The Flight of A Butterfly

September 2nd 2014. Clouds in the sky. A slight drizzle. One hundred and fifty students walked towards a new life. A different life. And it began with the Dissection Hall.  Before entering the anatomy department a huge quote welcomed us..... 'THE ONLY PLACE WHERE THE DEAD TEACH THE LIVING'. I was intrigued. Awestruck (I still am). However I didn't understand the full potential of this until I saw the Dissection Hall (DH). For any first year medical student, the DH is probably the most exciting thing they could ever see. You know, the formalin soaked dead bodies, that pungent smell enough to make you cry and all the Cunningham manuals. This is the place where we, for the first time, come in contact with the human body and get to know the machinery of it. Cut and remove and count every muscle, organ or vessel of the body. The first few months, we were scared. Not in the exact sense of the word; not scared of the cadaver but intimidated by the fact that ...

Hey there! I agree......my last post was a bit all over the place. I tried to write about all my experiences in a single article. Probably not a good idea.  Blame it on my excitement.  The mere thought of writing about an institution with which I grew up proved to be a bit overwhelming and gave me an adrenaline rush. So this time, I'm gonna stick to what I do best- write about little incidents which teach me something. For those of you who don't know this.....broadly there are three rungs of administration.  The lowest, grassroot level is any normal town or place(called SECTION). Then a few sections constitute a DIVISION.   Subsequently a few divisions constitute a ZONE.   I have been fortunate enough to experience all the three levels. At Jharsuguda, which is a small bustling industrial place, mostly the basic level of work is done. Loading and unloading of goods is an example. I feel as if people out there are more comfortable.  You know...

Whenever someone says to you the word 'travel', what comes to your mind? Long train rides? Noisy stations? Or just the fact that you can now relax during the journey? Indian Railways .....  The arteries and veins of India. The lifeline of a billion people . It has been praised worldwide for its efficiency and its sheer amount of work. The surveys know better. I have been fortunate enough to watch it from close quarters. Close enough to say that for people who work in Railways it is not just a job, it is a way of life.  To start the narrative from somewhere, I'll tell you this. Both sets of my grandparents worked in Railways, my parents also do. So we have a closer association than you can imagine. Our house was situated less than 100 meters from the train station. We were so habituated to the horns conking that we actually missed it when we moved out. The Railway station was and still is a very fascinating place for me. I don't know why but I n...

You know the recent polls in Delhi which saw the AAP’s rise to power? Well, being a keen observer of politics, I was writing an article about it. During a lecture. (Trust me…it was a biochemistry lecture....oxidation of fatty acids....and I never liked it!!) And I missed my attendance because of it. Shit!!! What was the point of sitting for an hour then! A friend sitting next to me remarked, “tu likhte reh APP ke baare mein…..”  (You keep on writing about APP).  My attendance being missed didn’t hurt me as much as her comment did. Why this indifference towards your own Government? So much so that you don’t even know the party’s name? More importantly, I was reminded of an incident that happened a few years ago. It was when I was in standard 10 and something that I’ll never forget.   Let me first tell you about my class. We were a class of 43 teens (23 girls and 20 boys) with their ever-effective hormones at work. Rebellious, fun-loving and smart. (Personally...

This is the story of a man and a little girl. A story which is not uncommon yet beautiful.               Let’s get started. This little girl grew up at his place. The ‘home’ was a heaven; tall trees-mango, neem and pomegranate surrounded it. A large courtyard with roses, jasmine, hibiscus and some wild flowers. Inside; bedrooms with beautiful windows.  Every morning sunlight came streaming in, waking everyone up. A big cupboard with books- Dickens, Tolstoy, Twain, The Bronte Sisters and countless other authors. The terrace was always the place for any sleepover.              The school was just a 10 minute walk. After school hours, she would spend the whole day playing with him- he was the student and she was the teacher (with a stick in her hand!!!).  In reality, he taught her. Everything which is immensely useful, practical and enjoyable. He taught her the Indian mythology and how to be polyglot....