WASIND DIARIES

WASIND DIARIES

Well, on 16th November, 2009 I came to know that I will be posted in Wasind peripheral healthcare centre for the next thirty days starting November 18th . I was happy because I had a co intern with me. We could thus divide the duty between ourselves.
I set out from Malad at 5.30 am on the 24th. I reached at 8.45 am. Hehe! On the very first day I had to clear the OPD alone as the MO had some administrative work in a nearby town. With absolutely no idea as to what will be my means of subsistence for the next 6 days I had my lunch at a hotel on the Nashik highway, a good kilometer away. Yuck is not the word to describe the hotel, the glass, the water, the dalkhichdi and the service. Hotel Vishal was out. And so were the toilet and the bathroom. But the only difference was that I didn’t have to eat at Vishal if I didn’t want to. But I have seen worse so I was not as sore as a spoilt brat would be if he were made to use such five star amenities. The evening OPD was much lighter. Come night and I was wary of what I feared I might have to face. But luckily the only patient for the night was a delivery patient and thanks to the supremely skilled nurses here, I had to examine her only once for formality’s sake. They managed her well as they have managed hundreds for years before. One of them actually shooed me away saying “Sir, why don’t you go and get some sleep? We will take care of her.” Well the only thing that bothered me is the doubt whether I was being derelict or I was only helping by not interfering. It turned out to be the latter. Ha! The fan was a blessing in a mosquito infested town. That night I was a chimp who loves bananas.

Day two: OPD once again. Alone once again. This was a hint of what I should have figured earlier. We will see what that is. The prajakta tree shed it’s ever beautiful flowers before dawn. Someone told me of a Tiffin service. I went out in the unkind blaze to hunt her house not quite sure of the Hebrew instruction I received of her address from one of the nurses. As expected I couldn’t find it. I love being a chimp. Finally that evening I came to the conclusion that my MO trusted me a lot, so much so that she thought I was more than capable to handle the OPDs and the night duties alone! That someone who told me of the food service was kind enough to tell that lady to get me dinner that night. Bless her, I was already tired of being a chimp. A small pup found a friend in me and my phone is full of his pics now. I discovered this great invention on which I typed this nonsense. I also discovered that the internet connection was out of service because nobody had bothered to clear the problem whatever it was. Lord of the Rings; Return of the King was a feast to my sore eyes that evening. No patients that night.
Day three: the lonesome morning affair took a break. It was show time! A few fellows from an NGO were here for a street play to spread awareness about common diseases. I saw tens of students from a nearby school obviously brought with the sole intention of avoiding a flop show and tens of ladies with their tiny tots. I thought wow what a curious lot these ladies are… well they were workers affiliated to my health centre and were under a silly obligation to attend. But all this had nothing to do with the high spirits of the boys and girls who were to present a fine show. It was worth the watch. Oh yes! How could I forget the most important lot who attended? The whos of the whats… atleast ten political figures, all important at their own level (wink!) were present. And eeks, I had to welcome two of them with stupid bouquets of the humble aster. And to add to my agony, the compere thought I was some Swapnil , but I was better off than him. Poor fellow had a hard time judging who was more important and who was to be greeted before whom and who was to welcome whom. He he! The last speech people had to bear under the merciless sun was a harsh tirade, nonetheless well deserved by the ones for whom it was meant. The chief of the local public health committee came down heavily on all those who apparently shirked their responsibilities and shamelessly gobbled government money as salaries. I was both surprised and happy that he did so in a public function, out in the open for all to hear. Good man. The only thing this program did to me was to extend my OPD (read woes) till 2.30pm. Hungrier than a rat, I finished my lunch in less than ten minutes. A dead body was brought in that afternoon for declaration of death and further paperwork. Once again my MO was kind enough to think good of my capabilities. I had to declare the death and do all the shitty paperwork. The MO hardly had any idea what to do. The MO did what the MO was best at doing. Signatures. The MO didn’t even look at the body. That evening I thought enough of being a house rat and I decided to become a field mouse. I scurried about the market place looking for gastronomical delights. Umm. Without much effort I found what I was looking for. Fresh jalebi, paanipuri, both roadside, much to my pleasure… and more bananas. Another discovery. A tea stall that sold piwar (pure) tea! He he, 4rs was nothing. I thought I will explore the rest at leisure. I stumbled upon the telephone. Free calls. No patients that night.

Day four: they said it was an OPD holiday. But I knew that the patients hardly knew. What next? My conscience hearkened to me. I couldn’t turn them away. Surprisingly though, my MO had arranged for a replacement and the man without a word finished the OPD. Lucky me! I managed one child with acute gastroenteritis that afternoon and had a good naaaaapppp till 7 in the evening as Saturdays were half working days, thus sparing me the evening OPD. That day I realized that people here think of dispensaries as they think of a market. They think they can choose their own treatment off the shelf. I had a great time explaining them it was not the grocery’s they were at and they could not ask for injections of power and intravenous infusions to restore vigour at will. Funny huh! Few of them did not even wait for me to open my mouth. “Doctor, my son is weak; give him a tonic or an injection.” I cackled at the whole thing which has bred such ignorance and at the presiding MOs who encouraged such ideas by yielding to patients’ innocent, firm and out rightly stupid demands. The lady of the tea stall could no more suppress her curiosity and asked if I was a new worker at the adjacent factory. I told her otherwise. She probed further about the nature of my job at the PHC. Her face was a sight when I told her I was the new doctor there. Not her fault though. I hardly look like one. How many docs have walked this earth with long hair and a goatee? I found out an excellent wadapaav joint that morning. Guess the price. 2 rupees. Well the size was commensurate to the price but the taste beyond comparison. I noticed the advantage of a small town after I bought well, more bananas… everything was a lot cheaper than at back home. I went for some stargazing that night. It was lovely. Moonless. Refreshing. And it gave me a kick. The boy with intestinal infection returned at 8pm. I promptly referred him to a higher centre as I had done all I could for him. The eggs had boiled over thanks to my absentmindedness. The pup refused to eat what I refused to eat. He wanted my chapattis which I so lovingly had fed him for two days now. I saw The Two Towers for the fifth time ever. No patients that night.

Day five : sundayyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Yay! I am in love with the scent of prajakta I finally mustered courage to climb up to the roof. Courage, because I had to climb without a ladder taking support of mostly my great shoulders (wink!). Only to find out that it wasn’t such a great view after all. I was feeling like a donkey. Not because of the unflattering view, but because I feared I might have to call for help to get down. Shheeesh! What would they think of me? Is he a doctor or a chimp? (That reminds me of bananas. I had four of them for breakfast.) I clambered down with only a few bruises, proud that I had relived my boyhood days. Climbing onto godforsaken trees and walls and then wondering how to get down. Hah! Lunch was late. She thought she could bring it whenever she wanted. She was right. I was tired of calling up the internet guys to get it fixed and the MO too had found a guileless idiot in me, expecting me to clear the mess they all had so merrily created. The only relief was the free phone. He he! But not my idea of fun anyway. No patient that night.

Day six: tudah! Bye Wasind! Off to home and thence to Mahabaleshwar the following morning. PHRSHH! No tudah! My LPG cylinder went empty but thankfully after my bath hehe! One moron of a patient (actually his mother) left miffed because I did not give in to her demand of vitamin tablets for her son which I thought were quite unnecessary for the healthy chap he was. Silly Tubal Ligation camp at Shahapur. Went on half bum in cramped up Sumo gifted to our PHC by the cash strapped govt. Was reminded of fourth seat in the locals. Shahapur Regional hospital was a surprise with an equipped (but non functional nonetheless) ICU. My MO thought highly of my tastes too, quite evident from the fact that she pulled me along to choose seat covers and curtain cloths for the new Sumo ambulance. Back to the PHC at nightfall, suggesting ideas to spend more money on making the PHC a sight to behold. Secretly I wished that they cared more for hygiene but anyway, I ended up speaking what seemed to please the MO and not what I should have. Still somehow managed to speak up about the empty cylinder. Well as a reward for my courage, I got the keys to the MO’s room. He he! They actually spend time thinking of novel ways to spend money and are worried lest the amount for that month remains unspent! Everybody hates everybody here. No internet. Tiffin lady is such a miser. Tea at sister’s acquaintance’s place. One of the many advantages of knowing almost everyone in the village. The bushfire raging on the hillock opposite the PHC was a grand sight after dark. My fingers went numb with the cold. Never thought it would get so bad. No patients that night.

Day seven: first intern to have bath in the MO’s room! Absconded for the Kasara local. Saw a train ghat for the second time ever. Ever seen a rickshaw on a railway platform? Khardi school health camp was nice. The lab more equipped than at my school! And the fellas smarter! Met my friends gathered from other PHCs for the same reason. Camp done within three hours flat. Left for Vaitarna PHC to have fun with them. Why is there a road to Vaitarna at all? The dam amazed me with its Made in England 1952 motors still working. A major one amongst those supplying water to the city of Mumbai. Photography prohibited (but not for doctors) ha! A guy working there found us and took us on an impromptu (and free!) guided tour of the dam. Left at 5.30PM. Got down at Wasind PHC to grab my bag trying to avoid being seen. But I am no 007. Managed to weasel my way out and ran to catch my CST local. Reached home at 10.30. It’s that far guys! But had a blast with friends, so no regrets! Mahabaleshwar! Here I come!

HOLIday!

As usual it was abhi’s plan. I did not know it would turn out to be one of his best and as usual I decided I shall not ask too many questions. I travelled all the way to prer’s house in the in jungles of Andheri. As usual, abhi did not follow instructions and got lost in the rambling lanes of Poojaryland. Prer gave us a scandalous look. She scanned us both head to toe expecting riot of colours to burst forth. But it was to happen elsewhere. We kidnapped prer from her house and her mom was quite willing to let her get kidnapped. (prer was worried about something else. Her supersensitive skin and her multi thousand rupees worth of a shoddy hairjob!) On our way  to VVM’s, where sadly a death had occurred that very morning, prer and I enjoyed ourselves as we saw three idiots fight each other’s bloated egos.  All of them threatened each other to go home and dunk the plan. Hehe, as usual prer and I kept mum and cool, and had the three idiots calm down and stick to the plan. Alas, it was no longer a surprise for niri but she was definitely not expecting what was to happen at her house later in the day. I directed all A/C vents in the car towards the head of one of the idiots and the idiot smiled. The other two headed for VVM’s place on the bike. I think they were smiling too, albeit for different reasons. VVM was supposed to clean up the clutter in his room that day. His dad promptly sent him upstairs away from the mourning congregation. But then he was ‘supposed’ to clean up the clutter in his room. We kidnapped him. The bike and the car sped towards New Jasmine and the third floor resident who was more than willing to get kidnaaped had just taken a vain bath. Hehe, funnily she hanged into something that fitted for a clean evening out with friends and not to be raped by colours of all types and shades. Hehe. We gave her electric blue highlights for her curly locks. New ager punk! Niri’s pop gave us a warm welcome at Asiatic Enclave. He did not know that the lobby of his 12th floor apartment was to become a sight for sore eyes exactly 2 hours later. It was almost an hour later that we realized it was no fun without water. The lobby of 1201 was too clean with dry colour powder. The shade was a sickly aubergine. And mind you- seven of us played holi at her place with a modest 3L of hechtoo “o”. Half of the 3L went on the floor , on abhi’s torso, Kja’s pants and god knows where else. Vip suddenly brought out what we all dreaded the most. The golden colour. Yucks! Luckily it was non sticky and all our faces were     so much colourpaste (with 3L that is what we get) that the gold refused to stick. And then they decided it was time to clean the floor. I was the lightest and the best mop they could find. Hehe. Sometime later they decided to mop the floor again. And much later, they decided to try out the most awkwardly designed and a very out of shape mop (good for me). Abhi. He was a two way mop – could be used both ways, front and back. The difficulty in using him could be ignored because he covered a large area in a single sweep of his enormous Bodla. The team then developed different mopping styles according to the size, shape and of course the weight of the mop. The longest and the heaviest swept the floor in a circular fashion. The shortest swept it really well. It had an option of central water spray as it swept. Hehe. VVM’s floor trick was the best. But then they suddenly started to miss the good old faithful mop! After eating mutlicoloured puranpolis we parked our multi coloured derrieres in the car. We decided that Angiee was a the longest microbe which required staining to be identified. We first gave her a tobacco facial and put some, actually lot of, tobacco conditioner in her hair… the conditioner turnedout to be the cheapest hair colour and developed into a rich magenta on slightest contact with water. The rhodamine powder resembles tobacco . after that Angiee looked straight out of Avatar (excepting to the fact that the Na’vi were blue). Well, Angiee could be a highly mutated, highly dumb, hitherto undiscovered subspecies! Poor shardul and sanket arrived nicely dressed up. What were they thinking for god’s sake? Soon angiee stopped feeling lonely. Meanwhile some time ago, abhi n I had had one of our stupid but endearing fights. As usual comments were passed, conveniently ignoring one’s own closeted bones. As usual we patched up ignoring them. it was tummy time. All the Na’vis nervously entered McD’s but then the nervousness soon turnedinto brazen overconfidence once we realized mcD’s needs our money more than we need their food. Abhi and I said sorry to each other through the longest hug ever. As usual eyeballs rolled. As usual we pecked each other on our cheeks. We soon learned that KJa’s family had shelved their outing and hence we could proceed to his lair to enjoy the rain showers he had promised us. Abhi had his cute little cousin’s b’day bash to attend. My pleading but logical voice failed to make a case in front of abhi’s mamma’s soft but firm voice. As usual abhi and I parted with another long hug. The eyeballs rolled and rolled and rolled. And then stopped. I guess they got cramps. Whosoever had come up with the idea of a rain dance on KJa’s terrace was an idiot and idiots enjoy their lives the most. Hehe. The spray, the wet clothes and the slight breeze. Powerful recipe for making pot kulfi out of live humans. Brrrr! I love god for making me a boy. I took off my tee (which was white in the morning but the same sickly aubergine now.), squeezed it dry and wore it again! Hehe. The girls were jealous. Oops! We forgot that Mumbai was short of MLDs of hechtoo “o”! Doctors could not have behaved more irresponsibly. Golya wasn’ t scared of the Na’vi and KJa’s mom made the best bread pakodas ever. Golya danced to her heart’s content while I thanked KJa’s father for buying a cooler. I had dried in the last place to dry. Oh by the way, KJa is lucky that his bathroom tiles are black. A Na’vi bathroom would not have looked nice in a human house. VVM had somehow managed to weasel out car keys and the dainty 800 carried the six of us after abhi’s had left. That same dainty 800 took centralites to their abodes. Prer and I threw ourselves into an unwilling rickie and made him drop us till prer’s home. I missed peshwe and sid. I missed pra the most. I cursed him all the same. He had missed one of the best times with his friends and we had missed the whitest mop that could have cleaned the now famous lobby of 1201!
Thank you abhi for the plan and sorry bro for you know what

to give

Do we think about our breathing? Doesn't it go on incessantly? Then why do we think before giving? Surely breathing and giving have no direct comparison. But the isn't a rule forbidding it either.
The act of giving is easier than we think it is. More often than not, our reasons for not giving are marvels of sophistry. We give weird reasons like ' i don't have enough of it myself.. then how can i give it?'. If we think carefully. we will realize that we always have more than enough. Atleast enough to give away a part of it. If we think more carefully we will realize that our lives revolve around the act of giving. Why not make it our second nature rather than consciously thinking about the "receiving"? When we give without wondering whether we ourselves have enough or not, we are sending signals that we have plenty. And it is these signals that bring to us more of what we give... so it always makes sense to give away as much as we can and be thankful that we are in a position to do so.
It is unreasonable to doubt our ability or our capacity to give. Each one of us has something which many others don't have. We also have things that most others have. There is no dearth of things to give away. Name it and it can be given away. To someone who might need it more. To someone whose life might be changed forever. To someone for whom it might mean the difference between life and death.
Why don't we start giving? It really isn't all that hard... we just have to extend that hand, and it's done!

La Mer.

   i have always been a water baby.. maybe because i have always lived near the sea all my life.. and even my native ratnagiri for that matter is at seaside. not to mention that my ancestral home is less than even a stone's throw away from the sea. surprisingly though i still haven't managed to learn natation.

   i remember that night.. i had taken my closest friends to ratnagiri for an excursion. it was holi time.. we had all laid down on the exposed rocks by the sea.. it was full moon of course but the moon was behind the hills.. there were actually just the three of us... the dazzling sky, the rhapsodious sea and ... we. god! i still don't believe that we actually spent the whole night just staring at the sky and listening to the waves.. none of us slept.. it was 6AM when someone came looking for us from home.. tea was ready.

   the beach at my native is a gravel one.. of laterite.. but the one in the next hamlet is a sand beach.. sparkling grey.. with a hint of black.. the best way to reach there is through a trail that is accessible only during lowtide.. through the rocks that are witness to thousands of years of the war between earth and water..

   every evening at dusk, the pinnacle of ratnagiri light house shines the path of any that approach it.. it has a particular way though.. three seconds of darkness followed by two flashes in less than a second.. strikes a wierd chord in my mind.. staring at it as it plays hide and seek through the leaves of our fruit trees is something i cherish always. i can hear the sea calling me..

   i consider myself extremely fortunate that i have been able to visit my native whenever i have wanted. unlike goa, ratnagiri is best described as virginal. yes virginal is the word... and to think of it the sea is perhaps the only entity that gets deflorated every single moment and yet it not only survives but also throws back the excesses at the perpetrators from time to time. ironical indeed.

the sea and its fathomless waters.. more so at my native than anywhere else will continue to entrance me for the rest of my life..

GIMME FIVE!




staffy = gossipmonger, wheatsack, vicious, know-it-all, helpful


sion = hopeless, paradise, second home, old oak, pitiable


patient = impatient, unaware, oversmart, traumatised, position of disadvantage


doctor = double standards, elitist, not next to god, human, inhuman


rhapsody = waste, exclusive, worth it, scope, seawaves


train = bhaiyas, adventure, aorta, outdated, track change


congress = the grass, puppet show, progress, divide and rule, future


women = made for beauty, anencephaly, strong, vulnerable, vain


mbbs = accident, too long, torture, opportunity, service


intern = underdog, god's child, deflorated, winner, rebel


houseman = no comments


professor = indifferent, concerned, sea of knowledge, omnipotent, saviours


mobile = luxury, necessity, ecosystem, handicap, VIBGYOR


medicine = financial blackhole, sophisticated, not recommended, plagued, eternal


money = power, magnet, paper, potential, waste


canteen = ?, corruption, mithi, arrogance, pas de choise, where-is-it?


past = closet, teacher, hideous, everybody-has-one, share?

A Case Study.

“Patient Shashikumar Bhalerao, a 59 yr old male is suffering from CA penis involving the glans and shaft of penis with left sided inguinal lymph node metastasis…..”


Do we realize what we talk when we dash off diagnoses like these in one breath to impress the examiner?

“Suffering!” Do we understand what it means “to suffer from CA penis”? – is it as trivial as one of those bad hair days we have?

A woman from an orthodox family, who hasn’t lifted her ghoonghat except for her husband is sitting in the examination room surrounded by 20 piercing stares with 4 stethoscopes on her dignity that are desperate to find a middiastolic murmur. Her embarassment does not affect our thick skins.

Let us think of something less graphic. “God! That patient is so bloody uncooperative; she wouldn’t let me touch her!”

Think and answer... Why should she?

Now put yourself in their shoes and it won’t be that hard to imagine.

Every single day, in one or the other ward, overzealous, half knowledgeable, extra smart and robotic medical students exploit, embarrass, abuse and hurt so many ailing patients who are desperate for a cure. Medicos are proud of their systematic approach, so let us please ourselves.

Where do you think all this begins?

First of all, we are hardly grateful that we have got a chance to study in one of the premier medical institutes of this city. We prefer to sit and complain about how bad the infrastructure is, how disinterested the teachers are, instead of getting our seats up an d making the best of what we have, if not fight for the better.

Another subtle but dreadful belief (I do not know how many of you will realize and how many still would accept it)... Somehow, we subconsciously tell ourselves that we cannot be affected by any of the diseases or the pain we see around us every day. It is so simple – is it not the reason we speak of cancers as we would speak of some latest computer game? We squeeze and wring body parts as though they were hanging in mid air. I mean the lump and the breast in which it is belong to a live, fellow human being, not a mannequin! Isn’t this why we forget that the patient is our equal, that we are not givers and he is not a taker, that we could be in his place tomorrow …

As a result of this, we end up underestimating disease and worse, we end up disrespecting the patient.

Some might say “Patients hi waise hote hai!”.. They sometimes have to be dealt with a little harshly… OK but not by us... But by the doctors who treat them, not by some freak of a medical student who does not understand the pain and trauma which the patient goes through.

Sometimes I wish I had a button at the click of which my overenthusiastic friends would momentarily feel exactly what the patient feels when they torment him.

Come on people! We are medicos – not architects, engineers or accountants. We deal with people not blue prints, money and god knows what! We cannot be so objective when we speak of a patient. It is not just a below knee amputation, it is a lifelong adjustment, burden rather, for a hitherto walking, running boy!

There is another point apart from the objectivity – why are we so keen on observing all fixed signs like glabellar tap.. Tell me, who would like 5 taps each by 15 people on their forehead one after the other? Funny isn’t it? No... It is damn irritating if it were to be done to me! It is both stupid and inhuman to elicit such signs repeatedly.

Now despite all the excrement we throw at the sufferer, he still is forgiving enough thanks to his relative illiteracy, unawareness and sometimes the awe he has for the white coat. And if at all he is plain willing to undergo examination by enthusiastic students, we still manage to disillusion them completely at the end of our case taking farce. There is a lot to this, friends, than I have spoken here. Think and you will realize.

Let us for one moment look within, how sincere are we, how hardworking are we, how smart and efficient are we… how human are we?

Medicine is a chariot that runs on the two wheels of clinical acumen and compassion... if either is smaller than the other; the chariot would run forever in a circle!

The solution to this neo-imperialism lies within us. Yes we have to present more and more cases if we want to improve our clinical skills but let us do that with a little humanness. It will definitely make a sick person feel better and that is precisely we all intend to do all our lives, don’t we?

You can make a difference.

        As clichéd as it might sound, why is it that we only sit and crib about the system rather than take up the responsibility of changing it? A famous Marathi saying goes thus – “Shivajine shejarchya ghari janm ghyava.” - I only want to reap the benefits of the system, but sorry boss – it is not my job to debug it, let someone else do it. I always thought that I would rather do something, at least give it a try, than to scream my voice hoarse about how everyone is corrupt, how things are unfair, and unjust and how useless is the governing system and so on and so forth. But whenever the time came to prove my mettle, I always backed out giving myself one stupid excuse or the other. But that day I told myself, “Nothing doing! You stay put and teach these guys a lesson.” I’m bad at remembering dates – sometime in May, I suppose, BEST had struck down work without prior notice. As usual I was waiting for my 7:12 a.m. Route No. 243 Jankalyan Nagar – Malad Stn. (W.). After about 10min., one of my co passengers got to know about the strike. “Fine!” I said ,”Let’s go to the main road!” (Some 5-7min. away) and I hoped for a lone bus to pass that way. It was then that the drama began. From Marve Road (main road) bus stop called Malad Fire brigade – share ricks charge Rs.5 per seat to Malad Stn. But today I was stunned to hear an almost victorious cry of “dus rupiya seat!” from all the passing ricks. Forever optimist that I am, despite having given up the hopes of a lone Route No. 272, I continued to hope for a Rs.5 per seat rick to pass. And then I got the second shock, “pandhra rupiya seat, malad stn!” An adrenaline rush full of anger and hatred ran through every vessel in me. “How can ‘these’ people or their ‘leaders’ make tall claims about being hardworking and then dare send such ‘haram ki kamai’ back to their wives, kids and families? Rs.15 per seat!” Multiply that by 4 passengers (even 5 sometimes) they will carry, Rs.60, more than twice of what a normal metered ride to Malad Stn. would cost from my place! With fury ruling my head and control ruling my tongue, I knocked at a door that I thought would never turn me away, Malvani PS, beat no. 4, Jankalyan Ngr. The door was opened by a drowsy, half-drunk constable Kamble, “Never mind!” I said – no matter how much you loathe them or joke about them, you just can’t ignore a pandu. (By no means a blasphemy, pandu being an acceptable short form of the name Pandurang, one of ShriVitthal’s names, and of course an ‘affectionate’ way of referring to our Mumbai havaldars) “Kay zale?”, he rubbed his fiery red eyes. “Saheb, baher tey rickshawale 15 rupaye seat magtahet, kay karu, jara sanga na tyana”, I pleaded. “Mi tari kay karu, aho jaude na!”, he said with an air of indifference. “Aho jaude kase?, kahitari karuch shakto apan”. “ Tumchi kay apeksha ahe? Mi chowky sodun tumhala ricksha pakdun det basu ka?”, I was shocked yet again – this time at an appalling rhetoric by a man of law. Completely disillusioned, I gave him a vicious look and turned around, contemplating reporting all this to Malvani PS, main bldg. some 20min. away by walk. “Too far, and useless, I guess!” I told myself. I went back to Marve Road wanting the fire brigade trucks some two blocks away to rush to me and douse the raging inferno within me. It was 8:20a.m. I had missed my lecture for this sheer nonsense. Quite expectedly, I found many irked and murderous co passengers who would crib, crib and then go on to hop in the Rs.15 per seat ‘regal’ ride. I could feel my brain substance boil into a dal ‘jispe tadke pe tadka lag raha tha!’ Just about then, a striped Qualis emerged on Marve Road. I gathered the remnants of my shattered hope and walked towards the halting police vehicle along with my co passengers. Sub inspector Shinde faced the flak. He kept his composure, which he should have, stepped out and led us towards a group of idle rickshaws nearby a hotel across the road. To my utter disbelief, he began talking to them as if they fed him his daily morsels. “Whatever!”, I said. He coaxed the unwilling rickies into charging by the meter, (an uncompromising demand we had made) and carrying only 3 passengers. Finally two other students joined me and our ‘legal’ ride puttered towards the station. Rs.26 was the fare – we split it. I paid Rs.9 and I don’t regret a single rupee of the Rs.4 I paid over and above Rs. 5, because the Rs.5 share rick was illegal any day and Rs.9 was what I ought to have paid – I did it with happiness and pride! I thanked officer Shinde in my mind and without any prejudice I thanked my rickie as I always do. As I was hanging on to dear life, neither inside nor outside the 8:47 Churchgate fast from Malad, I could see many faces – that rickie demanding Rs.15 per seat, constable Kamble, PSI Shinde, my loser of a co passenger, my other justice loving co passengers, and.... my mother – who taught me to break loose all hell on any kind of injustice and to use ‘saam, daam dand, bhed’ to strike hard at it. If you haven’t yourself drawn a conclusion or learnt a moral by now, then this story is not for log heads like you.

Bewitched!

That day when you told me,

“Darling, I am a witch from Ipswich!”

I thought that in this there

Ought to be some hitch.

But now I think I am pretty sure,

For none of your mesmerizing spells

Can be undone by fickle of a cure.

The twinkling sea green eyes of yours,

For the commons, are just a lure,

But when they wink, I see in them,

An innocence that is so pure.

With a mere snap of your finger,

You have changed my life so fast,

I know I have found you, my love,

That goes never and shall always last.

Of this world and all its nuisance,

I would be happy to lose every clue,

So take me to your magic world,

God! I am already bewitched by you...!