Unfinished conversations

“There is flattery in friendship” – William Shakespeare.

I don’t know if you remember, but the first time we talked it was about literature. You said you love Shakespeare’s comedy plays. And all I could do was smile.

You seemed to like Indian ghazals. I did not tell you I cry every time I listen to “kagaz ki kashti”. Or that sometimes i dream of that unknown silhouette and a midnight seranade with an old Hindi song I heard over the radio.

You are the only person (without dentures or wrinkles) who knows a perfect cup of tea is a work of art.

I know you have your own version of literary characters. I often wonder how different your Anna Karenin is from mine. Every time someone mentions Sherlock Holmes do you conjure him out of thin air and does it remind you of the smell of pipe tobacco?

Sometimes I wish I didn’t hide behind a veil of *everything blonde*! I will never find out if you like moments of silent meditation.

Paris in the rain or the sound of hoofs on paved London streets? Lonely passes in the Himalayas or the parathewali galli in Chandni Chowk?

You know the subtle beauty of old age. It is not the profound wisdom but the toothless smile of innocence. That is why our grandparents are our best friends.

I met a dreamer and did not ask if his dreams ever came true.

These unfinished conversations will haunt me forever. Of Philosophical discussions, of favourite Rusty stories, of tea on a rainy day, of sunsets and valleys.

Goodbye and good luck.

B



Nerd and proud

Dear world who claims nerdy is the new sexy. Let me tell you what that really means,

Though I am a nerd, I am no Hermione Granger(hit puberty, look nothing like Emma Watson!)

When you picture a nerd girl don’t think of Victoria’s Secret Angels with nerd glasses. (They might have perfected the art of cloning but still can’t seem to get the brain to work)

Make up is what I do on halloween (most of the people can’t guess who I am, I pick characters from books or sometimes take it too seriously and show up as me braces and all!)

I am a book nerd. I consume books like a whore on crack! I fall in love with fictional characters.(Those are the only relationships I need)

TV shows Dr Who & Sherlock.(David Tennant and Benedict Cumberbatch, If only!!)

Hollywood movies show me as a shy invisible girl who morphs into a fairy tale princess (please stop. Just stop.)

Only I get to say “I would rather give myself to Voldemort” to the perv at the bar.

Every girl cried while watching Titanic. I cried more while reading about Snape’s love for Lily.

Best memories growing up: school library(reading about stolen kisses) The thing I miss most about school: homework.

I am not what I wear or how I look. Yes I am sexy in my own way. And what makes me sexy is my brain.

I am a nerd because I was born this way. I will never change.

Nerd, and proud.

A childhood under OR lights

Born to a family of surgeons. Growing up was different,

Girls in preschool dressed as disney princesses(mostly cinderella) with their ball gowns with ruffles and lace, I used to wear my moms coat, white and over sized. The sleeves covering all of my hands, the coat-tail on the floor like a wedding dress train!!
And the scrub cap was my tiara.

Favorite barbie: doctor barbie
Favorite game: operation

Bed time stories for normal kids are Red Riding Hood or Snow White and the seven dwarfs, mine were more like how you/your sister/ mom/ granny/grandpa/great grandma were born! Breech, cephal, post dated were stories in my head long before I read about them in textbooks!
When I was little obstetrics histories were what put me to sleep!

Puberty is a dreaded time for any girl with a mom who is a gynecologist! Hour long talks about reproduction and the changes your body will go through; not to forget all the modes of contraception! But that wasn’t necessary because on your thirteenth birthday you peek into the labor room looking for mom amidst those screaming women, fumes of liquor and crowning heads you find your sexual orientation: asexual for life. All we asked for is a normal talk about love, relationships and growing up.

Your gran must have told you about how she met your grandpa at a fair and they fell in love one summer, or how she was married by her parents and how now she adores that man she barely knew when she got married. About those summer evenings when he would sing to her. How he would bring her roses every time he got home from his business trips. How she loved watching him when he was about the house fixing stuff with a toolbox in his hand.
Mine told me how she met the greatest surgeon she knew, married him, and then how he helped her with those arrested deliveries, because she needed strong hands to apply traction to the forceps(a hand on a shaft of steel pulling the head of a fetus through a vagina is anything but romantic to a normal person but if you have a family like mine you know it is better than a thousand candlelight dinners) or assisting hysterectomies even though he was tired from a 7 hour gastric surgery, just so he could spend more time with her.

Sometimes when I wanted a school test(I scored bad on) signed, I would go looking for dad at the hospital just before he had to scrub in for a major surgery. He would sign without a second look(worked every single time!). But there is a price to pay, sometimes I would come across a mangled limb, a crushed face or an indiscernible mass of blood and muscle on my way out. A little girl of twelve knew what death looked like.

The smell of freshly baked cake or the strong aroma of indian curry reminds my friends of home.
The only smell that feels like home to me is that of powdered gloves and betadine.

Most teens rebel by doing drugs or getting inked and joining street gangs. All I did was say I will NEVER go to med school. And hell broke lose.

5 years later when I am almost done with my final year in medical school(I couldn’t fight my destiny(parents) for long) every time I step into an OR I know I belong.