Dying Hope

The curve on her face, from ear to ear,
She did not say, she need not fear,
Moments like this, seldom came near,
Oh look what destiny brought her hither.

A letter so fine, from borders across,
She opened in haste, a living chaos,
Hopes of joy, and safety too,
Color changed from pink to blue.

A sorry from friends and all the crew,
Flowers too had lost their dew.
Sent was a box, with a heartfelt song,
Wishing they could come along.

He fought till the end, that's what they said,
She stood alone, not a tear still shed.
Reality was still to dawn,
Destiny brought tough times on.

The wind blowing had an eery touch,
Made her sit without a thought much.
Night so long, dreams of the shot,
As she waited for her love to be brought.

The UGLY Truth

1 Crore. That's it? Yes, that's it. That is the average amount for a post graduation medical seat in any private hospital/college in India today. You may ask who pays so much? Turns out, MANY....many to the effect that there is waiting there too. Ridiculous much? Well, it may pinch some ones pocket, but it pinches my heart. Why? Is it that my father can not afford that money? Probably he can. Probably he can not. Can I afford it? Definitely not. Would I spend that much for my child just because the competition is tough and he/she is not hard working enough? Definitely not. Then I don't have the right to ask my father for the same.

I sometimes wish people thought on the same lines as I do. But then again, I don't completely blame them. Our Indian medical system is such that it is built with loop holes. Loop holes so big that most of the deemed and private hospitals are owned by politicians and what better way to fill their pocket holes? I have friends who have paid capitation and taken up seats. I do not look down upon them because it was their personal choice. Yes, I would be lying if I said it did not hurt knowing they got it easy and I am still struggling to get a seat. But when I think of it in the long run I don't feel so bad. I lost a year or two struggling now, learning it the hard way, but at least I do not live with the guilt that my education was so cheap (not in literal terms) that it was based on money. I do not want to abuse my brains and feel like a failure just because I did not get a seat via a common entrance.

For all non-medicos reading this, we had a common entrance for the whole of India, called NEET. There were almost 2 lakh students applying for this exam. The total number of seats available all over India via this exam is approximately 20,000. Out of this, 50% of the seats are for the reserved category. So hypothetically, for an open category candidate, like me, needs to be in the first 10,000 to secure a seat. That too, if I want a seat of my choice and in my city, I need to be within the first 1000 ranks. Surprised? Don't be.
People will say you knew this when you took up medicine. Yes, I knew it would be hard, but did I know that I would lose my faith in the system and profession so soon?

So, coming to the point what made me write this blog today. I happened to give an entrance today. I shall not disclose the name for obvious reasons but you do not need to be Einstein to figure out which one. Almost three weeks back I was contemplating whether to give this exam or no because it is a known fact that all the seats are rigged. However, my dad said give it as a back up so I filled the form of Rupees 3000 in total. I filled it knowing I was not going to study for it. And I did not. So I got up today and went for the exam. Never have I been so calm and relaxed for an entrance exam. I reach 15 minutes before the commencement of the exam and funny as it may sound, I went into a wrong classroom and sat on a wrong bench. Two minutes later I realised my mistake, so I picked up my belongings and stormed out of the class room leaving the rest behind thinking I am a moron.

I got into my actual class and took my seat. In front sat a girl wearing a black sweat shirt and diagonally in the next row sat a boy in a black and grey checked shirt and a black turban. The exam bell rang and everyone got busy in their own exam sheets. Three and a half hours is rather a long time for me to sit in one place without getting bored, especially when I have not been in touch with studies. So, one hour down I was already getting restless. I looked around and saw everyone else pretty engrossed in their papers. The benches being small I happened to notice that the girl in front of me had not marked (circled) a single answer on the answer sheet. I figured she is one of those who reads the whole paper and then marks her answers. Not wanting to waste more time, I got back to my paper.

One hour for the exam to get over. Suddenly a man, probably in his early 50's walked into the room, with two men who I presume to be working under him. This man, clad in white pants and a white khadi half sleeved shirt had a piece of paper in his hand. I, sitting on the third bench of the second row from the entrance did not find it difficult to read what was on the paper. It was a list of roll numbers. Surprisingly, the man started walking in my direction and stopped just before my desk. He looked at the girl in front of me, checked her roll number, confirmed it with the numbers on the paper he had, took her question booklet and marked something. I found this strange.

As soon as he was done with her, he started walking to the other side of the classroom and stopped at the boy with the turban's desk and did the same. I was perplexed. What was going on? It took me 15 minutes to figure this mystery out. Half an hour was left and the girl's answer sheet was still empty. I wanted to confirm my thoughts so I looked to my left and saw that the boy's answer sheet was empty too. Surprise! My blood boiled to the effect that I was unable to answer any question for the next 5 minutes. I was disgusted. The exam got over and the examiner started collecting the answer sheets. The girl had marked less than half the answers and the boy must have marked 20 answers max.

I do not know what to think of this. I do not have proof to assume that this was an act of cheating. Even tomorrow, if they do get a good rank I still will not have any proof to say they did not mark even 50% to be eligible, which by the way was written in the 'Instructions to candidates' section. You may say that I knew the exam was rigged well before I was even applying for it, then why this reaction. My friends, knowing and living with it because we can not do anything is one thing. But some one coming in the middle of your exam and exhibiting the act in public makes you wonder 'What is noble about this profession?' It did not take much to crush the little faith I had in our medical system and the people in it, that includes us budding doctors, big doctors or any one involved.

I do not wish bad for any one. But I really do pray that all those young hearts who have sacrificed their social life and years in attempting to get a post graduate seat in the field and place where they want. Saying this, I would like to tell all those struggling like me, that do not be disheartened, do not get upset. We live in a society which talks, eats and breathes money. It takes a lot not to be one of them and I salute those who are not.


PS- The figures for the number of students applying and the total number of seats is not confirmed but should be around that much.

MBBS and Beyond

Life is like a cycle of female hormones...it has its ups and downs...

Life as a medical student is nothing more than a soap opera...full of drama!

New friends, bunking lectures, movies, parties, controversies, fights, bitching, making up and somewhere in that studying!

It doesn't take 4 and a half years to know whose who.. But it is that last and fifth year to recognise oneself which makes or breaks your life!
Internship!! Its a year for the newly crowned doctors to learn and live the real life...
It is a year of making important decisions and taking the right steps.
Confusion is the first and biggest dilemma. Every individual thinks his/her life is the biggest question mark, but frankly everyone is sailing in the same boat.

Failure is a part of life. But more than anything its the courage to move on and the want of being a good doctor which helps us hang in.

I Miss...

I miss the early morning dawn, the wake up calls and carpool drives,
Running for lectures, the grand late entrance,
Last bench flakiness, with food provisions all around,
Sleeping in lectures, playing criss cross,
And waiting for that last bell to free us all.
 
I miss the postings, for units we would fight,
Following the seniors and trying to be right,
The morning breakfasts, DP’s, GK or Manize,
Cinemax or Imax, Zenzibu always followed by Naturals.
 
I miss the girls’ day out, the late night calls,
Issues many, with interventions and all,
Birthday cakes, Shekhar’s canteen, smashing faces,
And that’s where we left our traces.
 
I miss the library, the pre-exam tension,
The selective studies almost like pension,
The midnight maggi, coffee and red bull,
Cuz nothing worked on our brains so full.

I miss the feeling of having to do nothing,
Results so creepy, wishing we had studied something,
The promise of working harder, striving to do better,
But nothing changed us, Harrison nor Netter.
 
I miss the moment where we became Doctors,
Our heads held high, shouting in the sky,
The black robes, black hats and rolls in our hand,
The day we pledged, our Hippocratic oath.





PS- I had written this after I graduated. Just blogging it now. The places mentioned have been like our "addas" for 5 years.



 
 

Downhill Love

Confusion had taken over her so strongly that she did not know what to say. She stood there, looking beyond, looking everywhere, but him. Trying to register what just happened, she fidgeted with her hair, still dumb founded.

 

He looked at his childhood friend. They were meeting after almost 6 months. She looked beautiful even with the questioned look on her face. He had waited for 3 years, 5 months and 7 days for this day. Yes, it took him that long to figure out his feelings for her.

 

Under the Banyan tree, her favorite spot in the park, he told her; "I love you. I always have and I think you are the most beautiful woman ever. I was just too blind to see it myself. I kept running after other women when the only person I want in my life is you. I am sorry for not knowing it earlier."

 

She stared at her feet, gathering herself. She had wanted to hear this for the longest time in her life. She had loved him ever since she danced with him at a common friends party when she was 16. She would do anything for him. However, he had failed to see the love in her eyes.

 

Finally she looked up at him. Their eyes met. He tried looking for an answer in her eyes, but her face was masked. She did a good job of not revealing what she felt. After two minutes of eye locking, she finally said, "I am getting married in two months from tomorrow." She turned and left.

Mumbai, just another city?

Even though I am born in Pune, brought up in Mumbai, there is no doubt that there is a part in me that believes that Mumbai is undoubtedly the best city to live in. The road side food, the crowded beaches, Marine Drive, Worli seaface and the homely feel, are the things that make me love the city. But the real question is, is Mumbai really the best city to live in?

There is more to this financial capital of India to which we live blind folded and  are ignorant to.

Running a marathon year to year does not show the integrity of the city, we have to prove it daily.
Hundreds of women being eve teased daily, and people just stand and watch as if it is an entertainment show.
And if some one tries to help, they land up dying because the rest are coward enough to help. Where is the spirit then? There is no point having candle light marches and mourning over the dead when we can not stand up and fight for the right, fight for humanity.

Political gimmicks are just a part of daily routine. Something happens in Assam, let's have a protest in Mumbai. Burning up buses, tearing down houses and throwing stones at each other has become like a common thing. Moreover, festivals like Janamashti and Ganesh Chathurthi have been politicized in such a way that it is a game of who can entertain the public more. When will people start standing up for the city rather than being puppets for the political parties?

The crumbling infrastructure, cemented bodies hovering in every corner, leaving us no space to breathe. Breaking rules, proudly bribing the cops in return, the uncontrollable population and the unnerving traffic are nothing but the tip of an ice berg.

"Mi Marathi nahi", that does not mean I am not a part of this city or I love it any less. I love this city equally. This city is one which has nurtured me and made me who I am. I started traveling alone by local buses when I was merely 8 years old. This city has made me an independent and fearless woman, who can travel alone at 3 am safely.

But then there are days where I am forced to sit at home, from the fear that some goons are vandalising the city because they are grieving. Days like this makes me sad, not only seeing them vandalise, but the fact that we give in. We stay home.

A revolution is needed. A change. One that doesn't bind a single citizen from his right to speak, right to move about freely without fear and the right to enjoy life the way he wants to.

Cultural gaps may be there, but let's not make them an issue. India is known for it's culture and different religions, and Mumbai is a city where we see them all. Let that not be a cause for disintegrity, rather make it our strength.

Saying this, I feel Mumbai is still in its growing stage and if we really want to call it a good city to live in, we have a long way to go. It may be a good city to live in India, but in the world where do we stand?

Fly High

Flying high, up above, from down beneath I see them soar,

A pinch of pain, a broken heart,

My wings are clipped, I want to fly.

It is not anger, it is the pain,

Not of others, but the wings in vain,

Tears  have stopped, but my heart it aches,

A wishful thought is all it takes.

The pain is such, it makes you strive,

It makes you dream and want to fly,

Hopes you build, hard and strong,
Keep that smile, its where it belongs.

The watery eyes blurs the sight,
Look beyond, you need to fight,
Loosen up, don't be so uptight.

Eyes desire, wings of fire,

Achieve heights, never retire,

To fly the best, I aspire,
The birds above, they make me inspire.