I imagined that I would include barren, rugged, and stark under the list marked beauty! But then, Ladakh does that to you.

A place where monasteries dot craggy peaks, the sun shines blindingly bright and all you can see are mountains in varied hues of brown!

Monasteries right on top of the mountains
Higher than the monasteries are the living quarteres of the monks

Amidst all this, are the people who are so unassuming, simple and endearing. Going around, we found that there are no glamorous displays of wealth that we are so used to seeing around. All houses looked the same-boxed with wooden windows-basic and minimalistic.

Most food is barley, cooked in different forms-as bread, stew and beer! Most people rely on tourism for their livelihood. There are no mobile networks for large stretches of land and hardly any hospitals around. But going by the happy pink cheeked faces, you would hardly guess that people lived in such hardship.

We had the opportunity to visit a Ladakhi home for dinner. The hosts had kept their ancestral home intact-built of mud, stone and wood. The house was three storied, but mainly because of necessity. One floor for living, the one below for storing (you guessed right-barley) and the one above for praying! Apart from the rudimentary but sturdy apparatus for cooking, there was hardly any furniture around.

The only excess was seen in the prayer room which was filled with huge masks, head gear, cymbals and conches- as though the simplicity of their life was compensated for, by their extravagance in praying. Maybe because they have to live at the mercy of nature, they tend to invoke the Gods with as much vigour as possible.

Apart from this world of difference, the basic concerns of the people seem the same. The lady of the house was taking in tourists to support her children’s education. Huddled in her living room, with hot cups of butter tea, we watched, as her daughter performed a traditional dance for us (albeit in her PJs).Her face glowed when we clapped and praised her child’s performance. She spoke about the long commute her children had to undertake to reach school, and how despite this, her daughter comes first in class.

Experiencing Ladakh does many things to you at a visceral level. You come back changed imperceptibly outside, rather deep inside. You learn to be comfortable with silence. You learn to accept life, as it is without frills and fancy. You learn to calm down. You lose the unnecessary sense of urgency cultivated with years of hurried living. Mostly, you learn a lesson in simplicity. That come what may, you can be happy with the bare minimum that life gives you, and the happy sound of Julley.

Are we treating the right person??

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Doctor Diaries….

Each department of medicine has its own challenges. If it is long tedious hours in emergency medicine, the unexpectedness in surgery or obstetrics, or the sense of futility which sometimes goes with oncology, I feel that in general, doctors have these “times” where you really start to wonder whether you are doing the right thing!

There are many such unique challenges which belong to the realm of psychiatry, when as a consultant, you feel as if you are bound by some invisible shackles which prevent you from doing the best for your patient.

Mental illhealth has always been considered with suspicion, even by some of the most intelligent brains in the world, mainly because of its slippery definitions. Also because of the fact that there are no diagnostic tests which can surely classify a patient as mentally ill. Other than the obviously aggressive or flagrantly abnormal patient, most times,  we need to tease out the the history from many of their kith and kin to arrive at a diagnosis by circumstantial evidence aka Sherlock Holmes!

And when we do so, many a times, we end up realizing that we may be, cut that, we ARE trying to treat the wrong person!

Let me elucidate…

Take the case of a woman who has been referred because of a near lethal attempt at deliberate self harm( which is just a fancy name for attempted suicide). The woman, on enquiry, confesses that she is tired of her life, and one of the main cause is the unnecessary amount of suspicion which the husband has developed, in part because of his alcohol habit. He does not allow her to talk with her friends, has made her give up the job she loved and beats her up when intoxicated. Her maternal family, expectedly tells her that she has to “adjust”. So here she is.

Take another example of a child who is sullen, angry and puts zero efforts into his study. The father who is a teacher explains that his son is so ‘dumb’ that he needs to be spanked everyday before he sits down to do his homework. He also explains that he gets so frustrated with his son that, on occasion, he has branded him with a hot iron for his follies. The son was diagnosed to be having learning disability.

In another case, the son who has been a patient of childhood schizophrenia gently chides his mother, who has accompanied him, not to interrupt me multiple times before I complete even one sentence of what I say. “Calm down, Ma” he says and looks at me resignedly. He has probably experienced this phenomena all his childhood, and I can pity him, for I am already exhausted by her!

Such situations are tricky.

If I go on the offensive and tell the relative that he or she is the one who actually needs help, they may dissappear with the patient and never turn up again! Such are the follies of a stubborn ego. Intent on proving the other person wrong and unconsiously expecting some praise for an apparent  sacrifice which has largely gone unappreciated.In the process, I lose out on helping a person who genuinely needs the help which I am qualified to give. Granted it may not completely cure him, but atleast I can lend a much needed listening ear and psychological balm.

On the contrary,when  I  go with the version given by the relative, and reach for my prescription pad, immediately, I see a look of betrayal in my patient’s eye. “Et tu, doc” it seems to say, “I knew no one would understand”. I feel so uncomfortable when I see this look. As though I have let him down badly.

So what we do is, to talk to both of them separately; tell both of them that we understand their point of view, and other’s mistake; and promise to help as much as we can! Sounds devious?? It does,but it also is the most honest answer, according to me.

It works quite a few times, mainly because, as  people, we have real fragile egos. If someone tells us outright,that we are wrong, we suddenly become extra defensive .It takes gentle prodding and many sessions of talking for them to grudgingly accept the fact that they may have played a part in making their dear one sick! Then, we have struck gold! They are amneable to suggestion, and if necessary, medication.And slowly we begin to see a steady improvement in the patient’s condition.

But, ever so often, this does not happen. Despite subtle suggestions, followed by obvious ones, some refuse to change. And sometimes become worse, for they miscontrue that the patient has complained about them. And the patient’s eyes steadily lose their lustre.

I know that we are human, and we can only win some and etc. etc., but each time I write out a presciption for a patient who is so, because of someone else, I still cringe a little at the unfairness of it all.

Why are we treating the wrong person???

Have any of you encountered such situations?

Five special things about Gangtok.

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After the muggy heat of Kolkatta, the anticipation of climbing through the mountains for a glimpse of the Himalayas is tantalising. As a prelude to its beauty, we see beautiful tea estates just outside the airport of Bagdogra, the closest airport to Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim.

Twisty, winding, uphill roads and a slowly changing landscape from the flat plains crowded with villages, to the mountains awash with fresh rains and a chill wind, increase my anticipation. More so because, I have been told by trip advisor that the hotel that we have booked into, gives us a direct view of the “Kanchendzonga” , as she is called locally. I am waiting for an uninhibited view of the mighty mountain, which caught my fancy when I saw it in Darjeeling long long ago.

Our visit to Gangtok, though a very short one left indelible memories. This was one of the first times that we had ventured into a North Eastern state, and had no idea of what to expect.Not only was our holiday enjoyable, we ended up learning very new things about the people and place, so different from us in culture, but still bound by a common country.

Five of the most unique things which made Gangtok special for me were:

1.The churpi.

2. The cleanliness

In the beginning of the journey, a solitary wildebeest would make us pick our cameras and go berserk, till we saw the crossing. This will be one of the most spectacular sights of my life time. The migration is the most stunning display of animal behaviour where about 1.5 million wildebeest and thousands of zebras cross the River Mara to enter the Serengeti, and then the other way round. This happens based on the availability of water and grass, and the wildebeest follow their instincts in getting to a place where there is plenty of both.

In the process of migrating, they have to cross the Mara river. The zebras are apparently the scouts. Being the smarter ones of the lot, they gauge the best point to cross. Then, as if by telepathy, this gets conveyed to the herd and a few brave ones decide to take the plunge to cross. And then, the herd follows.

By herd, I mean at least tens of thousands of them. You can almost feel their anxiety of making it safely to the other side, without being eaten up by the huge nile crocodiles, or pushed around by lazy hippos or by sly lions waiting for their chance.

Waiting…..
u003cemu003eWaiting…..u003c/emu003e

A little bit of empathy- Doctor diaries.

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Doctor Diaries….


Monotony brings in boredom. I believe that this happens to the best of us, in whichever profession we happen to be involved in, and so medicine is no exception. Though we start of as idealistic, bright eyed, young doctors, over the years, we get jaded due to tiredness and the sheer numbers that we treat. There is hardly any time to think. Rather, we work more by force of habit, than the passion that we started of with.

Prof. B.M. Hegde, the former Vice Chancellor of MAHE University was often known to quote, that as doctors, we need to cure rarely, care often and comfort always.  But in the mad juggle of life, responsibilities and work, we sometimes lose out on the sensitivity which we need to show the patient, rather than just treating him.

As a mental health professional, the number of times that I have had to diagnose a life threatening illness is less as compared to many other branches of medicine. Rather, most of the illnesses in my bag, fall in the category of life altering. Nothing remains the same after the diagnosis is made. Both for the patient and the family. A lot of times, this causes morbidity in ways which are unseen, but cause a lot of suffering. Decisions that fall outside realm of medicine, like long term medications to be given to patients who are not so willing to swallow them, the crashing of dreams which the parents would have built for their children, the change in roles and responsibilities when the bread winner of the family falls sick, the insecurity of a relapse, the frustrations of the family which work adversely on patient outcome and the societal shaming – all of which are invisible to us, but very much a part and parcel of the illness. And as it is invisible, it often becomes easy to brush off conveniently under the carpet.

It was on one of such days when I diagnosed schizophrenia in a seventeen year old boy. The mother  broke down and started crying copiously. After customarily consoling her, I happened to remark that there were others who had worse forms of the disease, and so should consider herself lucky. To which she replied that maybe it was so, but she was crying not only for her son, but also for breakdown of her life which was painstakingly constructed for the past so many years. She told me that she had to cry so that she could grieve the loss, the burden and her son, and only then she could accept it. She asked for permission to cry, because she could not do it in front of her son or family. Once done, she walked away quietly, only to return for the next visit with a set of questions regarding how her son and family could cope better.

This small incident made me rethink my qualities as an effective counselor. As a doctor, I had thought it important to treat the disease, but forgot about the patient and his family. I could have consoled myself saying that the lack of time was the cause of this heartlessness, but it somehow seemed unforgivable. There are many instances that I have seen, where there are doctors with no super specialty degrees or  swanky clinics, but where the Que for visiting the doctor is serpentine. What they call “Kai guna” in kannada, must be the magic of sharp observation, unhurried questioning and a profound sense of empathy used together as treatment. This combination must be more potent than all the medications and hi fi equipment put together.

From then on, I resolved to spend a little more time with my patients than just enough to spot the diagnosis. And the results have been nothing short of remarkable. Now I have extended families in my patients. The caretakers know that they have a shoulder to cry on and are hence more comfortable. Each milestone they have achieved becomes partly mine. And when the seventeen year old passed his class twelve with a first class, I got home a huge box of yummy mysurpak. There seems to be no monotony anymore.

A walk down the lanes of history – Kolkata

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I have always loved history. Somehow, it has the power to enthrall, excite and make me humble all at once. I think the interest developed because we had a teacher in school who had immense talent for making history interesting. It wasn’t only about battle dates and mugging. It was more like watching a“Troy” or “Gladiator” or “Jodha Akbar”every day in school. Hence, I have always loved places which have history entwined in their existence, much more than shiny new skyscrapers and state of the art technology.

I had been to Kolkata; then Calcutta, when in school. The only images that stayed in my mind out of that trip were ones of intense heat, grime, people washing themselves nonchalantly on the roadside in the middle of busy midday traffic and hordes of people trampling over my feet in the temples. Little wonder then, that I was not so keen on Kolkata as a holiday destination.

Summer holidays bring out the wanderlust in me. It’s a time when I can take off and wander with a legitimate excuse that I need to take my kids out for a holiday. So this year, when we decided to see Sikkim, our transit halt had to be Kolkata. This time though,I was blown away- both by the heat and the place;).

If there was Satyajit Ray’s house at one corner of the street, Mirza Ghalib stayed at the other when he came to seek his pension. We saw the first newspaper printing press of India, the place where Ronald Ross first discovered the life cycle of the malarial parasite, the first office of the East India Company, The first supreme Court of India, the town hall where J C Bose displayed his experiments to the world, Swami Vivekananda’s room ,the Eden gardens and much more in just one day!

It was as if I was taking a walking tour through India’s turbulent past, albeit in much more calmer circumstances! Every road, every lane and every building reeked history. It looked as if the youngest building was almost a hundred years old. And had some great name associated with it!

There is a laid back vibe to the place, which is endearing. No one seems much bothered by the fact that there is so much history lying around.They just go about doing their work. It’s all so matter of fact.Like our driver who says “ Oh, we’ll just take the turn on the road near Netaji bhavan” kind. Takes you a moment to realize that the Netaji is Subhash Chandra Bose!

There is no way I can capture what I saw and imbibed in Kolkata in one blog post. There is so much I want to share about the place, which is an amazing amalgamation of history, mythology,revolution,sport and culture. Hence, I thought I will share my best six experiences of Kolkata.

  1. Visiting the Mother House.

This is a given, as I have idolized Mother Teresa ever since I was a kid. Her ideology of offering “Death with Dignity” was a major influence on me wanting to get into a profession which involved caring for the diseased. When in school, I was a huge fan of the Tinkle comic. The address of Mother house was mentioned in one of the issues. On a whim, I wrote a letter to Mother Teresa indicating my desire to become a nurse (well, that was my first ambition!). It was written in the spirit of the summer holidays when I had nothing better to do and there was no cable tv, and I completely forgot about it, till one day a letter arrived for me from the Mother herself, encouraging me to take up the profession of caring! I was over the moon, and a mini celebrity for a while at home.

When I saw her spartan room with a writing desk and a small neatly made bed, I imagined her writing that letter to me sitting in that room! It was a transcendental experience.

We got to meet Sister Prema, who is in charge of Mother house now, after Sister Nirmala’s death. A nun from Germany, she gamely obliged when we asked for photographs with her. Definitely, the highlight of my day!

  1. The Netaji Bhavan

During our struggle for independence,one of , if not the most controversial freedom fighters was Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. His death and the mystery surrounding it has always fascinated me. With the furore regarding the declassification of his files in  recent times, I was intrigued as to why he was so very important.

Well, as an answer to my questions, and to add fuel my craving for the romantic, we saw the Netaji Bhavan, aka Subhash Chandra Bose’s home before he fled from India. The two floors of his house have been preserved intact. The bed chambers of the two brothers with their slippers, umbrellas and pristine white dhotis lying just so,give you goosebumps. The museum contains documents and photographs of his times. I was surprised to know that he was extremely widely traveled and hobnobbed with most dignitaries of those times. The British Government’s letter which gave permission for his assassination by two British officers and his escape route from the house in his car have been well depicted. With his speeches playing in the background, and seeing the house intact as it were in those days, would definitely bring out the patriot in any one of us!

  1. A ride along the River Hoogly

Thanks to road repair work, we took the boat (called the Bhutbhuti)to ferry us from  Belur Math to the Dakshineshwar temple. This, in fact turned out to be one of the best experiences of the trip. I would go so far as to recommend it, even if the road was functioning well! It was a half hour ride, watching the people on the river bank go about their business of living, taking bath right in the open, praying, smoking beedies and swimming. Seeing the room in which Swami Vivekananda lived on one bank of the river and the small room in which Ramakrishna Paramahamsa stayed at the other is inspiring.With the Howrah bridge in the background, many temples dotting the shoreline, the wind in your hair and sudden splashes of the waters of Hoogly, it is a great experience!

  1. The institute of Tropical medicine.

I had recently read The Calcutta Chromosome by Amitav Ghosh, and so this place came alive for me. In small letters , on the side walls are names of bigwigs including Ronald Ross. This was the place where the life cycle of the malarial parasite was discovered and where Robert Koch discovered that the bacteria causing cholera was comma shaped!

  1. A stroll along Park Street

Any holiday of mine is incomplete without good food and books. Everyone from the hotel staff to our tour guide to the driver to a passerby recommended Park street for food.The street is a vision at night. There are hotels from one end to the other, starting with “Trincas”, a bar where the famous Usha Uthup started her career. The street is brightly lit, the atmosphere is festive,and  each time any door opens onto the street, heavenly aromas of food waft through and tempt you to go in. Huge long waiting lines outside each restaurant are the only hitch. But you will definitely not mind as each bylane has an amazing array of street foods like puchkas, kathi rolls and biryanis. There are famous places for savory deserts as well like Flurys, Mio Amore etc.

And the icing on the cake is the Oxford book house, which has a café on the second floor where you can browse and watch the world going by while sipping on a cuppa. Must do for all food and book lovers!

There were many more things to do and see, but as I had not anticipated falling in love with Kolkata, I had kept very little time to spend. Back home, I’m repenting it and eagerly awaiting my next visit to the City Of Joy!

Mid Life Crisis??

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What do you do when at the ripe old age of thirty seven, you suddenly develop feelings of confusion about the decisions that you have made in your life?? When you develop cravings, of wanting to do so many things, which in your twenties, you believed that there was enough time to do, but now, realize that you don’t. Have. That . Much. Time. After. All. When you realize that you had not bargained that the amount of time you spent in setting up a cozy home, bringing up kids and settling into your career would slowly, imperceptibly, chip away from the huge block of time, that you took for granted. Where you had planned for a grander scheme of things.

When I read things on facebook which say “Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, probably you should set up a life that you do not need escaping from!” and put this under the heading of “Inspirational quotes”, I want to literally throw something at them!

Nowadays,I seem to be always wanting to escape and do something else. I crave for Saturdays so I can fantasize about Sundays. I crave vacations. I crave for quiet time with my book exactly at the same time when my daughter turns on her needy voice. I crave for work when there is less, and crave for time to laze when there is too much work. Basically, I seem to be in ‘always wanting to escape from here mode’!My normality comes from thinking that this feeling of wanting to do something else and something more, all the time, is what everyone feels and hence, also comes under the heading of what normal should be.

If that sounds strange and funny, coming from a psychiatrist,so be it. I idle browsed  the ever helpful google and found a name for it. Mid life crisis. Assuming that I will die at 74, its just about the right time to develop one. Thank you google, for making me a part of a big cult of people who are, to put it simply, confused. And trying to find some way out of it!

And so, I decided that when in confusion, the best way out was full scale inertia. From hopping from one task to another maniacally, I went to vegetate mode. Not completely. But just doing the basic amount of work that I need to do, and then exist. Hence, the lack of blog posts. Because I am willing myself to slowly clear the confusion that exists in my mind. So much confusions that I was even finding myself making to do lists in my dreams!

Till inspiration finds me, or me it,  my grand plan to stay sane,is to wake up, work and just be. And if some important work comes in between, just do it. Or a summer coming up, just plan a vacation and be done with it. Or if there is a request for a talk, just take it. Or a blog post brimming up into my conscious, just write it. A recipe waiting to be tried, just cook it. A lovely unputdownable book, just read it. Some fun time with the kids, just have it. A new hobby, just try it. An interesting case, just discuss it….Aaagrhhh..I’m back to square one!!

The REUNION- This one’s for all my batch mates at KMC.

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us –then


Exactly about a year ago, I read an e mail in my inbox which announced the reunion of batch 96 of KMC, Mangalore.

Reunions have a tendency to make me feel old and gossipy. Somewhat like sixtieth birthday celebrations or golden jubilee wedding anniversary celebrations! Where a whole bunch of people meet up to discuss their lives and those juicy tidbits about others’, regaling antics of their precocious children and humble bragging about their career milestones.

I was happy enough seeing face book posts of my batch mates and knowing what they are doing in their lives. Did I actually need to meet them ?? I was mostly too shy in college to  develop deep friendships with a lot of my class mates. So, would I be really missed?  This made me skeptical about attending the reunion. Maybe I would not gel with most of my old college mates, I felt. We have moved on.

Fifteen years. A lot of water under the bridge.  Old memories, some good ones and some others not so much. Friendships –some tended to, some long forgotten. Lives which have moved on, treated and helped many a patients, formed new relationships, forged new bonds and trudged ahead.Hmm..

But somehow, Satwik’s emails did the trick. Over the year, slowly, silently, memories which were buried under a mountain of work and family responsibilities started creeping up on me, startling and  giving me fuzzy feelings of warmth in an otherwise dreary day.

I still remember the day when I was a bespectacled gawky teenager coming out of the CET cell, a little frazzled, a little victorious and a little bit nervous. Finally, one and a half years of hard back breaking work had borne fruit and I was in! Kasturba Medical College was my destiny for the future.

It was my first time away from home, leaving behind my huge joint family, and this in itself, was unnerving. The rumors of ragging in college were scary. There was this huge cauldron of emotions boiling within me, a delicious mix of apprehension, fear, elation, the excitement of getting into medical school, and sadness about leaving behind my friends and family.

Expectedly, the memories of five years that I spent in college are irreplaceable. The  formalin reeking dissection halls, the old lecture halls, muggy mornings spent in the huge, sweltering, crowded wards of Wenlock and Lady Goshen hospitals whose old ceiling fans with painfully slow moving blades seemed to mock our sweating discomfort, maggi in the canteen, getting screwed during the clinical postings and giving a treat at the end of it, the waterless bathrooms in Nandagiri hostel, late night study sessions  liberally dosed with popcorn and maggi for sustenance, the phone booth, which was our life line to the family back home (this was a time before cell phones invaded us),the interclass competitions, the library at reader’s delight, and the horrible mess food (remember the yum yum cutlet, which was anything but!!) are literally etched into my subconscious.

KMC accepted me, idiosyncrasies and all. And added a few more to my person. Like talking about KMC and how great it was, all the time, to my better half, till he knew all my anecdotes by heart!  The sense of belonging with my college is something which I cannot not get rid of. This was after all, my world away from home for five long years. Maybe I am partial to my college or probably this is the way people feel about their alma mater, but I, unflinchingly believe that KMC, Mangalore was the best and the most learning experience of my life. Anyway, I’m digressing.

Back to the reunion.  So, after discussions back and forth with my bestie, and some gentle prodding by my husband, I finally took the plunge. I was in. And did not know what to expect. Ours was a small class of 56, and almost all of them have reached places in life. Would they have changed, I wondered? After all, responsibilities, position, stature and money is known to cause a personality change in many!

And therefore in River Roost Resort, (the venue for our reunion), I landed with trepidation and doubt, both of which got kicked in the butt within the first fifteen minutes of my landing there. The next two days were spent laughing so much that my cheeks hurt, and forgetting to call back obsessively to check on my kids, which I am guilty of doing when I am not at home!

Getting to know my batch mates all over again was much more fun than what it was so many years ago. I felt we were more mature and knew ourselves better than we did before. There was a quiet confidence that each one of us had grown into. There were some of us who threw up unexpected surprises by reaching heights which no one had expected, some others who were consistently superb, and others who were multifaceted enough to juggle hobbies along with their profession. Even the ones with their own brand of quirks had found their comfy spot under the sun. The icing on the cake was that no one-not even one -had let go of their innate superb sense of humor and goofballness which made those two days the best ever.

The experience of getting two days sans responsibilities with my best and closest friends, laughing at inane jokes which no one else actually understood, and talking about  everything under the sun and beyond it, waking up to wanting to continue talking and not bother about anything else, reminded me of my days in hostel.

I was back again into a group where I seemed to belong, where my weirdness was an accepted part, and I could let my hair down(whatever is left of it!) and be! Just transport myself to those days where hope and hard work were the things we lived by, garnished generously with parties, fun trips and mills and boon!

My opinions about reunions have changed now. If anything, they made me feel much younger and happier. I returned home with a smile plastered on my face, and stayed insanely happy for the next few days. Maybe, this happens at all reunions, and therefore they go on!

A grateful thanks to the organizers who slogged to make it happen. And a big thanks to all the rest for making those two days memorable.   KMC 96, you are the best and please do stay that way!

Long live reunions !

PS: Leena, Im feeling blessed to post this on face book!!!:)) (sorry,an inside joke!).

us –now

Six fun ways to explore Coorg with kids.

preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

Solo travel seems to be the flavor of the season. Unfortunately, a lot of us have caught the bus, or rather realized that there is a bus, a little too late. At this point of time, the craving to just  take a long walk without a purpose, daydream and travel according to my own whims and fancies is as irresistible, as is close to impossible.

Almost all the books that I have read recently, a lot of blogs and newspapers give accounts of people who travel and explore places and generally enjoy being by themselves, coming back rejuvenated. The introvert in me gets mighty excited at this prospect because, I really really enjoy being by myself. But the pragmatic side of me knows that probably this kind of travel is only possible for me when my kids outgrow me and when my work responsibilities are lessened.

In a world of uncertainties and with my level of impatience, waiting so long to travel and see the world seems like a gross waste of time. Hence, to take the road often traveled, I planned to travel bag and baggage,with my kids and enjoy them, myself and the place all together. A tall order,but no harm trying.

Our first such sojourn this year was to Coorg over the weekend.

I had been to Coorg fifteen years ago and had fallen in love with the place. And as I had explored it then quite a fair bit, it felt easier to plan and navigate this time round. For the uninitiated, Kodagu or Coorg is a district in Karnataka, famous for coffee, spices and the natural beauty. The district has about five principal towns by name of Madikeri, Kushalnagar, Somwarpet, Gonikoppal and Virajpet, all at close quarters to each other.

Coorg, is usually considered a honeymooner’s,coffee lover’s and  backpacker’s paradise. Despite not fitting into any of the above categories this time around, we enjoyed ourselves far too much. Definitely, we made it our own family paradise!

Though we stayed surrounded by a forest and coffee plantations,this is how we made it one:

  1. Harangi backwaters:

We planned our stay in a jungle resort in Kushalnagar, right on the banks of the backwaters of the Harangi river. The only problem with this being the commute for the last stretch of the road, which was quite bumpy. But the resort was such a pleasure. Well maintained, and clean food being the basic two necessities for the kids, it fit the bill perfectly.

The resort provided boating and kayaking facilities in the backwaters, and a great play area for small children. For the older ones, there are huge playgrounds created by the receding waters of the Harangi, which served as badminton and volleyball courts.

Meals in the garden, watching the birds and the vegetation scored over Doremon, in their novelty value, hence, making my job of feeding my younger one easier and their tummies fuller.

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a view of the backwaters early in the morning
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a bed of soft green ahead of the waters.
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  1. Dubare elephant camp.

Situated about 15 kms away from Kushalnagar,is an elephant camp on the banks of the River Cauvery. Owing to the amount of people who visit it, it has developed a touristy feel with junk food stalls and others selling locally made handicrafts. Nevertheless, nothing can take away the happiness of seeing and touching the huge, but seemingly gentle beasts swaying their trunks gracefully about.

Alongside this, there are other things to do in Dubare, like still water rafting (as a compensation for those mothers with kids less than five, who are not allowed to be on the riskier but more fun version of white water rafting). The vast expanse of green all around, cranes abound and the rhythmic sway of the oars create a tranquil atmosphere.

Right in the middle, the boatman allows a stop at a place where the kids can jump into the water for a small swim  and enjoy themselves. There are also places in between where you can cross the expanse of the water jumping over boulders and play in the water. (I’m told this is only possible in the summer and winters when the water levels are low).

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  1. Trekking up the Bhramagiri hill.

The word trek here, is what I am using quite loosely. Near the Talacauvery (the birthplace of River Cauvery), is a hill Brahmagiri, which offers an amazing view of the mountain range around it. You only have to huff and puff a few hundred steps to reach the top. Carrying a small picnic hamper, plonking yourselves right on top of the world and having a bite, all the while watching the clouds pass next to you is a lovely experience. The top of the mountain gives you a view of three states , one on each side- Karnatka, Tamilnadu and Kerala(Though all you can see is mountains and lush green, making you wonder as to the farce of man made boundaries!).

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Picnic with views like this atop the Bhramagiri
  1. Spice farms.

Being born and brought up in a city makes for a slight amount of ignorance regarding the place of origin of many of the things that we confidently stuff into our mouths. Like the kid who thought that milk came from the closest milk booth and all that. Tucked away in an expanse of green, we saw a small board reading “The Indian institute of Spice research”. It appeared desolate, but on getting in, we met up with a research student who was doing work on growing vanilla. He showed us around huge plantations of spices right behind the building. Brown fragrant vanilla beans, bright yellow nutmegs with a burst of red within, peppercorns looking like a small bunch of grapes… It felt really good. Bye bye, spice dumbness!

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  1. Cycling through the coffee plantations.

They say that you know a place only when you know its by lanes. Cycling through the small roads of the coffee plantations, stopping over every time we saw something new was great. With almost zero traffic, we could stop to watch every bright colored unnamed flower, coffee beans, small bugs and spiders. Houses with chillies spread out to dry, curious dogs looking at us and birds calling out ever so often into the silence, make for a great experience. Quite safe for young kids, as there is almost no traffic. Most resorts offer cycles, hence you can enquire beforehand, instead of lugging your own around. The only risk here is the condition of the bicycle. Make sure you find out ones with the best brakes!

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unnamed berries between the plantations
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the dew finds beautiful places to settle on.
  1. The honey farms.

This was one thing which I wanted to  show my kids, but had unfortunately disappeared this time. On the way to Bhagamandala, on our last trip, we found a small dilapidated museum and a honeybee farm. The museum was dusty and had a weird smell, but was manned by an enthusiastic old guy who explained to us in great detail the history and the progress in the area of making honey. The museum was home to many artifacts and boxes in which the bees are kept. This time, however, the museum was not to be found. Have any of you seen it??

All of the above were really short trips saving us a lot of time to laze, relax and sleep of all the week’s tiredness.

As a mother, it was important for me that my children enjoy their trip too. And we realized that it did not matter whether the tv was on, or that we did not have internet for most part or that there were no amusement parks around, our weekend in Coorg was one of the most memorable ones in the recent past.