i feel i think i say

Happy new year.

January 1, 2016September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

I am not a new year wish, resolution making, partying kind of a person. Usually. Till recently, I would not even understand what the fuss was all about. The need to suddenly celebrate just because we switched to a new desk calender seemed a tad excessive. My resolutions come in bursts throughout the year and so, there was no urgent need to make one on January, the first!I have zero tolerance for alcohol, so I cannot drink champagne and bring in the new year in style. My brain switches off at ten thirty sharp, so I cannot watch late night tv shows welcoming in the new year! In short, apart from wishing everyone the next morning, I had pretty much no excitement in the concept.

2015 has been a mixed bag for me. It has been a time of major upheavals both personal and otherwise, subtly changing the way I think. I like to call myself the idealistic pessimist. I always believe that Utopian ideals work well, but am pessimistic when they do not work out in a realistic material world. Like say, world peace!!:). Therefore, this year and its shenanigans made me more pessimistic than usual. What with intolerance debates, the lynching controversy, multiple bans, the Syrian refugee crisis, Delhi pollution levels,the Nirbhaya convict who got away, the drought…. You get the drift. (I do not want you to sink into depression on new year day).

I was at that point in life where anything good would feel as if it had been rigged to feel so, and anything bad, was meant to happen anyway. And that’s when I saw this video, which someone sent me on whatsapp.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnlULOjUhSQ&gt>

The video is not colorful nor has nothing of surprise value.

It just shows a electron microscopic picture of how one human white blood cell is hell bent upon killing a bacterium which has entered the system.

Watching this video sort of changed something within me. Imagine that everyday, so many such cells within our body and nature keep on doing their work, without actually thinking of the big picture. Just efficient, sincere work with single minded dedication.

With zero appreciation from our end, no bonuses or pay hikes or fancy holidays (or new year parties, for that matter). To top it all, we try our best to harm our system by eating trash, falling sick and generally not taking care of ourselves that well. But , the system still works, with no complaints whatsoever.

My perspective of life shifted ever so little. Whenever someone would tell me that I have been lucky in my life, I usually would have had a long list of complaints to convince them otherwise. I was set upon proving to myself and the world that I was not all lucky.

This year, I think I am. To be alive enough to enjoy this day, to enjoy my health and my family, for my senses which add spice to my world (and spectacles to my eyes(:) for those tiny tiny cells within my body who work with such miraculous perfection, so that I can dream of a future.

Being alive is an opportunity to cause change and be the change.Lets tap into our dreams or make new ones and work hard on them, like those tiny cells do.

And before I start sounding like a life style guru spouting isms, I wish you all a very happy new year.

I so do want to celebrate it this time!

Doctor Diaries.

December 5, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

There are certain life experiences which come to us, courtesy our professions. Some of them make good dinner table conversations, some put a smile on our face years after they occur and some make us feel a deep pain inside. As doctors, we see many incidents which have the power to move us beyond what we thought was possible. And such incidents make us richer, wiser and sometimes more cautious. I have always wanted to share a few of my experiences as a doctor first, a psychiatrist next, about how we see the good, the bad, the ugly and the hilarious as a part of our everyday life in the hospital. Hence ,the doctor diaries.

**********************************************************

Of when my idealism died.

Off late, medical professionals have been viewed more with suspicion and wariness than respect and love. We often hear stories about how doctor so and so ripped off a poor patient, or performed an unnecessary surgery or followed some unethical practice.

As much as I know of most people in our profession, they seem hard working to such an extent that they have no time to even defend themselves in times of crisis. In a day and age, where most media bytes go to a person who voices the highest decibel levels, we seem to have missed the bus by a mile. A lot of us are excellent clinicians, but poor communicators. Mostly, not our fault. We were never taught that our practice, would one day, turn out to be a war zone with land mines, which we had to gingerly tread through. Do not get me wrong. It is not everyday that we go to work like scared rabbits. We enjoy what we do, and how we do it. But on occasion, fear does seep into our bones. This was one such time.

It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon broken by an earth shattering cry, that would have woken the dead. All of us in the surrounding vicinity came out on the roads to see what had happened. What we saw was not a pretty sight. There were two people who had accidentally got electrocuted, lying on the road literally fuming at the mouth. There was this huge crowd gathered around. The stench of burnt flesh was overpowering. I live just across from the hospital that I work in. By the time I made my way through the crowd, I saw that two of our hospital staff had already lifted the victims bodily,and put them into an auto rickshaw.They drove on to a tertiary care center five minutes away for ICU care. The whole episode must have taken around five to seven minutes at most. I was impressed by the immediate action taken by our orderlies and was on my way to praise them, when I was in for a rude shock.

One of the people from the crowd asked us why we had not taken care of the patient. They started accusing us of poor first aid. We appeared confused at first. They must have taken it as a sign of weakness or guilt.

The cause for our confusion, was the fact that, apart from having a time machine to do the needful, we had been as fast as we humanly could. Two of our staff had rushed to find autos on a deserted road to ferry the patients, while two others had helped them into the vehicle and gone to the hospital with them. According to us, we had done all we could and more.Apparently not.

According to the leader of the mob, we needed to check the pulse of the patient before we put him into the auto. The other claimed that we should have done first aid inside our hospital premises before shifting him to an ICU.

We tried reasoning out that time was of utmost importance. That there was no need to check the pulse when the patient looked alive and was breathing. And we shifted him to a tertiary care center only because we did not, as a facility catering to mental illness, have an ICU facility and ventilator support.

Seemingly, all our explanations fell on deaf ears. The crowd kept chanting that we should have checked the pulse. On one level, I knew that they were just out to create a scene. Maybe the shock of seeing a person burn was too much to take. Maybe, they had no idea what to do in case of such a situation.

But on another level, we were scared. Upset that our good intentions were being slandered unnecessarily. Scared that they may abuse us physically.Are really really worried as to why understanding such a simple explanation seemed impossible to them.

Anyway, after a while, for lack of any other logical form of argument apart from the “pulse”, the crowd dispersed. But the hurt remained. That we, (especially our hospital staff who courageously helped the victims without a thought that they may have got electrocuted themselves too) were considered villains even after selflessly doing our best.

It did not matter that half the crowd was totally drunk, and had not moved a muscle to help all through the episode.What did matter, was that a scene was created. And that we looked like the bad people.

In the pat two years, in the small city that I live in, I have seen at least four hospitals getting ransacked and damaged for some alleged negligence on the part of a doctor, which has later on been disproved. I have participated in rallies held to protect the rights of doctors. The district administration has given us a list of laws and provisions to help us protect ourselves. We now have cctv’s in our hospitals.Despite all of these, the sense of disillusionment remains.

Sort of like, when you have actually done your homework, but forgotten the book at home. The teacher does not believe you, but you want to be believed oh so badly. Standing in front of the class looking like the culprit pains you bad. The pain, that neither your teacher or your friends had the good sense to believe you.Submitting the homework book next day does not really ease your pain. The damage has been done!

And so also in this case.Life moved on. Work resumed the next day. But every time I pass by the place on the road, I feel a physical pain deep inside me. One for the victim, who was a young man with small children. Two, for my idealism, which died a more cruel death that day.

Cycling in Pondicherry

November 28, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

pondicherry-city-bike-tour-with-breakfast-in-puducherry-200050

There are certain memories in life which stay with you vivid and clear. You remember even the smallest details of the memory as distinctly as if it just happened. Oxford, UK was one such memory. I was hardly eleven at that time, but it still made an enormous impact. The majestic stone buildings with ivy climbing on to the walls, the mild chill in the air, people casually walking into cafes with satchels slung on their backs, neat tidy rows of houses which looked similar to each other,just as though they had stepped off the rack of a toy store, cobbled roads, and CYCLISTS.

In India, the only people whom I knew cycled were us school kids, and people who could not afford a better means of transport! That cycling would be a preferred vehicle of choice for professors, students who actually owned cars to ferry them back to their hometown and even really old people, was something I could not fathom.The way they locked their cycles with chains to the parking place oh so casually impressed me. And to know that they called their cycles “bikes”,a word, which in India meant a motor cycle, made it sound ever so cool!

We generally outgrow most of the fetishes of our childhood as we mature, or so I believe. My love for cycling was something which stubbornly but secretly stuck on. Secretly because, generally and practically speaking in most towns of cities in India, we do not encounter doctors or bank managers or teachers or chartered accountants whiz away on their cycles for work. I am not saying this as a snob. It is just reality. And staying right across from the place where I work takes away from me, the freedom to rebel against this cliche! On occasion, I have also had his fear of being branded as a “weird” shrink(I do worry about my practice, you see) if I did go against the norm! I also do not live in a place like Bengaluru, where cycling in super stylish cycling gear complete with a helmet and radium piping, would be considered cool. I would be stared at on the road, as if I were a two headed alien who had suddenly landed on this earth!

Hence, sadly,my love for the bicycle remained in the closet for long into my adulthood. I would vow to myself that, when I went to Amsterdam, I would cycle to my hearts content( maybe, going to Amsterdam would be so expensive that I could only afford to cycle across!).

Till, I went to Pondicherry. It was surprising to see cycling still existed as a prominent means of transport for both the young and the old, saree wearing aunty to an expat!

Even more exited to hear of a cycling tour of Pondicherry, offered by Sita Cultural center which is a one stop shop for everything you want to do.From scuba diving to bollywood dancing to cooking lessons, this hole in the wall, blue, building which I failed to find despite whizzing by it thrice, is a hub for all adventure.

And so my adventure started at 6 in the morning with my guide Manisha and a cycle.

To start the day cycling into the small gullies of Pondicherry was not on my agenda when I went, but I really ended up enjoying my sojourn. Pondicherry is divided into a tamil quarter, a french quarter and a muslim quarter. I have no idea what the last quarter of the whole comprises of!Maybe the christian quarter(just to round off the national integration part).

And this is what I saw

Large houses built in Chettinad style with embroidery like wooden panels adorning them. These were houses of Soldas, the Muslim tamils who worked in the Portugese army. They were given a dual citizenship, based on which most of the descendants are now staying in Europe, and come only in the month of July for trading in spice. Rest of the time, the houses are restored and maintained as they were hundreds of years ago!

That the buildings in Pondicherry are colour coded. For example, the Aurobindo institutes are grey in color, the Government buildings are yellow, the French buildings are orange and the like.

For the film buffs,this is the house where the crew of “The life of Pi” stayed during the shoot.

Are we parents killjoys??

November 8, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

I remember reading “The battle hymn of a tiger mother” by Amy Chua, with mixed reactions and thoughts. The parenting methods described in the book seemed to me, quite harsh and rigid, with no thought whatsoever for the child’s needs, wants or attitudes. All that mattered was the parental opinion about what was good and what was not!

Last week,I had a difference of opinion(which is my label for a small tantrum) with my son regarding his badminton coaching. He was preparing hard for a tournament, and had just finished his written school tests. I knew he was worn out. But his coach had promised a practice session.

I am genuinely non pushy in terms of achievements, but was desperate for him to go because I felt that the only way to reinforce his waning interest in badminton (after three years of practice sessions which weren’t leading to anything much)was to see other players and learn to be competitive.

Unfortunately, he did not feel so. He kept whining constantly that it was a Saturday, and he needed to read something and play football, that he would practice everyday thereafter, and why was the tournament on Children’s day(November 14th),one of the fun days in his school and so on. And on. And on. Which finally got on my nerves.

And made me switch to my emotional blackmail mode. Of saying that if he was not interested , it would be better to quit rather than whine. And how I hated listening to his complaints after a hard day’s work. And we had given him so many opportunities,that so many other children did not have etc.

I caught myself. These were the exact things I advice parents coming to my consulting room not to do. And the path which I swore I would never ever take. And there I was, switching to autopilot blackmail parenting, as soon as things did not go my way!

Parenting over the generations may have changed significantly, but there are certain things that have still remained the same.Especially, in Asian countries, parents still pride themselves in the achievements of their children, take credit for pushing them in the right direction and praise sparingly for fear of marring the motivation of the next achievement. (Do read Arnab Ray’s(<http://greatbong.net/2015/08/25/desi-parents-and-their-expectations/&gt> )

At the other end of the spectrum, are parents who believe that the sun rises and sets for the sole purpose of making their child rise and shine in this world. Their achievements are glorified, gilded and put out for display,making the kids paranoid about losing. Children who swing between this spectrum end up lost and confused.

Childhood memories of mine comprised of playing on the roadside, inventing a new past time for every summer holidays, and imaginative play when I would be a sari seller to bank manager to a film star-(all with the help of a battered yellow purse, a box full of tattered monopoly bank notes and a pen).

But my children do not share the same freedom of time for free play. By the time they come back from school and their hobby classes, its time for homework, dinner, tv and bed. They no doubt play in school, but is that enough? I remembered reading a term called the “over scheduled child syndrome”, which pressurizes the child to over perform and kills its creativity.I did not want a tired child!

At the same time, as both my husband and I work and live in the heart of the city, we absolutely cannot let our kids loose on the roads without supervision. And the live in maid quits without a cable tv connection, so we cannot prevent excess tv time either.

So, how do I as a parent, make sure my child is well scheduled but not stressed, creative but not aimless and still retain my sanity. Seems like a tall order, doesn’t it!

Michael Thompson, a clinical psychologist and the author of “The Pressured Child,” says“As a general principle, there is a line between a highly enriched,interesting, growth-promoting childhood and an over scheduled childhood,” he said. “And nobody knows where that line is.”

And after reading up a lot about this, I came out consoled. The fact that there are other parents out there who face the same issues is comforting to an extent. And the summary of what I thought I could do goes like this:

So, though I did send my son over to badminton class that day, we made it up watching cartoons that night. And hopefully my son does not think of me as a tiger mother any more!

As long as my children seemed mostly happy with their routine, it was fine to breathe easy.

For the unscheduled play time, we could find some time together without any specific aim in mind, and do fun things that they wanted.Like not using the bat and ball that we had carried to the park, but just sit and play a game of looking at the people around and guessing their profession!

I would make time to actually listen to them, rather than paying halfhearted attention while looking at my whatsapp messages.

They were capable of handling multiple hobby classes.But I wouldn’t expect them to excel in every class that they went to. It was plain unreasonable.

As long as the activities were not dipping into their sleep or eat time, it was ok.

The activities were meant to enrich their personality but determine their self worth. As in,it was wrong to say”You are only as good as the prizes that you get!”

Just like they needed down time without an agenda, so did I. And when these times met, to have fun doing something impromptu, like dancing Gangnam style!

It is sensible to start hobby classes only after a certain age (psychologists recommend 8 to 12 years). Before this, children tend to be in the process of growing interests and that the interests may keep changing,needlessly frustrating us. One day skating, the next month guitar, and as soon as you have bought the guitar, football begins to look interesting!No point in starting so early that you have unnecessary memorabilia scattered all over your house and fights about “You do not stick to anything” between you and your child!

Its raining blogs!

October 29, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

The proverb “When it rains, it pours” seems apt for this week. From not blogging for the past two months to three posts within the span of one week is overwhelming even for me!The reason for this post is because of a pleasant surprise that I got from a fellow blogger Laura. Actually, cut that. It was really exciting, happening and great surprise. I was humbled to have been nominated for the Liebster Award by Laura from the blog “<http://Riddle from the middle>”.

Thank you so much Laura. This is my first award nomination ever, and I am humbled and happy to have received it.

Going by the rules:

Write a post thanking and linking the person who nominated you for the Liebster Award. Include the Liebster Award sticker in your post or on your blog.
Nominate 5-10 other bloggers for the award and notify them in one of their posts.
All nominated bloggers are to have less than 200 followers.
Answer the 10 questions posed by your nominator.
Create 10 questions for your nominees to answer.
Copy these rules into your post.

The questions given to me by Laura are:

1.If you could choose to take a college class purely for pleasure, what would it be?

I think it would be history and cryptology. The idea comes from Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. I have been fascinated by history since when I was a kid, and to decipher scriptures and books written in unknown languages and revealing their deep dark (and may be not so dark)secrets is something which makes it so very happening (to me).

2.Why did you become a blogger?

It gave me the freedom of connecting with people all over and sharing my thoughts with them. And because I love to write and was not sure how people around me would accept my writing. Blogging gave me some anonymity at first. Now, I crave likes and comments!

3.What’s the last guilty pleasure you indulged?

As a working mother of two, getting “me time” is somewhere close to the vicinity of impossible. So last time we went for a holiday, I feigned a headache, handed over charge of my kids to my poor unsuspecting husband and finished off my novel in three hours flat without interruptions. Bliss!!

4.Spring, summer, fall, or winter – which is your favorite and why?

Spring and monsoons. Though out of these, I am partial to the “rainy season” as we call it. I love the way the world looks then, all wet, glistening, fresh and green.

5.You unexpectedly get five hours of downtime, no strings attached. What do you do with it?

Sleep. Or maybe watch one whole season of“Sherlock” back to back.Or read. Or maybe go out cycling.Or…..

6.What was your first paying job? Were you good at it?

I joined my current job two months after I finished my post grad and have been here since. So, hopefully,as I have not been asked to leave, I think I may be a teeny weeny bit good at it!

7.You have one million dollars you must donate but you can only give it to a single organization. What cause do you choose to support? Why?

This one is a bit difficult to answer. There are so many of them doing such a good job and so much need of funds. I think it would be to a fledgling organization which works for a girl child’s education. Or maybe I’ll start one with the same ideology!

8.What made you self-conscious as a child?

Being the center of attention. The same still holds good.

9.Do you enjoy traveling? Why or why not?

I so love travelling. Not only the reaching the destination and exploring part, but the actual looking out on to the road for hours and still not getting bored part too. Therefore, I am very bad travel companion. I am too busy romancing the view outside (yes, even at night and even from airplane windows).

10.What’s your morning routine? What is the one part of that routine you could never give up?

Get up. Brush. Go for a jog. Make breakfast. Cook.Wake the kids. Get them ready.Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Then get dressed and run for work. I would not miss the brushing part. I am too obsessive for that!

Thanks again for the nomination Laura.

The blogs that I have immensely enjoyed reading and hence nominate are:

I really love reading these blogs and hope you do too. The participation of these bloggers in the process is entirely voluntary.

My questions to you are:

Which is your all time favorite book and why?
Which is the one meal that you will remember all your life and why?
If given a chance, whom would you like to swap places with in this world and why?
Name one destination that you want an expense paid trip to, and of course, why?
When did you realize that you wanted to blog and how fast did you act on it?
Have you faced writer’s block and how do you deal with it?
Reading, writing or traveling. Pick one.
Which is the first book that you remember reading?
If you were stuck on a island, what are the five things that you would want with you?
What does spiritual mean to you?

Bye for now.

Baby steps towards a bigger cause.

October 25, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

I still remember the day when my Professor of Psychiatry told me, that it took him quite a while to find a bride who was willing to accept a “mental” doctor for a husband!

It has been almost thirty years since, but despite enormous strides taken by science and society alike, the ground reality for patients suffering from mental illnesses, especially in India, is still one shrouded by secrecy or shame.

On a day to day basis, we encounter a wide range of patients who need help, but deny themselves, for fear of being branded as mental patients. On the other extreme, we see relatives or well wishers of patients who try their own form of counseling not realizing that they are doing more harm than good! Every patient in the inpatient department of our hospital, coming from various socio- economic- cultural- religious backgrounds, is bound by the common factor of the presence of a talisman of some kind,either round their wrist or their neck, waiting to cure the illness if the doctor cannot!

In a population which fast succumbing to the high levels of stress in today’s world, the statistics regarding mental ill health are truly scary. Every one in four individuals anywhere in the world would have suffered from mental ill health at some point in their lives. Depression ranks third among illnesses which kills the patient. And India, estimates say, has about 50 million people who need mental health care. Unfortunately, the supply of mental health professionals to handle such a huge load of patients is dismally low! We have currently in India, about 3800 psychiatrists,398 clinical psychologists and 850 psychiatric social workers. There are no registries for counselors at all!

Even with the intent of helping the patients as best as we can, we, as mental health professionals face the problem of having too little time and too many who need it.

Hence, I feel it is the duty of every human being to finally start recognising that we need to chip in our little bit in order to elevate the status of mental health. Government agencies, NGO’s and media can only do so much if the public at large behaves like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand.

A few things which I believe we can inculcate are:

Start by regarding the mind as a tangible organ of our body. One of the reasons that we refuse to consider a diseased mind is because, we cannot accurately locate the whereabouts of it. It is vague, complex and therefore out of bounds to any physical testing, apart from analysing our behavior. But this does not make it non existent. We need to start teaching the habit of recognizing emotions and their healthy expression in children, so that they learn to understand their minds early. Then on, recognizing the stress and negative emotional states may become easy and non stigmatic.
Do not regard mental health professional as enemies in disguise. It is frustrating to see well educated, intelligent people take their kith and kin to quacks or magico religious healers and subject them to different kinds of torture. Eg. Thrashing, burning, keeping them hungry for days, making them eat leftovers etc. The common excuse given is that they were worried that the doctor would addict them to medicines!!! As if the torture meted to them was better than suffering from an addiction! We are commonly asked whether medication can ruin kidneys or whether we can cure a disease without medicating(when they have no qualms about swallowing diclofenac indiscriminately for their arthritis!). The need of the hour is to learn to trust that the doctor knows his job as he has been trained for a minimum of two to three years in psychiatry. At least, he is better than the neighbor who makes tall claims about the state of the patient’s kidneys(which we apparently spoil by medicating) without having studied biology for the past so many years of his life. We would love to help if you would just let us.
Realize that, just as there are different treatment procedures for the body, the same follows for the mind. Discuss treatment options clearly, and realize, please, that we will not be standing with an electrical prong waiting to give an ECT to anyone who happens to walk inside the door!ECT is a valid, useful form of therapy and not used as punishment as depicted in many movies.
Many mental health professionals are reaching out to the general public by way of television, media, articles and public programs to raise awareness about mental ill health. Listen, read and believe only what is coming from a genuine source, and not what gathers most trp’s, as in the case of television channels airing programs of regression therapy and past life therapy. They are false. Period.
When you meet a person who confesses to feeling depressed or upset or has some trouble with his emotions, kindly refrain from offering suggestions like”You need to use your will power to come out of this” or “Look at someone worse than you, you will feel better”. Mental illnesses have nothing to do with will power. The strongest, most wealthy and physically healthy among us can succumb to mental illness. It would be better to find the best counselor in town and gently direct the person to speak with them. The counselor in turn can gauge the problem and decide whether he/she needs a psychiatrist.
Do not judge the patient, after treatment, based on his illness. Mental illness makes us behave uncharacteristically. Do not hold grudges against the patient for their bad behavior during the illness nor judge him/her for the rest of their lives based on this. It is harmful for their self confidence. Eg. If a person tried to attempt suicide, do not reject his application in a job place or his proposal for marriage. Instead, ask whether the person has taken his full course of treatment. Discuss with the doctor in detail, how well the person is and how much responsibility he can handle. This solves much of the problem rather than enhancing it.
Do not hide the fact that someone has suffered from mental illness, especially when the person is getting married. We see marriages breaking down in our consultation rooms, for this very reason, that the spouse discovered the illness after the wedding. Every person has a right to decide on the kind of spouse that they want. Deceit wont help. Give your child the confidence of owning up to facing a difficult illness and still believe in their self worth.Then look for a spouse. In an arranged marriage scenario, there may be a lot who shy away from proposals, but believe me, your daughter or son would be happier with a person who genuinely accepts them and respects them rather than live in shame and neglect.
Practice acceptance. We never shy away from accepting any of our physical ailments. In fact, sometimes, we exaggerate them. But mental stress and strain are denied consistently. Unless we ourselves are unaccepting of our problems, there is no way the society will accept it. It was an exhilarating moment for us when a postgraduate student of surgery came up on stage at a public function to own up that she had suffered from schizophrenia and achieved what she wanted despite of it. We need more celebrities, survivors of traumatic stress disorders and people around us to start accepting their problems without shame. Only then, can the dignity step in.

Most of what I have written about is something that we all can practice at an individual level. If we can inculcate it and spread the word, we can probably inch closer to the WHO theme of this year’s mental health day”Dignity in mental health”.

A little bite of France and a big gulp of the sea -Pondicherry

October 13, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

I remember reading a quote by Kurt Vonnegut which said “Bizarre travel plans are dancing lessons from God”. I did not even know who Kurt Vonnegut was, at that point of time (though I did google him and found out that he was an American writer!), but the quote somehow stuck in my mind.

I was sure, given my obsessive traits, that such travel was never going to be a part of my existence. After all, super planning was my forte.

Cut to October this year, after six months of working myself to the point of exhaustion, the craving to take a break was immense. With unexplained logic, I decided that Pondicherry would be the place to refuel me. I knew there was not much there to entertain my kids, and that it was really far off to go (around 400 odd miles from where I live), just to put up my feet and rest! The idea was so uncharacteristic of me, that people around kept asking me if I had a conference there or would be meeting my friends, perhaps!

Slow, lingering holidays were hardly a part of my previous agenda in life. Off late, I have been reading books like “Falling off the map” by Pico Iyer and have been an ardent follower of Shivya Nath, who writes a travel blog “The shooting star”, which may have subconsciously influenced me to visit a place, just because!Or maybe it was just sheer exhaustion which made me travel without anything specific to do, but be!

And Pondi ( as I now call it fondly) did live up to all my expectations and more.

Revisiting forgotten pleasures of watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee for hours, waking up to watching the sea in front of you, listening to the waves when you sleep at night and gorge on cuisines as diverse as the fiery Chettinad and subtle French make being in Pondicherry a divine experience!

Whenever I used to read about Pondicherry or see pictures, it would seem to me as if the city had a quaint, old world charm to it. In reality, the city is sharply divided into a bustling, crowded,typical Tamil neighborhood and a smallish French quarter, which is rather racistly called “White town”.Strange though it was,within five short days, I got used to seeing a Tamilian lady speak fluent French and Frenchman haggle for veggies in a liberally accented Tamil!

Needless to say, all the tourist attractions and the hotels are located in the French Quarter. Most of the hotels are restored homes of the French governors and other officials, and hence stately,huge and grand.

*view of the hotel foyer- complete with a fountain and wrought iron chairs*

The hotel which we stayed, was on the Promenade road, just across the beach. Every window we opened gave us a magnificent view of the beach, and this was perhaps the best part of the trip. I have never been a big fan of the sticky, salty ocean, but this experience transformed me! Just watching the magnificent sunrise ( sunsets are not visible on the sea, as we were on the east coast!)was enough soul food.

One of the best things about the Promenade Road is that it is home to most of the attractions that are to be seen! The Gandhi statue surrounded by intricately carved pillars (which were apparently scoured from a fort conquered by by Shivaji, in Gingee, Tamilnadu- never knew Shivaji travelled that far), the French war memorial, the old eighteenth century light house, the Cathedral of Immaculate conception,the half sunken pier and the Aurobindo ashram institutions all are neatly placed one next to the other on the road, making it easy to tick off the things on our to do list in the span of a day! The rest of the stay hence, was used to explore and laze!

The road is off limits to traffic from 6 in the evening to 7 next morning owing to the amount of people who throng the beach every evening! The road is brightly lit through the night and boasts of a cafe which is open twenty four seven to feed any hungry visitors! Waking in the middle of the night and looking out of our hotel window gave me a glimpse of the road which was still teeming with people at 3 AM!

The French quarter is picture perfect. The worst camera would probably still give the best picture! Every building is clickable and vibrantly colored! And one in almost five buildings is a cafe serving mouth watering food!

*neat picture perfect buildings in the French quarter*

Back after the holiday, I was reading a blog on Pondicherry, when I realized that there were quite a few touristy places that we had not visited. Any other time, it would have made me squirm at the lost opportunity, but somehow, this time, it felt okay.

I had carved out my own experiences. I had explored the by lanes and alleys with an old battered cycle and knew the best place to eat street food! I experienced riding a bike on the scary, honky,busy roads with my daughter and watching rows of glaring neon signs and really really huge jewelry shops(each one the size of any respectable mall!).

I had unearthed stores which sold old vintage furniture, a convent where destitute women made exquisitely embroidered clothes, discovered a never before seen insect and watching my kids’ excitement, taken a selfie with my son and a hundred year old banyan tree and read peacefully for hours while watching the sea!

With Pondicherry,I think I have discovered my love of soaking up the feel of the place with my seemingly bizzare travel plan!

my partners in crime - a red vespa and an old cycle with hardly any brakes! — *my partners in crime – a red vespa and an old cycle with hardly any brakes!*

Myths are my thing!

August 16, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

Off late, I have been reading a lot of books on spirituality and mysticism. Probably, this is why I got thinking about how and why myths, legends, tales of kingdoms bygone are generated. Are these true stories? Or did they grow as tales of strength and valor passing from generation to generation,peppered with liberal doses of imagination of the people who had no better past times than story telling? Or were they trying to glorify these stories just to get a proxy ego boost? Somewhat like, “Though I have not done anything great, wait till you hear about my ancestors!”. The glory of past achievements trickling down into their blood, giving them the confidence to carry out with their mundane existence.

Which ever way it goes, the best part about these stories are that, they are interesting to listen to. And if you are like me, in a way that anything history and mysterious fascinates you, they can lead you into the past of your imagination so many hundreds of years ago, when levitating sages and magic potions were probably as common as roadside cows now!

I first had this feeling when I visited Hampi, in Hospete. The ruins of the Vijayanagara Kingdom, the plains, the rocky mountains, the silence and the fact that most of the city is so well preserved, make it easy for you to suddenly imagine those times when they would sell gold in bushels on roadsides, the swish of the King’s silks as he entered the Vittala temple and generally,the grandeur of those times.

The same with the fort in Chitradurga, where one look at “Obavvana Kindi”(the crevice in the wall of the fort named after Obavva ) is enough to push me into a world where Hyder Ali’s treacherous plan was spoiled by a soldier’s wife with a wooden pestle.

Recently, this feeling caught me when we went to an almost unheard of place called Sirigere, about 30 kms from where I live. What started as a long drive in the rains became a lesson in history and mythology.

Sirigere looks like any common village in the heart of malnad, with one road,a couple of houses,and a temple on the top of a hill.But what sparked my interest was this board:

dscn2227 — *The board which reads”Pandavas prayed here”*

Which reads, “This is the place where the Pandavas(yes, the same ones from the mahabharat), prayed”. Trudging up the hill, we found a makeshift temple and an over enthusiastic priest. The temple consisted of a mound covered in red with a trident and some rudrakshis wound around it and another mound next to it.

dscn2231 — In front of the temple on top of the hill

The priest explained that we were actually standing on the top of a temple which had been buried underground. He showed us a closed trap door entrance to the temple underground, which was not accessible to visitors, as they had seen and caught a lot of them trying to steal into the tunnel in search of treasure! (Only if it were so easy!). He claimed that this was indeed the place where the pandavas prayed last before their exile ended. And that there was a whole sect of people replete with a swamiji (Godman), who had grown on and into that belief.

A stream from up the hill finding its way out of a cow’s mouth!

He pointed to the other mound and said that this was the place that the swami took his Samadhi. In other words where he died. But the concept of this again, is part spooky and part exciting to me. Taking samadhi means that the seer would have known by divine intervention that his time on earth was coming to an end. At which point he would crawl inside a cave on a self imposed fast and meditate for days on end. There would be a lamp placed at the mouth of the cave, with instructions that, once the lamp extinguishes(which meant that the swami’s soul would have left his body), the cave would be sealed. I had recently also seen Sri Shankaracharya’s samadhi in a cave of a hill in Kashmir! Again, this is impossible for me to imagine, but apparently happened quite often!History or fantasy?

We become instantly suspicious about the fact that we can be in a place so famous and deep in history which no one has heard about, when he comes out with yet another explanation.” If we let the Archaeological Department into this secret, they would most certainly dig out the temple from underground and spoil its aura. Why do we need a scientific body to prove something that we know as true and believe. Hence all this secrecy!” Put that way, it makes a weird kind of sense. Who are we to burst the bubble, if it is giving solace to so many??

He went on to show us the weapons which were apparently used by the pandavas, hands us a visiting card of the temple, complete with a website, which some techie from Bangalore(who is also a devotee) has created with a detailed description of the miracles which have happened in the temple and tells us about a cave right on top of the hill in which Arjuna meditated, and is off bounds to visitors(but not to him) due to the divine energy it radiates.

Dazed and part unbelieving,we clamber down in the rain.One part of me wants to believe that I have indeed been living close to a very important, magical, mysterious,mythologically significant place.The fantasizer in me is glowing, and how!The rational side, plays spoilsport though. I wonder how the pandavas strayed so far from their course, in exile. Then again, fourteen years is a really long while. And they did not have GPS for sure!

I had once met a scholar who told me that most of the stories of bravery and valor recorded as history in our textbooks and the like had actually never happened in that exact same way. The people existed, and so did their brave spirit, but the story was, in fact blown out of proportion to impress upon the lay people, the strength of spirit! Being the emotional country that we are, any talk of changing the story would erupt into a fight or convert into threats for the scholar!

Hence, our myths and legends have stayed. And grown. And enticed me into their mystery. Fleetingly making me forget that there is a line between fact and fantasy. And that sadly,most times we need to boringly stay with the facts. For the rest of the time, there is places like Sirigere!

My world then….

August 1, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

Growing up in the eighties and the nineties meant watching the world change at its fastest. We were whisked from a lazy, calm, slightly meandering time and plopped right into the middle of a whirl of activity. Especially so, after the discovery of the internet, mobile phones and the social network. At the risk of sounding like a dinosaur, I know that my children will not recognize the milieu of my childhood with their own. Now, it feels as if the whole world is constantly buzzing with an information overload, things to do, opportunities popping up every corner, new careers to delve into, and new methods of entertainment! Whew! Where and how do you even relax? There is always something to do or somewhere to go.

Exciting though things are at present, there are times when I miss the old world vibe of my growing up years. With most of my friends and cousins living far away or being busy, I rarely get the opportunity to get into the “those were the days “ mould, and therefore unload the charms of my lesser privileged but more fun kind of childhood on to my son, who looks confused and surprised at a few of the things which I mention! (And when he does that, I feel really really old!).

I know that the world will keep changing and there is no way to stop it. I have lived through many of those changes, in my childhood and teens and adapted. But sometimes I wonder how life would have been if some of the things had remained the same. So that I could experience it again through my children. There were things which made my childhood exciting, and fulfilling and those that probably only children of that decade would understand.

Like owning a tape recorder and buying/borrowing coveted audio casettes.

was part owner of a really old, origin unknown, sony tape recorder, which was schizophrenic by nature. It would play scratched tapes to perfection, but unspool brand new tapes for no reason at all. It was almost alive, and I swear, I was top one on its hate list. My tapes, no problem. But borrowed tapes from cousin, friend or new… definite unspool, which would require me to sit for ages with a nataraj pencil and rewind the tape carefully back into the cassette. Despite these problems, the pleasure of listening to Alka Yagnik in Qayamat se qayamat tak, Lata mangeshkar croon Dil deewana and ABBA on the old contraption was something I’ll never forget.

The pleasure of meeting up with cousins over summer holidays.

I know facebook has made things really great, and I am aware and update about my friends’ lives with the click of a button and all that, but somewhere, not knowing so much, added to the excitement of holidays where all cousins and friends would meet up. There was enough talk to last us through two months and beyond. No need of television, trips or eat outs. We could devour time only talking. Over the breakfast table, on the steps, over the garden fence, during play and under the covers at night! I don’t remember talking so much ever!

Waiting for a trip to Bangalore

Mainly to fulfill all longings to last till the next visit. In my case, books from good old Higginbothams and Gangarams on M.G Road. Vegetable sizzlers from Sanman. Ice cream from Corner House or Lake View. A visit to Kids Kemp, more for their free welcome drink than to actually buy anything ( most stuff seemed exorbitant anyway!). Meeting up with my favorite cousin and exchanging books. Visiting her circulating library. Every single time, a repetition of the same, but still excited about the trip. Because there was no amazon or home delivery to send all this and more to my doorstep. And the only face book we had was a face of a friend and a book.

The lack of choice.

I’m serious. I recently read somewhere that the brain goes into over drive and chooses wrong when given a multitude of choices. Apparently, the brain is always trying to give you the best choice, but unfortunately, there is no one choice that fulfils all your demands or wishes. There is a great post on a blog, Peas and cougars regarding the same. Hence, life was bliss before ‘too much’ came along. Orange kissan marmalade was exotic, when we had only kissan mixed fruit jam. Maruti was hep, when the rest were cranky ambassadors. Till the third option came, the interest held on between the first two! Shift to now, with big bazaars and hyper marts, nothing is either exciting or exotic after the first time. There is always a craving for something new and something more, which never seems to quell.

Brands that are obsolete now.

Lekhak notebooks, hero pens, bril ink, bata school bags,plastic rain coats with colourful hoods,dayanara tvs with doordarshan playing on all channels, halo shampoo, angry fire arrows of mahabharat and HMV casettes.

Writing letters.

I recently discovered an old box of letters which my parents and friends had written to me when I first went to hostel. It was nice to read actual personal, hand written letters after a long time of reading short text messages. I do not know whether they still teach letter writing in primary schools. It sure was an important part of our curriculum… leave letters, letter to your friend about your holiday, write to your granny about your school.. etc.etc..This was something I really loved because I could write whatever I wanted, there was no intense preparation required and one could get full marks for this in the exams! Learning how to make money orders, telegrams, or registered post were important skills in our childhood, the acquisition of which would make us feel a little bit superior to the rest!

The happiness of owning a cycle.

This was one prized possession all of us craved for. The sight of a brand new BSA SLR which at that time cost my parents eight hundred bucks seemed more luxurious than any Mercedes Benz. Learning the art of cycling was done on loaned bicycles so that I would not scratch the paint when I fell off it!

Most of the things described here almost just vanished or faded away in the last decade. Life now is easier, and much more comfortable, but just the thought of these, make me nostalgic. What things of your childhood make you wish for a time machine?

The many moods of monsoon.

July 24, 2015September 27, 2025preethi shanbhagLeave a comment

It is finally monsoon again. After playing truant for nearly a month, it has started pouring cats and dogs. And how the landscape changed! Trees that were wilting have suddenly sprouted green. Stone paved paths suddenly have grass nudging from their edges. The skies are grey, waiting to open up at any moment. Suddenly, there are cranes aplenty pecking their way through green expanses of paddy without a care for the poor soggy scare crows, farmers working in the rain with plastic raincoats and sheets of rain making the road gleam.

The earth smells fresh and green. Forests look lush and waterfalls erupt onto roads as if to please us. Clouds float low and make travel seem dream like.

I love rain in its many forms. I love the slight drizzly kind, when the wind blows chill and you get rain in your hair, and you can walk in the rain without getting fully drenched. Long walks in such rain rejuvenate me. I also love the angry kind when the sky suddenly decides to open up and pour barrels on poor unsuspecting me, and before I realize it and can open my umbrella, it is done. I am soaking wet and still standing with the umbrella half open! It used to happen all the time in Mangalore, and used to come at the end of a hot spell which made me hot, sweaty and irritable. And there is also the insistent, consistent middle of the path rain which keeps on for hours at the same speed, neither too much nor too less. Granted, life becomes depressing then, but on the positive side, this is the best for plonking myself on the ledge of a window with a hot cup of tea, a great book and roasted corn.

If there is anything I enjoy more than rain itself, it is the opportunity of travelling during monsoons. This time, I had the pleasure of traveling along the almost virgin forests of Gerusoppa in Uttara Kannada district for the upanayanam of my nephew. I was so zapped by the natural beauty around me, that I did not want to blink for the fear of missing out something more beautiful. No words can do justice to what God, or nature or some supreme power out there decided for the world during the rains.

Hence the photographs. Enjoy the many moods of monsoon.

The elephant camp at Sakrebail, was wet and beautiful. The elephants seemed to be good spirits with the cold weather, and did not mind visitors.

Sudden rains marooned a motor boat in the water. Looks exciting, like a wreck with treasures, waiting to be explored.

A sudden burst of green along a paved path.

The sight of the grey skies. The silver lining behind the clouds. donotwanttoblinkable!

The back waters of the river Aganashini.

Can you see the water fall on top, between the trees? A lovely view of Gerusoppa ghats

A walk in the clouds…

There is small, old, slippery, mossy stairway leading to a lookout point just at the beginning of the mountain road. The top is really filthy, but the view more than makes up for it!

Green carpet of paddy for miles and miles.

A lovely temple pond with still mint green waters.