The rooftop/terrace.

I am on my hostels' rooftop. 

At this time in the evening it's my favourite thing to do. The stars come out. And I am myopic. 

Four years ago my eye sight was incredibly accurate. I didn't need the help of glasses to see the world. 

Now I am staring the boys hostel, just able to make out the square windows and obscure figures.

Four years ago, when me and my friends were very new here and this very rooftop was our escapade we would just skim through the darkness making out weirdest of stories and blurting out ridiculous fantasies. And then someone would spot a half naked guy at the boys hostel who had forgotten to pull the curtains down, and then we laughed and laughed at the sight of his inane skin! 

Right now I am alone and myopic. I left my glasses in the reading room and I can't wait for this to get over. 

This is the quality a nearing end race offers! A feeling of hopelessness, desolation and desperation! More importantly happiness that beyond this there is something even more promising to work towards for. That I call a concoction of everything good and everything bad. Hopelessness and hopeful.

Besides there has been many funny things that has happened at the rooftop. Like waiting for the Perseid meteor showing. Waiting and waiting. Or sometimes doing some yoga. Yoga is so sexy. Anyone who's lived in India must do yoga!

I am writing this because I am growing impatient. Trying my best not to complain.

The wind is so clean and refreshing. Must take in all this beauty that nature has to offer. 

Peace-dr. Diksha

She makes me feel like...

She.

Yes, her.

She makes me feel like a ten year old child. That when just touched by the whiff of real world and your parents want you to learn something and enroll you and you embark on those lessons, guided by the nicest of the nice coaches/teachers/instructors. 

And you don't know but no ones judging. You are there to learn and no ones mocking. 

Today was an extremely beautiful day. Yellow sun, blue pool, pretty girls all around me. You get the drift right? 

And then she jumps in. I am tired of the laps I have done. Those clumsy free strokes I do to "improve my stamina" as I always say. 

"Today I will show you all the butterfly stroke," she says. Three of us those who have done over and over the freestyle and some of breast stroke surround her, like we were some glamorous sparky sharks and she an exquisitly beautiful niaid or a mermaid. 

And she just moves. Oh, the way she moves. And in the blink of an eye, she's gone.

Gone. Swam away. Beautifully. This gorgeous woman nearby me had left me agape and stunned and petrified and stupified. 

That deft incoming of both her hands together to propel herself forward! Those full hips hitting the water and emerging from the surface that caught everyone's eyes! That intense look in her eyes and the mouth parted to rejuvenate her lungs with more energy! Graceful! She is one gorgeous swimmer. 

And we clap, much stunned in amazement and absolutely involuntary clap. Little kids that we are, or are we? I hop and squeal, "wow!" 

That we decided to stay with this beautiful woman for a little longer and we gave up our morning class just to watch her and if permitted, to swim along with her. 

Afterwards we are still in the water. The three of us. Girl gossip in the water, going underwater and the clumsy butterfly strokes trial was today's morning.

I couldn't help but say it over and over, "I am so happy today."

Giggles. "I loooovvve water," cooes my friend. 

Life is good. 

Complemented by a heavy breakfast. 😊

Peace-dr. Diksha

Away away.

"Let's get out of this town,

Baby we are on fire". The lines are in my head. The haunting voice is singing from my little music box inside my head. And I am inside the swimming pool fully submerged. I am holding my breath and looking around. My limbs! My limbs feel so free and detached from me but still under my control. I wriggle my toes. The blueness enchants me and I experiment with the new found 3D effect that can be found in water or in space in the larger picture. I am no fish, I have lungs and I emerge my head out with a deep gasp.

"Do the butterfly stroke" 

I don't want to. Today I want to be away. So I have come to the deeper side. And I look at the sky. The feeling is ethereal. I float. I am flying. The sky beacons at me. The cloudless formless, story less vast sky. It makes my eyes shut and I am drunk in its generosity. The buoyant force propels me skywards but gravity pulls me back. And I am tethering in between these forces very much enjoying their want for me. The forces rocks me up and down and sideways. And I let myself lose. If the forces want me, let them have me.

"You have to learn the butterfly stroke!" I scream out in my head.  

I want to be away. I watch my friends and they are swimming. The curves are graceful and the strokes relentless. I want to be away from them too. Just right now I want to be with the forces. And muses. 

Somebody comes to my side. And as soon as she makes it here, I dive in and swim away. To a place where no one is there. And again I submerge and watch the world. Silent and free. Happy. 

The butterfly stroke can wait. The breast stroke can wait to be perfected. 

To learn to play the grand piano can wait too. I smile. This bucket list of things I had planned to complete by twenty two has been fully upended and reviewed over. Except one thing that remains. To play the grand piano in style. So that I can sing a Lana Del Rey. I am doing the things I want and I will do it in style, with fervor and endurance. With a will to do and not by coercion. In style. In sexy style. 

"Let's get out of this town,

Baby we are on fire.

Everybody here seems to be going down, down, down.

If you stick with me, I can take you higher and higher,

It feels like all of our friends are lost and nobody's found, found, found"

I get out of the pool before the time is up. Just so to be found, found, found.

 Peace-dr. Diksha.

Indian Society of Organ Transplantation

So yes. I attended the Indian Society of Organ Transplantation Conference (ISOT) only and only because my favourite professor Prof. S.C. Dash was the organizer. Despite the perpetual rainfall and the diaphanous wetness, ( I call it diaphanous because the bright fungus has sprouted in places and it has decorated the place), I attended the conference without even an invitation or a qualification. Because I don't know anything about organ transplants yet and I should go to places that offer education.

There he is. Prof. S.C Dash.

And the one leaning by the dice is Dr. Deepak Shankar Ray. He is my best friend's father and he is one of my inspirations too. He has performed several successful transplants.

My favourite professor is Dr. Suresh Chandra Dash. He is not the only one in the list however this post will be only about him.

In one word, he is  a  CONNOISSEUR. A connoisseur of fine arts, and subjects. 

I enjoyed his classes. I enjoy everyone's class that is not boring. He took our Nephrology classes just a month ago and now that is over for the year. He quizzed us constantly. He would ask us facts about from medical subjects and other non-medical subjects. Mostly Geography. And History and Mythology. And then literature. His interests are diverse. Just as diverse as mine. And when he would quiz us, I would be on my guard ready to answer everything that I have had learnt in my school years and medical years. I answered so much that I got his attention in class that when no one would answer he would point to me and say, "This girl will answer."

I did. He called me intelligent and a hard working student. I am so flattered and stoked and inspired and pressurized. 

I am being called the 'favourite one' and so I will work very hard to keep the name. Just as hard as I worked under the guide of my Paediatrics professor Dr. Aswin Ku. Mohanty. 

I have had been a victim of several things. Taunting, teasing, being ignored/ostracism and all because well I even don't know. Because I am always on the run. Studying or reading novels or playing tennis and then some not so pleasant things. Or maybe because I am a freak. 

I am pressurized. Professor S.C. Dash thinks that I am capable of so much that I feel terribly pressurized. What if I can't live up to the status that I generate everywhere I go! 

And this post was supposed to be about my favourite professor but I ended up ranting as always. I should do more justice to this man who inspires me. 

He has shown me that not all doctors are dulled by their own subjects. He is diverse, brilliant , extremely thoughtful and an excellent guide. He read us TO REMEMBER ME by Robert Test and that has further influenced my interests in literature. 

Since I still have no achievements to boast about right now, I will just copy some links I got.

http://www.kiit.ac.in/about/scdash.htm

http://www.orissadiary.com/CurrentNews.asp?id=43747

                                                              PEACE-   dr. Diksha.

(I should do an extensive research before I write posts like this and should stop ranting).

Under-graduates Paediatrics Quiz.

I have bagged a bronze medal in East zone all India quiz in Pediatricians.

I am thrilled. But most importantly I am glad I did not quit. I mean I had quit. I gave the preliminary test of MCQs and then completely forgot about the quiz. Till junior came to my room and told me I had topped as second in the test and was to go to another medical college.

I freaked out. 

I was unprepared. And to go compete with other medical students from other colleges? The prospect was terrifying and I spent the whole day probably crying and thinking of a way out. I didn't have anyone to talk to. I wanted someone to understand why I was not the best option to go compete for the interstate level quiz.

Then I went to my Paediatrics professor, a brusque man with coiffed hair that falls all over his forehead but somehow never obstructs his vision let alone his eyebrows beneath which are those thoughtful eyes of a man who has saved thousands of infants and children.

"Err, I want to quit." I squeaked as soon as I entered his office.

He was reading some paper, and looked up and asked why.

"I am unprepared, and its a big event. I am completely totally unprepared and we have just 2 weeks to go and I won't be able to complete the whole book and we will lose because of me and then it will be bad." said I in a breath.

"But you have done well in the test," he said slow and clear as he fished his drawer and took out the papers and flashed mine. 

But I wanted to quit and when my mind is made up, it's kind of impossible for even my Paediatrics professor to convince. 

"Fine!" he said as he decided to take the next person for the quiz and I happily trotted out of his office feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders and I was free. Free like a bird.

That night I couldn't sleep. I was haunted by my own insecurities. To miss an opportunity such as this was sheer stupidity. I knew that. Quitting was cowardly. Quitting is what losers do. Winners never quit. Had Andy Murray quit just because he couldn't bag any Grand Slams in the first of his career he wouldn't have gone onto winning a US Open, a Gold in the Olympics or a Wimbledon! And he wouldn't have been dubbed as the big four if he had quit! And he wouldn't have come on to become my favourite player.

And I revisited my professors office again.

"I have decided I will go," I declared triumphantly.

"TSK!" was what he said. "I have already taken a junior in your place." he added.

"I will go," I said a little quieter this time afraid I had jeopardized my own chances.

"Call that junior and come with him and then you can go," he said.

And after that the junior who is one hell of a guy and is highly interested in his medical profession (as evidenced by his colloquial paper presentations in several topics) but I had beat him and he yield.

The past two weeks were all about Paediatrics. Me and the junior girl. We were given a Nelson each and advised to remember Nelson values. Nelson is the standard, the best textbook. It is a large book of more than 2000 pages and a font size smaller than an average ant. 

I completed the smaller undergraduate level textbook however, i.e OP Ghai, and then went onto solving MCQs. Solving as many as I could get. Reading as many quiz books as I could get. The junior girl whom I would always see in the reading room but never talk, now we began to solve MCQs together 2 hourly everyday. And we began to get to know each other.

She is sweet. Courteous and respectful. And the obedience that is in her is unforced. I liked her instantly and it was easy to work with her. A quality I render absolutely necessary in medical career.

The other Paediatrician doctors took extensive vivas to the both of us. Sometimes even lasting for six hours without break.

September 14th, a Saturday and we left for SCB Medical college. Seeing other contestants was scary. It was. We didn't study. We just sat, waiting for the whole thing to start. 

The only thought that relieved me was that "YEAI within the next three hours this all will be OVER." And my mind decided to hang onto that sentence every time I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.

But we did well. We had been underestimating ourselves all along. I shouldn't be over whelmed either because it will prevent me from working hard. However we lead the quiz for the first half. But we lost track in the final rapid fire round and secured ourselves a third position.

So today I went to the Professor to return the Nelson.

A chortle as I entered with the heavy textbook.

"Do sit," he ordered.

I sat obediently and he asked how was the quiz. I explained with worlds like 'great experience' and that our college needs more coaching since the other colleges prepare for the quiz 2 years before itself.

"In two weeks if you can prepare this much then you surely have proved yourself. I hope you will continue studying and not quit in the most adverse of situations," he said.

I grinned thinking of Andy Murray and the quiz and how daunting it had appeared and came out ever more determined to try. To give my best. And to never quit.

A book that says Why Sinarest is the best. And a cartificate. :D

                                                                 peace- dr. Diksha.

Why the Man Of Steel.

Man of Steel did not disappoint me. But then again none of the super hero movies ever disappoint me. Except that one, the one with the hunky Brandon Routh and the hetero-chromatic Kate Bosworth in Superman Returns which was such a bore that ran for non-exhaustive length that even I a faithful devoted comic lover hated the movie.

Why steel? Why not Titanium or Adamantium or better yet Iron? The director prefers alloys to single elements as mashed up a character as Super Man is. He is an alien, he is a small town boy,  he is a Daily Planet geeky reporter, he is Lois Lane's love and he is Clark Kent. He is Super Man.

Iron Man is a billionaire. The tweeds and his insouciant ego and some clever quips throughout the comic book, and especially the movie has earned him his fame. Actually Robert Downey Jr.'s fame. The name Iron Man stirs images of Robert Downey Jr. but nothing special to the Iron Man character.

But the Man of Steel will capture your heart. A man so righteous,so brimming with justice in every throb of his heart, rigorous in his approach, living a common life of a good man with geek glasses and almost so boring is the Man of Steel. And I have every right to call Super Man boring because I am a devoted comic reader, I have watched Super Man movies, cartoons of every version. I have followed Super Man in his every move in Justice League Association and in the newer Justice League too and I read articles about him online.

Should one hate a man who is impeccably perfect but for just the glitch of being a little too boring?

                                                                  pE@c3-dr.Diksha

Auscultating the Chest.

I was in a bad mood today. And I sprawled my Facebook profile with the filthiest and the most common profane used. Afterwards I felt bad when I got messages from my friends consoling me and one message that snapped my anger and produced rather a guilt was from one of my high school friend who said that of all the girls out there he thought I was the one who has got it figured it out. Shame and guilt came over me for my momentary lapse of losing grip over my bizzare emotions but moreover I cannot fathom the reason for my devastating anger. And the readiness for contrition is because I hate not smiling.

Now I am chilled. Chilled as ever and laughing with my friends over silliest of the events that unfolds in our lives.
Because medicine without humour can be hard.
Plus I changed my blog name to a dr.DOOFUS. Yeah Doofus till I specialize.

And that actually happened to one of my friends. :D                                                      
                                                           p3@ce-dr.Doofus.

When the Myope gave the viva.

                                                            p3@ce-dr.Diksha

Swimming Desires.

Medic 1: Dude that place looks awesome. I want to take a dip in it.
Medic 2: Yeah right and present few months later with a rhinosporidiosis, with a lump in your nose and throat.
Medic 1: (Groans).

                                                    p3@ce-dr.Diksha

SIGNS

(This poetry has been inspired by the numerous plans that has back fired in my life and to know that signs are everywhere, and I had been ignoring them. I am submitting myself to those signs and letting fate control whatever it has in store for me...once).

My ink ruined the parchment.

Of a beautiful story I planned.

The paintbrush on the canvas,

But I did not know and alas,

Heavens sent a downpour,

Spoils my dreams and nigh.

Would have been okay if I,

Took a shelter of any kind.

But a shelter I did not find.

The signs that deplore,

What is not meant to be,

Shall never end a happy.

And signs demand acknowledgement.

That only fate shall command.

                                                                                   peace-dr.Diksha

Beethoven and Otosclerosis.

ENT( Ear, nose and throat) viva.

And then they shall hi-5 each other. after the tricky questionings...the examiners.

                                                               
Almost a cynic my approach towards the examiners. But trust me they want us to learn more. And the only way is the hard way. It's lives we have to save after all.

                                                             p3@ce-dr.Diksha.

Those many of the cooking nights.

Maybe, maybe I write junk. Nothing substantial. My blog is not for reference or for any worldly education, I just want to remember how I was right now. 
I am so unstable right now. I develop a deep interest for a subject and the next day it's gone entirely. It is happening more with my personality rather than my interests actually. Today I am happy, tomorrow I wake up a cynic, yesterday I was madly in love.

As for being on a very very short break, I am contemplating doing all those I don't usually have time to spare for. Earlier this evening I was cooking with my roommate.
The procession in itself was so orderly and so well peaceful, I realized I love cooking. I have developed this facade wherein the world see me as an extremely androgynous female and most presume I am incapable of anything related to the kitchen. But why am I posting the boring banality of my external image which only ensures to waste your time.

But we were communicating, my roommate and I without even speaking. Without having to exchange a single word. Millions of things were in the back of my head coming up one by one and I was thinking them one at a time.  My roommate looked calm and thoughtful chopping those onions likewise sorting out millions of her thoughts. She put the onions in the pan, and I just stirred. She didn't have to tell me. I knew what to do, I don't have to do it all and she won't have to do all of it. We were doing all of it. The beauty of--ahh what's that word- Team work, towards something common with the people you love and trust.

We planned to watch Hansel and Gretel Witch hunters.  Quite unnerving for a clean freak there, but we sit on the bed rest our backs on the deck, the laptop at the foot-end and eat while we watch. It's a small hostel room that we live in. She set up the bed and I placed the food and turned off the lights and watched in peace.
It's one of those many nights of my college life. It's happening now all those early twenties story that I must remember and smile.

                                                  p3@ce-dr.Diksha

On this Father's day.

From an engineers daughter.

Dearest Baba,
Happy Father's Day. Thank you for being those Baba's who loves their family and protects their family.
If 20 years from now I am as happy as you (& Ama) and as successful as you are, I will consider my life time goal to be accomplished.
You have given me insights into how beautiful life can be and you have taught me that I am entitled to live the very kind of life I want. 
You are my hero.

Happy father's day to all the wonderful loving fathers of the world.

                                                             p3@ce-dr.Diksha

Laughter.

Today I am lonely,

Tomorrow I will be alone.
Silence answers it all.

Warm wind hits my face,
Makes me close my eyes,
My lips curve in a smile.

A smile makes me forget,
The bad times we had,
Good times are lacking.

Laughter were at a scarce,
When you were with me,
Now it is all back again.

I laugh more and smile more,
Thinks you it will wrinkle my face,
I love the lines the love leaves.

Wizened but loved,
I rather be,
Then pretty and sad.

Make me laugh,
I am all yours,
Laughter breeds love.

Liberation.

        I knew he was kind. And nice. He had been the quiet one always. And now he was talking to me. No he was chatting with me on Facebook.
       'Ummm hi,' was the first line.
       'Hiiiiiiiiiiii,' I replied happy to have met him online after four years.
        'You look absolutely hot.'
       'Ahh you have got to tell me something I don't know!'
       'You have changed a lot. Where is that uncouth little girl I knew?'
      'Argh trust me I just have changed my appearance but deep inside I am still the same old person.'
       'Oh!....'
       'I suppose I am talking to you now because I didn't have anything to say. I suppose I am talking to you now because your hotness is acting like a catalyst.' he added.
       'Oh.' I was a little disappointed. Thank god he was miles away from me and what my face bore he would never know.
       'Life is unpredictable. You would think I was totally crazy if I had told you that 8 years ago that I would be chatting with you all night.'
       'Why?' Now I was clueless.
       'I had always wanted to talk to you.But I never thought we would.'
      'We talked! You are confusing me. I mean we shared the same desk for nearly six months and we were in the same class for 2 years and to add we studied in the same school for many years!'
       'All we talked about was aeroplanes and missiles.'
       I grinned to it. He had a profound understanding in aeronautics and things that blasted. We would design on the desk and then he would always find flaws to my designs and correct it. It didn't make any sense to me but I was thoroughly impressed by it that one day I went to the library to find some books on aeroplanes but to no avail because the Thimphu library was in destitute paucity of such books. That always made me wonder how did he acquire all that in his head. I googled and then gave up and always relied on him to design planes and black birds as he called them.
        When I didn't reply, he asked me a question which I thought no one would ever ask me.
        'Why did you hate me so much?'
        I didn't hate him. I hated them. He was one of them. But I didn't hate him. Not to be too obscure or too obvious to answer I thought for a while and typed this, 'Your group was despicable.'
       'You are generalizing. I want to know why you hated me?'
        The question was uncalled for and I cringed. 'I didn't hate you.' I admitted.
       A blankness followed. I should not use the word silent for when one is chatting on the laptop one is generally silent. No words spoken. Only typed.
        'I always thought you had some issues.' he said after a while. I was on another page reading about Lockheed. I knew he would already know about what I was just reading.
       My face bore a wariness.  I had talked about my issues to everybody else after I had long graduated from high school. In fact I had talked about my issues to people I barely knew because it made me feel better. It made me heroic. I was that little person who grew up to be noticed by everybody and then I decided to open up. And I talked about it to everybody. How I conquered the world despite being troubled back in school. And gradually my stories seemed to exaggerate until it passed into mawkish sentimentality. By then it was too late. I had talked about it to most of the people I knew and I knew then I had to stop it immediately. Probably everyone now assumed I was a mendacious personality.
       Now I didn't know if I should proceed. My fingers gave in. 'I am not a lesbian in case if you are wondering.'
       'OK.' He replied in caps. I presumed he was terrified.
       'I was sick of all the taunting you guys put me through regarding my tomboy status and assuming that I slept with girls. It was the same everyday and I was so bored. I was fed up of the same old same old jokes about me'.  I didn't want to admit I was affected. I was not bored. I was hurt. It affected me a lot.
      'I know. I tried to stop them.'
       'You did?'
      'Yeah I know they went over board. It was terrible the everyday teasing and the fights. It was not even squabbles. I have always admired your will to stand up to them.'
      It caught me off guard. My mind went back to some seven or eight years ago. The memory still afresh in my head. He was next to me in our dark red uniform and we are drawing aeroplanes. And then the derogation came from the group of boys who sat behind me. The back benchers! It is a blessing to be taller than most of your classmates but it also made you prone to being placed at the back. My class teacher made me sit at the very back because I was the tall girl in my class. And that is when he and I had been desk mates. He was kind I knew the very first day he sat next to me. He was very popular. I had known about him ever since we were in lower school. But I never pictured him joining them. He was one of them. A part of their group who never took part in their groupism. It hit me then that he had never bullied me.
       'I didn't suffer from any inferiority complex but coming to school knowing it would be the same taunting all over was very depressing.' I wrote.
       'I am sorry you had to go through all that!'
It was real. It was genuine. I wanted to see his face then. A small smile crept on my lips and I sighed as soon as it had appeared because he would never know his apology made me happy.  All that I had grudged towards and waited for vengeance disappeared. And the troubling thing was he wasn't the culprit. It was his friends. So why did his apology mean so much?
       I made smiley faces and sent it to him. It appeared too loud. My smile at the moment was a silent one.
       'I am through with these issues now.' I told him.
       He sent me a smile.
       'I wish I had stood upto them. I wish I had noticed you more. You are so beautiful now. BUt you had always been cute and sweet even if my friends told you were downright ugly.'
       I smiled actually. And laughed. That was very candid. And I decided to be mean.
      'You didn't because you didn't want to condescend your popular boy image standing up for a lesbian like me.'
      'Ouch. Hot girls are mean girls.' he wrote.
      'I am not mean.'
      'I am glad how you turned out to be. You fought well and you won your battle.'
      'I still have plenty of battles to conquer. And as we speak of I battles I will have to conquer my books for now. I am sorry I have to leave now.'
      'Ok. Goodbye. And I would have still talked to you even if you were the same old little girl.'
       I closed all the tabs and switched off my laptop and headed towards the library with a large book smiling as I swung it from side to side. I felt free. Light as the lightest bird, probably a humming bird. I know then that I would stop talking about my stupid issues to others and that I would grow up without grudges.

                                                        dr. Diksha.

Of Loving The Wrong One.

You cornered my heart,
You cornered me as well.
My soul it was shaken
It left my bones and skin.
I changed then onward.
But to love you I was akin.
Left everything my heart once etched.
What had loving you to me fetched?

The passion burnt me and my desire.
My heart was warm, my soul on fire.
The heat destroyed me and me alone.
I knew better to cease my loving.
The affection and the day dreaming.
The people started to mourn
For the dying person I had become.
My iridescent sadness it outshone.
Outshone the love I had for you.
The sadness in me now pellucid.
With anger that could not be hid.
Anger was alive with myraids of emotions.
Red and blue and black and grey.

I leave you now. Regret will follow.
I have steeled my hear and barred my soul.
Eyes averted and nose away from you.
To a path of self discovery.

                                                                 pE@c3-dr. Diksha

Market Building and the mistakes of Being Born.

We went shopping today to the crowded and plentiful Market Building. There are many buildings however. The place is teeming with many people and many vendors. You can get possibly everything that you want out there. And like every other resplendent business area in India this place is in no shortage of beggars.

When I first came to India, they asked me if I like the country. Oh yes, I love this country. Very much. It is diverse and truly Incredible. Then they asked me what I hate the most about India. I took a moment to think because I didn't want to say anything offensive to my fellow Indian mates and then I got my answer. I hate the fact that despite being a rich country there are many who still drown in poverty. And then I burbled along in a mellifluous tone about the beggars because I didn't want to offend my fellow Indian mates.

I have been to this so called Market Building many times before. Today is a warm day. The heat is building up here now that spring has arrived and would soon lead to the summer season and it will become unbearably hot here (and thank goodness for the AC in hostel). 

And I am being chased by several little kids. Beggar kids. Trodden, down looked and malnourished  They are filthy and hungry. I see some of them have managed to get half eaten ice creams.

I don't give a damn. If there is no better way to put it! I have been chased before and I have given them coins and coins and coins and ran out of coins but the beggars don't finish. New ones keep coming if they know you are handing them coins.

So today I sneered at this little filthy child who tugged my cargo pants. I glanced in his eyes and thought, "Dear Lord, his only mistake is because he was born."

Cruel to think that. I see no light in his life. He won't go to school. He will grow up in the filth of Market Building and like places. And he will produce a little one just like him.

There must be an end to this poverty cycle!

Medical calling.

So while going to the ward after classes we run to the lift in a hurry. Constantly discussing or more like gossiping. There is me and my other two girl friends. We are going to see a patient.

The lift in charge waits for us. There are other people inside. We have to go three floors up and the lift is set to go down. Downstairs the door opens and Sandy walks briskly out of the door.
I shout, "Hey this the ground floor. Come back we have to up." She hadn't realized. Till Mishra grabs her nape collar and hauls her in.
"Gadha!" she berates. She called Sandy a donkey.
"You shut up." Sandy retorts.
I am standing there and we are going upstairs that a tussle unfolds in front of me.
The people, 3 of them in there start smiling in amusement.
Another typical day. I have to go and break their squabbles.
"Okay there are people who are patients here." I interject in a low voice and put myself in between them.
They are pushing each other and I get squashed in between. "Can we... can we stop this and continue it in the room?" I say.
And they stop with a remark that sounds like, "Gadha."
Another typical day in my life and all that is comical I want to remember.

We are in the ward and the emotion is replaced by something I cannot exactly describe. There is a really sick patient and is battling for his life. And to be honest we do not know what to say to his family. It is an art we have to learn. To assure them. To heal them.

To learn more and be competent enough to be worthy of their....
My friend Roma is calling me to see her off.

You see she had a fall today and she sprained her left ankle and it hurts her and her parents have sent their driver to pick her up. A session of hugging and molly cuddling.
"Oh, just go away fast enough. I have to get back to writing my blog.?" I say.
Roma stifles and another hug. Sandy and I are balancing her and taking her to her car.
And before she gets in the car she gives each one of us a kiss on the cheek. Like Snow White does to the seven dwarfs before the prince takes her away. But we don't constitute the seven dwarfs, we were five people standing out there in the twilight waiting for this broken Roma to leave faster so that we could come back and check our Facebook.
Oh, this life is a good life. I love my friends.
They make my life so much easier.
I come back and finish writing this post.
I have to study now. Numerous diseases to go and how I can heal them.

                                                                   pE@ce-dr. Diksha.

Before it all escalates to this Valentine's.

Now the younger generation has revolutionized the Valentines Day. I am not aware of how it used to be in the 18th or 19th century but I am pretty sure this day was unheard of from where I hail.

Now the youth think they are in love. I chose the word "think" because thinking is all they do.

Okay I am not going to chastise this day. I just wrote this to post this art I just sketched. Just for my blogger friends to see before I digitalize it and make it public.

                                                   peace-dr.Diksha.

Woods Academy.

(An attempt at short story writing. This piece focuses on Woods Academy, a godly adobe set by PAN to raise the spirits of Earth and how even the spirits are not devoid of emotions-positive or negative despite being far far away from humans. I have read too much of Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Greek Mythology. I respect Rick Riordan).


"The lesson for today ends now", Mrs. Terra announced. It had been a tiring day for the little grown up spirits of the earth for they had been learning the entire day about how the sun makes a brief drift over the earth and the processes that goes on with it namely photosynthesis. This had been a special class for special little dryad Cedar. She was the tree spirit. When she was born a beautiful tree had grown along with her. She was a part of it and the tree was her. She would perish if someone had the tree cut. But in the densest part of the Earth away from the humans where the God of Nature Pan had set grounds for this very particular academy there was absolutely no chance any humanly invasion. Everything was godly here, including the amorous visits by the nasty Olympians to the staffs of the academy. And they didn't bother at all about hiding in a secretive niche. But who am I to question the very Olympians.

Sure there were tens of hundreds of other tree or plant spirits there but Cedar had grown very beautifully. She would not admit it but it was her naiad friend Pearline who would visit her home regularly. She took her freshly water to her and then nurtured Cedar and when the sun would take its course across the sky Cedar would bask and giggle under its light and imagine Apollo riding a red-black blazing Mercedes. Wait, she had no idea what Mercedes meant but Pearline had found a floating strange looking assortment of paper made of wood drifted on her aquatic body and there they had a whiff of the humanly world with "Mercedes" that made them giggle with excitement before Mrs.Terra found those odd assortment of pages and had it to nothing but ashes by her faithful phoenix.  And Apollo was quiet the charmer. Cedar and Pearline had discussed this very information with many of their little grown up spirit friends and no one denied his attributes.

"Dismissed," Mrs. Terra announced curtly and they spirits began to drift away. Some to the earth, some to the water, some to their wooden adobes and some to their windly existence. Cedar and Pearline especially envied the wind spirits the Anemois. The wind spirits were indeed free spirited as their very existence. They were prone to fits of rage and tantrum for they weren't bound to a particular place. The entire world was theirs, as far as the atmosphere extended. Naiads weren't bound to a particular place either but once they left their places it was difficult for them to get back and so no one took a chance to forage the earth in search of lower grounds. 

With a weary gait they were proceeding that Skaya, the Anemoi appeared in front of Pearline and Cedar. "Hi, you look so...what's the word...gorgeous today Cedar." Skaya said. She meant it or did she just mock? She was often a difficult character to understand with her always away to create tempest in parts of the world. She was a cosmopolite  and not so much as Mrs. Terra had traveled as much as her. She was faster and swifter than other wind spirits and she was strong. With a strong tenacity for fury and windly destruction she was often a feared character. She never had her feet on the ground. Cedar blushed for she couldn't help it and uttered a "thanks" in a slurred tone. She wasn't intimidated by her of course. But especially now there were other spirits hovering around who heard the loud compliment. 

"I have to fly now. Perhaps I will gather news of your wooden leafy maids at the humanly earth and I can deliver messages," offered Skaya.

Cedar was confused. She didn't know anyone much so far away than her tree roots extended. "Ah, I know no one. You are so lucky you get to see the world the humanly one. How I wish I could, " she fumbled. 

"Well we did see a little bit of it and it had our inner energies gushing out That black blazing chariot I often dream Apollo riding upon, "admitted Cedar.

"Oh you mean cars," Skaya looked playful. "There are handsome mortals who ride it and I get to seep in through their lovely quiffs."

Other spirits were listening intently though they made no attempts to join the conversation with Skaya talking mostly but only to Cedar. But the others were listening. The news of the humanly world was beyond imagination the most excitable.

Pearline made an attempt to end the conversation as she was sure Skaya would continually ignore her no matter what the situation. "Mayhaps you should go to your worthy duties now and we have to leave too. The sun is setting."

The final bell for the day rang and they had to go to their respective houses. They were little grown up spirits that would one day be fully independent of the tiresome lessons of the academy and their jobs were to be themselves. Grow beautiful and look out for each other. Therefore why the need of an academy if the only task was to grow up. Often many lacked the very spirit of livelihood. The team work.

Cedar went in her bark and snuggled in. She felt her energy replenish. She grew along with her tree.

Something ran on her roots that made her wake up with a startle.

"Hey Cedar," it was a faint whisper. It was completely dark and the sky remained studded with thousands of those celestial bodies. Her favourite one being Cassiopeia constellation and would she ever be honoured as to have her place in the skies. Her wooden eyes weren't exactly keen at seeing in the dark. "Who is there?"

"It's me Myrtle right here," she sounded annoyed.

"Ok so why did you call me?"

"I heard Skaya. She loves you a lot," chided the other tree spirit. He voice sounded curt.

"I think she is a good wind spirit if no one intimidates her, " supposed the other.

"Well, the problem is she is the problem. Too much attitude in her. The other day Hazel and she got in a tussle and then Skaya got very violent that she nearly shook her roots out of the ground," she informed. "A scary sight it was. If it had not been for Mrs. Terra Hazel would be treeless by now and would have perished." She accounted.

"Oh," was all that escaped from her throat. No one had informed her that.

And something washed upon her. Pearline!

"Mind if I join?" Pearline grinned. She had left a trial of water behind her. 

"Oh Pearly we were just talking..." continued Cedar.

"About Skaya? Yes, she is indeed a boastful one that one. Must keep in mind to avoid her as much as possible," Pearline noted. 

"She has her head full of air," said a tiny voice. It was Chisel and the forthright mockery from this tiny dryad made the rest giggle.

And while they mocked of Skaya little did they know her windly spirit was floating around.

"Oh my, it's quiet a little party here. I am sorry for breaking this meeting. I hate you all," broke in Skaya who sounded not less than Zeus thunderbolt booming above them. She was indeed a fierce character perhaps just because she imposed onto others.
Silence lasted maybe for a split of a second and before Cedar could settle this uncomely overture Skaya bellowed and out came all of her Amenoi powers. A really hard tug of the wind and the trees were nearly upto its uprooting! 

Tiny Chisel was blown away and there gathered other spirits who were terrified to their most. Pearline made a splashy grab for Chisel which she missed and therefore in her fit of anger sprang towards the forces of wind. It made a terrible little storm, there was wind and rain not less than any hurricane and the combined force started sucking in everything in its path. Before Mrs. Terra appeared along with the God Pan, that satyr and immediately chanted something that stopped the hurricane abruptly sending in gashes of water and wind everywhere. Then the  spirits were just merely girls. Normal girls devoid of powers or any connections to the earth.

The satyr fumed. "What is the meaning of all these?"
Skaya was on the ground unlike her usual self floating everywhere and Pearline was next to her. Both of them were caked in mud.
His question went unanswered.
He sighed.
"I knew you spirits have a lot to learn but this leaves me completely disappointed in myself, in Woods Academy and mostly in all of you."
Skaya was near to tears. "They spoke of me behind my back."
"But have you yourself been nice enough to have not been spoken behind?" asked Pan.
Her eyes lowered and she felt water brimming in her eyes and it flowed. "I am not supposed to give out water from my eyes." She sobbed.

Pan came closer, his hooves clicking onto the ground. "Listen little spirit. You are powerful alone, but together you are all wonderful. Look at how mighty a hurricane you created with your friend Pearline. But ones powers musn't be misused. Think how wonderful it would be if you could carry your friend and then let it rain over the trees. It would flourish. Likewise with the trees flourishing it will always keep you clean and beautiful. We are all interconnected and this power has been bestowed to you for good."

Pearline and Skaya looked at each other and smiled. 'I am sorry," said them together. And hugged. Skaya stood up and faced all of the others and said, "I am sorry for how arrogant I have been so far. I  must make it up to all of you but it will take time. I hope you all will come to forgive me eventually."
Cedar came and hugged her. "You are forgiven."

Afterwards they all settled down and learnt the spirit of teamwork at the very Woods Academy and if they worked hard enough some of them would get to go to CAMP HALF BLOOD with Percy Jackson!
And with that the story ends. 

Blah blah blah.

                                                                pE@ce-dr.Diksha

The Fall-and What I learnt from it.

Nearly a decade ago my mother bought me a pair of roller skates. It was beautiful, big and black. I was thrilled because no other friends of mine owned a pair of big black skates. 
We had our residence at Drugyel, Paro where my family would go and stay during summer and winter breaks.
Drugyel is a serene landscape and the historic ruined Dzong stands tall proudly displaying its burns as if saying, "You need to burn in order to shine". 
My sister and my cousin went to the road where there would be no vehicles at all for many days. As I have shown in the picture with no people around, it was the opposite. The sight of this strange shoes with wheels caught the likes of people my age, the nearby shopkeepers, my fathers co-workers and the equestrian workers and so the horses too (there is a large horse stable next to the road).

It wasn't my intention to show off my skills because then I had only mastered an unstable balance. 
But with this strange big shiny shoes with wheels I felt so proud and suddenly I was overwhelmed with the idea of showing these people of little town the thrills of a city girl(we lived in Thimphu).
So I stood on my wheels and hadn't even propelled myself that I completely lost my sense of propioception and then my right leg slid forward and before I could control my back jerked backwards and I slid 2 metres in front and my bottom hit the ground hard. 

Everybody around me laughed and my sisters especially mocked me. 
I stood begrudgingly only to fall again. So I sat on my buttocks in the middle of the road, the horse stink was stronger than ever and it irritated my sense of nociception. I hated the horse then. I even hated my sisters and unbuckled my shoes with wheels and went back to our home whereupon I sat on the roof and had a good deal of mind storming.
I don't remember crying though. Only I remember me flushing over and over and then I promised myself that I would practice it. So I went and practiced all alone. I didn't need anyone. I just needed my motivation and my passion to get it done.

After this episode every thing that I have encountered and wanted to do, I do it with passion. To improve oneself requires time and endurance. Perseverance. 

I thank the day I fell on my buttocks because of which I have learnt never to give up if you fall but to stand up again and start it all over, over and over and over.

YOU NEED TO BURN IN ORDER TO SHINE.

                                        pE@c3-dr. Diksha.

The huge difference a shade can make.

I set out to draw Megan Fox with pastel colours. After I completed the work it kind of did look like her with the delightful mane and light blue eyes plus the pouting lips. Till I got really ambitious and then shaded those lighter parts and modified it.
Now it doesn't look like it. 
Check it out.
BEFORE:





















AFTER:--- Can you notice the subtle difference?

I got me another header.

I got this header from deviantart. I copy pasted it from someones account because it was so frigging awesome. I haven't informed the person yet. Could be sued for plegiarism but the quote I chose.

I would still plant my apple tree.

My previous header.


                                         pE@c3-dr.Diksha.

He said, she said.

He said= I don't feel that way anymore.

She said= Please I will try my best. What is wrong?

He said= I don't know... I just don't want to see you anymore.

She said= Is it the way I look? Or or do I need to be cooler?

He said= I want some quality time with you but you are just so busy all the time.

She said= I need space of my own but I promise I will make time for you. We can go to places and eat all we want we can jape at ourselves and of others. Yes yes I will do that for you.

He said= I am sorry. You have said that a hundred times before and you are deteriorating. I think best we be if I give you as much space as you want. I will leave.

She said= Don't go.

He said= Don't try.

                                                    He said=

                                              

                                        She said=

And that is what I define as "It's complicated".
                                           pE@c3-dr. Diksha.

History Taking as of now.

Seventh sem medical student. Half way there, halfway not there. Put it this way in the middle of no where. 

History taking. Ask their chief complaints, jot it down. Then elaborate their problems in writing. 
Patient says, "Doctor you know I have pain here and here and there and there's some lump around there. What should I eat?"

While in my mind thousands of things run but I can muster nothing to tell them. I am perplexed. I try placing in my mind if it is paining there what all diseases could  be causing it. Then as quickly as I am silent I look at the patient and say things few things. And if nothing comes its best you resort to "eat green vegetables" and then carry on with the examination process and get the chief doctor to present your history.