Bullet Journey

Bullet Journal | Travel | Experiences

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BuJo 2k19 in review!!

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It is my humble privilege to share with you my publication in the April  Issue of the Bombay Hospital Journal on my initiative #ProjectShakti.

It has also been published in the August Issue of the science magazine ‘Science Reporter’

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Where the seconds matter...

9.00. Scrubs, caps, masks, gowns. 9.04. The patient is induced under general anesthesia. 9.30. First cut, about 2.5 inches, above the frontal-cerebral cortex. I am the fly on the wall with scrubs.

 'Dr. Karmakar, what does the M.R.I say?'

 'It looks like a clean and simple meningioma’

  9.35. The bone drill echoes in the OR

 9.45. The layers of skin are peeled away. 'We are now exposing the brain, by cutting through the dura and arachnoid'

 9.55. 'Microscope please.' The OR comes to life. The operation is now visible to all. Everyone on alert, the nurses ready to start the bipolar instrument, and as for me! My eyes are glued to the screen, mesmerized by the precision and dexterity of the surgeon’s wrist, and his ability to maneuver surgical instruments while looking through the lens of a microscope. I feel a nervous energy and excitement. I learn a lot from the banter in the OR. It feels like I have swallowed a whole textbook of knowledge.

 10.30. There is a tense moment. The surgeon is unable to find a single portion of the tumor, which is unattached to the brain. 'This feels like a gliosarcoma,' said Dr. Karmakar. 'It is a hybrid tumor, quite lethal, this poor old man' said the lead surgeon.

 11.30. The incision is made bigger, more of the tumor is exposed and the surgeons are fervently trying to find one, minuscule spot to enable the excision of the tumor.

  12.30. The whole tumor, with clean margins, is extracted. It is about the size of a golf ball and covers about a third of the brain on an MRI. The entire operating room breaks out into silent applause, for the surgeons have accomplished a massive feat.

 1.00. It is time to close, to stitch everything back together, leaving little evidence of the digging, cauterizing, cutting, suctioning, irrigating and drilling that has occurred on this man's brain.

 1.45. 'Thank you, everybody, let's take this patient to post-op before we break for some 'chai' and lunch' said the lead surgeon.

 As we walk towards the doctor's lounge, I learned that in his forty-plus years of experience, this meningioma-gliosarcoma was one of the worst of its kind he had ever seen, that it was prone to heavy bleeding and that the MRI made it seem deceptively simple.

 Thirty minutes later, we re-scrubbed, this time for a pineal lesion, 'one of the most difficult regions to operate upon because of lack of space as it's surrounded by four major blood vessels.'

 During my 10 days in the operating theatre, I learned so many technicalities, but the most important thing I learned was to stay calm, even when the storm arises and there seems to be no way out.

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Aashiyan: Barfi! • one of my favourite songs from this film, it tells a beautiful tale of a happy home— a safe, comfortable haven for two differently abled youths. I was reminded of this song when volunteering @advitya_official • Notes adapted from MuseScore with added keys and chords I hope you enjoy :) @priyankachopra @shreyaghoshal @ipritamofficial

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June and July Weekly Logs!

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Budapest: The City of Waters

“Mom, I think I got a shoe-bite… And I broke my sandals :|”

 “I’m not surprised by your foot issues anymore, Aanya.”

 *everyone smirks and rolls their eyes, I shrug*

  General Tips:

·      Changing money at the airport is not a good idea, they will fleece you.

·      Avoid spending in euros, the exchange rates given are substandard

·      Walk as much as you can (and wear comfortable footwear) but also try and understand the public transport system in Budapest

·      Try out the Lime scooters, they seem like a lot of fun

·      At the same time, for larger groups, it might be a good idea to try the local taxi services through Bolt (it’s cheaper than Uber and very efficient)

·      BKK Futar is a great app that can help navigate the bus system in Budapest

·      Watch out for Air B&Bs that advertise air conditioning – be sure that your understanding of the term is mutual.

·      Do not underestimate the heat in summer! Carry your hats and shades!

·      At the same time, eating outside in the shade is often better than inside because it has better ventilation

·      Google Translate camera is a lifesaver; pre-download the language to avoid using your data

 Top 10 Places to Click Instagram Worthy Shots:

1.     On the chain bridge

2.     In front of the Hungarian Parliament Building

3.     On and by the Danube

4.     At Gellert baths

5.     In Great Market Hall

6.     Outside Matthias Church

7.     Buda Castle

8.     Inside the ruin bars and pubs

9.     Narrow streets

10.  From the top of the Budatower

 Places to Visit and Things to Do:

·      Danube River Cruise: The most beautiful way to see an overview of the city and learn a little bit of its history ­– and click some gorgeous buildings. The best cruises are those in the evening, as you can watch the city in two different lights: the sun and artificial lighting

·      Stroll on Andrassy Ut (5th Avenue of Pest): This gorgeous street is full of shops and cute cafés (that are all on the expensive side), however, there is a stark contrast between the old and the new – the bright shiny shops and the quaint grey stones

·      Buda castle and the surrounding area: This castle is magnificent, but the view is even better! Do try and get there in time for the changing of the guard, which is at 12.00 pm.

·      Danube Promenade: The clean, pristine Danube will mystify you – do not miss this! During the walk on the promenade, stop at the local stalls and try things that you never have before, like ice-cream rolls.

·      Dohany Street Synagogue: This synagogue is the largest in Europe, and it sits near the Great Market Hall and is completely unmissable from the outside. The synagogue complex also contains a Jewish cemetery and a holocaust museum.

·      Matthias Church and the surrounding area: The beauty of Matthias Church lies not in its size or height, but in its décor, especially the mosaic-like roof. The surrounding area has an amazing view of Buda. (Also note that it is necessary to cover your shoulders inside the church i.e. no spaghetti straps)

·      Budatower: It’s a steep, spiral climb up this tower, but the view is completely worth it! You can see all of Budapest and its suburbs from here.

·      Statue of Andras Hadik: The myth behind this statue is just as interesting as the statue itself. The statue is of a brownish-coopery color, but the balls of the statue are shiny and clean because the myth states that cleaning them is a sign of good luck!

·      Gellert Baths: Sulphur springs, wave pool, swimming pool, sauna, everything! But watch out, it’s not cheap! And there are additional hidden costs, so be sure to carry your towel, swimsuit, soap and swim cap! (Though you can rent or buy if you forget it)

·      Liberty Bridge: This is special because it is soon going to be a pedestrian-only bridge and thus there are cute stalls and charity spots where you can paint and just really enjoy the view

·      Budapest Eye and Park: To be honest, I’m more a fan of the park than the Eye itself. In the park, the locals often have dance classes and yoga classes that are fun to watch; there is also a bar underneath and, just next to the Eye, there is a Michael Jackson tree. This tree is opposite the Kempinski Hotel, where Jackson had occupied the Presidential suite. Fans had gathered here in hopes to get a glimpse of the famous star. 

Places to Shop:

·      Central Market Hall: Paprika, paprika, paprika. Shop to your heart's content. And of course, chocolate. Try the orange juice near the exit, it’s amazing!

·      Ecseri Flea Market: No words needed.

·      H&M, Pull and Bear, etc. (can be found in Pest)

·      Flying Tiger: Go here no matter what, it’s an amazing, cute shop but it has useful items – household, personal, stationery, food, etc.- at cheap rates and good quality

Places to Eat, Drink and Party:

·      Gozsdu Udvar: This is an amalgamation of food and party places; it has all the food you can ever dream of; the following are just the tip of the iceberg.

o   Spiler

o   Vicky Barcelona

·      Ruin Bars and Pubs: GO GO GO!! Especially to Szimpla and Fogashaz

o   Szimpla Kert

o   Ellarto Kert

o   The Hive

o   Fogashaz

o   Csendes Vintage Bar & Café

o   Grandio Party Hostel

·      Rolled Ice Cream (on the promenade near the Danube, behind the Marriott):

·      Hole in the wall cafés in Buda: Never ignore holes in the wall; they’re magnificent

·      Ruszwurm Confectionery: Cake

·      Cafes in lanes and alleys off Andrassy ut in Pest

·      Karavan: Street food in food trucks that mouth-wateringly delicious

·      Akavarium Klub: Underground club. Literally. Need I elaborate?

·      Mir Kebab (or any street-side good looking shawarma place)

·      Goulash Soup

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Presenting May Weekly Logs!

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Perfect: Ed Sheeran

Notes adapted from MuseScore, with added keys and chords

I hope you enjoy :)

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Paris: The City of Lights

“We’ve exited the Palace of Versailles, we cannot go back in for macarons from Ladurée, Aanya :(”

“Arre, what’s the big deal, I’ll go get them, don’t worry”

“But there’s a really long queue to enter again, even with our passes.”

“Watch me!”

I managed to wiggle through by convincing a member of security at one of the restaurants in Versailles and we got our macarons. There were a lot of failed attempts before that though– my okay French got me decently far; I also picked up some stray members of our group on the way!

 Trip length: 10 days

 General Tips:

·      Be polite: Though the stereotypical Parisians are said to be rude, they are often very polite – so don’t forget your thank you (merci), please (s’il vous plâit), excuse me (pardon/ excusez-moi s’il vous plâit)

·      Watch out for scams and pickpockets: This might seem obvious, but it is a good idea to look up and beware of the scams and where they are most prevalent. As for pickpockets, make sure never to leave your items unattended, avoid putting valuables in your back pockets, make sure the zipper of your tote bag is in front, and if you have something particularly valuable that is large, maybe cover it with a scarf inside the bag.

·      Dress smart casual: Everyone in Paris is well-dressed. You might feel very touristy and out-of-place in jeans and a tee-shirt, so dress up a bit, but still make sure to be comfortable because you will walk around quite a bit!

·      Don’t take taxis, take the trains/metros instead: Paris and its suburbs are so well networked, and traveling by public transport is much cheaper than taking the taxis, and it gives you a true feel of Paris! Beware of pickpockets though!

·      Be centrally located: Walking around Paris is the best way to experience it

·      Try an apartment instead of a hotel for potential better rates (AirBnB)

·      Carry your own water bottles to avoid paying for expensive water – there are often water fountains, especially near public washrooms

Top 10 Places to Click Instagram Worthy Shots

1.     Trocadéro: Best photos against the Eiffel Tower

2.     In front of Sacré-Cœur (against the panorama)

3.     The Louvre: Click inside the Pyramid

4.     Arc de Triomphe

5.     Ladurée (or any macaron shop)

6.     The bridges on the Seine (especially Pont Alexandre III)

7.     Les Quais Along the river Seine

8.     Latin Quarter

9.     Notre Dame

10.  Inside a narrow street

Honestly, everything in Paris is Instagrammable

 Paris

Places to Visit and Things to Do:

As clichéd as these suggestions might seem, do read them, as you will see certain tips and tricks that will make your trip!

·      The Eiffel Tower: Go up, right to the top, and click lots of pictures. With the help of a map, try and identify all that you can see from the top. From the first floor, there’s also a zip line that you can take across.

·      Arc De Triomphe: Located on Champs-Élysées, this is one famous monument. But what most people miss (including me) is going up top. It is said that you get one of the best views of Paris, and of course the Eiffel Tower, from there.

·      Sacré-Cœur: This serendipitous church is an absolute stunner, inside out. Its walls echo the sounds of silence despite the sheer number of people inside, lending peace to the ambiance, while the external façade is an architectural marvel. And as soon as you turn your back to the church, you face a beautiful panorama of Paris – do not miss this! The sunset here is really very beautiful!

·      Montmartre: The little locality at the base of Sacré-Cœur, one must spend some time here – there are quaint shops, street artists and caricaturists, and cute cafés.

·      Notre Dame: The hype about the stainless glass windows? Yeah, it’s not a hype. An art lover's dream come true – the sheer grandeur of the structure will bring you to your knees in awe (the insides are closed now for renovation due to the fire)

·      Louvre (and its gardens): Everyone knows about the Mona Lisa, but what else is interesting in the Louvre? (Especially if you’re not really an art person and would like to be in an out in an hour or two, here’s a list of the stuff you should still see)

o   Level -1: Chevaux de Marly (Massive horse sculptures)

o   Level 0: Vénus de Milo

o   Level 1: Apartments of Napoleon, French paintings, Mona Lisa, The Scribe, Greek sculptures

·      Cruise along the Seine: It speaks for itself ­– you cannot miss this!

·      Cycle through Paris: Best. Experience. Ever! It’s been 5+ years since I cycled in the night through Paris – one of the best ways to see the city, especially if you have a short timeframe

·      Versailles: Honestly, though the palace is beautiful, for me, the gardens stole the show. They’re absolutely beautiful, and the perfect place for a picnic (and even a date!). There’s a little lake as well, where you can paddle-boat, which is a lot of fun! The gardens are quite expansive, so you may want to rent a golf cart, though I don’t recommend it. 

·      Champs-Élysées and Place de la Concorde: My first stop during my first trip to Paris, I recommend starting at Place de la Concorde and walking down Champs-Élysées toward Arc de Triomphe. Even if shopping at Champs-Élysées is out of your budget, it’s still worth a visit!

·      Museé de l’orangerie: Monet’s water lilies. That was my favorite part of this museum. They also have some shifting exhibitions that are fairly fascinating.

·      Panthéon and Sorbonne area (Latin Quarter): I’ve missed going here in both my short trips to Paris, but I’ve heard that it’s a truly wonderful area to immerse yourself in the culture

 Places to Shop

Shops Local (or Local-ish) to Paris

·      Galérie-Lafayettes

·      Printemps

·      Le Bon Marché

·      Camiou

·      Flying Tiger Copenhagen

·      Fnac

 Malls/Streets in Paris

·      Souvenir shops near Notre Dame (bargain here!)

·      Street vendors along the Seine (bargain here too!)

·      Rue du Rivoli

·      Rue du Commerce

·      Boulevard St-Germain

·      La Defense (this is a really huge mall)

 The Standard Shops, Must-Go-In-Europe

·      H&M

·      Topshop

·      ASOS (online only)

·      Urban Outfitters

·      Forever21

·      Anthropologie

·      Pimkie

 For Cute Stationery (Most of these are at Rue de Rivoli and Rue de Commerce)

·      Papier Tigre

·      Merci

·      Atelier Nota

·      Lavrut

·      Tout note

·      Papier Plus

 Places to Eat

·      Berthillion: Gélato heaven

·      Angelina: Hot chocolate dreams

·      Ladurée: Macarons

·      Streetside Crepes

·      Local boulangeries and patisseries

·      Le Pain Quotidien: This was sentimental for me as LPQ has shut down in most of Mumbai

 Foods to Eat (Select personal favorites, otherwise this post would never end)

·      Crêpes

·      Éclairs

·      Baguette

·      Pain au chocolat

·      Croissants

·      Croque Monsieur

·      Cheese (as many as you can try – it’s normal if you don’t like all of them)

·      Hot chocolate

·      Gélato

·      Profiteroles

·      Onion soup

·      Éscargot (I never thought I’d eat this, and funny enough, I loved it!)

 Maisons-Laffitte

Maisons-Laffitte is a quaint little neighborhood on the outskirts of Paris, about an hour away by train. It is perfect for a day trip with a picnic, relaxed vibe.

Places to Visit

·      Château de Maisons-Laffitte: A baroque architectural beauty, this castle adds beauty and more character to the suburb. Its 1600s architecture creates a feeling of stepping back in time.

·      Parks and gardens (any and all): Maisons-Laffitte is full of quintessential picnic spots, and you’ll often even find the stereotyped French person eating a bit of a plain baguette from the whole

·      Hippodrome: Known as the horse-riding city, one must see the gorgeous stadium, and if you’re lucky enough to be there during the farmer’s/local market, shop to your heart’s desire!

 Places to Shop

·      Fellini: This boutique has shoes and clothes that are reasonably priced and extremely cute!

·      Casino Supermarché: Though this might seem odd, this supermarket (this chain of supermarkets) has this an organic version of Nutella (no palm oil), called ‘noisette,’ and it’s absolutely delectable

 Places to Eat

·      La Pâtisserie de Longeueil: French Pastry. Need I say more? (Éclairs are my whole entire life<3)

·      La Bonne Humeur: Crêpes, and more crêpes, and some more crêpes

·      Le Ballon Voyageur: Semi-formal dining, but delicious European food

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Life through ‘Sliding Doors’

This article was written for the Queen’s Commonwealth Essay Writing Competition where I was awarded silver in the senior category.

 The surroundings were calm. A quiet lull rang through the small town of Mussorie. A gentle breeze blew through the air. Some birds chirped melodiously, but other than that, not many sounds were heard. There I was, tucked away, in the mist and dew of the hills and valley, 7000 feet above sea level, escaping the chaos of Mumbai – the honking of impatient drivers, the incessant ringing of the doorbell, the unyielding ‘pings’ on my phone. I felt akin to Ruskin Bond, in his hometown, bonding with my grandparents in their humble abode.

I had visited them soon after the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai. The city was struck by terror, as it had never seen before. Having heard continuous rounds of gunshots and seen flaming infernos, I was scared and scarred. I barely understood what was happening around me, and as soon as the airport had been given the ‘all clear,’ I was off to Mussorie, in the quiet foothills of the Himalayas. It was almost unbelievable how the financial capital of the country was held to ransom and still the quaint Northern town was unaware of the tragedy and the gravity of the attacks.

I remember asking my grandfather what the people in the Taj Hotel had done wrong. He told me it wasn’t their fault and that there were some terrible people with dark, twisted minds, who committed such heinous crimes. I asked him whether it would happen again, to which he said he could only hope it wouldn’t. I questioned him if they would attack our building in Mumbai. He said he didn’t know, that he didn’t understand the psyche of terrorists. He told me not to be scared and that there was always a road to a safer future.

I looked at him, wide eyed, hopeful, yet apprehensive. I was curious as to what this road would entail, but I was terrified that it would be more than I could comprehend, let alone carry out. I listened, anyway, because I truly believed that grandpa knew best. He had been a soldier in the war, and he knew the intricacies of disasters.

It seemed as if the little lights in the town grew brighter, as if eager to absorb my grandfather’s profound knowledge. The wind blew a little stronger, as if to carry the hope in our hearts to the entire town. The leaves in the trees rustled, as if to carry the message of peace to all the children around the world. The stars seemed to twinkle brighter, as if to spread joy. 

Grandpa told me that when he served as a soldier in Gorsam, Arunachal Pradesh, he chose to live in the hut of a village farmer, instead of in the army quarters. He wanted to experience their lives. The farmer Mukut was a humble, well-grounded man, who lived a frugal life only to save for a rainy day. In his case this is ironical as the rains were his `God’. He was young but not naïve; he knew the political state of corruption in Arunachal Pradesh. Despite his lack of education, his depth of empirical knowledge allowed him to grow two crops of rice because he used certified quality seeds of rice. He, his wife and his six-year-old son would plough, till, weed and harvest the rice to live a life of satisfaction. They had neither the money to hire workers nor any to spare to take care of an additional guest such as my grandfather. However, in a village brimming with skepticism, they were the only ones willing to take him in, and they flatly refused his offer to pay rent for his stay.  

One day, a well-dressed man came to the door of their small, two-bedroom hut. Grandpa called for Mukut who took one look at the man and slammed the door on his face. “I was aghast,” said Grandpa, “So I asked Mukut why he was so annoyed with the man at the door.” Mukut told him that the man sold seeds from a private company. The whole village used those seeds for farming as they were cheaper and they were all flourishing.

Mukut continued his explanation. He said that these seeds were of inferior quality and the crops grown from them were unsuitable for consumption, though they looked extremely healthy and yielded more crops. He had heard of several people who had to be rushed to Itanagar for treatment at the hospital because they had consumed these crops. Besides, Mukut knew that these crops were soil-depleting and one year, when the soil was not well nourished, they would fail, and Mukut would be the only one who would be compensated by the Ministry of Agriculture as he bought government-issued genetically pure seeds.

Mukut knew that their noisy tractors and electric hals (ploughs) and their relentless keetanaashakon (pesticides) was a form of abuse to the soil. They overused the water wells and often left the poor villagers with not even enough water to drink. They were shamelessly misguided by their new found prosperity. They bought all the technology that money could buy on loan and ultimately, that ignorance would be the reason of their downfall.

Mukut’s great grandfather called this dishonest farming. He had always reminded Mukut that farming was an artform to be practised with utmost attention and grace. He must observe the soil conditions and use only as many implements as he needed. Since a very young age, Mukut knew how to feel the soil and understand its needs. He was a farmer at heart, not a avaricious industrialist. His morals and values were so deeply embedded that no bribe of short lived fortune could shake his foundation and convince him to risk everything for unscrupulous benefits. He had imbibed the values of Gandhiji and was a strong advocate for Gram Swaraj (fundamental idea being empowering villages to be its own republic).

Mukut’s great grandfather called this dishonest farming. He had always reminded Mukut that farming was an artform to be practised with utmost attention and grace. He must observe the soil conditions and use only as many implements as he needed. Since a very young age, Mukut knew how to feel the soil and understand its needs. He was a farmer at heart, not a avaricious industrialist. His morals and values were so deeply embedded that no bribe of short lived fortune could shake his foundation and convince him to risk everything for unscrupulous benefits. He had imbibed the values of Gandhiji and was a strong advocate for Gram Swaraj (fundamental idea being empowering villages to be its own republic). 

Surely enough, that very year, the crops failed in Gorsam. A month- long drought struck the village, with temperatures rising to above 48 degrees. It was succeeded by Kal Andhi (the dark storm) that rewarded the villagers with so much water that their dying crops were washed away. The farmers cursed their fate. The other villagers ran to the private company for reimbursement, where they were met with stone faced lawyers, who told them that the seeds were sold with ‘terms and conditions apply’ written in fine print.

However, Mukut’s efforts paid off. His soil was fertile, his farming practices were honest and his crops withstood the terrible weather. He planted honest seeds in the ground and those seeds of honesty sparked a ripple of change in Mukut’s livelihood. Mukut’s yield was condoned by the weather and he was amply reimbursed monetarily.

On the other hand, the other villagers were starving. They were knee deep in loans with interests they could not repay. They were in utter despair. They were hounded by the zamindars (landlords) and sahukars (moneylenders). They had to sell their land, their only form of livelihood. Farmers began rampantly committing suicide in order to evade their loans. To my grandfather’s utter surprise, Mukut began distributing a significant amount of his newfound wealth amongst his villagers because he felt pity for them. This was truly gracious of him for these were the same villagers who deserted him in his time of need.

“Honesty,” said grandfather, “was the reason for his success. He planted honest seeds with hard work and determination and it paid off in full.” In all innocence, I asked him why Mukut had helped his villagers when he had to save for his future.

“That, my child, is integrity. Mukut loved his village and his villagers, regardless of what they had done to him. Their deeds, religion, caste, gender did not matter to him. He only cared for their welfare. He possessed traits that are becoming rarer by the day – kindness and empathy. Mukut was a symbol of humanity as it should be today and every day hence. Even though he was illiterate his values of honesty and empathy stood the test of time and ensured his future was secure.”

I never truly understood the profundity of my grandfather’s story until I was much older. It made me realize that in a world that was fragmented by the World Wars, we have now been united by the scariest phenomenon that we can imagine– terrorism. This terrorism must instigate the seeds of honesty, integrity and empathy. It must compel us to look for answers for a safer future within us, make us cognizant of the fact that as individuals we must love each other, regardless of the narrow, domestic walls that we have created – not just in the face of calamity.

It reminds me of one of the last things my grandfather ever told me, “Beti (daughter), open your arms and embrace this life with old values for a safer future. Your conscience will always guide you.“

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Peacefully Yours

This article was written for the Queen’s Commonwealth Essay Writing Competition 2017, where I received a Silver Award.

Guns blazing, hearts racing,

War-torn bloodshed, people dying,

I see no black or white,

But a white flag seen shall end the strife

I am Peace, Peace am I.

 As I sit on my desk overlooking the Arabian Sea, my 15-year-old mind ponders and almost collapses with the news of the terror attacks in Syria and the rest of Europe.  I feel desensitized but not because I don't care. It's because I care too much to comprehend the languid, apathetic convictions of humans. So I write to you, my Lord.

 Dear Lord Shiva,

 Fourteen years ago, I learnt to say my first word. I was surrounded with nothing but the four narrow walls of my house, abundant in love, peace, and joy. From that day on, a little voice chorused, ‘Mamma, mamma,’ all day, gradually moving onto more words. Little did I know that peace did not exist everywhere, and its serenity enshrined very few. Just outside the four walls existed peace’s enemies: hatred, anger, war.

 Ten years ago, I asked my grandmother if Mumbai was her `native place’ a la birthplace. Grandma, with misty eyes, described her majestic home in Hyderabad, Pakistan. Thoughtfully and slowly she told me about how the Hindus migrated to the `Indian region’ and why the relationship between the two neighboring countries continues to be plagued to date. It was then that I learnt that peace was a phenomenon, an ambiguity. I learnt that there was no clear definition of it and many interpreted peace differently.

 Nine years ago, I saw terror for myself. My own locality, in the iconic South Mumbai, was taken hostage by terrorists. I could see them through my window. I could hear gunshots fired through the night. People I knew, lost their lives succumbing to terror. I saw brave commandos being air dropped to fight the terror and regain peace. The remains were bullet holes, riots, streams of blood and lost souls. It was one of the worst events in Mumbai on 26/11.

 Six years ago, on May 2, the news was flooded with the news of the assassination of Al-Qaeda Emir: Osama Bin Laden. The world was joyous. They believed that peace had finally arrived. But had it? Peace was then a topic of discussion in my school and I was of the opinion that not all bloodshed brought peace.

 Two years ago when I visited West Bengal; a state in which I naively thought peace prevailed because I knew my parents would never take me to someplace dangerous. I was traveling with my friends and our parents. Suddenly our bus stopped to get a cup of  ‘chai’ and some ‘samosas,’ and `puchkas’ that were said to be the specialty of that place. I looked out, watching as my beloved mamma went to get some tidbits for me to eat. I watched on as men in uniform quizzically stopped my mother. I had always been taught that police brought peace and the men in uniform were police. I watched on as they questioned her and as my mother covered her head with her ‘dupatta’ and then quickly edged her way back into the bus, urging the children to duck and hide. I, uninformed of my surroundings, wondered what was happening. As soon as all was good, the bus moved and we continued to the airport, where we would fly home.

 When I came home, I asked my mamma who those men were and why she was so scared of them. She said, “My little girl, those were the Naxalites who have Marxist roots in their heart. They are a growing insurgency in India who attack the common man and celebrities to garner attention to their opposition of a democratic government since the Indian Government views them as the greatest internal threat to security. They follow a twisted version of communism.” The little girl who was almost a young girl was aghast by this war, a war, which was waged in the name of peace and rights but caused only destruction.

 War. Terror. Hatred. Destruction. Love. Peace. Joy. Care. They all stem from the same persona but have an uncanny similarity to diabolically conflicting personas. Dear Enlightened Shiva, why must there be war for what could be solved through peace? Why is there sorrow when there could be joy? The Naxalites believe in a form of communism but India has socialism stated in the preamble and communism is a form of socialism. So why can they not coexist? The Naxalites are fighting for rights, which have differing ideologies. Should we not give it to them? Are they bringing peace? Are they violating their rights? Are we, the ‘citizens of India’ violating their rights? The Constitution of India states that every person has the right to follow what he or she believes and propagate it as long as it does not harm the national interest. Are they harming the national interest? You know, when I was in kindergarten, they taught us to be brave, to take risks and to fight for what we thought was right. Are the Naxalites not fighting for what they believe in? On the other hand, maybe it’s not the mindset that is the problem; it’s the violence and the means to gain peace. Maybe they are overstepping the `boundaries’.

 Oh, Supreme Shiva, the Gita teaches us that peace is not just about the environment around us; it is also about having peace within us. It feels like having that constant equilibrium with yourself and also the rest of the world. We, the educated` us’, who have been taught by Gandhi to fight through `Non-Violence’, are propagating warfare, when we should be promoting peace. Instead of finding new ways to bomb countries with nuclear weapons, is there no way to utilize and harness nuclear power to fight the fuel crisis? These days, newspapers may as well be trauma harbingers, since they are a source of finding deceit and anger through unethical acts of thievery, murder, racial and caste discrimination.

Even at a political level, peace is evitable. We have the United Nations, but there is only so much in their jurisdiction before they are liable to ‘exceeding their mandate.’ The Dalai Lama propagates Buddhist values of peace, love, and relationships.  India is willing to face the Chinese wrath to house the Dalai Lama, who is a ‘fugitive’ according to the Chinese because India is a land of spiritual beliefs and Dalai Lama’s beliefs are in resonance with the land. Once again I see conflicting `Peace’ around me.

 Peace. Five letters. One syllable. Yet it holds the whole world at ransom. Every day we are fighting against things that we do not even know the extent of. These issues are sensitive: racial discrimination, domestic violence, and discrimination against women, humanitarian crises, and so many others. When we were in kindergarten, they gave us a toolbox, with flashcards in it. They called it the ‘Toolbox of Peace.” There was a bandage, to represent kindness, a tissue, to show empathy, schoolbooks, to emphasize education, a figurine of a mother kissing her child to show love and care, Barbie dolls of different colors to enunciate open-mindedness and social inclusion. But that brings me to my next point. Maybe the toolbox of peace has some new inclusions that we are unaware of now, a new ingredient to the magic potion. Or it may remain an illusion. The author, George Orwell once said, “War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.” Maybe he was right. “

 Dear Reverend Shiva, you are omnipresent. Do you have any answers?

 Love you dearly,

 Your little, big girl.

 I folded the letter into an envelope and kept it under my mattress. I believe that someday Lord Shiva will give her me the answers because my mother wasn’t able to give me any.

 Fight for me with non-violence

Fight for me with education

Fight for me with valor

Fight for me because I am your savior

Your knight in shining armor, I am peace.

 Note: Lord Shiva is the Destroyer of all that is evil. He is a part of the Hindu Holy Trinity, consisting of him as well as Lord Vishnu (the Preserver) and Lord Brahma (the Creator). Together they are said to create and restore peace while destroying evil.  

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Mother’s Day baking Surprise

Call me extra, but I think the sentimentality is kicking in-- my second to last mother's day in the same city as my maa<3

I used these super simple, very easy recipes from SugarSpunRun and BettyCrocker. I stuck to the recipes to the T, however:

For the cookies: I doubled the quantities to get around 12 well-sized cookies (otherwise the batter is too sticky and it gets messy) and used two tablespoons of water to make it slightly more malleable. I also added MnMs (peanut) to the second batch-- they turned out pretty good.

https://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes/double-chocolate-chip-cookies/30dee557-143d-47ff-ad7f-1670442324de

For the cupcakes: Since no one in my family cares for whipped cream/fondant etc., I went chocolate-- I put the works: Dairy Milk, Snickers, Twix, MnMs, Nutties, KitKat, etc. I used melted Dairy milk as a base-- this I do not recommend because it is too sweet, however, a better substitute would be dark cooking chocolate, which also melts better than Dairy Milk (or use Nutella-- can't go wrong).

https://sugarspunrun.com/easy-chocolate-cupcakes/

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Throwback: Twilight Tango

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Throwback: Puttin’ on the Ritz

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Throwback: Georgia on My Mind

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Top 10 Things I learnt as a Pseudo Doctor: Part 2

7. You are your patients’ best (and sometimes, only) advocate: In ward 15, we dealt with patients who primarily had neurological or cardiovascular disorders. However, we sometimes treated children with non-communicable diseases like jaundice. ‘M’ was one such child. He was ready to be discharged, but his mother was nowhere to be found. “She has gone to work, and she needs to watch my little sister.” At all of 7, the boy was not worried that his mother was not with him in this large, noisy ward of a big hospital. “There’s no one to help her. My sister was hungry and my dad passed away last year. We only have our mom.” The doctor continued her examination and declared that M could be discharged provided his pale pallor improved (this could only be done through proper feeding). “Who’s in charge of this boy until his mother returns?” All the caretakers shied away to their responsibilities. Not one person stood up to help. The doctor and her residents had a conference amongst themselves. They declared that the boy did not need to spend another night and waste a hospital bed that could be used for another sick child. Internally it was decided then that since everyone was busy, we would feed the boy for the rest of the day. And we actually did—we played games with him, improved upon his English skills through games and ensured that he was on his way home by the end of the day.

 8.  Certainty is a rarity: I was reviewing some mammograms with one of the senior-most doctors at the radiology center. One particular one piqued my interest and truly showed me, live, for the first time, that in the medical field, and in life in general, certainty is a rarity. The woman had come in to get her left breast scanned prior to surgery to remove the tumor in it. However, the doctor had suggested she get both breasts scanned and the patient agreed. Lo and behold, one day before she was scheduled to go under the knife, they found secondary, tertiary and quaternary tumors, all of which she was able to get removed during the surgery, and she did not have to get a double mastectomy!

 9. Every patient has an undying will to live: “I’m sorry, but there is nothing more we can do for your child,” said the doctor. The patient’s eyes welled with tears, his wails subdued by the ventilator keeping him alive. I vividly recall his mother’s screams as they drowned out the screams of babies in ward 15. His father fell onto the bed, unable to understand how his 15-year-old boy had become so ill. “I advise that you turn off the ventilator, we’ll ensure he is not in any pain, however, there is no more we can do—the ventilator is the only thing keeping him alive.” Clinging onto one another, the parents consented, their hearts heavy and aching. But a weak nudge to the doctor’s leg said otherwise. The boy was trying to speak, to express his dying wish. The doctor quickly passed him a pen and paper, and he wrote one simple word—NO. “What do you mean?” He wrote, his hands shaking, “I don’t want to die. I will live. I will live on the ventilator. Do not turn it off. I will live to go to school and to work and to die when I am old. I am too young. I will live.” I was stunned. I could understand the boy’s will to live but I couldn’t see how he would live—he could only survive. But I learned from him that the only greater advocate for life than a patient’s doctor is the patient him/herself.

 10.  Teamwork makes the dream work: I observed several wards, but in my honest (and -maybe- biased) opinion, ward 15 demonstrated teamwork to the next level. It operated better than a well-oiled machine, with the nurses, or ‘sisters’ running the show, the ward-boys or maamus watching over the heavy lifting, the attendings diagnosing and overlooking, the residents and volunteers charting and constantly rounding all the patients. Each child’s guardian had bonded with the other guardians in the beds next to them, and they formed a bond filled with pain for one another’s children and a sense of protectiveness for their children. Even us observers played a role, filling in and covering up any unfinished work within our capabilities! And the best part was, no matter what the work was, everyone covered for everyone else (and everyone crowded around lunch didi with their plates and spoons—ready to eat and to feed!)

  Bonus (and one of the most important): Every moment counts: A father came rushing with his unconscious newborn (not breathing) into the ER. He screamed for help. The ER jumped into action. The doctors asked the agonized father questions rapidly, he asked his wife in turn. The infant had been unconscious for eight minutes; she had a fever and was lethargic before she fainted; she was 45 days old. The beeping of the monitor continued in the background. The trauma team tried to keep the baby alive. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. “Time of death: 12:01” Heart-wrenching wails echoed through the stone walls of the hospital. The mother crumbled into a pile on the floor, while her husband tried to hold her up. The doctors tried to console them, told them they were one minute late and explained the difference between six, seven and eight minutes. Eight minutes had rendered the infant brain dead, and because she was so tiny, her organs collapsed almost instantaneously, and she had passed. The father cursed his fate, regretting having been at work when his wife had called, knowing that she would have been at the hospital as soon as their daughter was ill had he allowed her to travel alone. He let out a cry of sheer agony, like a man being tortured in the pits of hell. The doctor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked if they had anything to wrap their child in. Tearfully, the mother handed over her dupatta, and the doctor handed her her swaddled child, her little baby, who she had nurtured for almost a year, their flesh and blood. The flatline was ringing in her ears. She looked at her baby willing, the little girl to breathe, to show any movement, any sign that she was alive, but she got nothing. Just one minute had killed her child. Just sixty seconds. The amount of time it took you to read this paragraph—that time would have saved her baby.

^Pre-OR Picture; one of the best and coolest days of my life

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Top 10 Things I Learnt as a Pseudo Doctor: Part 1

These stories may seem like fiction, but they’re the truth. I observed at a radiology and pathology lab as well as a children’s hospital over two summers, and these are excerpts of what I learned and how.

 1.     The joy is real: They say that when a pregnant mother sees her baby for the first time on an ultrasound, she creates an unbreakable bond with her unbound child. She looks at her baby, hears his or her heartbeat and memorizes it, willing herself to protect her child for not only the nine months he or she spends in her womb but also the rest of eternity—as long as she shall live. If not for the ultrasound gel, she would probably have touched her stomach as if touching her baby, or even hugger her growing belly, trying to show her baby the deep-rooted extent of her love. She’d realize at that instant that her imminent stretch marks and weight gain mean nothing in the face of the joy she would receive in the following months. It is at that point when you are observing the sanctity of the moment, that you are sucked into the atmosphere of love and joy. The joy is real, and you realize that everything you have been through—all the sad and depressing cases—are worth it, just for this moment.

 2.     Manage your emotions: Patient X is a 45-day old female, suspected cardiomyopathy, severely anemic, probably a congenital heart disorder. Patient Y is a 450g 12 day old male with acute respiratory distress syndrome, suspected pneumonia. Patient Z is a 1-year-old female with pertussis, acute fever; she is on Oxygen. I remember being in the NICU and wondering how these little babies were lighter than the tomatoes I bought at the grocery store. I remember feeling my heart cry for the mother who couldn’t find a doctor in her village to give her child the DPT vaccine at the correct time, resulting in whooping cough. I remember the wails of the parents of Patient X when they realized that their baby girl needed surgery that they couldn’t afford. As someone from a more privileged background, it made me want to swoop in and save the day in whatever way I could. But at that point, you realize that every surgery can’t be pro-bono, every ill child is your responsibility and that is why you cannot get too attached, all this while remembering that the patient is not the disease/defect but a human being—in this case, a child—who wants to live and grow to see the world.

 3.     Trust your gut: We once had a boy of age 11 in ward 15. He complained of fainting at ‘random intervals’ at least 3-5 times every day The doctor continued to question him; she sensed something was amiss with the history. She asked when it happened more frequently, what the boy felt like when it happened—but the question that convinced her that her gut was right and the child was faking it to miss out on some events in his life was whether he had ever injured himself if he fainted while standing. The boy said that he always sat down and slumped on a soft surface. The doctor nodded and then covertly told the nurse to administer a multi-vitamin as a placebo and told the mother they suspected a syncope and would keep the boy under observation for a night (during which no syncopal incidents were observed). The boy was discharged the following day, and he didn’t return in my entire observation—proving that the doctor was right to trust her gut.

  4.     Work ethic: “How can you go today, it’s flooding!” “Don’t be silly, what if you get stuck? The hospital is in a low-lying area.” “Would you guys just chill? I called the hospital. There’s no significant flooding along my route. All the doctors, nurses, and hospital staff are going to be there, and that means I must be there, I want to be there!” And so I braved the rain and the flood because there are no excuses—you have to be there for your work, for your team no matter what. To some extent, your team depends on you and you need to be there for them because that’s your duty, your responsibility and most importantly, your passion.

 5.     You are always a student and you learn something new every day: While observing MRIs at the radiology lab, I encountered a woman with situs inversus. Situs inversus is when all the organs are on the opposite side. For example, the liver is on the left instead of on the right. I remember the junior lab technician I was observing with had never seen anything like this before. The senior doctor helped us understand and we were truly mind-blown! She also had dextrocardia, which meant that even her heart was on the wrong side!

 6.     Think under pressure: You learn this when you’re put on the spot and have to answer a question. You learn this in the OR. You learn this when there’s a child laying open on the table and complications have arisen. You learn this when the power goes out, when supplies are low because of the flood, when machines stop working because of budget cuts. You learn to think and do the right thing, no matter what.