Why hold him back?

He lay there crying in pain
He harboured a virus long inside
No one knows how it came
For how long it has been eating him
But finally the body gave up
Lost the fight against the invader
Deep yellow his eye
A liver studded with cancer meats
Stretched down till the belly button
His arms licked dry by the disease
He cries in pain
Intact are his senses still
But losing grip of reality slowly
He knows he will end
His body is eaten up from inside
In deep pain he suffers
Askes forgiveness for crimes
He cant remember committing
Maybe the reasult of lives past
The heinous crimes he must have done
He wants to leave this world behind
And become a thing of past.
But the doctor won't listen
His passionate cries of desperation
He comes and notes and goes
A lifeless smile playes on his face
Do whatever but bent can't he be.
The nurse follows with injections
The fluid burns through the veins
He cries for mercy to the lord
And he wants him to embrace.
It's a gone case says the doc to a colleague
Then why do you hold him back?
He lives in pain
Cant he at least die in peace?
What's the point in holding him back
Piercing the lost body with torchering sharps
His manhood burns from the infected catherter
His body is rotting in his own shit
All he askes is the peace of death
Life - you couldn't give back to him
And still... Hold him back
As long as possible
Is that what makes you humane?

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An evening wasted in waiting

So many expectations
Dreams, thoughts, fears, wishes
A day as this passes slow
Time stops and gives a pause
The moment you look at the watch
And finally when I’m ready for the show
The big time, quality 
The mobile rings a message
Today won’t be possible dear
Lets postpone it a bit further
And that feeling, exasperation 
And the evening
Wasted in waiting. 

read this and other poems on allpoetry

Ghoti and Bati

Source: Facebook 

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.