What is in a name ?

                                          By

                            Vivek Hande

What is in a name, you might ask? I talk about nicknames or pet names or whatever you may call them. These names have so much of a story to tell. They tell you often about regional affiliations, religious inclinations, musical preferences; at times about size, shape, color or even a state of mind. Well, sometimes   they convey nothing at all. Some names are distinctive of a particular region and you could almost fix a personality and a face to the name by merely listening to the name. An analysis of these names is as fascinating as the names themselves!

                     Classic nicknames like Tony, Rocky, Bunty,  Pinky , Dolly ,Sweetie invariably remind you of warm , hearty ,affectionate, energetic folks invariably from Delhi, Punjab or thereabouts. Jhumi, Tinku,  Rinku, Jhumpa, Jhumpi, Bulu , Toolu, Baapi and Khoka-the list is endless and   takes you to the Bengalis, who are one of the great masters of the nickname business. A Goan couple I knew, had their first two kids named Bunny and Sunny and when they were blessed with a third one, a little late in life , they had no option but to call the young fellow Funny!

            Chotu, a very popular name might have been alright for the kid but just seems a little incongruous when a hurly six -footer with a thick beard responds to this epithet. Also, somehow, most waiters in hostels, canteens and cafes just somehow are always Chotu. Baby, need not necessarily be of  diminutive size and delicate disposition- I have seen enough who  are neither baby-like in size or behavior. Tingu ,is more often than not a short , wiry individual. A subtle one was AB Singh ,a Sardar ,a trifle whimsical but who was rechristened ‘Ab-Surd’ for life!

       Some names, invariably transform into abbreviated names and that sticks for life. Bharadwaj almost always is Birdy; Subramanian is either Subbu or Mani. Saxena, is often Sexy(regardless of sex appeal); Venkatesh is Venky; Chopra is more often than not Chopsy; Parthasarthy is Partha and Pattabhiraman is obviously Pattu. Krishna Kant Prem Kumar is KKPK; Dayaram Naresh Arolikar is popularly DNA and   Algappa Baindraj Chellaiah Doraiswamy has to be ABCD and nothing else!

        I may get confused with the real names of some very interesting personalities in college. But their nicknames are still fresh in mind. I don’t remember whether it was their physical attributes or behavior or persona which prompted these names but they sure got engraved in memory. Bull; Gainda (Hindi for Rhinoceros); Chipku(sticky); Moti(pearl) and the trio of Aadu, Maadu and Khadu- I don’t have the foggiest idea regarding the significance or the origin of the names but these names have survived time and tide.

            Another set of interesting names are those based on gastronomic delights. One of my favorites was a set of twins, Kaju and Kishmish! Nobody can take away the thrill of calling out to Jalebi or tenderly beckon  Jamun. HS Nath became Nuts for life and is quite nutty in his own way. A little out of the usual, a passionate mango lover, who had three boys fondly responding to Langda, Dasheri and Aapus- believe it or not!

Each name has a distinct character, flavor, identity and at the cost of disagreeing with Shakespeare , Rose can certainly not smell as special  as Gulab!!

the call of nature

                       The call of nature: no leaks please..

                                    By Vivek Hande

The victorious England team recently celebrated their Ashes victory on the pitch at Lords by answering “nature’s call” and chose to water the pitch after some feverish Beer drinking. Not quite cricket and not quite gentlemanly, one might say. But what is a leak amongst friends- when you have to go, you have to go.

Apart from some sniggers and some smirks and suppressed amusement, I doubt if this would really outrage a country like us. For us, no place is really sacrosanct. Roads, pavements, streets, buildings, garages, parking lots, gardens, parks, railway tracks and in more recent times ,even coaches in local trains – anywhere , anytime , wherever on the go :that seems to be the motto.  The truth is that in large measure, the progress of a country has to be determined by its standards of sanitation. The less we speak about the standards of sanitation and hygiene in this country , lesser is the stink raised.

It is a fact that more than fifty percent of the 1.2 billion population of the country has no access to toilets. The governments have spent more than 1250 billion rupees on creating toilets and hygiene infrastructure in the last twenty years. However, open air defecation continues to be the norm and toilets that have come up in many villages and rural areas are located unimaginatively and are used as stores for fodder and grain! These are the facts of a government conducted survey and quite literally, money seems to be going down the drain. 

There are toilets in stations and bus stops but do try using them at your own peril. It is a nightmare which may scar you for life. Roads have improved and we have some glorious highways, but there is very little appreciable difference in the standards of the loos. If you are a lady, you can be sure you won’t forget a road trip in a big hurry. Men can be men and can water plants anywhere along the road.

I don’t think we can qualify to ever be called a civilized nation or a developed one, if we can’t get the basic standards of sanitation accessible to each and everyone.  We can build satellites and nuclear reactors and be the amongst the oldest civilizations of the world, but we still cannot defecate and urinate with dignity.  That is the stinking truth!!!

the soldier scholar

                                      The soldier scholar …..

                          By Vivek Hande

My father served in the Indian Army for 34 long years. All who served with him regarded him a “soldier down to his boots”. He was an Ammunitions expert and had participated in the military operations in 1962, 1965 and 1971. He joined the Indian Military Academy as a teenager and having virtually spent a life in the Olive Greens, he knew no life other than the Army.

 Well, Dad has always been a very impressive figure; in many ways larger than life. One grew up on his anecdotes for every possible occasion, and it did not matter that very often they were a repeat. Somehow, each time, they did sound different and entertaining. He has always been the life and soul of every party. He has had the amazing ability to make friends. His friends have included the watchman in my school, a watch –repairer and corporate head -honchos. The men who have served under him have been loyal to him long after his retirement.  He was a competent tennis player in his younger days and a pretty bad golfer- but he was willing to try out everything. He has always spoken his mind, and stood his ground on his convictions and has often paid the price for the same. There are many things I have admired him for over the years.  He has always been a soldier and he has always plunged into everything headlong and faced everything head on. 

 I respect and admire the way he has reinvented himself. From a  hard-core soldier to a German language Professor, it has been a long journey.  From the rudimentary seeds of interest in the language, sown in him by way of an official “interpreter ship course”, way back in the late Sixties, he has come a very long way.   After retirement, he decided to pursue the language whole-heartedly.  He took all the courses in the Max Mueller Bhawan at Bangalore, and was by far the senior most student of a class with an average age of thirty! 

  Some might have sniggered behind his back but that did not deter him. He came through with flying colours. His fluency in the language and command over the vocabulary amazed everyone. His memory was razor sharp and he soaked in the language like a sponge. His command of the language drew the admiration of the locals, during a visit he made to Germany.  He was certain; he was born in the wrong country! He teaches German today, six days a week and would take on students on Sundays too, if my mother went along.  Amongst his students have been corporate executives, Germany-bound nurses and air-hostesses, as also Germans and Austrians residing in Bangalore, who have all enjoyed and gained from his teaching skills and proficiency in the language, over the last decade and more.  He is pleased as punch when he gets letters and e-mails addressed as "Professor". 

Salutations to the scholar soldier or is it the soldier scholar? Life does begin at sixty perhaps!!

kolkata driving manual :wheels within wheels..

                     Wheels within wheels! Kolkata driving manual 

                                            by

                                  Vivek Hande

Driving in any Indian city brings its own share of challenges. I recently had some driving to do through the length and breadth of Kolkata. My father  asked me the other day,”how is the driving experience in Kolkata? Is there some kind of a pattern?“ My first response was that there was no pattern whatsoever. But I then thought back and realized that there was definitely a pattern and driving in Kolkata is a unique experience and there are certain rules of the game which one has to learn and certain rules which have to be forgotten! I would like to share some of the rules I have learnt in my short diving experience in the City of Joy ….

(a). Driving on the road is always a race. You have to, have to, have to come first !

(b).You can overtake from the right but it is preferred to overtake from the left!

(c).You have to realize you are always in practice for the Monaco Grand Prix; weave in and out of traffic; keep changing lanes to hone your reflexes. It is most imperative to keep changing lanes!

(d).Try to keep your vehicle as close as possible to the vehicle adjacent or ahead of you. Try to graze the other vehicle at least once ;from any side. If you fail to do so ,overtake and follow rule (a) or (b).

(e).The Horn is a weapon to ensure victory on the roads. Try and keep one palm fixed on the horn and try not to stop pressing the horn ,whatever the distraction or provocation!

(f). If you are a cab driver ,your license may be suspended if you do not have a success rate of at least 75% in landing a healthy dose of Paan juice on the door of the adjacent vehicle!

(g). Another weapon in your hand is the “indicator”. Use it liberally to confuse your opponents on the road. Indicate to the left and turn right; indicate to the right and turn left or indicate in any direction but don’t turn at all!

(h). Above all , remember , when you drive ,you are the King of the roads. The road belongs to you and you alone and others on the road are incidental; a necessary evil to be borne and tolerated. You are the King!!

These are some of the rules I have picked up and I am sure there will be some more as I drive along. But for those new to the city roads , assimilate these rules; these are key to survival . You will win the race! Actually , with some modifications , this manual can help you drive in any Indian city...

RIP : dear warrior

                                                RIP: Dear Warrior!

                                  By

                           Vivek Hande

I lost a patient the two years ago   on this very date , after  a valiant  fight with  his multiple ailments for the past five years. He was sixty eight going on eighteen when he died. He was under my care but on several occasions, I actually felt it was he who was doling out medical and every other kind of advice to me.

 He was actually more than a patient. I learnt many things from him. I probably got much more from him than I could give him. 

He was suffering from Hepatocellular Carcinoma(Cancer of the Liver). He had undergone surgery for the same and suffered through chemotherapy and its side effects. He subsequently developed Kidney failure and required weekly dialysis. To make things worse, he also had severe bronchial asthma and required nebulizers and a lot of other medications. He did not consider his Hypertension a problem at all and that was considered part of the background score. He was truly and verily , nothing short of a walking medical disaster.  He gulped down pills and capsules by the dozen thrice a day. He could recollect his weekly blood reports by memory. He was a walking medical dictionary and read up constantly and updated himself on all his ailments. He knew the adverse effects and consequences of all the medical procedures he had been subjected to over the years. 

He had every reason to ask the Lord why he had been singled out for attention and why he had every conceivable medical problem. He had reason to be frustrated and upset with life.

And yet, not once did I see him pity himself or curse his fate. I am sure, he must have had his lows and felt miserable physically and psychologically. But not once did he let it play out on his face. He always maintained a cheerful demeanor; a smile playing on his face. He bore his infirmities with grace and dignity. He would often ask me to take it easy and lighten up and start enjoying life. He would tell me that before I realized, life would slip away. He would encourage me to take the weekends off and spend more time with my family. In a large measure, he was the one responsible for motivating me to take up Golf as a sporting pursuit. Every time, I tee off , I invariably remember him . As the disease got hold of him in a vice like grip, he knew his countdown had begun. His days were numbered and he was ready for it. 

I saw him shrinking away each day. He was passionate about cricket .He had predicted an India – Sri Lanka final before the tournament got warmed up. Lying on the hospital bed with drips and catheters invading him, he would cheer every Indian victory on the television. He was not alive to see the match , but I am certain ,he was fervently praying from the skies for an Indian triumph. He taught me self belief, he showed me grace and dignity – the dead man truly showed me how to live life!! RIP , dear warrior..

the sign of a very very sick society

                    the sign of a  very very sick society…

                                By Vivek Hande

What has happened to us as a society? Is there no end to this perversion?  Are  there  new depths to which we can plummet? Is there an end to this? Is there any light at all, at the end of this interminable dark tunnel?

I am , by nature , an optimist . But I ask myself ,is there place for optimism? You pick up the paper any day and you have to read the gory details of a terrible rape in some part of the city or country. No age, locality, socio-economic class seems to be spared. It almost seems to have reached epidemic proportions. Is it because we have degenerated as a society ; is it to do with poor upbringing; is it to do with moral decadence; altered value systems ;is it to do with economy or corruption or whatever else people want to blame everything on? I just cannot fathom how and why we have reached this terrible state of depravity?

The same cycle repeats itself again and again. There is a rape followed by some angry and agonized sound bytes. Some grand-standing  and some sloganeering. Some candle marches and some innovative placards and posters being thrown about. Endless debates on endless TV shows -discussing, pontificating, suggesting and demanding and so on. But unfortunately, while these discussions are  on , another woman , another girl , another child is being raped and we seem to be silent bystanders . While the protests grow louder and slogans are high pitched, the noise and the din seems to be drowning the screams and pleas of another woman being violated that very moment.

Laws and Bills are being discussed and being promulgated. Discussions take place at every level- the street side chai shop; in homes and malls; in clubs and cafes; in print and visual media; in Supreme court and Parliament but the sad truth is that the epidemic rages on. I don’t want to get into a debate on a “second chance” for the rapist and the “quantum of punishment” and other distracting issues. I just know that there has to be a system in place where a man thinks and thinks and thinks yet again before committing this most heinous crime –unless there is a fear, unless he is scared that the crime will be followed by punishment and humiliation for himself, he will continue to be emboldened to behave in this dastardly manner.

Man, they have often said, is a social animal. But behaving in this terribly anti-social manner is worse than any animal. An animal pounces or attacks for its own survival, for its own existence, for being a part of the food chain. But this attack and violation of another person’s privacy and sanctity is the surest sign of a terribly sick society. How much more are we going to degenerat

tell me , what is your problem

                               “  Tell me , what is your problem?’

                                 By

                    Vivek Hande 

                             It has been nearly two decades in medical practice for me and it has been a tremendous privilege meeting  and treating hundreds of patients over the years. It has been a great learning experience and I daresay it has brought rewards which money can’t buy and it has enriched me in so many ways that words can’t express. I have learnt so much from my patients and many of them have left a deep impact on me in their own special way .Many of them have been distinctive in their manner or attire or attitude or their way to deal with stress- each of them have taught me something in their own way!

                   One of my earliest patients, now a grandmother, settled in Lucknow, has tracked me through my postings and sends “prasadam” from Tirupati,each year,  after her annual visit there.   I don’t even have her postal address to thank her but she is unfailing in her largesse. For a while, when I was posted as a young doctor in the North east and would treat the local civilian population as part of military liaison, the simple folks would leave small wicker baskets containing eggs with my nursing assistant , in return for my services. At the end of the day , I had enough eggs to feed the garrison and enough goodwill to last a lifetime .Being a vegetarian, the eggs were distributed to the families in the base- it got me additional goodwill from the ladies in the station , but that is a separate issue!

            I had a patient, a retired widower; he would come every Saturday dressed in  a trendy three piece suit with a jaunty flower stuck in his lapel. He would talk about vague and obscure complaints and then ramble about his son and grandchildren settled in the US. For the life of me , I could find nothing seriously wrong with him and one Saturday after several months of this social exchange , I told him , I thought he was quite well and he need not come back to me. I saw his face fall and he started talking about some fresh complaint. Exasperated, I asked him, “Tell me what is your problem?” He looked at me sheepishly and confessed he had no real problem and he just enjoyed dressing up and coming over to chat as I , apparently was a good listener. He told me he had no one to talk to and these visits were the highlight of his lonely week. He  came  week after  week and frankly, I started looking forward to his visits and we discussed a million things under the sun.

                  I must tell you about this elderly gentleman who had a debilitating chronic illness. He was in severe pain and had frequent flares of his condition which would leave him weak and emaciated and physically broken. He was on medication for virtually every organ system of his body. He was in and out of hospital for one complication or the other. He was in constant suffering for nearly two years, but not once did I see him lose his cheery optimism. He would always have a smile on his face and he bore all the ravages of his illness with such dignity and forbearance that one could gnly admire his spirit. Ha passed away quietly and with the least fuss-may his soul rest in peace!

               Then there was this lady who needed to come to me for several follow up visits. After a couple of months she asked me if I were a Brahmin. I nodded and asked her how that was relevant to her illness. She told me I would be an excellent match for her neighbour’s  daughter . I spluttered and told her I was much married and I had two boys. Not deterred, she asked me how old my son was and she could fix a match for him with her niece! Then there was this young girl , who had a rather well thumbed OPD notebook and I saw  handwritten follow up notes from virtually every specialist in the hospital – I asked her what brought her to the hospital so often and required her to visit so many specialists apparently for myriad complaints-she told me with a straight face that she was trying to find out if there was one doctor in the hospital with a legible handwriting! And there was this lady who after getting her prescription from me for her ailment ,told me as she was getting up,” Doctor, why are you so tense all the time? You must smile more often. And you seem to have a stiff back. I must teach you some Yogasanas. It will make you feel younger and you will feel better about yourself!” Talk about ,Physician heal thy self!!

                  I must tell you about this elderly gentleman who had a debilitating chronic illness. He was in severe pain and had frequent flares of his condition which would leave him weak and emaciated and physically broken. He was on medication for virtually every organ system of his body. He was in and out of hospital for one complication or the other. He was in constant suffering for nearly two years, but not once did I see him lose his cheery optimism. He would always have a smile on his face and he bore all the ravages of his illness with such dignity and forbearance that one could only admire his spirit. He passed away quietly and with the least fuss-may his soul rest in peace!

            Then there is this net-savvy breed of patients who sometimes know more about the illness and the latest on a condition than you do. While the internet is a wonderful tool , it also provides a whole lot of information which can be misleading to the uninitiated. I had a patient telling me that a particular drug has been found very useful in experiments on Japanese rats and Australian cats and why we could not use the same with similar success on his mother-in-law!

            Well, one learns as one goes on and each day one has learnt from the patients and their relatives and attendants and it is truly been a privilege dealing with so many of them from every corner of the country. The look , the smile , the gratitude, the word of thanks ; the satisfaction of seeing a sick man walk out of the hospital is truly more gratifying than anything money can buy!!

unexpected side effects

                                                         Unexpected side –effects!!

                                                    by

                                        Vivek Hande

The practice of medicine revolves around the central ethos of “Primum Non Nocere” or First, do no harm. A physician’s efforts are directed towards beneficence in respect of the patient. The practice of medicine, in many ways is not science, but truly an art. It throws up many challenges and at times, rather, strange and unexpected results.

One directs therapy with a particular goal in mind and the outcomes may be gratifying – for different reasons. I recently had a crusty old octogenarian, who was suffering from chronic constipation along with other myriad ailments. After some persuasion, he consented to undergo a colonoscopy.  He was certainly not enjoying the procedure and he let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought of me and the entire procedure. He bellowed, “Doc, you have the damn tube up my backside and you are telling me everything is fine and asking me to be normal and to take it easy. You must be joking or you must be out of your mind!” Well, we got through the procedure and he got out of the endoscopy room generally muttering and cursing and conveying his displeasure most vocally. I knew we were not going to be friends ever.  I was not looking forward to his OPD follow up visit a fortnight later. I was amazed when the gent walked into my chamber with a huge grin and beaming from ear to ear. He actually gave me a bear hug and told me in his booming voice, “Doctor, I remain constipated but the colonoscopy has completely cured my chronic sinusitis.  Ever since you shoved that damn tube , I have not sneezed. I don’t have a headache and I have not taken any anti-histaminics. I have tried everything for my sinusitis but nothing has ever worked. I need a colonoscopy every month for my sinuses!”  Well, that is certainly a new one and I am trying to get see if one can add this unexpected benefit to the list of indications for a colonoscopy!

Then I had this chirpy middle aged lady who was under treatment for dyspepsia for several years. Her dyspepsia did not seem to be getting well but she would nevertheless, faithfully report every month for her quota of antacids. She would also insist on a prescription of multi-vitamins and Calcium and Zinc for her “weakness”.  After some months, she reported to me for her monthly renewal and said she was doing fine and needed only her vitamin supplements and nothing for her dyspepsia. I went along with it , happy that her dyspepsia was finally coming under control . The next month around she said, “No antacids but I need a double dose of vitamins and other supplements for weakness!”  I did not think she had significantly “weakened” and I asked her why she needed so many vitamin pills. Her answer stumped me, “My kitchen garden and my flowers are coming around excellently thanks to your multi-vitamin pills. I have been using them on my plants; the last few months are they are doing great.  I work long with my plants and my digestion has improved and I don’t need those silly antacids. Doctor, you have to keep my dyspepsia under control by helping my plants grow!” Convoluted logic, but unexpected benefits of treatment, so to say!!

I had yet another patient, an ex- serviceman, who had many gastrointestinal complaints. He was on a regular follow up and some months later told me that he had changed jobs and that was causing his eating habits and bio-rhythm to go a trifle haywire. He started developing many symptoms after the change of job and every month he had a fresh complaint. He complained of chronic headache; blurring of vision; recurrent coughs and colds; chest pain; lack of sleep and anxiety related symptoms and itching of skin and an ongoing list of ailments. After unsuccessfully attempting to sort out his problems, I started referring him to concerned specialist OPDs –ENT; Eye: Neurology: Chest ; Psychiatry and so on. Six months down the line he came to my OPD and offered some sweets to my staff and me. I thought it was in gratitude for sorting out his GI problems. He elaborated, “Sir, six months ago I changed my job and became an Insurance agent. It was very difficult to enlist new customers but thanks to you I have met so many doctors and their staff members. I have sold so many Insurance policies in the last six months. Thanks to your clinical judgment, I have met the correct specialists and I got a huge bonus today. Sir, I have this new problem – my joints are paining at night and I think I need to see an Orthopedic surgeon. Could you please refer me?” I choked on my Barfi and pushed him out as gently as I could. Unexpected side –effects, I daresay?

Each day in practice teaches you something new and the results are at times baffling, unexpected and quite out of the ordinary. I continue to learn…

identity crisis

                                                        Identity crisis!!?

                                     By Vivek Hande

It is a technology driven society today and being net- savvy is more a necessity than a luxury .I am a netizen too and I must confess that  I  often surf the net to seek out interesting e-mail ids. Each e-mail id says so much about the individual and gives a fascinating glimpse into the mind of the owner. Often , an address says more about the person than the mail!

lawyer.kochupillaiparthasarthy.tvs@hotmail.com is quite obviously a serious individual who is rather particular about the way he is addressed and means business. doctorjoinbones@rediffmail.com is an orthopedic colleague; gasbag@hotmail.com is an anesthesiologist and believe it or not, babies-out@gmail.com is a gynecologist friend of mine. A final year medicine resident at my hospital is waiting to go into private practice and makes his intentions clear with moneyraker@vsnl.com .

There is a bunch of sports crazy individuals on the net who carry their sporting affiliations as a badge of honour. One encounters spsdhonitops@gmail.com or vkmanchesterunited-forlife@hotmail.com   and I find prerna-dravid-ismine@msn.com interesting. A rare one –vishwnathananandgps@mac.com !

Some addresses are clearly aspirational. My son gets mail from britneyismine-rp@gmail.com and sharapova-iwant-u@usanet.com. Another of his friends is yogihasferari@msn.com .   Some make their musical preferences clear -    beethoven-u-rock@dna.com and elvis-is-king@gmail.com don’t leave much to imagination. Some addresses make it clear that the couple is much in love ; mp&rita-r-1@vsnl.com and minaraju-janamjanam@gmail.com are good examples of love on the net!

Then there are some e-mail ids which convey a social message as well; save-papersandy@hotmail.com ; saynotosmoking-vijay@indiatimes.com and conservewater-rishi@rediff.com are prime examples. Some convey different kinds of messages-      ihatemen-rina@tna.com; rksays-brinjals-r-yuck@sify.com   Some addresses give an insight into the mental state of the person    -ihatexams@hotmail.com and lifesucks@vsnl.com might need assistance.

It truly is a fascinating study and I am really hooked on to it. I would love a feedback from readers and would love them to share interesting addresses with me on my email id ubetterlikethisarticle@indiatimes.com !!

destined to go

                                               Destined to go…

                                                By

                                      Vivek Hande

It was many years ago. I was young and recently armed with my MD degree. I felt powerful and I certainly believed I could save the world and get everyone on the road to healing ,if not completely on their feet.

Sushant was a handsome young sailor who was sailing on one of the Coast Guard ships on the high seas in the Andaman islands. He had everything looking  up for him- a bright future, doting parents ,a lovely wife ,Smita , who was carrying their first child ,back home in Patiala. Fate ,it seemed ,had other ideas.  He was carrying out some drills on the deck of the ship that bright Sunday morning. He had been feeling a bit unwell for the past two days with a bit of a headache and a slight fever. He suddenly fell on the deck and started convulsing repeatedly. His colleagues and the paramedics rushed to assist him but he had lapsed into a comatose state. He was evacuated by helicopter in very quick time from the high seas to the hospital in Port Blair.

I assessed him on arrival and found him deeply comatose and with evidence of Pneumonia affecting both the lungs ,probably on account of aspiration during the convulsions. I moved him to the ICU. I rushed through a battery of investigations . I did a lumbar puncture and drew out some cerebrospinal fluid and also took him for a CT scan. The verdict was clear –he had severe Bacterial Meningitis, an infection affecting the meninges,the covering layer of the brain.  I put him on high doses of very potent antibiotics. He was on intravenous drips and being fed through a tube through his nose. He was being monitored vey closely and all his vital parameters were being frequently assessed. By late evening, he started dropping his oxygen saturation and the lungs were not functioning optimally and I had to place him on ventilator support to ensure there was adequate oxygenation . The young man was fighting for his life and was quite literally hanging by a thread.

I saw this strapping young lad, just about the same age as me, with his entire life ahead of him, reduced to a whole lot of tubes and drips and monitors and catheters invading every orifice of his body. I felt  a strange kind of bonding with him. I had to save him, I told myself. His aged parents and very pregnant wife flew down to rally around him. I kept returning to the ICU a half dozen times a day and often late at night  to check on him. I adjusted his fluids, his antibiotics, his ventilator settings and everything else that was in my hands.  I would talk to Sushant and exhort him to fight  and coax him to get back to the world. I told him we were going  to win this war. He never gave any sign that he could perceive or appreciate any of my rumblings. Every time I stepped out of the ICU, his parents and wife would look at me expectantly. After a few weeks of this routine, they started averting my gaze and started preparing themselves for the inevitable.

Was this a doomed war? I was beginning to lose hope  but somehow  at some level, kept hoping he would come out of this state ,inspite of all  medical and prognostic indicators pointing to the contrary. After nearly four and a half weeks, the tide started turning and Sushant started showing some signs of improvement. I intensified my efforts and the ICU was suddenly injected with a sense of hope .The ICU nursing matron smiled at me and told me , “Doctor, we are going to win!”  .The next couple of days saw dramatic improvement in his condition. I was able to get him off the ventilator; he came out of his coma and started moving his limbs feebly. He soon started feeding himself and in a few days was walking around. Sushant had come back, from the dead. It was a tremendous feeling and I was elated . I somehow felt I had got a new lease of life. The gratitude of the family and  the joy  and relief of the elderly couple and Smita made me feel like a victorious General ; we had indeed won the war!

Sushant walked out of the hospital, a trifle weak and scarred but on his own feet. He returned to Patiala on leave . I got regular inputs from him over the next several months on telephone. He had become a proud father. My eyes turned misty and my spectacles fogged up when he told me that his son had been given my name.  He told me his mother had distributed sweets on the happy occasion to most of Patiala! He gave me inputs about his son’s progress and his crawling and his climbing and so on.  I was happy for them..

And then suddenly a call, almost a year to the day ,Sushant was admitted under my care. His father on the line, choking with emotion and barely talking coherently, “Sushant died yesterday. He was on his scooter and had a head on collision with a bus . He died on the spot” I felt devastated. The thought ringing in my head, “What a waste of a life! After such a heroic battle , dying so insensibly; such a meaningless death”. I felt it was such a sheer waste of an effort; all the struggle and anguish for nothing at all. I got on with my patients and OPDS and emergencies and carried on with my work but thoughts of a wasted life and a wasted effort kept coming back to me.

A few months down the road, another phone call from Sushant’s father. Quite controlled and much in command of his emotions,he told me, “Doctor, we had given up Sushant for dead a year back. You breathed life into him.  You gave him an extra year- a very precious year. We have cherished his presence and thanked God and you for every day that he was with us. He was destined to go. You changed his destiny and gave him the opportunity to hold his child. You gave him the chance to enjoy his family for another year. You gave us the chance to love him and care for him for another year. We will remember you in our prayers every day”.

His words echo in my ears every time I have a Sushant. One can only try and one can do all that is in your hand as a physician, but the humbling truth is that when one is destined to go, one has to go……

those were the best days

                                               Those were the best days….

                                                       By Vivek Hande

I grew up an Army brat.  I say it with pride and as I grow older , I realize it was a truly privileged existence. It was the finest childhood a parent could offer a growing child . I am what I am today ; I think the way I do ; react in the way I do , in  large measure to my Army , my Cantonment up -bringing..

It was a different way of life . I saw nine schools by the time I passed out of school. Yes, I felt bad leaving school each time , leaving friends and class-mates. But each new station and each new school , brought in a new set of friends , a new range of experiences and a whole lot of new adventures. One joined good schools , bad schools , indifferent schools and one adapted . You always had other Army brats to help you in the journey.  There were classes at times under the open skies-the roof of the school had been blown off in a storm .  At times , there were no classes at all – no teachers could be motivated to serve in those remote far flung areas- so one played football the whole day long and studied at home ! But do believe me , all my co –brats are doing amazingly well today in all walks of life ,all across the world. They are all professionals - executives , physicians ,journalists , fashion designers , Armed Forces personnel  of the highest caliber…

The cleanest air we breathed; the best of grounds we played in. We had access to the finest sporting facilities in the country –tennis , squash , riding , swimming –we  had it all.  We saw the geography and the topography of this great country. It is a different thing that we often had to dig out the Atlas or find out from Dad’s colleagues in the Signals as to where exactly the place we were posted to existed. Learnt terms such as NRS-  Nearest Railway Station- very rarely was one lucky to detrain at the same location. But the reception at the station and the onward journey by road made one feel like a feudal prince. Every Army brat knows the high regard one had for the “Bhaiyya “. One did not know about Sewadar or Sahayak but one certainly knew “Bhaiyya” was family. He was Jeeves , your friend  and guide rolled into one .

One learnt that there was a family beyond the  four walls of your home. . One learnt that when your Dad went on course or exercise or got posted out , there were a whole lot of “Uncles” and “Aunties” who adopted you and made you feel special and cared for and somehow made things easier .  The “Pot-luck” dinners and impromptu “Chaat –parties” and Sunday brunches by the riverside with the entire unit in attendance gave you something special to always look forward to. One learnt that the more you give , the more you get ..

It was not always rosy and beautiful and cheerful. There were mosquitoes, erratic electricity supply , extremes of weather , paucity of supplies and provisions at times . Connectivity was often a problem . Medical facilities were often rudimentary .  Yet , when I think back , I rarely remember that . I remember the sense of belonging ; I remember being part of a huge loving family ; I remember the beautifully laid out roads; the thousands of trees marked with brown and white ; greenery and open spaces; fresh air and the thrill in simple pleasures of life.  If there was good times to be enjoyed, one did so heartily and if there were bad times around the corner , one faced them with stoicism .

I am proud being an Army brat . I would not like to trade it for any other kind of childhood . I am what I am , the way I grew up. Those were the best days…

memories, memorabilia, movements

                        memories,memorabilia & movements               

 by  Vivek Hande

Well, I don’t quite know about you, but I am an avid collector. I collect memories, memorabilia and experiences. Believe me, having spent four decades in the Armed forces, the first twenty growing up as an Army offspring and the next twenty in the Navy, one is eminently qualified to be a collector!

Life in the Armed forces teaches one so much. To adapt, to accommodate, to adjust ;to make the most of what is served up becomes second nature. I have such vivid memories of going to school in a Shaktiman( a military truck), with someone actually called the Dandaman, wielding the stick(danda) on the tailboard of the vehicle to signal all kids safely in! One recollects with pleasure the glorious unit picnics, shooting beer bottles and topping off a glorious Sunday with Biryani and Jalebis! As a growing child, packing your stuff every two years and moving to a new location and making new friends and seeing new places seemed the ultimate adventure. As one grew from a young boy into a career in the Services, one took for granted the vast open , relatively unpolluted spaces, the manicured lawns, the Clubs and the Institutes, the well maintained roads , the clean ,well equipped hospitals and a way of life which brought along with it dignity, discipline and a sense of decorum.

      A lot has changed over the years and a lot has got diluted and yet it remains a way of life which is quite unique. I am at a stage of life, where I have become a little introspective and reflective and I am seriously thinking of ways to deal with an obsession cultivated over years in a useful, maybe profitable manner. My family and I have upheld the rich and great services tradition of collecting stuff and material unique to a particular station; collecting memorabilia and things which have a unique knack of looking huge, ugly and are invariably useless!

I have in my possession, some priceless stuff handed down by my father after nearly four decades in the Army (my mother threatened him there was space in their post retirement home either for her or the collection). I am negotiating with Sotheby’s, the sale of some of my family heirlooms- four swords (3 ,with broken handles, 2 with considerable rust) with the regimental crest ; three miniature brass cannons mounted on a splintered wooden platform; two exquisite wooden models( with paint peeled off) of rhinoceros almost knee high(presented by colleagues of Dad when posted in Assam); then there is this incomparable piece with a map of Punjab outlined by shells of expended cartridges and a brass knob stuck  in one corner(probably depicting where the unit was located). There is also an amazing collection of caps, hats and assorted headgear from every corner of the country (they have now been home to generations of spiders and cockroaches). To this very esoteric collection, I have added some of my own pieces making it a truly priceless collection. There are four Nicobari huts in different sizes (3 of them look as if struck by the Tsunami).There is an inspired piece, presented by well wishers at a previous station- a blackboard sized plywood panel on which are stuck coconut shells which proudly proclaims, “May this always remind you of our association”- you bet, I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter!

I don’t really know if I will be actually able to go through with the negotiations with the auction house. Maybe, I will hold onto these seemingly worthless pieces – maybe they are more precious than I care to believe. Maybe, I am just being sentimental, but it is difficult to part with memories of a lifetime!

a grandwoman of substance

               A grand -woman of substance

                        by Vivek Hande

There was a lot of hype recently regarding Women’s Day.  Women have established themselves and proven their mettle in every sphere of life. The Modern woman of today is second to none and perhaps better than many of their male counterparts in their chosen fields. It is something that we, as men , have learnt to accept.

But , is it really only today ,that women have come into their own ?Women have always been a force to reckon with . I think back and reflect on the life and times of my late grandmother and realize that she was a woman of substance, if ever there was one. She was married when she was eleven .  Her husband , my grandfather was only a few years older. My grandmother , Dodda (short for  Doddamma) as we called her was never formally schooled or tutored. She taught herself the ways of life and much more as she moved to various corners of the country with my engineer grandfather.

She was a fast learner and had an amazing ability for languages. She learnt to read and write with considerable fluency,  Kannada, Bengali , Marathi , Telegu and Hindi . She could hold her own in Tamil , Bhojpuri and manage a bit of Malayalam as well.  Her linguistic abilities never ceased to amaze me. She raised four children, often single –handedly ,as my grandfather had to go across the county on work for prolonged periods. She realized the value of education and encouraged her children including her two daughters to study and aspire for higher learning. She wanted to equip them better tan what she was to face the world.

  She was a walking treasure trove of recipes across the country and always willing to learn and try something new.  My wife always joked with her and told her that they ought to compile the recipes into a book and Tarla Dalal all the way to the bank! Though , not formally educated , she had an amazing grasp of numbers. She could calculate interest rates and chalk out the dividend due to her on deposits made by my grandfather. Her photographic memory allowed her to ask my  mother to send reminders on the due dates, if dividend cheques were not received on time. She was a walking accountant and calculator and a small computer rolled into one !  She just had an intuitive feel for numbers.

She read extensively in all languages and read on diverse subjects and an esoteric range of authors. She devoured her Kannada and Hindi newspapers and had strong views on every subject and could hold her own in any conversation. She was game for adventure and visited us at Bhutan and Port Blair(where I was stationed at different times) and wanted to take on what ever excitement the places had to offer. Her frail health notwithstanding , she was ready for any kind of action.

She is no more . But in many ways , she is still very much around.  Whenever I am stuck or down and out and in a fix , I think of her irrepressible spirit and her determination and her ability to be unfazed, whatever the nature of the problem. More often than not, I am able to lift myself and get on. She , most certainly was a woman of substance . A toast to the indomitable spirit of the women of the world!!

a matter of wife and death

                                                    A matter of wife and death !

                                                   by

                                       Vivek Hande

                                               

This is a tale of tangled webs and avoidable crossed connections. I have a friend Vikram; handsome , highly qualified ,eminently eligible and not so very young anymore; a bachelor. Somehow, marriage did not work out for him. Initially , perhaps a case of missed opportunities and later time just kind of  slipped away. His mother, Mrs.S,  a genial , affectionate soul , tried for a long time to get him married and then after many years gradually started stepping down her efforts. During earlier days, she would seek alliances through her extensive network of friends, relatives and colleagues ,but at some point in the course of events , she gave up. Her affections and energies got transferred to Victor, her prized , pedigreed Labrador.

Enter Mrs. R , who  still considers my friend a good catch and is keen to get her niece married to the gent in question. She is not aware that Mrs S is now focused only Victor, the Labrador. Incidentally ,  Mrs S, having shifted her attentions from her son to her pet is rather keen to acquire a mate, of appropriate pedigree for her canine to ensure a handsome litter and that is currently uppermost in her mind. The conversation that followed could have many tongues and tails wagging….

Mrs S ( looking fondly at Victor): He is getting old , you know.

Mrs R (thinking fondly of  Vikram): Come , come , he is still very youthful and attractive.

Mrs S:  I want to see little babies running around and yelping around the house.

Mrs R:  How many babies would make you happy?

Mrs S: At least half dozen and they should have his lovely skin and beautiful brown eyes.

Mrs R: Half dozen? Well , whoever it is , she will have a real tough time!

Mrs S: I am looking around . She should have good pedigree and preferably she ought to be mating for the first time.

Mrs R ( taken aback ): I can assure you, we come from a very good family and our children are brought up with the highest values.

Mrs S ( interrupting with excitement): I don’t want to waste any time. He is in heat and I want the mating as early as possible. Let us arrange it for this weekend. It will be more convenient at our place. You just give her a good scrub down and bring her across.

Mrs R (convinced that this was definitely not the place for her niece): I better get going.

Mrs S: Let us have some sweets to celebrate . I just can’t wait for the weekend!

Well, Mrs. R beat a hasty retreat and decided to try her luck for her niece in a more restrained family. Mrs S was disappointed over the weekend but has not given up her efforts to find a suitable pedigreed mate for Victor. My friend , Vikram remains a bachelor and incidentally , has always hated dogs!

big boss

                                                                       Big Boss…

                                         by Vivek Hande

There is a creature called the “Boss”. It comes in various shapes and sizes and many hues. There is a lot of variability in this particular species.  Your existence, professional and often, personal as well is dictated by this creature. It can be a male or a female or sometimes indeterminate. It can   affect you in many ways; good, bad and ugly!

There are Bosses who give you a task and forget about it and only want to be informed when completed. There are others who are micro-managers and will question every step of the task and will involve themselves with each little detail – it would have been easier for all concerned if they had done the job themselves. Some make the performance of a task smooth and graceful; others make it onerous and unpleasant. However , it must be remembered that the only time some people work like a horse is when the Boss is riding them. Some have the ability to render an easily performed job complicated and seemingly impossible. Some breathe down your neck; some don’t let you breathe; some make you breathless!

Some are big hearted and allow you take credit and compliment you generously. There are others who are stingy with compliments and never have an encouraging word to say. There are some who are masters of hogging the credit, for a job done well by you – without a twinge of conscience. There are those who encourage and others, who discourage, discredit and demoralize.  There are some who raise you to the skies and quite easily drop you like a hot potato as well. There are Bosses who are inscrutable and don’t let you peep into what goes on in their mind and then there are some others who are loud and vocal about their feelings and thoughts and let every one around them know what they are thinking!

You may have Bosses who expect you to fawn and suck up and if you don’t ,they feel insecure and agitated .And then you have some who despise sycophancy of any kind and make it clear that they don’t expect any such behavior. There are some who encourage informality and a casual banter and then there are the stiff –upper –lipped species  that won’t be caught smiling or allow anyone to smile. There are those whom you want emulate and then some whom you want to decimate. There are some, for whom, you would be willing to give a limb or life and others whom you would like to push to the other life.

Interestingly, these traits are not gender specific and you could have either the male or the female species behaving either way.  Whether you like it or not, a Boss becomes an integral part of your existence. You can hate her or love him, but ignore you cannot! But, I also like to remind myself that, “Your real Boss is the one who walks around under your hat!”

diamonds are forever

                                           Diamonds are for ever…

                                             By Vivek Hande

I am not much of a pet-lover. I don’t feel comfortable with dogs, cats, parrots, parakeets or any other such creatures.  I did, however, have an encounter of the close kind with a pet and that was a long time ago.  My father, then in service, had a boss who quite liked him and he decided to present us with a pedigreed Dalmatian pup, fresh from the oven, in a manner of speaking.

We took in the little white thing with a little trepidation and uncertainty. It was almost like having a new baby at home. The only catch was that this was our first (and only) tryst with pets and none of us were particularly comfortable with the four legged creature.  Within a week, black diamond shaped spots started appearing on the white coat. It was christened “Diamond” because of its spots.  It was introduced to a strictly vegetarian diet. Efforts were made to get friendly with Diamond.  Diamond grew very fast and  was a voracious eater.  It would devour everything and look with doleful eyes for more. We were not sure whether we landed up overfeeding it .We were singularly unsuccessful in toilet training Diamond.  Consequently, one had the task of clearing up the mess and my brother and I did the honors.

 It was a playful little creature and would jump on us with joy, on our return from school or work.  It would have been nice, but unfortunately, we were all rather terrified by this excitable creature.. My mother made tentative attempts to get friendly with Diamond and was rewarded with a friendly bite on the fingers. That was the end of her efforts to befriend Diamond. After a couple of my Dad’s trousers got torn off by the cheerful fellow, my Dad did his best to protect himself and his clothes and his legs. A whole lot of my shoes went missing. My brother had quite a few of his notebooks happily ripped apart by the young master. He was trying to be friendly and get our attention but we could not reciprocate satisfactorily.  We have a solitary family portrait with Diamond in the center and all of us looking to keep a respectable distance from him. Fear writ on our faces and smiles forced, it was a portrait of abject discomfiture for all concerned, Diamond included.  

I am sure Diamond sensed our discomfort and maybe our aloofness. He started retreating into a shell. His barks sounded less frenetic, his leaps a little forced and his antics a trifle contrived. He seemed a little depressed; we were feeling a little guilty. But there was a total transformation, in the chap, when, my cousin, a confirmed canninophile (if there is such a word), came visiting. They discovered each other and got along like a house on fire. He would follow my cousin all around the place and they seemed to be soul mates. They were quite inseparable and Diamond seemed to have been reborn. 

 It was quite obvious that Diamond would have a new home where he would be appreciated and enjoyed. Diamond and my cousin lived happily ever after for many years.

Having a pet is not easy.  It has to be a relationship of mutual comfort and affection.  Much perhaps, like marriage.  But for pet lovers, there can be no other way of life. For these die hard pet lovers, Diamonds are forever…

live another day

                                                            Live another day …

                                                  by

                                    Vivek Hande

Happy Birthday! Happy Wedding Anniversary! That was it. Life was so simple and uncomplicated in those days. Today, one has to keep track of a whole lot of unknown people to wish. One has to wish so many  people for so many things or  forget it at the risk of offending someone and being regarded as insensitive and uncaring, anti-social  and  behind- the -times! You could become a social outcast , get ostracized or become a pariah if you don’t keep track of these ever expanding lists. I  dread each new day and wonder whom I have not wished or greeted- life has become more complicated!

Did you know yesterday was Bai Day (also called Kaam-wali Day in North India)? You are in for serious trouble if you have not given a day off to your maid and given her a new cotton Saree. She may not be there in your employ till Bai- ke- Bacche day(also called Kaam-wali –ke -Bacche day in North India ) which falls on April 20 , when you have to take the maid’s kids for Ice-Cream to Baskin Robbins. Everybody is so sensitive about these “days “. One loved ones’ parents always but Fathers and Mothers become suspicious if you don’t wish them on their respective days. I actually sneak into my sons’ rooms trying to look for my surprise gift on Father’s Day eve. Guess what ? I believe very soon , there is going to be a Pot-bellied Father’s Day and another Grey –Haired Father’s Day and sometime in May ,they are going to fit in a Left- Handed- Grandfather’s Day! Things are just getting more exciting.

Not to be left behind ,there are special days for environmental and medical and health issues. No- Electricity –Day and Conserve –water –Day  are passé and old fashioned. There are exciting new days to be recognized officially  which are right round the corner.  To mention a few , No-toilet –paper day(May24); No –toothbrush –day (June 02); No –potty –day (June09) are some of the more prominent ones. Then there are these special days to honor certain professionals – you have Doctors’ Day and Nurses’ Day and Teacher’s Day .  The politicians have not taken this well and a bill is going to be tabled in Parliament shortly . They regard their position as special and hence have recommended a  Politician’s Week . A day would , quite obviously not suffice !

Then there are these ‘days ‘dedicated to create awareness about various illnesses. Of course, there is the World Health Day .There is a Hepatitis Day and a Diabetes Day and a Glaucoma Day and the World AIDS Day and so on. However, some specialties have been feeling left out and want to highlight the sterling work they are doing in respective areas of expertise. To focus on the ailments and bring suffering patients closer, tie-ups have been made with Hallmark cards . Very soon cards and posters will be available wishing “Happy Anal Incontinence  Day” and “Happy Enema Anniversary!”   To accommodate these large number of cards and gifts being exchanged on these Days , Ikea has brought out a special range of cupboards with different sized slots – they are ,unimaginatively ,being marketed as the Day Cupboards!

To avoid confusion between these various days and to avoid overlap , a Department of Days has been created under the Ministry of Human Resources  which considers applications for new entries. The waiting period for inclusion in the official Government of India Day List is several days  and understandably ,  there is intense lobbying for the dates. Some requests have been turned down at the initial stages itself.  Some of them include, “No –Corruption –Day  “ , “ No – Cellphone- Day “ , “No –Television –Day” …

Because of the intense demand for the Days , the Department is unable to cope with the staggering demand and there is a suggestion to start marketing Nights soon . In the near future expect “, Happy Maternal Uncle’s Night and Happy Chemistry Professor Night!”

time travel

                                                                             Time travel

                                                            By

                                                  Vivek Hande

It was an interesting journey to say the least.. I  had the occasion to travel recently  by train  from Mumbai  to Karwar along the Konkan coast. I was to alight at my destination  at an unearthly hour of half past two in the morning . A cluster of stations had arrival times around the same time and consequently there were a lot of  people waiting to get down roughly around the same early hours of the morning or late hours of the night ,if you please. The train was running more than an hour late and losing time further adding to the uncertainty.

I , for one kept looking at my watch and could not sleep after midnight and kept peering  at poorly lit stations awaiting my destination. The gentleman across my  berth  ,had fixed alarms on his two cell phones spaced fifteen minutes apart  from two am onwards. He managed to sleep through each of the sixteen alarm ringtones and ensured that all around him were awake to keep vigil. Another elderly couple had asked the coach attendant to awaken  them fifteen minutes before their expected destination. The wife had a healthy suspicion of the attendant’s abilities to stay up and awaken them. Consequently she would prod her husband and   dispatch him every twenty minutes to ascertain if the attendant was awake and remind him of the assigned task. The attendant had every hair standing on his head and   I am sure he   would have been the happiest person on the train when the couple finally departed.

 I must tell you about another elderly  gent , who was petrified about missing his station and not being able to get off with his luggage in the scheduled two minute halt. Therefore  ,he moved with his baggage soon after midnight to the area adjacent to the toilet. The poor man was in for a rather long and smelly wait-three and a half   hours to be precise! And I must tell you about this extremely restless, obviously NRI type youngster. He was really wired in every sense of the word. Armed with his I-Pod, Blackberry and a headphone slung around his neck for good measure, he would keep darting in and out of the compartment and getting down at every station to reconfirm that it was not his destination. Finally  , he managed to find himself stranded on the platform with the train speeding away, two stations short of his destination. Kareena Kapur of “Jab We Met” fame would have applauded. A case of so near and yet so far!

Another portly bald haired gentleman, a most laconic character, if there was one- he changed into shorts; put on ear plugs; strapped on an eye patch and dug himself deep into the folds of his blanket. He told me to relax before he sank into slumber-land, “  The train is going to get another two hours late. You can sleep comfortably for five  hours !” He got his beauty sleep and alighted fresh as a daisy five hours later as he had predicted. Talk about letting sleeping dogs lie.

Well, most of us did manage to get off at our  stations , bleary eyed and battle weary; fighting sleep and the uncertainty in our own unique ways. The journey, was an “eye opener”, in a manner of speaking,   about the trials and tribulations  of time travel !