What HIV/AIDS means to Mr.Mrurugan - probably nothing.

One of these days, I met (him, whom now may I assign a name, not his real one) Murugan. I had gone to 'take' an Tuberculosis case for the clinical case presentation. As I talked to the doctor in charge of him, it was revealed that recently he was diagnosed with HIV too. Later, I talked with Murugan. He gave a history which was like a textbook history of HIV, fever of 6 months, chronic diarrhea and lately, cough. When I examined his chest, my stethoscope echoed with the numerous rattling sounds his lungs produced. It felt like TB had almost laid both his lungs waste. Still he was unseemingly pleasant and comfortable for someone who had just been diagnosed with HIV-TB.

His wife, Lakshmi (name changed) too was with him. She told me they had 5 children, all girls, the youngest one just 2 & 1/2 months old. I asked Murugan what all diseases he had. He told TB, he dint know how to say HIV, When I mentioned HIV/ AIDS, he shaked his head, recognising the name. I asked Lakshmi, she only knew about TB. HIv, she hadn't even heard about it, dint know what was it, what it meant if her husband had HIV. It was just another thing with a fancy name for her. She went on chattering incessantly how the hospital had sent her back everytime without doing a sterilisation for her and they ended up with 5 kids.

Murugan had been started on anti TB durgs, he would soon be put on anti-retrovirals for HIV infection. He would have to take the drugs on a daily basis. He has not been going for work for the last 1 month, forfeiting his wages. He appeared very calm and composed, perhaps not aware of the gravity of his condition, perhaps knowing it but not showing it.

I was very shaken by what I heard and what I saw. A lone earning member of a large, young family afflicted by the most deadly combination of diseases on the planet. He was a walking- dead man. I'm probably contradicting the advancements medical technology of the day. There are very effective anti-TB drugs, effective anti-HIV drugs, whihc are given free of cost by the government. All the patient has to do is just go and collect them and take them regularly. Easier said than done. A daiily wage earner like Murugan, how can he go daily and collect his medicines? He who didn't even know about HIV till yesterday, how can we expect him to take 2 doses of anti HIV drugs daily for the rest of his lifetime? How do you create such awareness in an illiterate man who never ever went to school?

I felt very afraid for Lakshmi and her young children; a very bad dread, thinking of how she will bring up the girls if Murugan succumbs to his diseases. What if she also contracts HIV tomorrow, for they have never used condoms during their married life and seemed very unconvinced about using it from now on. /suddenly all the NACP (National AIDS Control program) I've studied seemed like academic rhetoric. As a doctor, what could I do here? How can I help him get back to his work, be an active participant in the treatment of his condition? I had told both of them about HIV, how it spreads, how to prevent it, how to take medicines, whom to approach in case of any side effects of drugs.... What I didn't tell was, he wouldn't probably live to see his children grow up, how do you tell that to someone's face? I told them everything but the most important information that would help them to realize the seriousness of their situation.  All I can do now is only hope that my fears are unfounded, they not come true and I be provena damned, pessimistic fool.

Today it is R's turn to vent out............


 



   I grew up in a place where it never rained even once in a year. We would get rains like once in two years, there have been occasions when people would pray for rains. And then i came to India, and one of my favourite delights have been watching the rains splatter to gloryyy!!!!
For me rain always bring back good memories..... I call them the Rain Memories........ There are a couple of em.... me sitting at the table in my room in my old flat one evening, the table being in front of a window with the sun rays filtering away to death.........and it starts trickling, then drizzling and then pouring away.......
Sitting at my table and watching the raindrops splattering away....the air seeming crystal clear, the breeze making me feel alive.......
My next memory being having given my medical entrance exams and coming back home when it started raining and i spent nearly half an hour walking in the rain!!!! It was a walk of triumph, of having won my booty and feeling relieved!!!!!! i reached home and stood in the rain till i was drenched to my bone and i felt one in sync with the skies......
The next memory was after i won myself my girl's love and got stuck in the rain while returning from a battle for a future..... got stuck in the rain, well needless to say i walked/danced and went home. It was dawn and it wasnt a pleasant feeling to get drenched and chilled....
The last memory has me with my girl in Central Park, New York. But this wasnt as pleasant as the other ones coz we had to huddle ourselves in a small subway station. But we did walk in the rain after the downpour calmed down.All the same they are the Rain Memories!!!!!

Disappearing sights...

 A few sights from Kerala I'm beginning to forget....because I've so become used to urban life...


This may seemsimple to rural people...but nowadays I see these sights only on television.

A kaccha road, rather  an un-tarred, dusty village road....yes, that's a fast disappearing sight. Another remarkable thing about this dusty stretch is the lack of wall on either side. There are just linear mounds of earth which kind of roughly demarcates the path. If you look closely once more, you can see the brown, fallen leaves lining the sides. These days, we're so concerned about keeping our avenues neat and tidy that such a thing is unthinkable. Also, city dwllers like me will say, "What if there are snakes inside it?"

This is what I found at the end of the road...a sun-drenched field lying fallow. With theland prices going up...I guess it is fated to remain un-cultivated for the rest of its time, till some building comes up on it.

There was also this small culvert running along the field. There was only a trickle of water in this canal but the next day, after torrential rains in the night, it was flowing half full with a small but good current. This one reminds me so much of a small canal ('kaana' as we called it) behind our old house when we were children. After rains, it would be bursting at its seams with all the rain water from upstream (Yes, we knew its upstream part too....). If I remember correctly, we have even attempted fishing in it once or twice. There used to be small fish in it during the monsoons, and miraculously the fish used to seep into our well also, as the ground water levels in the well too goes up due to the percolation. That was a pretty sight...the well filling up so much to the brim that you can just dip a mug into it and scoop water!! The kaana was gradually hedged in as people owning plots on either side of it concreted the sides and reduced the width of the canal. Gradually, with increase in the number of houses, the canal also turned into a waste dump. People would come in their vehicles and quickly  fling their plastic covers with wastes into it. With the same changes happening upstream too, the water flowing through it gradually decreased, even during the monsoons it couldn't live upto its past glory....

The plantain leaf wrap or Vazhayila pothi

I was coming back home from "the home" in train. In the next coupe, there were around 10-12 kannadiga men singing kannada and haindi songs as and when they came to mind. The balding man in the old couple sitting opposite me was occassionaly following the tune of familiar old hindi songs by tapping on his thigh as his wife listened dispassionately. I was wondering what these kannadiga men where doing singing songs randomly. My initial thoughts were they were playing Antakshari. But when I listened closely, it became clear, that was not the case. They were singing just like that, one song leading onto the next. I should say that I was kind of relieved, for, the image of grown-up men playing antakshari had made put a scowl on my face. Antakshari was not by any measure my remotest idea of 'games'. Too bad that this seemed to be the only game everyone wanted to play whenever we went for picnics from school and college.

It was around 8.00pm. The old couple had alighted at Ottapalam. Now there was a 30ish young man sitting opposite. The young couple in the side berth in the coupe had opened a plastic cover and started devouring the food in a wrap in it. Soon, the young man too succumbed to the salivating aromas reaching him. He too opened a packet from his bag. It had a plastic wrap around the rectangular package. Inside it was again a layer of newspaper wrapping. The innermost was the plantain leaf wrap. I think it had kept safe a couple of chappathis and some curry for the last few hours. So he started eating. Midway through his meal, a kannadiga who was seen walking up and down the compartment a couple of times came up to this guy. He asked, "Did you all get this from the train or did you bring it from home?" The surprised young man (without showing any surprise) told he got it from home.

By the time he completed his meal, I too had succumbed to the wafting aromas and opened my own carefully prepared wrap from home. It had brown rice, fish curry, long beans upperi and beef roast. Aaah...even now the thought makes me salivate. Later I was thinking.... Almost every single mallu on that train would have opened a pothi sometime in the night. It was a well known method of packing food for long journeys. I cant help but marvel at the "Locally appropriate and entirely affordable" technology. An added advantage is that it is easily disposable and bio-degradable. And waterproof too! Gosh...truly ingenious.

And this has been practiced over centuries by mothers in evey home, long before any aluminium foil came into existence.The striking thing about the plantain wrap is how it preserves the flavours. Once the leaf is rid of its moisture by passing it over a flame, it just browns up and becomes tougher and water resistant. The flavors are kept tight and packed. If anything, it adds the smoky, leafy flavour of its own to the rice.

A little surprising was the ignorance of the Kannadiga, after all he is from a neighbouring state. Yeah but plantains are not grown in all parts of that state. So they may not know.

Long live plantains and their packages which will continue to feed many more mouths on numerous journeys
back and forth.

This pic is courtesy google. I'm cursing myself why I dint photograph mine. But then this post was not born then....

First Blood and John Rambo

A couple of days back, happened to see the movie 'First Blood'. Some thing about the movie was captivating, for I'm someone with very little patience for nonsense movies. At the time of watching, little did I know that it was the first film of the Rambo series....but just a glimpse and something told me it was a cult film in the making.  I sacrificed a little sleep for this but the price paid was worth it. Compared to the later Rambo films, this one is a psychological thriller, with less physical violence.

The film is about John Rambo, a decorated war hero from the Vietnam war, struggling to return to civilian life. I a small US town, he is hounded by their police dept for his rough looks, interrogated and jailed. This brings back his PTSD related to the torture  he suffered at the hands of the Vietnamese as a POW. He escapes from police custody and soon becomes the target of a huge man hunt. He manages to fight off the huge but inexperienced police force with his guerilla warfare tactics. The surprise package came at the end, in the form of Rambo opening his heart to Clnl.Trautman about the trauma of war. Sylvester Stallione who comes across as stone faced throughout till then, now suddenly and amazingly springs to life and breaks our hearts as the sufferring hero. As his mighty frame crumbles and he cries like a child, the human price of the war is brought into the picture. In those few, brief scenes, are etched poignantly the human tragedy of the war; a price paid by the individual soldier, some times with his life, or with his limbs or with his tattered mind.

Stallone captivates with his rugged physique and handsome looks. The small town setting and egos are splendidly portrayed. If anything, they could change the very tame ending. I'd leave everything else untouched.

Dasara 2011

Being from Kerala, Navratri was not a big occassion for me.... the only reason to remember it were the holidays we would get for that and the fact that you 'should not' study for the two days when the books are kept in the temple for pooja! Why aren't there more of such festivals...?!!

After coming to Bangalore only I started seeing this festival being organized on such a large scale. It was ubiquitous here, where as in Kerala, it was a big deal only in Brahmin homes. In college there are multiple celebrations, one by the Office, then by the individual department, in the DL, the canteenwala, library and not to be left out, the drivers of various rickety college vehicles would also deck up their chariots and worship them....

This (hopefully) is my last year in college, so I thought, what the heck, might take some pics as well. They were taken with my poor Sony Ericcson mobile cam. So quality is quite poor. But all the same, they don't miss the point...

the extensive decoration in DL...initially it seemed good...but by the time they finished, it seemed like a idol in a tropical jungle...

The humble one in my dept....compared to the previous pic

The star of the show....goddess Saraswati

The offerings for the goddess; fruits...lights, incense...

Pandu, our attender passing out the aarti....

Happy Dasara to all....

MH

Some music, dream and some narcissism

Today it is R's turn.. R has been wanting to vent out his mind for a very very long time and so here it is...

What do all of us live for.. I mean i share a dream, an opportunity to present itself at my doorstop one day , making all winnings until now seem small, one to even out the odds. One that will give life a real purpose and meaning, i dont mean becoming famous/ rich/ etc etc...its not just about material gains.. its all about having meaning in life. Its not that im dissatisfied with my life, i do what i like, i get paid to do what i like, i love my girl.  maybe its all about KARMA... What is my Karma? Well if it doesnt come searching then sure as hell i am going to go behind it!!!! I guess that makes it a lot of I's..

But then there is always a chance that this so called opportunity may never present itself, then what do i do. i shall go on hoping it to happen one day, maybe pursue it a lil!!!!
for all those who share my dream i guess linkin park would be the one to listen to... right from "minutes to midnight" to " a thousand suns" .. they do have a lil bit of grandiose content in all their songs....

The words may not mean much but they do give you a feeling of being electrified and can lift you out of gloom anyday.... this may seem like a very disconnected post but im sure that there will be people who can make sense and put 2 and 2 together... for one my girl's goin to get the meaning clear as a glacier!!!!!