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Of speed bumps, slippery slopes and detours

today began really well with an early morning bike ride i hitched with one of the local staff. That, and a baby popped out first thing in the morning. everything seemed to be running smoothly with newborn care done at the mother’s side, and i had just begun to feel heady with  adrenaline, congratulating myself at slipping so easily into the chaotic non-routine of work. i should have anticipated the snag the day had planned for me, because how is it possible that all should not be bumpy and up-hill? (i do have issues with exaggeration.)

there are speed bumps, and there are roads. when the bumps obliterate the road, you take a different route. that is the moral of the story. today, i have experienced the simple joy of being on a long road trip to destination of choice (work at grass root level, giving back to my land etc.) and the terribly discouraging speed bumps of being differently coloured, female, relatively young and open to suggestion. discrimination of any form still leaves a bad taste in my mouth primarily because i dont expect it from adults who otherwise behave as normally as its expected of anyone who lives in a closed of rural environment for more than 15 days. smack, it goes across my face leaving dull,painful red memory-prints across my mind. decision making is limited by where you are from, how old you are, how much experience you have had (which is only so justified) and finally, the limiting factor of how hassle free  and relaxed about your ego you are. the more zen-like you try and become, the harder you try to be middle-path-y, the rock-ier the ride you’re in for. this, as a doctor, is terribly frustrating, because you spend years learning stuff the hard way, and if you cant save a life because someones ego is being hurt by your speaking up, the level of frustration climbs up to jumping-off-a-cliff level.

the saving grace.

like much else, you still hold the reins on the low road/high road choice. its still your choice. so there are all these speed bumps, and after months of travel back and forth on a literally and metaphorically bumpy non-road, i have come to the conclusion that its time to take a different route. being stick-jaw-like in my obstinacy, i refuse to give up my ultimate dream of rural work, of feeling like i’m actually working at making a difference, in my own microscopic way. i refuse to stop feeling  a happy glow of fortune that i was elbowed into medicine by academically conscious parents (ha ha, they didn’t expect THIS). i’ll just be coming around the mountain, holding my nose from behind my ear and other such gymnast like activities.

in other news, i have learnt to count from one to ten in italia from some italian colleagues working in chhattisgarh. of all places. hell, i can even sing ‘buongiorno!’ in the trademark lullaby lilt that consumes their sentences and charms the ear.

on call, and hoping that the ladies of the forest hold their babies inside them long enough to give me a few solid hours of sleep. id better limit my blog-venting and curl up next to my hopelessly smart phone, dreaming of not waking up to phone calls from the hospital.

retiring from this narcisisstic sounding, but therapeutic rant now. if you have been listening, i am truly grateful.  shabba khair!

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married to my dreams (and why youre having to look at a picture of my ugly feet)

a friend asked me why i wear toe rings, im not married, only married women wear toe rings, why do i wear toe rings?! in a corny moment, and a little piqued by everyone fixating on the cause of my blasted toe rings, waiting for my (minimal) baggage at baggage claim after a day of airport hopping, i came back with(wait for it),”but i am! im married to my dreams.” eesh! married to my dreams, it seems. the pits. but the more i think about it, the more factual it sounds. i seem hopelessly tied to my dreams, unhappy and frustrated when i cant run after them, quite content in just the pursuit and take them for granted when i come around to actually having them and living with them.occasionally i wrestle with them. sometimes i wish my dreams would just leave me alone.so. married to my dreams. what else is new?Image

NOT my last trip to the woods

for a while now (since i started on my field mission), i have been repeatedly told to document my experience.
i used to be the kind of person that couldnt stop writing. the actual matter written was of course only occasionally anything other than balderdash, but it was a record, if messy, of the goings on. anything that would be remotely interesting or cringe-worthy would be there for a future me to facepalm away my nights at. then various crowded-and-not-so-pleasant-encounters-in-my-life-later  i developed a block. i just couldnt get myself to sit in front of a mode of translation from brain-words to actual written words and put anything down. the ideas in my head were too muddled and my words not fully formed enough to force their own identity on me and push me to write them.

little has changed. except that, what is hopefully only my first mission, is coming to an end. a feeling resembling a rapidly growing hibiscus plant, is growing on me; the fear that these things im learning from everyday happenings, and accepting so matter-of-fact-ly into my thought pool will slowly fade, that this exponentially climbing learning curve will plateau and i will settle down into the rut of ‘civilised’ city life with little but memories that stand out as blotches of colour on an otherwise nonspecific canvas.

and i panic, sit up sweating from this mediocre nightmare, determined to not let that, of all things, happen.

hence, here i am, typing, typing, like a drowning girl frantically reaching out for a log of wood, hoping, that it  really is never too late, determined to store my remaining couple of months like a folded picture in my wallet that i can keep opening and looking at. finding new details in old memories, learning new things from old mistakes.

watch this space for ideas that may not be fully formed or snippets of happenings -to-me from the forests of chhattisgarh, if and when i am graced by the presence of network and a functioning internet connection. until then, count your blessings, enjoy your peace. 🙂 leave me to look forward to the gruelling work schedule about to kick all the holiday cheer stuffing out of me.no,nobody is forcing me to go. but me. sigh.just_do_it__hindi____nike_by_danishprakash-d6n5k8x

this time when i pack

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anxiety
anxiety (Photo credit: FlickrJunkie)

this time, as i pack my stuff into my all consuming, seemingly pitless, weight-absorbing rucksack, preparing for my return to bijapur, aside from the pre-work, post-holiday blues, i do not feel any anxiety about what i will forget to carry with me or what i will reach and then realise i havent brought with me, that essential piece of trivia that i definitely couldve done with. i am relaxed. i have realised one thing, thank god, that i do not NEED anything. a pair of clothes that fits, my stethoscope (Tintu, for future reference), my camera, running shoes, toothpaste, cash, identity card, earphones. oh, underclothes (mom would cringe that this is an afterthought). everything else is peripheral, could easily be done without, is not irreplaceable. living in a place like bijapur, meeting the kind of people that i do, watching them live in a forest in the middle of nowhere, with, really, much less than whats in my list of essentials, these tribals arent unhappy, or ill equipped to face anything that they come across. i find myself wanting to do more with less. it has become as if, a fun exercise. oh, i do not have this, hm, what can i use instead? this leads to less baggage ( imagine all the heavy meaning implied by the word baggage), fewer attachments, minimal airport time, no loading off and on the bus anxiety, and a general look of dis-approval from my mother who reminds me every time that once i come back to ‘civilisation’, i must transfer my loyalty to suitcases. i am, at this point, tempted to launch into a tirade about what ‘civilisation’ really means, and whether i am coming away from it or going into it, and whether its a good thing or bad, but lets save that ramble-in-the-busy-market for another day. meanwhile, i do not know how long this weightlesness, gravity-nullifying, freedom-setting endeavour will last. i hope its one of those life long unshake-able habits one develops from the field. its a lesson that has hit me late into my field journey, that so many have arrived at so much earlier, but i am determined to revel in the feeling.

p.s. i think i forgot to mention my box of ear-rings. thats my vice. one must look good in a mirrror/stream/rear view mirror irrespective of geography. no?

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