LYING HALF NAKED: Thoughts spiritual to sensual and everything in-between

My first book  now available on amazon

 I travelled as I grew up and Grew up as I travelled. Along the route came situations, experiences and observations which had a lasting impression on the mind, body and soul. 

This book is dedicated to the memories and struggles which make a huge chunk of our lives but, often go unnoticed. 

Life is but a basket full of emotions.

Amazon link:  http://www.amazon.in/LYING-HALF-NAKED-everything--between-ebook/dp/B01EGAV0SK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461427481&sr=8-1&keywords=lying+half+naked

What to do if Ration Card is not available for LPG connection

My father had a transferable job that took us to many places in India mostly in the North-eastern States. After completion of my schooling I left my parents to take up higher education in West Bengal and for the decade that followed till date, I have been living on my own as studies took me from one place to another. 

As a single guy, I never much bothered for a gas connection. There was the microwave oven, the Induction cooking systems as well as the meals from outside occasionally.

However, recently as I shifted to a new location and finally decided to settle things down here, the need to have an LPG connection dawned on me. Collecting information form the local residents, I soon rushed to the local LPG dealer to apply for a new connection. The process seemed easy without much hassle except for one thing - I didn't have a Ration Card. After arguing with the man at the counter for the connection, I finally Googled for a solution. I found out that it was possible to get a connection even if one didn't have a Ration Card but the man at the counter had turned me back saying, 'apply for a Ration Card and once you get it, come back to us.'

I went back armed with the information gathered from internet and charged them. Finally, they reluctantly let it out that it is possible to get a connection without a Ration Card. All you have to do, it to give an Affidavit done on a rupees 10 or 20 Non-judicial Stamp paper and get the document 'notarized' and submit it in place of Ration Card along with other required documents and your work will be done.

The Affidavit form is something like this:

Declaration

I                               , son of                                              , age          yrs, resident of (complete address at which LPG connection is required)                                                                                                             desire to take domestic LPG connection in my name and affirm as under M/S._______.

1)      That I am an Indian citizen

2)      That my date of birth is ________           

3)      That neither I nor any other family member of the household (household means family consisting of husband, wife, unmarried children and dependent parents living together in a dwelling unit having a common kitchen) posses any LPG connection from PSU Oil Companies or Piped Natural Gas connection for domestic use.

4)      That I do not have Ration Card in my name or in the name of any family member of my family as defined above

5)      That I am enclosing the following documents:

a)      Electric Bill as proof of address

b)      PAN Card as proof of identity

6)      I confirm that the LPG connection issued to me will be used in my above-mentioned address and for domestic cooking purpose only and I shall abide by all terms governing its use.

7)      That I shall not position any other LP gas installations in the same kitchen.

8)      That as and when second cylinder is issued to me against this connection the same will also be used in the same kitchen and with the original installation.

9)      That whenever I change my residence from the present address to another, I will inform the M/S _______(name of distributors/RGGLV) in writing in advance for change of address in the records.

10)   That if any information/declaration given by me in this undertaking or any document submitted in support of identity/ residence proof shall be found untrue, or incorrect, or false, Indian Oil Corporation/ Bharat Petroleum Corporation/ Hindustan Petroleum Corporation would be within its rights to withdraw the supply of gas/ Terminate the connection/ solve the equipments/ forfeit the security deposit and that I would have no claim, whatsoever against Indian Oil Corporation/ Bharat Petroleum Corporation/ Hindustan Petroleum Corporation for such withdrawal/Termination/ Seizure/ forfeiture.

I hereby declare that whatever has been stated above is true to the best of my knowledge, correct and nothing material has been concealed there from.

Date:                                                                     Signature of the person giving the Declaration/Affidavit

Place:                                                                    Name:

Fraud call in the name of State Bank of India

The call as recorded on mobile

Today I received a call from an alleged SBI agent asking if I wanted to activate my ATM card. I had received a similar call a few months back where the person claimed to be an SBI agent calling from Delhi headquarters and that my ATM card got accidentally blocked and they were trying to get the issue fixed. For that they needed my ATM card number. But that fateful day, the conversation could not go on as I was outside my home and had left the card at home. Worried about the call, I rushed back home to check my ATM card which worked fine. When I traced the number using truecaller, it revealed no user name but showed the origin to be from Bihar.

But today was a different game. I had just returned home from my work and then a similar call came up. (Mobile record showed the call came from 75493 00873)

As the woman called, and talked in a similar format as the previous one, I asked them to hold on a second and immediately turned on the phone recorder!

The conversation proceeded as usual and I accepted that my card was locked. On asking if I wanted to get the card unlocked, I immediately replied in affirmative. Soon she wanted to have my number and I made her wait for some time to get out my card from the wallet just to make it sound real to her. I gave her a fake number which she immediately wrote down. Then she asked the validity of the card and again I mentioned a date at random. Thereafter she asked about the number at the back of the card were again I picked up a random number!

Once these details were collected, she asked me the FOUR DIGIT PIN NUMBER of my card and I had already selected my set of four digit pin number! Once she had all her details, she asked about my connected number and I said the account had not had its KYC done in recent times. Thereafter, a voice in the background instructs her to keep the call down and that she will soon get back with further details.

Within five minutes I got a second call from the same number and was showered with the filthiest slangs in an extremely enraged female voice but I could not get the time to record the call this time. She was hyper-agitated and before I tried to calm her down and press the record option, she cut the call.

Later I used truecaller to find some information about the call. And again like in the previous instance the service could not give much detail except that the call originated from Bihar.

a tribute to David Bowie

One of my favorite musicians David Bowie died of cancer at the age of 69. Here is one of his famous songs that I grew up listening to made into a video during my college days.

Confessions of a loner romantic

Yesterday was the marriage reception of a hospital colleague. I usually am averse to attending any kind of social gathering especially if it comprises of people who know me on a day-to-day basis. If asked, I often run short of a logical explanation for my affliction but this has been the thing with me ever since I entered senior secondary classes.

As a child I remember being more of a daring type. Although not very much into easy mix-ups, nor was I ever the heart of the party but, still I had the inclination to attend any invitation whenever any such prospect came my way. I remember, everytime there would be a social gathering in the form of a birthday party, dinner parties during New Year’s Eve, the gatherings at puja ceremonies especially during durga puja when I would dress myself up in the best cloths and be ready for the outing. The wintery weather, mother putting me into a newly hand woven sweater, the warmth of the room heater at the corner while the chilly winds outside in the Himalayan climate of Arunachal Pradesh and still, I usually loved the outdoors.

Although I was usually reluctant to participate in any group activities like a play, drama or any games etc., I enjoyed my presence at the venue and observing what everyone else was doing.  I was always the observant type and I developed the habit of watching people from a safe distance rather early in life. 

But all of it gradually changed as puberty knocked. I cannot say what exactly happened but, over time as the libidogenic hormones had their effects, I was amazed at how my entirety responded to new thoughts, dreams and interests. I was preoccupied with myself. I would spend hours exploring my body. It seemed like a new awakening. The thoughts that had never come before; viewing a romantic scene from the same old movie in an entirely different angle; TV shows which I would turn on  innocently in front of parents even a year back made me shy and blush if ever such a scene propped up on scrolling through the cable channels; thinking about a beautiful teacher in school – rather thinking dirty and then feeling ashamed of the thoughts especially if ever the eyes met the Goddess Saraswati perched on the self above my bookstand next to my bed as if to look over my studies. Often being self conscious of my own dirty thoughts running in my head I would turn myself away from the Goddess and be lost in my thoughts for hours lying prone on my bed with a book before my eyes and the mind wandering what it might be below the cloths of the young and beautiful English teacher.

Mother’s are sly creatures. They know it! The idol of the Goddess was always there behind my head and after hours of brooding over imaginative situations, all of a sudden mother would turn up asking what was I doing. And – how many times have I told you not to lie down but to sit and study; but no, you just never listen. Common! Sit up straight. Turn towards the light. You’ll damage your eyes if you continue doing this. Reluctantly as I’d turn towards the light and sit, there would be this goddess Saraswati staring at me with pinching glare saying – all shit you think of, shame on you, if only people knew what runs in your mind! And afraid of the thought I’d rush back into the book. I remember spending hours at the shower. Mornings on a holiday, there would always be my mother screaming at the door –are going to drain out all the water? It’s been an hour. How long does it take to get a shower? What are you doing inside? Come out NOW.

Those days we didn’t have easy access to the internet as guys have it these days. I was rather a shy guy mostly keeping to myself and having practically no one in the neighborhood of my own age to share my thoughts and all the changes that I was going through, over time I became my own best friend. I loved to pleasure myself.

My father had a transferable job and I changed a lot of schools. At secondary level, there was this one girl I had a fight with in class once. But then, over time we became friends. Seemed, our surrounding situations mimicked each other’s and somewhere – we both were physically of the same inquisitive nature. We connected. And it was this only one person in the world with whom I shared every change that I was passing through. I was a guy and she was a girl, but it didn’t matter. She would be amazed on hearing what happened to boys when they got aroused. She told me of her feelings and her experiences; about her menarche – I was amazed.

In my school days however society was not so open minded as we two were, especially not the school mates with whom I studied, leave aside the teachers many of whom were of the purported golden old world (I have many times wondered what it was actually and if ever it existed in reality) who tried to impose their own square thought process into our minds. I wanted to revolt against all of them, but I didn’t have the courage and of support from anyone. Many saw the closeness that I had developed with her as a dirty intent and I was criminalized because instead of going out and playing with the guys I loved spending time with her. Initially I argued and I was never good at games and sports either way and over time I sobered up ignoring everyone else.

After class 10^th exams, we had a school-break of around three months. So our regular meetups stopped as we lived far away from each other and when it was time to join class 11^th, she was shifted to a different school. There was practically no one left with whom I could open up. To everyone else I was a rather an introvert, studious and strange kid. And the thing has been like that ever since. I loved reading – novels, history, botany, astronomy. Books were in abundance in the school library and I took to them because there was no other way for me to work my brain. I could never connect with my peer group except for that one person as my thought process was often different from everyone else’s and I could never force myself to act in a manner like everyone else in the peer group did. I was unique. I was simply – ME.

Over the years, I have grown fond of this ME and love spending time with myself whenever I can. I love my ME- time. And as I joined the med-school, the pressure of studies and then higher studies kept pushing me onward to a journey of self identification and realization. The long hours in hospital, daily chores and after that, whatever time was left I loved to spend it with myself. Over time I have developed an antipathy towards attending public functions, invitations etc. I feel this is not right, but it feels awkward for me to go out and keep a smiling face all the time and keep pretending niceties even if I don’t want to. Over time, I attend less and it’s only on a very few and select cases that I actually force myself to attend an invitation.

One such was yester-evening’s marriage reception of a colleague. And soon as we sat down to dine, people asked me when my turn at throwing a marriage reception was and I wondered what it would be like and how I’ll survive it. Confessions of a loner romantic …

The long wait

Some days back I had to visit a diagnostic centre for some investigations. I usually get myself checked at regular intervals but of late there was some issue with gastritis that had been bothering me. After trying the conservative medications that we usually prescribe to our patients, I felt as if the problem was a bit resolved but not completely. My due date for getting the routine tests was near and so I decided to get more detailed investigation done this time. A good start towards preventive, rather screening for a disease, I thought.

Being an anaesthesiologist, I routinely do cannulations, as well as draw blood whenever required for intraoperative investigations like ABG etc. but, the thought of getting myself pierced by the technician’s needle for aspiration of a blood sample to get my blood values evaluated felt an uneasy affair.

Yes! I am a human after all and years of being in the medical practice had changed little when it comes to piercing myself. The night was rather sleepless and there was a sever bout of gastritis possibly owing to the hectic schedule that I had to go through over the past few days. But as I was already going for the investigations, I also decided to go for an USG.

Early morning, I was up and out of the bed and rushed to the laboratory to give the morning samples. The moment before the needle pierced into my vein, I felt cold sweats building on my forehead in the well ventilated and conditioned atmosphere of the laboratory. Anyway, having done with the bloody affair, it was now turn to drink water and fill my bladder with as much piss as possible and still not go get relieved. You felt as if you’d burst and still you have to patiently hold on.

The moment I lay myself on the bed, the radiologist recognized my and as a matter of courtesy exchanged greetings while in my mind I was perplexed at having to go through all such stuff. I wanted to rush into the loo and piss myself to heaven. Anyway, she asked – what’s the matter with you, here? What’s wrong?

I told her of my abdominal pain.

As she probed my tummy, although I was quiet sure it was a case of gastritis, but a strange fear grasped me – what if it was a tumour causing the things? Who knows what may come out of it!

At the end of the procedure as she gestured me to get up and wipe myself of the gooey jelly I looked at her expectantly and she said smiling – what? Nothing’s wrong.

Those few moments till her voice reached my ears, so tense and terrible. I wonder how so many people might feel everyday when they wait for the results dictated onto them. The wait seems never ending.

Childhood

Yesterday morning I had to go to Nagerbazar for some work. It was usual for me to stand on the Dumdum road waiting for an auto to pass by and wave a hand to a vehicle with an empty seat. But yesterday proved futile to all my waiting. I stood there for 30 minutes and not one auto went with a single seat left for me to hop on. So, finally I decided to board on a bus to my destination. I usually avoid the public buses given a choice that I have an auto to ride – at least I can sit in it and reach my destination much faster than standing on an already overfilled bus with the conductor try to push in more and more commuters as the thing slowly slogged on to the road with the driver paying least heed to the angry shouts and occasional slangs coming from angry commuters on board. And the experience gets even worse in summer season with the hot and humid climate that we have here in Kolkata in those months. All those warm and moist bodies rubbing again each other; at times the nauseating smell of sweaty body odor emanating from a fellow passenger against which you are so firmly pressed on the bus that sometimes it feels as if there is a serious possibility of asphyxiating yourself to doom and then the point at which you have to take out you purse to pay for the ticket and the bus taking a turn – I have many times marveled at the ease with which many Kolkatans ply over the heart of the city every day over the years.

 

As for me, I feel a sense of impending doom, rather claustrophobia when inside such a space cramped vehicle. However, yesterday was a cool December morning and my rush with no available auto to ride on finally made me wave to the next bus that was coming my way from the Dum Dum metro station and I got on. As usual, there was no seat but the space immediately behind the driver’s seat was vacant and I went there and stood holding onto a vertical pole in the middle just behind the driver for a support and balance.

As the bus moved stopping at every two to three minutes with commuters entering at every halt and some people getting down, thus resulting in the bus getting more and more filled over time, what finally caught my attention were the two young kids in school uniform who got up from Motijheel. They were accompanied with their mothers jostling through the crowd with school bags on their backs and hand holding the tender aged kids. Once into the bus, on the side reserved for women, one of them got up and made seat for both the kids while their mothers held on to the hanging handles with the school bags on their back. Rather big bags for kids of this age, I thought. As I looked at the kids, amid the entire crowd, they were lost in their own world, each one telling something to the other and once in a while parting their eye lids in wonder while at other times catching a cute little smile at maybe an innocent joke let out by the other.

The 10 minute journey

I was supposed to go to Belgharia where my family owns a flat. I had to deposit some stuff at the flat and so got out early today morning. While going out, my neighbor who stays two stories up came and requested to have the keys to my place. His mother had died the previous week and this week he was supposed to perform the ritualistic pooja and other stuff as a part of the final rites of the departed soul. He needed the keys to keep the materials at my place. I stay alone and so more have space as compared to his place where they live as a family of four. And the death of a member has now added further to the numbers owing to the constant arrival of grieving relatives. 

As I went out in a hurry, I rushed upstairs and deposited my keys with them so that they can keep the stuff they will buy for the ceremony at my place. If not for this little thing, what are neighbors for. I got out in a hurry and rushed to catch an auto that would take me to Nagerbazar . At Nagerbazar, I got down and was ready to jump onto the next auto but suddenly it passed my mind that the keys of my flat in belgharia were in bunch with the ring I left at my neighbor's. 

And so I rushed to catch an auto back to my flat. But, how! Oh my god! Such a huge line for an auto. I tried to catch some vehicles passing on but everyone was filled to capacity. So watching I had no other option but to get back via the long queue of waiting fellow citizens, uneasy, I finally stood behind at the end of the long queue. 

It was sunny and sun showered with all its glory. Hot and sweaty getting smeared by the dust blown up by the passing vehicles and smoke emanating from their rear, it seemed an apt punishment to my carelessness. Time seemed to pass rather slow. And then after it felt like a real long time as I took to the watch, I realized it was already more than 30 mins. Someone cursed the autos for not arriving on time while another reasoned that it was the result of the road jam as a result of which most of them were cutting short their trip and were returning from some place ahead of the stand, back to Dumdum. 

Hearing this revelation was irritating and I want to go forward and investigate the truthfulness of the talk but then the ever growing queue was now out of proportion and I realized, the moment I'd jump out of the line, my place would be taken by someone standing behind me who was equally irritated as I was and there was no possible way for me to return to my old place on the queue once I came back after seeing the truth myself. 

Any way I realized, I was either way not in a position to do anything. So better it was for me to stand and wait. I finally got into the auto to take me back to my flat in Dumdum after a period of 45 mins! Strange it is to let people know that the journey takes seven to ten minutes! I wondered, what if I had walked back home. That would killed a lot of time and so much of sun exposure and all that dust and smoke! Looks like I got them all while standing and waiting in the queue. 

The broken siesta

I came home today from gym and then took a bath to cool myself down. I have day off from my duty on Mondays. My housemaid also took leave today. So I went to gym early in the morning by 9 am. When I returned I felt drained out and hungry and so sat down under the fan for some time and had a glass of cold milk. After an hour or so maybe I got up from bed and found that it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. I realised I had been fast asleep for all this time.

I went to take a shower and came out feeling rather unfresh although, wet. Well whatever be, I wiped myself with the towel and sat under the fan for some more time. Felt like writing something but then I was too weak to do so. So instead I set up the alarm on my mobile for another 1 and half hour.

Sleep was catching fast and I was soon diving into the world of Dreams. But after sometime, the mobile beeped. Although I didn't care to check the messages that had arrived but, the beeping on my mobile broke the chain of thoughts that I was having  in my dreams. I don't remember what I have been thinking, rather dreaming but there was an uneasiness that I felt inside me. I tried hard going back but sleep was nowhere to be found.

I tossed and turned on bed. Felt as if it was too hot and so took off my Boxers and was stark naked. I have always enjoyed sleeping naked but the ceiling fan seemed to rotate faster than it was comfortable for me. I got up and turned the regulator down. But by the time I reached my bed and was supine again, I felt sweat droplets trickle down my neck.

Finally I got up again and turned the fan back onto full speed and took my mobile and started scrolling through the messages. Soon the mobile screen flashed with the alarm that I had set for waking me up.

Realising finally that today's siesta was a total waste of time I got up and made myself a hot cup of coffee and enriched with lots and lots of chocolate powder. Finally as the coffee went inside and the chocolate had it's effect, something inside settled down. The unrest gradually ceased and I sat on my balcony watching the sunset...

I do believe angels exist

I love to talk when I'm in the mood. And the best thing to get me into mood is to set up a good conversation. Last Monday proved one such day when I was having a conversation with a junior budding physician from Kolkata Medical College. We talked on various topics and soon it turned to society and our perspective of it. I have to admit although of my being bit of a pessimistic person in this matter but the conversation tickled many grey cells and later I received an email from his side detailing one of his many experiences as a trainee. I present it here with his due permission:

"He spake well who said that graveyards are the footprints of angels" - H. W. Longfellow

What’s the relevance of this quote with my status update???

Oh yes, there is. In these 6 long years of my life as a 'junior' doctor, I have witnessed the fate of several patients. Some have been cured; some have died while some others have survived only to lead a mere future life of hopelessness. Many of these souls have become too closely attached to me. And one of them is undoubtedly that small boy of our very own Paediatrics Department...the one I have always talked about: the HIV infected youngest friend of mine about whom I had written almost a year back.

My last day out with this little friend of mine was 8 months back when he came to our hospital with the same old complaint of fever and diarrhea and got admitted. But since then there has been an uncanny silence from his end and I got no trace of him through calls or letters. The ice was finally broken when I enquired about his whereabouts from the nurses of our Medical ward where he was last admitted. And what did I come to know was that he is no more. He left this world 5 months back! He went into a deep slumber from which he will never wake up.

I went silent for a moment. I looked down at the envelope in my hand in which I had brought the money to give him so that he could have a great time in the festive season. But all was a waste.

What's the use of the money now...

I feel helpless and hopeless at times when I lose someone close to my heart. I ask myself, ‘who are we? Next to God or next to nothing? We take pride in making new drug discoveries or when we heal a patient physically. But can we heal him from within? Can we help him adapt to this filthy society and live the life with dignity?’

The answer that creeps up every time is a big ‘No’.

We don’t in most cases. But surely we can. Curing someone isn’t merely restricted to healing of a bed-sore or relieving Acute Kidney Injury through Hemodialysis or prolonging the life of a cancer patient by 5 years. To heal someone means to heal with the power of love. Even if medical therapy fails to resuscitate a dying person but the touch of love can surely let his pain be eased in the last few moments of survival. I don’t know if I will ever emerge as a stalwart in my professional arena, but what I am happy about is the fact that I have given all the love I could to my little friend who would always have a shining smile on his face upon catching a glimpse of me. Now he will rest in peace forever in my sweetest memories. But the war he fought so far should never go in vain.

The money that I failed to give him before he breathed his last still lies in the locker of my bank account. And someday, I want to use it for building a centre for the welfare of HIV infected children. You can call me a dreamer because ingle headedly it’s surely a difficult task but I hope people from this very society will join me in this venture over time. I do believe angels exist—even today...

Courtesy: Dr. Avik Basu