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MBBS 1986-1991

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MBBS, 1986- 1991 Green man is as elusive as always, however yet reachable. Isn’t it the part of the strategy to confuse, and remain confused for certain periods of our existence? Was, watching Vasool Raja MBBS (Munna Bai, Tamil version) the other day. Got reminded that this week, 30 years ago, we, the 1986 batch of Stanley Medical College(SMC), were qualified and graduated to become interns, aka House officers. It was perhaps, start of a fresh decade, life, experience, a cumulative frontier for us all. 1991 it was; gulf war had just begun; Internet had seemingly began too with worldwide web harbingering a digital tsunami; advanced intel CPU and a cheaper AMD microprocessor arrived together; digital note books and Apples’ PowerBook arrived; colour scanners too; Microsoft OS officially becomes Windows; Linux was born; the first GSM phone call ever was made and real time global connectivity officially began.  Apartheid was still on; IRA was actively bombing London; Rodney king had died in
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Fast Car...

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 Fast Car “You got a fast car,  I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal,  May be together we can get somewhere…… I have always, always, loved Audi; especially since watching cricketer Ravi Shastri sealing his victory lap with an Audi 100 Sedan spin, at Melbourne Cricket Ground 1985, it’s perched up as my dream, dream car. After acing PLAB exams only on my 3rd attempt (!) in 1995, I did buy into three prerogatives of my then teenaged life; Hifi; CAMERA and a CAR. Nissan Bluebird was my first, AIWA and Samsung joined the bandwagon later. The number was, F551 PVL and was bought in Scunthorpe, Sheffield, which was my then abode in UK, September 1995. I was a junior doctor then in Scunthorpe General Hospital, and had already passed my driving test and a matter of fact, the only exam, I passed at first attempt ever in UK. The car costed me £2700 and already clocked 77,000 miles. This was around 1, 30,000 km, blimey! For that matter, I would be very desperate to know if cars in India
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Annalum Nokkinaan, Avalum Nongkinaal!

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“Annalum nokkinaan; Avalum nongkinaal”. The great man continued looking at her and she did likewise! Singapore in phase 3 for few weeks now. Excellent progress in city state’s covid management. Behold.  Sigh of relief with recent resurrection; bye gone is insurrection. Vipers entwined on a painted wall; dogs on leash, lead them, owners. Morning is breezy. TGIF. With due respect to other days, TGIF. Two days of evolutionary respite is what you need every week and may be a day more. Vote for a weekly long weekend! Ecstasy. Democracy. Normalcy. Presidency. Days are mulling by; another week is gone; one less in our ever, ever struggle for longevity. Enjoyed the inaugural speech of Biden; enjoyed too, the farewell whimpers from an epitome of what not to be, abnormal, chaotic, jerky erstwhile of a US President, before he boarded one last time the Air Force One, symbol of global power. Sheer ecstasy. “Idipparai illaatha emaraa mannan Keduppar ilaanung kedum” “A king who has none to reign back
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Pongalo Pongal!!

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 பொங்கலோ பொங்கல்! Happy Pongal. “The boundless ocean will be shrunk, If the thick rising clouds fail to shower the rain”-Tiruvalluvar. “Nedunkadalum thaan-neermai kundrum thadinthu-ezhili Thaan-nalkaa thaagi Vidin”. Weekend and also a weakened sky. “Rain” and it rained in various formats, shapes and noises. Breezy and cool. Lazy and sleepy. Bass and arrogant. Two weekends have disappeared and 51 more left. Already tumultuous past few days and week; need more Vipassana and certainly more incessant rain. On a brighter note, It’s also Pongal, aka, harvest festival time and week,  back in India and its various lovely regions; and also at our home, where PONGAL is numero one amongst the festivals. Pongal, is thus perhaps endlessly etched in my mind for various reasons; intricacies and nuances. It’s like well-made layered Tiramisu; Claude Monet’s Lillie’s, in vibrancy, joviality and jolliness; University camaraderie of anxiety and excitement; different shades of hues and colours; nostalgia a
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Retro Adult...

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  Mukil, the Retro adult! "பெறுமவற்றுள் யாமறிவது இல்லை அறிவறிந்த மக்கட்பேறு அல்ல பிற" - Tiruvalluvar 2000 yrs ago. Many thanks to you all who wished Mukil, on his 18th. Appreciated. Behaving as an astute obstetrician, I refused to heed to his mum’s labour pain the whole previous night in 2003; mocking it as a false pain. The waters broke like flash flood in the car park and even before the midwife could come to her senses, Mukil the retro, was out with his head, sprouting and thus was promptly delivered by both his dad and midwife, whilst his hapless 2 year old sister, was watching in awe. Bless him n life. Long hours. Gleeful sleeplessness. Moronic and mundane days are ready and already; complaints; no; engulfed by gratitude.  Already a week out of 52 (1/ 52.143). Sooner it will be my birthday. Born again every day. Life is a teacher; teaching whom?  Been 18 years, since Mukil was born this week. Mukil. “Cloud “in Tamil. Generally fine. Unpredictable. Dark and light; dry and
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Pebbles and percolators!

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Pebbles and percolators! Pebbles. Kindles. Romantic rumbles.  3rd day of 365 days. Raining, since 1/365. Mild and heavy; light and dark; hard and soft; needles and knives. Chilly and crispy. Sleepy and dopey. Too much of food and sleep, and less exercise. Blind spot in both my eyes. Rainy morning walk with better half. Lonely stork gave a glimpse of rainy mood. Disappear into oblivion. Turtles are swimming. Smallest of floaters; butterflies and moths; drenched in rain. Grasses and new life sprouting; known and unknown. Rules; follow rules. What about chirpers, percolators and Nature? Roads are neat and clean. Sparkling too. Beautiful to fathom; beauty in the eye of beholder. Bygones be bygones; learnt it hard way. Clouds are mulling by; rain is lashing; love this tropical beauty; would love shampoo too. Open bath should suffice; in the middle of nowhere; looking for good and bad; time is fleeting; seconds are fleeting; few flights are arriving; heard some bleating. Morning tea. Rice-y
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Romantic puddles !

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  Romantic puddles “How is it That there was never you Until there was And then all was you?”- kamand Kojouri-British poet Evening was reflective and meditative run was great. Siesta was refreshing. New year eve. 2020 was a teacher with due respects. Puddle- 0 Puddles; mulling with clouds; Shall say; talking about romantic puddles is tad easier than purging them about on fonts. Am, certainly not sure, about my earliest puddle from last century; however, a girl called Vijaya, (names not changed) in primary school, may have been my first crush. I remember her for being my play time companion; the details are unclear and blurred; though better than the past 10 months with COVID. I was 7 or eight. Puddle -I  “The stars have gone mental (like me)    As they are confused between your face (my lover) and moon” - (Tiruvalluvar in English). That’s how I was with my second crush; a next-door neighbour; a relative of a tenant in our long-stretched Chennai 1900’s house. She had come somewhere from
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