On Sat, 6th March 2021, I took the 2nd
dose of CoviShield. A day after the first dose, I did end up having some fever
and chills. Well, after the second, the story was just the same, but the
reaction a little stronger, i.e. fever and chills at around 14 hours compared
to 36 hours last time, a stronger headache, a bit more of the general weakness
and luckily, a Sunday to follow, to rest and recover. Symbolically, this may
just be the beginning to the end of one of the most uncertain times of life my
generation has faced. But times have always been uncertain in terms of the
present and the future - it is only when one looks behind and connects the dots
that just about any “pattern of certainty” ever comes up, if at all, i.e.
So, the last “uncertain phase” that I had was no longer than
2 years ago. Still remember like it was yesterday, the December of 2018.
Komal’s wedding to attend, a thesis to submit and a race against time. Will I
be able to attend a dear friend’s wedding? – well, provisional to the status of
my thesis completion (Post that, it was –Will my thesis get accepted? Then,
will I clear my theory.....what about practicals....... so on and so forth it
goes on. One just being a stepping stone to another).
31st December, the last day to submit thesis and
a few days before that, a close friend’s wedding to attend. One of the rules
that I had set for myself during my residency years was to try and not to miss
any friend’s wedding. Because time was an entity to be rationed, I had my
priorities set. {Still missed on attending 3 very close weddings..... that’s 3
too many :( for this lifetime....}
Anyway, since the chances of a last minute cancellation
loomed large, I preferred to book a Rajdhani for my to and fro between Dilli
and Mumbai over a flight simply because, one cancellation charges were feasibly
acceptable and two, because cancellation charges were feasibly acceptable. (A
“two” and fro journey). Third, because time had to be utilised wisely, 22 hours
at a stretch in a Rajdhani compartment would allow one the mental peace to
finish up a good amount of thesis writing, compared to the 8 hours - of
travelling to the airport, security check, boarding a flight, check out and
then reaching home – that would be rendered non productive, times 2.
A day before departure, I figured out that with my thesis
discussion approved by my guides, I just had to finish up some proof editing,
so the trip was on!! Hurrah! After a year in Coimbatore, I have sort of a faded
memory of the “Dilli ki sardi”, but just remind myself that there’s a song
about it – “tadpaaye tarsaaye re’, saari raat jagaye re’......Dilli ki sardi”.
I love trains, (that’s point number 4 of why Rajdhani
>> Flights), second only to Sheldon Cooper when it comes to being a rail
enthusiast. If the one of the functions of travelling is to learn life lessons,
then a journey in the Indian Railways is a university certificate course.
Usually, I always reach the jugjug gaadi station a whole
hour in advance to the departure (despite Indian railways following Indian
Standard time, ‘cause I just love trains and the colourful chaos at the station).
But in the Dilli ki sardi, peaking (or troughing, if you are a stickler for
linguistic accuracy) at 4 deg C (Single digit), where even five layers of
clothes can’t keep you warm for more than 3 minutes, I tried to play it short.
So, with my train from New Delhi scheduled for departure at 10:50 pm, at 9:30
pm I started searching for Ola/Uber (around 50 minutes the drive from East of
Kailash to Paharganj). Still sitting at home, 2 drivers had already declined,
and the time was 9:40. So, I thought it better to go down and try and latch onto
an auto. Maybe the cost haggling will provide some much needed warmth in this
spine chilling, mind numbing climate.
Now, there’s a word for things that are different but sound
alike. I don’t recollect it now, maybe it is called alliteration (I hate to
google stuff that I don’t know about. If I google, I’m sure the result will
eventually be that I am having some type of brain cancer. So, just in case,
there’s a masters in Eng-leash literature reading this one, please un-leash
your knowledge and let me know). Just as I was accumulating enough guts to head
out and try and catch an auto, before I catch the cold, freeze and join the
undead army of the Night King, I glanced at my ticket.
So, the alliteration (or whatever it is called- a rose by
any other name would still be equally fragrant, a Jayesh by any other name
would still be equally funny) which foxed me was the almost monoamniotic twin
like similarity between fifteen and fifty. Boarding 10:15pm, departure 10:20
pm.
Now, I have small deep set eyes and they literally shut when
I just as much as smile, let alone grin. Friends have displayed their
astonishment over how I can even “see”, when I laugh (perhaps this led to the
scientific curiosity that eventually made me take up ophthalmology as a
career). But there are those marked occasions, such as the one mentioned above,
when my oculi, lauch themselves out of the confines of the bony walls of the
orbit of my facial skeleton and go into an orbit around whatever celestial
object is available. (Sometimes newspapers have reported them as unexpected
comet/UFO sightings). But this time, I had to hold them in place with both my
hands, because we just didn’t have the time for them to finish a parikrama of
the solar system.
So, with a racing heart, and hoping against hope to find an
auto, while simultaneously frantically refreshing Ola/Uber, I decided to
activate plan B. {Plan B: Head back to the warm comfort of home, and log on to IRCTC
and cancel tickets and get a refund and message Komal - “Sorry Yaaaar....... Can’t make it. Thesis not
complete. I know you’ll understand. Damn this residency. Will catch up when I
come back. Best Wishes. And I definitely am gonna take a treat from you. Much
Love.” – the following morning.}
But, the thing about hope is, the first three letters are
H-O-P. So, O boy!! Didn’t I hop into the only auto I saw driving that night (that
too in the opposite direction. Some stunt for someone with my level of
athleticism). He had only as much as made eye contact, and decelerated and
before he knew it, I was already in his passenger seat. He continued driving.
“Bhaiyya, Nai Dilli station.” I said.
He took a U turn. (Thank God! Cause, I wouldn’t have gotten
off if he had refused and knowing Delhi, that would have been the night I would
have gotten abducted. Some luck!)
“Kitna loge?” I asked.
“Tin so”
“Jyaada hai. Ola to dedhso me mil raha hai.” (Wishes are
horses beggars can ride. But, three years in Dilli, I had learnt the Dilli
ways)
“Nahi Bhaiyaa, tin so hi hoga.” He said. (I was expecting –
To fir Ola hi kar lo. But, luckily that didn’t come. Maybe the cold had chilled
out that Dilli youth’s khaulta hua garam khoon.)
“Dedh so theek hai.”
“Do so”
Finally 5 minutes later and 3 km away we agreed on 180. Plan
B scrapped. Trip On.
With my eyes glued to Google maps, I was seeing the ETA as
25 minues. That’s 5 minues too many. At the Humayun’s tomb round about and no
traffic to be seen, I figured, we could make it in 10.
“Bhaiyaaaa... Thoood.....aaaaa..... tejjjjjjjjj.... chaaa....laaaa...oooo”
I said, may teeth clammering.
“Aur tej........ nah....iiiiiii hogaaaaaaa Bhaiiiiiyaaaaa”
he replied (his teeth clammering).
“Tej karo bhaiya.. 10 minute me train hai.” (Teeth still
clammering, but for the ease of reading, I’ve taken away the special effects.
All conversations hereforth to be visualised as with teeth clammering.)
“Nahi hoga. Ungliyaan bhi mahsus nahi ho rahi. Gaadi pe
control nahi hai.”
“Tej chalo bhaiyaa. Phizul ki baat mat karo. Gloves to pehna
hai na” (That’s some Dilli attitude there, eh!)
“Kya bhaiyaa aap........(some pleasantries in muffled voice
under his muffler)”.
ETA 15 minutes........ Reactivate Plan B. Open WhatsApp.
Start typing the message. I could see myself reaching New Delhi and wave off
the Rajdhani a heart wrenching bye-bye.
Anyway, despite all efforts from my autowalla (just giving
him the benefit of doubt), I didn’t (i.e. DID NOT) reach on time. 5
minutes post departure time, is when I was the gates of NDLS. Then, I ran, only
to find that there was a queue for security check. Just in the frustration of
the moment, I did go ahead with the security check as well and reached platform
7. And Ola (as an expression of surprise, not the car service that had royally
ditched me.), Rajdhani’s still there on the station (Dilli’s winter comes with
Dilli’s fog and aint no train gonna remain unaffected). Run again. Hop into the
first bogey that I could get into. Quite a ‘Jab we met’ moment it was.
Here’s rule one of travelling by
Indian Rail. Get into the first bogey you can get into and then ask, “Bhaiya
kaunsa coach hai?” and then find your way through. (Metaphorically speaking,
this is also applicable for taking important life decisions. Take one, and then
make your way through.) So, as I was searching for a Bhaiyya to ask him “Mai
kaha hu? (in a quintessential 80’s bollywood style)” I could feel a tremor indicating
that a change in the inertia of the train had been effected by an accelerating
force. (i.e.Train had started moving). Eventually, made it to my coach and
berth.
PART-II:
Another aspect of travelling in Indian Rail, is that if you
are a single male, you’ll try and book for a side upper, but your seat will be
shuffled at will. Courtesy an SMS from IRCTC, my initially allotted berth and
coach had been changed after charting. As I settled into my compartment, I
glanced around. I was travelling with two families. One of 4 (granpa, granma,
mumma, her hyperactive almost ADHD 8 year old daughter) and another one of 4 (hubby,
his bibi and two sons, who seemed 3y and 5y).
It was a late departure, so all slept well. Next morning
after a cup of tea at Ajmer, I decided to start my thesis work. I didn’t have
the side upper, but an aisle side 3 rd seat. The kids had woken up. The boys
were quiet and well behaved, majorly fascinated and occupied by the scenes
outside the window. The young lady had gotten into her elements and started
singing and dancing and slapping her mumma. Every half an hour granma would say
to mumma, “Tumhara ladki haath se nikal raha hai. Isko control karo”. From
their accents I could figure out that they were probably South Indians settled
in Dilli since long and had adopted Hindi as their lingua franca.
Anyway, bearing through that din, I continued my thesis work, with some regular
distractions every time the young lady started singing and dancing, followed by
granma’s advise to mumma.
The other young family was a delight. Never seen two young
boys being so well behaved for so long. Stark contrast between what was
happening to my left and my right.
In between, the train halted at Surat. I called Prachi.
“Kidhar hai? Where is?” bespoke me. “I’m in Surat.”
“O Great! I’m at home.” Prachi replied. “When are you
coming?”
“OK. Now I am not in Surat. Hehe.” I replied as the train
started pulling out.
“Matlab?” Prachi’s confused reply.
“I’m in train re. Train’s left Surat now. Going back by
Rajdhani as well. Will call you then. Bye. Take care.” (On the return trip,
Prachi and Viral came to the station and we caught up for the 5 minutes that
the halt there was for. Also, they brought tasty khichia papad for me which I
savoured for quite a few days.)
As Mumbai dear neared, my interest in my thesis began to
vanish. So, the laptop was shut, all data backed up on a pendrive and google
drive and I gave in to the wave of excitement and anticipation that was rushing
through.
Dahanu came around 4pm ish. One of the boys’, the 3 year old
started becoming cranky. Too long a ride for a kid that age. That’s when my
attention was diverted to this family on the side berths to my left. Hubby and
bibi were talking.
Hubby to bibi: Marine drive chalna hai? (Ah Marine Drive!
Just the mention of it got me more interested in their conversation.)
Just then the lady received a SMS. She read it and then
turned to her hubby and said.
“O it’s a message from that guy. So there was this kid in my
class. He didn’t submit his assignments. I failed him. He’s messaged that he’s
qualified for merchant navy. He asked me to pass him, but I did not. Whatever
he was doing, he should have submitted his assignments. Huh.....” she said.
Bibi: Bhel puri khaate hai.....
“Just like old times” they whispered in perfect nostalgic
synchrony.
This passing – failing business is a major ethical dilemma I
have seen some of my professors face. Each one has a different work around to
it. I recall one of my Professors in KEM, who believed that no resident should
be failed and they deserved to pass purely on the basis of the volume of work
they had done during their residencies. “If he is a good doctor, patients will
come to his clinic, otherwise they won’t.”
Another one believed in the sanctity of the examination
process. One day can’t determine how good a candidate is, he agreed, it may be
his off day. But, that’s the process. He would give ample of opportunities for
a candidate to pass. “Exams are to assess how much they know, not what they do
not know. If they know enough, they deserve to pass. And if they don’t, they
don’t.”
A third one believed (arbitrarily) that passing percentage
can NOT be more than x% and so (100-x)% candidates would compulsorily fail,
irrespective. And there were some in betweeners who would pass a candidate if
she looked pretty, or someone was answering questions after reading books they
had authored and so on and so forth and vice-versa.
Anyway 2 years later, with a second wave of Corona splashing
the globe with the vengeance of a tsunami, so many a careers have been
devastated. What I still recall, though, is the tone of that “HUH”- one which
intended to dwarf a bona fide achievement of a hardworking candidate. One which
couldn’t accept that the other had succeeded, where she had rendered him a
failure. On ethical grounds, yes, I agree he should have been held back (or may
not have been also. Just don’t give him a gold medal.) But what was distressing
was the lack of neutrality, let alone empathy, in that response.
Time is a commodity we all ration. 2 years down the line, I
don’t know if submitting those assignments at the cost of a shot at a merchant
navy career would have stood him good. But it is everyone’s guess.
New normal or not, the answer will be the same.............
“Just like old
times.”
