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Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Once Vroomed, Forever Doomed!

                When we were in pre-school, we would start our essays with ‘I have many friends, but Ramu is my best friend.......' Thus, allow me to start this piece with, I have many friends. Most of them are on the internet and I have never met them per se. Others whom I have met, are graded as no better than acquaintances, friends and ta..da.... Best friends! This piece of literature is dedicated to one of my better friends. Let us call him Ramu for ease of communication.
                So, about a couple of years ago Ramu fell victim to Cupid. The girl was a very nice girl. Well behaved and polite. I was very fond of her only till so long as I had nothing to do with her or as the saying goes around, ‘Dur se hi Ram-Ram’. Usually I do not bother who my friends hang out with, but come on; we are talking about Ramu here. And, it nothing less than pained me to see my simpleton friend being dominated by that pathetic excuse for a human being. In a typical bollywood movie plot, I would go and tell my friend about my evaluation of his bride-to-be (I know this fellow and his day dreaming habits!). Then we would disagree, have a fight, he would perhaps hit me, and that would end our friendship. Then after the chewing gum had been extracted off its last bit of flavour and no longer good enough to be blown into even a bubble, the lady would spit him into a gutter. Then there would be an interval and after that we would meet in a disco, he would apologise and we would sing a hit musical number. Friendship rekindled.
                Now talking about real life! There is no background score, no make-up artist or no body double to take a pasting on my behalf. On top of it, I am not particularly “Hippy” to sing and dance, let alone visit a disco. So, when he introduced me to her, I did what I do the best, lie through my teeth. With a smile that I sport so well for all my emotions, I said, “I am very happy for you!” While at the same time I prayed that the forces of the universe come to his rescue. Whether it was the mutual dislike I shared with the Madame, or she was as sly as a fox or just basic primate instincts on the part of Ramu, I observed that he had become aloof of all of humankind in general. He started writing poetry, surprising, because in school poetry recital was in his words,”Yuck!” And now he was doing the yuck, even more yuckily. Even his actions had become so yucky- he started taking a bath on a daily basis, his monthly expenses shifted from deodorants to fairness soaps for men, he became punctual, dressed like an uncle and had a moronishly happy look on his face all the time. All this pain I suffered, with a smile on a face. What fate had come upon a high IQed beautiful mind? What had that witch (you can use b as well) turned him into? Ramu, as we had known for 20 years, was no more. But, like the old mother in old Hindi movies who would wear black clothes and utter “Mere Karan-Arjun aayenge”, I kept consoling myself.

                Then one day, Boom-Boom-Boomer was launched in India. It was juicier and had a new flavour. And Big-Bubblehead soon fell to disrepute, lost his favour with Cruella (actually she lost interest) and into the drains he was cast even before he could realise what had struck him. I knew this day was to come. I knew it because I am a very innocent little boy and God always answers well behaved children’s prayers. “Duaa ki shakti”. I did what any good friend would do in this situation; enjoy the sight of cockroaches crawl all over him.

But poor Ramu was still love struck. I saw the Hindi version of Makkhi. Innovative and all that, but what I realised at the end of it was that the poor love smitten sole of the protagonist has been doomed for all eternity. He dies only to be reborn as a Maakhi. Neither will he ever let the girl settle in life nor will he get any action himself! He is a drone bee if you realised!
I took him in my fold on his path to rehabilitation. One day he stopped playing the guitar, no more poetry. Such a relief! One could look at his face and tell what all stuff he had eaten over the past three days at least. Karan-Arjun had reincarnated! Ramu was back.
The reason I write this piece is that very recently I saw Madam Maya with my friend. Yes it was raining and the bus stop was all crowded, so I pray that it be nothing more than an awkward encounter. But the buzz also doing the rounds is that there may have been some sparks flying and the irrational romantics are happy. I am afraid that my greatest nightmare is coming true. The dung cake is attracting the flies! Poor Ramu does not realise however that, he isn’t the only fly hovering around this piece of manure. But maakhis do not have such IQs, definitely not drones! They just live to serve the queen, do all the donkey work and die without even expecting any reward.

Once bitten twice shy is an age old idiom, perhaps I can add a few more
Once smitten, always ‘bee’ten!
Once vroomed, forever doomed!

Monday, August 20, 2012


Apu and Kappu were very good friends. They were so close that everyone thought that perhaps they would never be able to live without each other. Then one day something happened and they ceased to be friends. Everyone said they had a misunderstanding of sorts. They accepted they had a misunderstanding of sorts, yet they never took any effort to resolve it.

When I heard of this story, I was pretty amused. Among the many things that I believe in (which includes that  The BMC had bribed the Rain Gods this year to have scanty downpour so that potholes on the roads do not create potholes in their lives and that all politicians are clean, its just the whistle blowers that make them corrupt and that UP has a future and so on and so forth) is that there can never be misunderstandings.

You always understand what you want to understand! There is a saying in medicine, "The eyes do not see, what the mind does not know". Similarly, the ears hear only what the mind wants to hear! So all this misunderstanding business is just hokum. Unless you have a distorted view and your ideas are rotten, you probably cant misunderstand anything. Bang your head on the wall if you don't know of a conversation which included,"I was joking! You got it all wrong." Seriously, how dumb could you have been to not have gotten a joke! Or perhaps, it was your own mind pulling off a dirty joke.

So, even I have friends who are or should I say were like Apu and Kappu. In fact, all of us have at some point in time been either Apu or Kappu or would know of someone in such a dilemma. But in this case, both Apu and Kappu aren't willing to admit that there may have been a misunderstanding. Neither do they hold any one else responsible for the strife. Intelligent people one would say! Yet, invariably they expect me to be the mediator and help them reach a settlement.

Two things work against this. One, my extreme noteworthy self obsession. As huge as my self obsession is, I am sure that in same remote village in India when some kid does not share his toys his mother tells him "Share beta share, nahi to JV aa jaayega!" And I have drawn a lot of flank from both Apu and Kappu for not doing my bit to make matters as rosy as before. But, I really don't see the point in this. I fail to understand how one superman's obsession can cause so much harm to two people he holds near to him.

Second, I am a bad mediator. See, I am training to be a doctor. To heal wounds. I am no lawyer that I'll be able to negotiate an arbitration. I know I have great abilities and I can do almost anything in this world, but this is one thing that is not in my hands. Perhaps wen you decide to call it off entirely or one of you gives in  and has a bruised ego, come to me, I'll heal you. But till then, I am no good.

Despite my limitations, I did try, not just once but twice. And badly failed on both occasions. And also had to bear the brunt for making matters worse. As if I hadn't warned you! It may again partly be because we usually discuss such matters over food. And given the perennial  state of inflation in this our country, the value of money has depreciated. You get that same sense of fullness  when you go out to a diner anymore. So, it is but just obvious that I would attempt to draw out some free entertainment along with the food.

Just a parting word to all Apus and Kappus, the best way out, is to not involve many people. All of them may not be truthful enough as me to acknowledge that they gain happiness out of your sticky wicket situation. Its your problem and you oughtta find a way out of it, if you want to that is!

I write this blog not because I am a stone hearted, devoid of emotions narcissist, but because I am amused at the very thought of how you have managed to get yourself in this soup!

Thursday, August 16, 2012


Its been almost a year and a half since I posted a blog ‘Before the alarm goes off’. That was when my final rotation had begun. And on 17th August 2012, will begin the final posting of my life as a MBBS student. Yeah, internship is still pending, but then things will never be the same.

Even as I write this with a heap of Harrison and Ghai and Dutta and what not notes and short textbooks and MCQ books staring in my face, the butterflies seem to be multiplying like guinea pigs! In fact, wasn't I alright a few minutes ago, until I checked the calendar! Time has flown faster than I thought, I must confess.

What makes me envious are the juniors in the corridors planning their AIIMS trip, freshers in the labs marveling at the beautiful hues of hematoxilin and eosin and getting thrilled at feeling the pulse for the first time. Come-on wasn't it just yesterday that I step foot in this institute, the dream of my life finally fulfilled, and won't it be like tomorrow that it will get over and today is just hurrying away! God, make a Rowdy Rathod, so that I can rewind and replay those moments, good, bad and worst, all over again to my heart's satisfaction. But then, I doubt if I ever will be satisfied?

Sunday, August 12, 2012

What the hell were you doing so long?

About two months ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a heavy bout of coughing lasting about 15-20 minutes. It was weird because I had no cold or sore throat. And again I dismissed it as insignificant as there was no expectoration and barring that paroxysm, I slept comfortably through the night. Then it recurred again the next night. This time, however there was wheezing. Loud, audible wheezing. This may be because I am a medical student, because ideally I should have run to the emergency, but as I had no dyspnoea, I was actually experimenting with myself. Initially admiring how classical, textbook description the musical sounds were! Then seeing if got accentuated on lying in a lateral position or supine or prone, etc. etc. In retrospection, it seems that we sort of get divided into two components, the doctor and the lay human. Today as I recollect and write about it, I am very astonished as to how aloof I had become with myself on that particular night. And, needless to say it recurred again the next night, with increased severity of course.

That was when my mother started worrying why I wasn't consulting someone. Partly because I had a differential in mind, and also as I had two terminal papers to appear the next two days, I wanted to get through them undisturbed.

When the papers were finished I got my CBC done. There was eosinophilia. Expected. But, the eosinophil count was 92!!! And then for a moment I was stumped. Call it final year syndrome, or just the generic ZEBRA SYNDROME that GSites have, I was almost certain that it was Non-Hodgkin's. The more plausible tropical pulmonary eosinophilia was totally ruled out, because as I have read, symptoms appear when eosinophils are in the 30s and also there was no way I could have caught a parasite. And just to confirm the count I went through the smear myself. I even got another smear made just to ensure the lab hadn't mixed up samples.

Next day was a Saturday. I ran for a senior consultant when he was on his rounds. Told him of my symptoms. He examined me and prescribed Hetrazan for 21 days. But I was a little apprehensive, so I told him that the count was 92. To that he replied, "There is never a count of 92. You should have misread the report!" I told him that I had seen the smear, but didn't mention my self diagnosis for perhaps I was too afraid that it may turn out to be true. Nonetheless, I trusted his expertise, did the course and after two months the counts have normalised.

Point being, one may say, as even I think now, how foolish of me to have stretched the initial symptoms for three days. Many a times, there are patients we see and think, 'what the hell were you doing so long?'. They have no answer, as even I have no answer. Perhaps I was busy enjoying the nocturnal symphony!

Surely, I am not going to repeat such daredevilry ever again in my life!

But what I observe in myself are two distinctly identified patient behaviour patterns - One who tries to avert consultation till he can and second, who is then submissive to his doctor. Funny, because I thought being a doctor I would make better decisions, but it turns out to be otherwise!

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Off late I have been enjoying The Big Bang Theory. And the character which appeals the most to me is Sheldon. The high IQ part, love of Physics and know all attitude apart, another similarity which I find with the character, is our innocence when it comes to decoding Sarcasm.
For a very long time I was in the dark as to what the word SARCASM meant itself. I first came across the term in my 6th standard when while reading a writer’s biopic, came a sentence, “He was a master of sarcasm.” Sarcasm? What was that? An average student would have either asked the teacher what it meant or better still just not bother about it as he didn’t bother about the other things that he didn’t understand. But, I thought I’ll look it up in the dictionary when I reach home. Then in the Geography lecture that followed, the teacher spoke about SAARC (South Asian Association for Regional Co-operation). Being the analytical and inquisitive mind that I was since a tender age I figured out that in English all religions end with ‘ism’. For eg., Jainism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Zorostrianism and so on. So, SARCASM was the RELIGION OF THE SAARC PEOPLE. I didn’t discuss this with anyone, wanting to selfishly hoard the knowledge to myself as many of my colleagues still do.
Then I entered medicine. This field has been a life changer for me in more ways than one. In medicine I learnt that anything that ends with an ‘asm’ is a disease. Eg., spasm, neoplasm etc. So, when I was the Editor-in-Chief of the Medical College Magazine last year and some of the members on the editorial board suggested that we add a section on Sarcasm in the magazine, I realised that in the light of the recent advances in vocabulary, as sarcasm has an ‘asm’ not ‘ism’ it is a disease and as almost everyone that you see at in my college is into some or the other research, perhaps they had researched into sarcasm and wanted to publish their findings. OK, I said. Why not? This also cleared my long lasting doubt as to what ‘being sarcastic’ was. I always felt bad, that despite trying to search for literature on the Practices and Believes of Sarcasm and finding none, people easily used phrases such as ‘stop behaving sarcastic’, ‘very sarcastic’ etc. How did they know so much about the concepts of Sarcasm, a long lost religion when it wasn’t even being taught in school or preached somewhere? Now, if I were to consider Sarcasm as a disease, then being Sarcastic made sense, just as being spastic made sense. That writer that I had read about was a biologist who had researched on sarcasm and also written some novels, like most of us nowadays. (I thought it was related to sarcoidosis)
Just by the way, when Baba Ramdev was enjoying his claim to fame, for a short time I also believed that Sarcasm was described in Yoga as Sarc-Aasan, and when I had gone on a tour to South India, I thought Sarcasm was a Mallu delicacy like Rasam, Uttapam, Payappam, Prasadam etc. etc.
So, we had a full section dedicated to sarcasm and my editors handpicked the articles for the section. And when the book was released, a large chunk of people came complaining, ‘There is no sarcasm in sarcasm.’ A couple of contributors even came and said, ‘Jayesh, how could you put my article in sarcasm. It was intended for philosophy, not sarcasm!’ To this my standard reply would be, “I know. Even I didn’t find anything in your article sarcastic, but the editors made the choices.” I mean they were not research papers, but the editors would have labelled me a dictator if I had objected to this decision of theirs.
But, the final nail in the coffin came last week and my eyes opened and I finally got down opening the dictionary and looking up what sarcasm actually meant. I’ll describe the chain of events for you. There is this old foe turned friend in college. Old foe, because we were competitors in 12th and she wouldn’t be particularly happy on seeing my usually delirious devilish demeanour (I know because she was quite vocal about it then as she is now), turned friend, because as luck would have it, we were batch mates in the first year and she sort of relied on me to pass her exams. Not that I showed her my papers, but she somehow managed to take a peek into them anyway. So, old foe, you can’t trust. She would encourage me to write about people in our college and comment on all the gossip that was going on. While at the same time, she went about bhadkaoing all those people and uksaoing them to slap me,  until a weak hearted human being finally fell for the temptation last week. As I walked into her and a common friend to whom a blog has been dedicated, she declared to me what she was doing all these years when I considered her a friend and even before I could say anything, I had five fingers imprinted on my left cheek, courtesy the other friend as he declared, “Jayesh, how could you have written such things about me.” One more had come up to the Gymkhana the other day, in a manner that was quite reminiscent of those movies of 70s & 80s when the hero (usually Dharmendra) would enter into the villain’s den, unarmed and alone, shout “Kutte-kamine, maa ka doodh piya hai to bahar nikal”, tell him a few things right-left and centre, enrage him, then about 2000 strong fauj of the villain, with fully loaded guns and grenades would attack him, and with a few acrobatic skills and a fighting technique with sound effects of ‘bhishum bhishum’ would kill them all and leave, his anger avenged. Luckily, this time no one got killed, but he did speak to me requesting me “to stop this non sense”, in some not so polite words. The next day onward, I decided to be a little careful about what I commented. So, while I usually am very straight faced and do not hold myself back even while making nasty comments, and refrain from saying polite things as a rule, I toned down a bit and commented “Nice photo” on the profile pic of one of my friends. I expected the reply would be, “Thank you JAYESH”. Instead I got, “Are you being sarcastic?”
This is what people have begun to think of me. Even Anu Kapoor calls me a ‘Sarcastic sperm’ now. 
Just think, if every discussion is to be viewed sarcastically the following exchange of little sweet nothings that I heard while I was sneaking up on the lovebirds in my college will have a completely different meaning,
Girl:  Do you love me?
Boy: Yes. Yes, I love you.
Girl: How much?
Boy: I cannot tell you.
Girl: Till when will you love me?
Boy: Till death do us apart.
Girl: What will you do if I die? (Didn’t you hear, he said the love lasts only till death do you apart.)
Boy: I will go mad. (Seriously???)
Girl: You love only me?
Boy: Yes, only you. And no one else. Tumhari Qassam! (Take the hint lady!)
Girl: When will I meet your mother?
Boy: There is no need. I have told her I will bring home the girl of my choice.
Girl: What do you like about me?
Boy: Nothing in particular, everything in general. Ask me if there is something I do not like about you.
Girl: If an apsara came down and offered you all the wealth in the world, will you leave me for her?
Boy: Leave you. For her????? Never.
Girl: What do I have that an apsara does not have?
The further conversation took a course that is not suitable for a blog meant for family viewing.
I have always been truthful about my opinion. After hunting down Chinkaras and getting drunk and running their cars over poor people sleeping on pavements, don’t you forgive people in the name of Being Human? I have always called smart people smart without intending it to mean dumb. Is it my fault, if you read too much in between the lines and think about yourself the other way round? Anyway, if ever you have felt about yourself that way after reading my blog, intentionally or unintentionally, I apologise. Please forgive me.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

A-JO: The Love Story of A Cute and A Serious Boy.

This is the legend of A-Jo and the love of his life, Baby.

1942 B. C., Mesopotamia:

The times in Mesopotamia were changing. The glory and the prosperity were past their peak a long time ago. The hardships that had come upon the subjects had forced a great amount of civilian unrest. Riding on a legacy of peaceful and prosperous existence that spanned over millennia, the administrators of Mesopotamia found themselves incompetent to tide over the crisis. Some serious steps were required to be taken and quickly. For Mesopotamia, the time was running out quickly.

The crisis of Mesopotamia had started a decade ago with the state of Avon declaring its independence after the central army of Mesopotamia failed to secure its gates against the invading Trichons of the North. The Trichons of the North had abducted the Low Chancellor of Avon, Teea and the subjects of Avon had demanded Teea be rescued. But as the constitution of Mesopotamia placed the state before the rulers, this was not to be. And this led to Avon declaring its independence. Many other neighbour states who feared an invasion by the raiding Trichons of the North too declared their independence. Thus, cut off from its most of its resourceful regions, Mesopotamia was under tremendous stress.

“What should we do now?” asked the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“We need to do something, I think!” reiterated the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“We should consult someone.” said he High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“The Oracle of Jay had predicted the crisis of Mesopotamia a thousand years ago!” reiterated the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“But no one knows where the Oracle is now. The founding Fathers of Mesopotamia had hidden in some undisclosed location. And the boundaries of Mesopotamia have greatly expanded since then.....” said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Yeah, and greatly shrunken also”, chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Whatever! We need to find that Oracle. It’s our only hope.” said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Guards, take out our torches and load our ships. Today we said to find the lost Oracle of Jay.” said the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“We cannot go! We are the administrators of Mesopotamia. And also that we are old..... None the less, in order to correctly express the gravity of the situation, we must call this a very High Level State Sponsored Secret Mission. We will have to appoint someone to do this.”, reiterated the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“But, how will we find the right person to find the Oracle of Jay?” asked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Just the same way as our founding fathers founded Mesopotamia. We will leave at night and travel through the darkness with blindfolded eyes and whosoever we see in the morning first will be our man.”, declared the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Or woman.....” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.

And so they set sail. The night was spooky. And the Chancellor's constant chucking throughout the night also contributed to freaking the High Chancellor out of his skin. Finally, the day dawn. The duo unfolded their eyes. And stay in the midst of the unknown land waiting to glimpse upon someone. Waiting for their hope.

At a distance the High Chancellor saw a young man in his early twenties walking alone, whistling a sweet tone. “Good morning Young man. We are the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia and the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.”, said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Sire, I am A-Jo. I am a cute and a serious boy!” replied the young man.
“A-Jo, the entire fate of Mesopotamia depends on you. You have to find for us the Oracle of Jay”, said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Okay..... How does it look, where is it?” asked A-Jo.
“Well, if we knew all that stuff we would have got it ourselves.....” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“We will wait for you here so that you don't have difficulty finding us later”, said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“It seems like a dangerous voyage. Searching unknown things in unknown lands. What if I don't return.......” asked A-Jo.
“Well then, we won't wait for you.......” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Huh...!” exclaimed A-Jo.
“Young man, we'll settle all that after you come back. And think positive. The nature calls for you. Remember, we want only the Oracle, you can keep the ruins of the war!” said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Ok, but what if I run of supplies on my journey?” asked A-Jo.
“Tell them, you are on a very High Level State Sponsored Secret Mission.”, replied the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“And how will I know when I find the Oracle of Jay?”
“Just trust your instincts.” replied the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.

And so, A-Jo set on a journey after which his life would never be the same.

After travelling for 2 days, A-Jo was finally out of liquor. He went to a shop and demanded liquor. The keeper gave him and when asked to pay, A-Jo replied, “I am A-Jo. I am on a very High Level State Sponsored Secret Mission. The State will pay you.” And so, the keeper handed him over to the state authorities.

“Who are you?” asked the Counsel.
“I am A-Jo. I am on a very High Level State Sponsored Secret Mission.”
“What non-sense. And which state is it?”
“The State of Mesopotamia!”
“Guards, Mesopotamia sends drunken spies to Trichon. Imprison him in the invasion tower. They will have to pay for this....... Another invasion is on..... In three days we will invade Mesopotamia.”

In the detention tower, A-Jo was thrown into a cell with only one window. The room was dark and clumsy but for a narrow beam of moon light entering in through the window. A-Jo had become sober by now. “Who--- Who's there? I am A-Jo. I am on a very High Level State Sponsored Secret Mission of Mesopotamia.”, he asked.
“I am Teea, the Low Chancellor of Avon.” was the reply.
A-Jo looked towards the narrow beam of moonlight flooding the clumsy cell. And what he saw stunned him. He lost many a heart beats. From the shadows emerged a figure. Flawless fair colour. Hair that shimmered in the moon light. And did I forget to mention that he had never seen bigger or more beautiful eyes than those. The gait, majestic and classy. A-Jo was swept off his feet. He moved closer. Extending his hand, he touched the beautiful face feeling the warm breath.
“You are so beautiful. What can I call you?” wondered A-Jo loudly.
“Baby! That's sort of a pet name.” replied Teea.
“Oh Baby, you are the most beautiful creation of the creator. All my life, I have dreamed of someone like you. If only I could make you mine?” A-Jo excaimed.
“In fact, you can!” replied Teea. “If we escape from here, you can. Finders keepers!”
“That’s great. But how do we escape from here?” asked A-Jo.
“Well, you seem to be the chosen one. So, you figure out.” replied Teea.
“Have you never tried to escape?” asked A-Jo.
“Well, no. Why should I? I am the Low Chancellor of Avon. Isn't Mesopotamia supposed to send someone over to rescue me? This is such a moot question. And also I don't know horse-riding.”, replied Teea.
“O......, but for this beauty, I would never rescue you. And by the way Avon has been independent for over a decade now and so technically speaking its Avon's job to rescue you, not Mesopotamia's.” replied A-Jo.
“My God, I am ruined! That invasion has brought about so much bad...” cried Teea.
“Do you care educating me a bit more about the invasion?” asked A-Jo.
“OK. You must be aware that Avon has been known to produce the finest species of horses, the Avonian Raptors. Unknown to us, some of our Raptors had escaped our stable and run into the Trichon territory to the North. The Trichons, now craved for the Raptors. And so they invaded Avon and took away the Raptors.” replied Teea.
“Then why did they capture you?” asked A-Jo.
“Well, their leadership felt that I would look very lowly of the mighty Trichons to invade only for horses. So, as the Head of State they took me away as well, aiming to bargain me for a few more raptors and extending the olive stick. But, now I can understand, Avon and Mesopotamia are themselves in a mess, so nothing has happened. Bloody bureaucracy!” sighed Teea.
“I heard them planning to invade Mesopotamia again in three days! What could they want now?” asked A-Jo.
“Well, as far as the rumours go, they are upset over Mesopotamia sending over drunk spies! Or, in untrained hands, Raptors are difficult to control. They must have run off and now they want more.” said Teea.
“Then why don't they trade you for some Raptors as planned, rather than invade?” asked A-Jo.
“You see, Avon is independent of Mesopotamia now. I was an administrator for Mesopotamia. Now, in Avon nobody cares who I am. Dirty politics!” replied Teea “Now I get why this tower is also so sparsely guarded.”
“So, escaping will not be difficult. There is the Great Bear”, said A-Jo pointing at the stars from the window “So, that is the north and Mesopotamia is in the South-East. We have directions. All we need is time and speed.”
“Well, you’re getting lucky!” exclaimed Teea “Baby likes you, and he is the fastest Raptor I've known.” replied Teea.
“Then, what are we waiting for? Hop on. Let's go Baby!!! Yee-haaa!” cried A-Jo.

Surely, Baby proved that he was the fastest horse on Earth. By the time the guards could alert the borders of the escape, the three had already galloped out of sight. By noon the next day, they met the High Chancellor and the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Here's our man!” exclaimed the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“And his woman....” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopoamia.
“No, this is my Baby! And this is the erstwhile Low Chancellor of Avon.”, replied A-Jo.
Mesopotamia prepared its armies.
“I want you two, to quickly go to Avon and get them on our side.”, said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“But she is worthless there. Avon is independent of Mesopotamia and no one gives her a damn!” protested A-Jo.
“Go there and tell the people that the proponents of Independent Avon had you abducted and Mesopotamia has rescued you. Come on, I expected better from you! You aren't new to this....” said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia, looking at Teea.
“Dirty politics.....” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
And with that Avon and her sister states resolved to rejoin Mesopotamia. The Trichons surrendered when they heard of Mesopotamia preparing an army. Thus, the borders of Mesopotamia expanded even in the North.

“But, the kid didn't get us the Oracle of Jay, and yet he kept the ruins of the war....” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“That is the Legend of the Oracle of Jay! It always appears when Mesopotamia is in danger. Let us say, we have hidden it somewhere safe, only to be searched when Mesopotamia is in danger ever again!” said the High Chancellor of Mesopotamia.
“Legendary...!” chucked the Chancellor of Mesopotamia.

A-Jo and Baby lived happily ever after.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Zebra Syndrome.

Medicine is a great field, in that it converts a student to a doctor.
But for many, this transition is not that easy.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Chinese waitress and Six Young Friends

Once upon a time, there were six young friends. They knew each other ever since they were young. And whenever they met they felt very very young. That is why they remained young friends.

One day they decided to have lunch together. So they went to the Italian restaurant. In the Italian restaurant they were greeted by a Chinese waitress. Strange!!! Because it was an Italian restaurant and they were greeted by a Chinese waitress. While 5 off the 6 enjoyed Italian food, the sixth was fond of Chinese. And so he declared that he would only enjoy the Chinese and he did not like the Italian food, and hence would not be a part of the meal, because he enjoyed only the Chinese.

And so as the Chinese waitress brought the menu card, the 6 friends realised that the rates were picked up from Italy and so did not suit their Indian wallets. Talking of which, the 6th friend was unmoved, because he liked Chinese not Italian.

And  so he went to look out for Chinese, while the other 5 debated over the Italian. Knowing well that if and when he found the Chinese, they will be forced to have the Italian, one of the other 5 followed him. So there were left 4 out of 6, because 2 had gone away.

Because 2 had gone away, the 4 also decided to go away. They said that they wanted uniformity in the group, so they too were fond of Chinese, but the truth was that their Indian wallets could not afford the Italian food, because the rates were picked up from Italy.

And so all them were out of the Italian Restaurant. But they could not find Chinese, because the Chinese waitress was in the Italian Restaurant and they were out of the Italian Restaurant.

And so remains incomplete the tale of the Chinese waitress and the Six Young friends, because one of them did not like Italian and the others could not afford it.