Call it Magic

Sometimes the days are roller coaster rides.

The movie I live in, is technicolor, with an oscillating background score and a whole bunch of volatile emotions flung about like pages torn from picture magazines, stuck on a large yellow wall, dotted with rough illustrations in ink, filled with mad things people say. And a desk.

Inevitable, that a bookshelf should extend from the floor to the ceiling. Sitting next to the large window with the wood chimes and the billowing white cotton curtain with golden elephants stamped all over.

Inevitable, that a cat should be curled up in the cushy corner that I want to occupy.

Inevitable for Ayn Rand to continue to recur in that corner of my field of vision.

The framed Beatles poster isn’t quite straight. There is a Bob Marley one too, hiding behind the door.
The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle lie scattered near my blue-yellow running shoes.

Ah, daydreams.

Surviving from run to run, waiting for the time to lace up and struggle every step up that hill repeat run, complaining about form and pace, building castles for the marathon coming up.

I’m just happy I’m running, that i can feel the wind in my hair, that I can feel my muscles complain about a rising mileage, that sweat dripping into my eyes is a sensation I can look forward to.

The memory of the profound simplicity of field life keeps piping up like an intelligent and obstinate child.
When did wanderlust find me and trap my soul? I cant remember.

I leave you with Coldplay playing Magic. The music floats in the air like ringlets of smoke or bubbles with a dot of rainbow, created from watered down shampoo and a pen without a refill.

Chai on the way.

I see flames burn Auburn on the mountainside

And if the night is burning
I will cover my eyes
For if the dark returns then
My brothers will die
And as the sky’s falling down
It crashed into this lonely town
And with that shadow upon the ground
I hear my people screaming out

And I see fire
Inside the mountains
I see fire
Burning the trees
I see fire
Hollowing souls
I see fire
Blood in the breeze.
– I See Fire from The Hobbit soundtrack

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!

Related articles

• Indravati National Park Chhattisgarh – A Dwelling Place for the Wildlife of Chhattisgarh (greatindianjourney.wordpress.com)
• Four CRPF jawans killed in Maoist attack in Chhattisgarh (ndtv.com)
• Watch! Chhattisgarh is no beggar, Modi reminds Congress at poll rally (niticentral.com)

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.