D : Doctors : A to Z Challenge

In the past 1.5 years, I have interacted with doctors more than ever before in my life. Nine months of pregnancy saw me visiting my Gynaec's clinic like one would visit a close friend. In fact, knowing my history of feelings for doctors, Mr. Hubby began to make fun of me that the baby has transformed me into a Braveheart. As you would have guessed, I HATE doctor visits since I was a kid. As if, the smell of disinfectant and the sad faces of patients waiting were not enough, the expressions on the doctor's face made up for the rest. Often, my visits used to feel like a court hearing. I would blabber out every detail and the doctor would  keep jotting down something. Then, came the worst part, waiting for the judgement and praying to lord to save me from the torture of an injection or a bitter syrup. The doc would keep me waiting and jot down something endlessly in a handwriting I dunno how even the Chemist understood. No matter how much I tried to stay calm, the BP shot up in the waiting queue itself. In fact, once I jokingly invited the doc for tea to witness how good my BP was at home! 

As the D day (delivery) drew near, my doc transformed into God or so I was made to believe by my family. Throughout my pregnancy, I used to pester my doc with a long list of questions after her bit was done, adamant on having a normal delivery. But, towards the end of pregnancy, I felt like a helpless soul having to believe whatever the doctor said. 

"It is a matter of just few days",  I thought. But the only thing changed post delivery was the change of queue. I was now much more regular at the paediatrician's clinic bang opposite to my gynaec's, for being a new mom, I would not want to take chance for the slightest of issues.

And that's when I began to wonder, "does one trust the doctor blindly?"

Of course, in case we aren't qualified medical practitioners, we have no option but to nod our head in affirmation to all the tests, shots, diagnosis that we are advised. However, the bug of commercialisation hasn't spared this noble profession. Try visiting a doctor for the smallest of ailments and the first thing s/he will ask you is to undergo a battery of tests, often at a centre of their recommendation. "Its just a test" one wonders, there is no harm in diagnosis and often go for tests that were not even warranted in the first place. The deal becomes more lucrative for them if a baby is involved, for no parent would like to take chance. And if you question, the winning argument is "Lets rule out everything". Yes, we should rule out all doubts, by taking second opinions.

This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge #AtoZChallenge. 

C:Comic- A to Z Challenge

The reason why I got a lot of scolding from mom during exams was surprisingly not studies. It was comics. Yes, I was addicted to comics like a dopier is to dope. My addiction would be at its best during exams, for the colorful pages and happy faces transported me to a different world, free of exam stress, fears and failures. Every comic tells a happy story. However, being a concerned parent, mom used to be worried for my career, so she often made me swear not to touch comics till the exams were over! I used to be tempted to hide the comic in my textbooks and finish the story, but the guilt of breaking a swear and the fear of ranking low in class successfully kept me away from comics.

However, as soon as the last exam would be over, comics and I would embrace each other like long lost lovers and we would spend nights happily in each other's company.

Comics also taught me the art of networking & negotiating very early in life!

A boy in our neighborhood had a enviable collection of comics and used to organize a paid library during summer holidays. Paying for so many comics was totally our of question. But, then I found a weak link. This guy liked my hulla hoop and his mom never got him one, considering it to be a very girlie thing. So I negotiated the perfect barter. I would let him play with my hulla hoop and he let me read comics for free.

And that was not all...

There was a magazine stand next to the flour mill in the local market. Once, while waiting with my brother for the flour to be done, I picked up a comic, thinking I will pretend to check it out and the shopkeeper would think I will buy, but I will quickly switch to another one. However, once I opened the comic, I got so immersed in it that I lost track of time. Thankfully, the shopkeeper was a nice guy and a comic lover himself. "Why don't you grab a chair and read?"he said and offered me a chair. 

I was all smiles, thinking "Goodness still prevails"

Here are some of my favorite comics.

What are your comic memories & which are your favorite comics?

This post is written for #atozchallenge.

To the Mowgli in all of us

When I was expecting my son last year, there was one piece of advice almost everyone showered on me. To read, listen and watch stuff that the baby would enjoy. As I wondered what shows/movies to watch, the first name that came to my mind was none other than "The Jungle Book"

Every evening, Mr. Hubby and I would leisurely watch Jungle book episodes and I would go back to my childhood.

As all children of the 80's and 90's would agree, Jungle Book had a very important role to play in our childhood. Not even a single child would be seen outdoors at 10am on Sundays as all of them would be glued to their TV sets watching Jungle Book. So much was the craze that once when a classmate of mine got a pencil box with Mowgli printed on it, the entire class went in a frenzy to buy similar pencil box!

What was so special about a simple tale of a jungle, a human baby and animals that it is still engraved in our hearts and minds?

The first thought that comes to my mind is the song, "Jungle Jungle Pataa Chala hai, Chaddi pehenke phool khilaa hai" and the smiling faces of Mowgli, Bagheera, Baloo, Pappu, Ka and others. I must confess, the title song has such emotional value for me that often when my 9 month old son has trouble falling asleep, I hum this song and rock him to sleep.

Jungle Book is not just a story. It is the story of our lives - of triumphs and failures; of loyalty and deceit; of friendship and animosity; of love and jealousy; of discipline and rebellion. Each character and each scene of Jungle Book resonates the songs of our lives. Perhaps thats why Jungle Book strikes the perfect chord and it was the perfect choice to have fun and at the same time refresh the lessons of life...

There is a Mowgli in all of us -

As a kid, the biggest reason which kept me hooked on to the Jungle Book was Mowgli. I could somehow relate to him on several instances. Like Mowgli, I too had my moments of mischief, fun with friends, rebellion, concern for my loved ones and aggression for anyone who dared to challenge me.

Family & friends

Jungle Book taught me very early in life, the importance of family and friends. Despite being a human, Mowgli was treated no different by his family and friends. Often, when I used to see Mowgli being pampered by his mom Chameli, I too used to become a small child and give my mom a bear hug! It is important to choose friends wisely, for good friends show us the correct path and stand by us in every situation, just like Bagheera, Baloo, Ka and Pappu! If you look around at your friends, you will always find a Bagheera who shows you the right path without being preach; a Baloo who may not be stylish but is the most sincere and sensible; a Ka who knows it all and a Pappu who is your follower!

Break the rules and face the music

Nobody could have taught this better than the Jungle Book. Time and again, we see repercussions of breaking rules of the Jungle. Be it crossing over to the forbidden side of the river, or ignoring the instructions of elders. My mom often made good use of this fact and often used to tell me, "see what happened to Mowgli when he didn't listen to his mom and went to the forbidden part of the Jungle. You too should listen to what mamma says!" and I would nod my head in affirmation. What an age of innocence it was!

Face your fears

Mowgli was the super hero who never shied from taking risks and faced his fears. Fears also remind me of a funny incident. In one of the episodes, I saw Baloo telling Mowgli the Mahamantra of Jungle "Hum ek hee vansh ke hain, tum aur main"(We are no different) and Mowgli successfully uses this mantra to drive away the wild dogs. Once when a stray dog got after me, instead of running away, I decided to use Mowgli's mantra. However, to my surprise, it had no impact on the dog. Fortunately an elderly uncle was passing by who shooed the dog away and saved me the torture of anti rabies shots!

Us before Me

The animals of the jungle were very particular about the safety of the Jungle. When the rivers dried up, all the animals collaborated to share resources and decided not to hunt till the water problem was resolved. Whereas we humans think of serving our individual interests first. I wonder why do we humans forget this lesson in times of crisis.

Loving our environment

I used to be in awe watching Mowgli using climbers to move from tree to tree in no time! While I could not find climbers to try my luck, Mowgli for sure was my inspiration to climb trees. From guava to Jamun to Mango I didn't leave a single tree despite often being attacked by angry red ants peacefully resting in the tree trunks!

As a parent, I feel there cannot be anything better than Jungle Book to teach your child the lessons of life without sounding preachy. I look forward to the day when my son grows up and I can watch Jungle Book with him and share my memories!

I’m blogging about #MyMowgliMemory at BlogAdda.

Jungle Book releases on April 8. Catch the movie and relive your memories! 

B: Birthday Memories – A to Z Challenge

“Why does my birthday come only once a year?” As a kid, I used to frequently pester my mom with this question. Being youngest of four children in my family, I was the most pampered one. So, that meant extra pampering on birthdays. The day used to begin with bear hugs & wishes from mom, papa and my siblings. In the days of exclusive landline phones, every phone ring would bring a sparkle in my eyes as family friends and relatives would call to extend their wishes. I never missed school on my birthday, for it was one day when I would be treated like a princess by my friends. Birthdays were an occasion to flaunt the new frock bought just especially for the day, since we were allowed to give school dress a miss for the day. As I would distribute gifts to the class who joyously sang “Happy Birthday” for me, I felt like the guest of honor. And yes, the Maths teacher was also super sweet to me that day!

Back home, everyone would be busy preparing for the evening party. I have fond memories of the invitations, cake, confetti, gifts, food, games, dance and lot of fun with friends! Of course, next morning would feel like a hangover, especially if I had school.

With time, my definition of birthday celebration too changed. From lavish parties, birthdays began to be all about a cool eat treat with friends, gifts of my choice from parents and a nice family dinner.

Few more years passed…

The huge transformation in my birthday celebrations came after I began working. Birthdays became a much more private affair. In fact, the same me who enjoyed the attention during school days would turn pink and get conscious when my team sang a loud “Happy Birthday” followed by wishes from the entire floor.

Often I think about the change and it surprises me. I guess we all mellow down with age and value quality to quantity.

What are your memories of birthday celebrations?

This post is written as a part of the April A to Z Challenge 2016. 

A brave attempt

For the past three days, I have been controlling my temptation to participate in the A to Z challenge. Often, I used to read posts and wonder, "I will participate when I have time." However, “When I have time” too is a very grey concept.

Finally, today I gave in to the temptation. Damyanti’s blog was a big motivator, for she had done a marvelous job of simplifying the whole process and providing all the information in one post. So, this evening, while I was on my way back home from work, the challenge was all that I was thinking of. 

I know writing a month’s post in advance is the key, for networking is a key factor here. This coupled with the daily pendulum between home, office and motherhood leaves me thirsty for me time. So, I take up the challenge today, more for giving myself few minutes of “me time” for a month, more than anything else. Whether or how much of it I can manage, only time will tell. But, isn’t it better to try and try rather than not trying at all? 

Book review – Raakshas – India’s No.1 Serial Killer

Author – Piyush Jha

Publisher – Westland

Genre – Fiction

Pages – 391

Price – Rs. 295

Sneak from the cover

This thrilling narrative of a serial killer’s life and the unusual and challenging investigation to catch him, uncovers a chilling trail of unspeakable torment and cruelty – the tale of Raakshas.

The Cover

Raakshas himself welcomes readers with his bloodshot eyes and his weapon of destruction. Look into his eyes and you will definitely think twice about reading the book, especially if you are beginning to read at night!

My View

Raakshas is a touching story of an innocent boy who is forced by circumstances to become a psychopath killer. One doesn’t get to know his real name, so I will call him R. Labelled a killer at birth and blamed for his mother’s death merely marked the beginning of his life’s atrocities. There was still a lot more to come. A harrowing time with his father followed next. Brahmanand, who saw his son as a mere distraction to his ongoing research, was the major culprit in spoiling his son’s life. After all, it is the parents’ responsibility to provide an environment conducive to the child’s holistic development. The first few pages brought tears into my eyes. “How can a father be so cruel to his own son?” I kept wondering. But then, haven’t we heard stories of scientists who lost it in pursuit of their impossible inventions? The little boy’s perseverance however, impresses us throughout. Gifted with an amazingly sharp brain, the boy had it all in him to become a genius.

But, destiny had different plan for him. After months of inhuman treatment by his father, destiny gave R a chance to escape his father’s den and be united with the only mother figure to him in the big, bad world – his maternal aunt Latika. Little did he realise that the journey to his aunt’s place would instead take him to the path of being a serial killer.

On his way to his aunt’s place, little R got kidnapped by a baba, a serial killer himself. It was the years of captivity, being baba’s assistant in his heinous crimes that transformed the boy into a serial killer. Throughout the years of captivity, R just dreamt of escaping Baba’s clutches and being reunited with his aunt. Sadly, by the time this happened, his soul had already become a personification of evil.

What followed next was a story that could shake the reader to the core. One after another, the tales of his heinous crimes gave me goose bumps.

The story has a very strong message - A serial killer is not born but is made.

Almost parallel runs the story of a girl, as intelligent as R but much favored by her destiny. An event in her adolescence which could have spoiled her life forever instead became her biggest strength. The girl went on to become a super cop, which brings us our second message – We are what we choose to become, not what circumstances want us to be.

The book also highlights the side effects of a practice rampant these days – of media highlighting and exaggerating every little piece of information. Had the media not come up with a silly idea of “ranking of serial killers”, many lives could have been saved.

Grab the book, for Raakshas isn’t a book about nabbing yet another serial killer on a killing spree. It goes a step beyond and portrays all that goes around in the minds of serial killers, their fears, triggers, emotions and motivations – the face of devil inside. The parallel tracks of the lady cop and R give the story an interesting “Yin and Yang” touch.

What I loved about the book

Everything, for the story has the power to leave an impact on its readers. Being my first crime thriller I was quite hesitant but the book kept my hooked on until I didn’t finish the last page. As I was glued to the book, the courier boy and a plumber who visited my house were welcomed with my suspicious eyes. Need I say more?

What could have been better?

Many aspects of the lady cop seemed too good to be true and exaggerated to give her a heroic stature.

My rating

4/5

About the Author

Piyush Jha is an acclaimed film director, ad filmmaker and author of bestselling crime fiction novels. His films Chalo America, King Of Bollywood and Sikandar are noted for their unconventional subject matter. Currently working on a crime based TV show, Piyush’s earlier novels are Mumbaistan, Compass Box Killer and Anti Social Network.

This review is for Writers Melon 

Of Needles And Overcoming Fears

(This was published in Parentous)

Throughout my growing years, I teased my mom for one thing – whenever I would fall sick or be in pain, she would start crying. I remember once when a dog had bit me, on our way to the hospital, mom was crying more than me. She had heard how painful anti rabies injection was and she was scared about how I would tolerate the pain. As I joked that she looked more like the patient than me, she said, “You will understand my pain when you become a mother.”

Mom left me few years ago, but her words have echoed in my mind several times ever since I became a mother…

After my delivery, when my intravenous cannula was removed, I rejoiced thinking, “The pain is over!” Little did I know a new challenge awaited me – of witnessing my baby in pain during vaccination!

As the date for the next monthly vaccination drew near, anxiety gripped me...

The initial mandatory vaccines were administered by the pediatrician while I was still bed ridden. But, as the date for the next monthly vaccination drew near, anxiety gripped me. The mere thought of the needle pricking my baby’s soft skin and the imaginary sight of my little angel wincing in pain gave me goose bumps.

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