I AM A CHILD, ONCE AGAIN..

I am sitting in the Surgery ICU, posted here as a part of my internship rotation. I have a lot of work to do but my work arrives in intervals. So, I am free for 5 minutes and then again, I get called by a nurse or a resident doctor for some work for 10 minutes. The cycle keeps repeating although irregularly.

In the 5 minutes that I am free, I read a page or two of a book that I am carrying. So, its Ruskin Bond some days and Paulo Coelho on other days. And for those 5 minutes, Ruskin Bond takes me to the pristine forests of Himalayas and Paulo Coelho takes me on a walk in one of the lesser known streets of Rio. I came back again to Surgery ICU, Shree Krishna Hospital, Karamsad, Anand, Gujarat, India in a matter of nanoseconds as soon as my ears hear the words, “Intern Bhai!”. Sorry, Mr. Einstein, you were wrong. My Mind travels faster than the light!

I am disturbed once again as I get a news notification on my mobile (I always keep the news notification ON, you know, so that I can be the first one to write a status update on that!!) But this time the news notification brings to me some unexpected joie de vivre; a sense of déjà vu- the familiarity of what was once a habit, now a nostalgic memory, coming alive!! Yes, against all odds, Rafael Nadal has won the semifinals against Grigor Dimitrov in an exciting 5 setter. I could not watch a single serve, a single forehand and yet in my mind I know how Rafael must have played- the benefits of having followed his game for more than a decade now. I ve cuttings from the newspaper when Nadal won his 7^th French Open title and have pinned it in my hostel room. “NADAL IN 7^TH HEAVEN”, reads the headlines of TIMES SPORTS page 14, 12^th June 2012. It was an iconic victory which confirmed the status of Rafael Nadal as the conqueror of Clay as he overtook Bjorn Borg’s record of 6 French Open titles.  

When it came to sports, I have always supported the second best, because best was always considered divine. You cannot support or follow a divinity, you can just worship him. And so as much as I loved watching Roger Federer play that majestic single handed backhand, or Sachin Tendulkar score that booming straight drive to Glenn McGrath, I some how found it hard to make them heroes. They were legends already even before I had started to watch the respective sports. So, it was in late 2003 when I started to follow cricket with passion and it was also the time when India discovered its 2^nd best batsman- Rahul Dravid, a man I have come to admire, love and follow through all these years, because he was a man, a human, a mere mortal, flawed and not divine.

It was a similar experience of watching a young, handsome, long haired guy wearing a sleeveless shirt and sending down grunting forehands against the divine Roger Federer which made me a Rafael Nadal fan.

But on Sunday as I will sit to watch Roger Federer vs Rafael Nadal in the Australian Open finals (they are playing in a grandslam final after 6 or 7 years gap!), I am not really sure who is the 2^nd best and that’s why I am at odds to select a player I have to root for. Both are coming after injuries and bad form. Both were written off by the Sanjay Manjarekars and Geoffrey Boycotts of Tennis world. But they are back, just like Yuvraj Singh and MS Dhoni did last week versus England when they turned the clocks back and produced a special.

When Rafael and Roger play on Sunday, I am sure they will be dishing us a special too, each moment will be savored by the tennis loving fans irrespective of whoever wins because the biggest prize will not go to the players but to the audience.

Well, can there be a bigger prize than getting ourselves 10 years younger? Science has faltered to deceive when it comes to reversing age, but sports still has that beauty and that is why we watch sports and read Ruskin Bond’s books, we become a child again; a child bubbling with enthusiasm, fervor and hope- things that can sometimes get defeated as we grow up.

Let us for once, not turn the match into Rafa vs Roger, for that would be disrespecting the legends who made our growing up days beautiful. 
Irrespective of the result, I just hope they play a long match. Because longer they play, longer I will be a child on Sunday. 

Thank You, Roger Federer!

Thank You, Rafael Nadal! 

THANK YOU, 2017!

-      Devashish Palkar

JUST ANOTHER NOBODY

"JUST ANOTHER NOBODY!"
AN OPEN LETTER TO
Respected BSF Jawan Tez Bahadur Yadav,

Good morning, sir..
I am sure you must be experiencing mixed emotions this morning. You must be wondering how a simple video appeal where you are seen highlighting the dark secrets of the Indian army, especially the poor quality of food the jawans have to endure during their duty in some of the most inhuman weather conditions.
I salute the determination with which you guys still work under such extreme conditions. But I pity your condition. I almost ridicule it. Because I am a hypocrite. I am an Indian. I am an Indian hypocrite. (That's a deadly combination. )

Today, in this 21st century while we are madly following the standards and infrastructure established in the west, one thing which we should have followed but are dearly missing is the openness to receive criticism- and I am not talking about the Kejriwalian idea of criticism where Modi is responsible for everything right from corruption to constipation! May be it is here where our flaws lie- in differentiating between a true critic and a cry baby!!

But, a critic is often misunderstood for a cry baby by men in higher authority and so you will either be expelled from the army by some men in power too blind to appreciate their flaws or you will be totally disregarded and labelled a lunatic.

We are a nation of hypocrites. We are inert. We are corrupt becaue we are vulnerable. We are vulnerable because we are corrupt.

Here is what I predict will happen to you-
1. You will get a severe bashing from your seniors.
2. You will be labelled a lunatic.
3. You will be transferred to a place where there is no internet coverage and your voice will be subdued.
4. At best there will be a 'surprise' (pre planned) inspection and the authorities will make sure that at the time of inspection everything is in place and in perfect order.
5. You will be alienated by some of your own men who wouldn't want to associate themselves because their job security matters to them and that is justified too.
6. You will be made an example of and the authorities will make sure that nobody will become another Tez Bahadur.
7. The viral video will be forgotten over the course of next few weeks or will be taken down or you will be forced to take it down citing that your video could potentially be a risk to India's security. And you will once again become just another nobody.

But to me you matter. You matter to not just India but to humanity.
Becaue you are an unreasonable man.
As George Bernard Shaw said,

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

Here's ending it with an optimism that your step will help improve things over the course of a longer run.
I know it is a very utopian wish but nothing ever moves until it is pushed. You have given it a push. You have done your bit. Be proud.

 "The world suffers a lot. Not because the violence of bad people. But because of the silence of the good people."
-Napoléon Bonaparte

~Devashish Palkar,
"Just another nobody" (with some personal experience of how things work!!)
#IndianArmy

REDEFINING SUCCESS

As I begin to write this, the question that is being asked is whether Aamir Khan's Dangal will break PK's box office record or not? Around the same time 2 years back the question that was being asked was whether PK will eventually break the box office record of Dhoom 3? 

A year before that the question was whether Dhoom 3 will break PK's record? 

Do you notice the pattern between these questions? Yes, Aamir Khan playing the lead role is a definite no brainer! But the important thing to notice is that each of Aamir Khan's new movie gets compared with his own previous movie. I repeat. 

His own previous movie! 

By the time you actually read this article, Dangal might have actually broken PK's record!

With Dangal, Aamir has not only established himself as one of the most reliable actors of this industry but has actually redefined how we measure success or rather how we compare success. 

With his new movie, I feel Aamir Khan has reached the pinnacle of his acting career. 

It won't surprise me if I cut and paste the same line for Aamir Khan the next year and the next... 

It is a bit like Virat Kohli who has become such a great cricketer and his records are so mind numbing that we are forced to compare Virat Kohli with only Virat Kohli just like we used to compare Mahendra Singh Dhoni as a finisher with Mahendra Singh Dhoni, the finisher we know through his records over time. 

For any professional performer, the highest point of his career is achieved when he starts becoming a 'misaal', a rallying point about the highest achievement in his field. The only competition a professional then has is with himself.  It is at once the most gratifying and yet a very vulnerable prospect to be in. You are expected to deliver every time you make the next move. Some players like Sachin Tendulkar and Virat Kohli and some film stars like Aamir Khan excel when they are put in such a position. 

However this might not always happen. We all know the story of a 17 year old kid who slammed a 37 ball hundred in 1996 tried replicating it in each of his next innings. (He played 400 ODIs by the way) But he could never again emulate the same amount of success that he did when he first batted. We know this kid by the name Shahid Afridi and he too is a 'misal', a rallying point when it comes to talking about 'inconsistency'. 

Perhaps it is a natural human tendency to expect more, "Yeh Dil always Mange More!" The burden of expectations is what separate a successful professional and excellent professional. With the work which Aamir Khan and Virat Kohli are producing right now in their respective careers, it appears that they are not chasing success but rather in pursuit of Excellence, as one of Aamir's famous character, Phunsuk Wangdu says in 3 Idiots. 

And perhaps the dream and goal of every individual and every Institute is to reach a level where comparison with the contemporaries ceases to exist but the comparison becomes one with their previous work. 

In trying to beat their own records, these individuals have widened the horizon of human excellence and as we know the beauty of Horizon is that a new one appears every time we go past the existing one. 

I leave you here with a question - What should be our goal to become successful to stay successful? 

Can our each next step be better than the previous one? Can our each new day be more productive than the previous one? Can each new moment of your life be more valuable than your previous one? 

Can our each new Year be better that the last? 

If we actually make this possible then I believe we shall have lived the most productive versions of our life. 

As Robin Sharma wrote in one of his books, "At the end of my life I don't want to be like a glittering lamp which gets extinguished with the oil still inside. I want to be like a flame, burning the brightest till its alive and leaving behind no unsued oil." 

I write this to you at a time when I know many of the new year resolutions thay we took a week back have vanished. 

But starting today, we still have more than 350 days to make this year the best year of our life yet. 

With all sincerity I pray to the universe to make us all monomaniacally focused 

on making 2017 our best year yet. 

Let us approach every decision that we make in this new year with the timing and confidence of Virat Kohli and the perfection of Aamir Khan.

Happy 2017.

~ Devashish Palkar 

“SUN LIGHT!”

“SUN LIGHT!”

In 1925, when Andrew and his mother came to Calcutta (it was not Kolkata then!), he was only a boy of 5. When they arrived at the Howrah Junction railway station, one of the oldest and largest stations in British India, Andrew’s maternal grandfather, Mr. Watson, who served in the East India company was in attendance to see the sight of his grandson for the first time. Mr. Watson was apprehensive of how his grandson would react when he meets him for the first time. However, amidst the raucous voices of hawkers and hagglers, Mr. Watson was pleasantly taken aback when he heard little Andrew rushing towards him shouting, “Grand Paa!” Yes, the little boy had recognized him from the portraits he had been shown by his mother back home in Manchester.

Andrew’s father, Mr. Samuels, who was originally from the Scottish descent, served as a commander in the British army. However, as had happened with many European families during that time, the World War-I had left Andrew’s mother a widow. With nobody to fall back on, Andrew’s mother, Mrs. Scarlett had decided on the advice of her father, Mr. Watson to take Andrew with her and come to Calcutta where he served in the East India Company. It had been a long travel. They arrived by ship to Bombay and from Bombay it took them another 3 days to reach Calcutta by train.

A few days after arriving in Calcutta, little Andrew took ill and despite trying all the limited medicines available in those days, his condition kept on deteriorating. An Indian fakir suggested them to take Andrew to higher altitude, to a hill station with clean air which would help Andrew recover from the infectious bug he had caught while playing on the filthy streets of Calcutta.

Scarlett was a broken woman. She had recently lost her husband in a war and now she was scared if she would lose Andrew too. She was ready to even climb the Mt. Everest if that would save her son from what was appearing to be an incurable illness.

Sensing no other alternative, Mr. Watson permitted his daughter Scarlett to take Andrew to Darjeeling, a pristine hill station 600 km to the North of Calcutta where he had a few friends who would take care of them.

Mrs. Scarlett could not have found a better place than Mr. Holding’s wood house on the top of a little hill which presented the most alluring view of the valleys and the mountains. Mr. and Mrs. Holding who ran a small English medium missionary school in Darjeeling were good friends with Mr. Watson before they left Calcutta and arrived in Darjeeling 10 years back. When they came to know that Scarlett and her son were coming to their place, they were more than happy to treat them as a part of their family. Mr. and Mrs. Holding had no children of their own and when Scarlett arrived, they started treating her as their own daughter and Andrew, as their grandson.  

It was almost miraculous that Andrew began recovering slowly, his fever started receding and soon he was up on his feet playing football in the warm winter sunshine in the tea gardens of Darjeeling. Was it the air of Darjeeling or was it the natural course of the disease which helped Andrew recover? Andrew’s mother thought it was the former rather than the latter and she was soon in love with Darjeeling. It was hard not to fall in love with Darjeeling.  She immediately wrote a letter to her father Mr. Watson informing her of improvement in Andrew’s health and told him of her plans to stay back in Darjeeling for some more time. Scarlett, who was a lover of literature would always carry her books wherever she went. It was no different in Darjeeling. Every morning, she would read Andrew a story as they would snugly sip hot tea sitting on the steps by the verandah with sun kissing their cold feet and the giant Kanchenjunga offering a golden smile in the distant foreground.

As days passed into weeks and weeks passed into months, many new books arrived and Scarlett took up the job of English teacher in the school run by Holdings. With an excellent teacher like Scarlett at the job, many parents who were earlier skeptical, started sending their wards to the school in Darjeeling from as far as Calcutta. Far away from the hustling bustling British Indian city of Calcutta, the little hill station of Darjeeling was the closest British families living in Calcutta could provide their kids of the European weather- clean air and cold climate.

Scarlett and Andrew took to Darjeeling like fish to water and it was only later that they realized Darjeeling was going to be their home for the rest of their lives. As years rolled on, Andrew went to Kolkata and got his masters in literature from University of Calcutta and began writing short stories for some reputed magazines in India. In the years that followed, India gained independence from British rule, many families left the Indian shores and also took away the students from the school. Holdings too decided it was time to shut the school and leave for England but Scarlett had different ideas. She had nothing to go back to England and decided that she would take over from Holdings and continue to run the school. Andrew who had now grown up to be a young man in his 30s had grown passion for writing and tea plantation. With the money that his grandfather, Mr. Watson had left him in his will, he purchased the ownership of a large tea estate in Darjeeling and decided to help the locals in developing the flourishing business by providing employment and modernizing the tea plantation industry. Andrew decided not to marry and dedicated his life for the upliftment of tribal communities living in and around Darjeeling while Scarlett decided to continue with her mission to educate the locals. Her classes were unique. They had no classrooms but only open garden beyond the verandah of their home, no walls but only tall pine trees all around, no blackboards but only Kanchenjunga in front of their eyes. And she would sit in the center with a book in her hand, reading it out loudly to the inquisitive pairs of ears around; Shakespeare one day, Shaw the other and Tolstoy the next, Charles Dickens the next and so on..

It went on like this for many years. Mrs. Scarlett gingerly stepped into old age and with the wisdom of all the years behind her, she grew into a beautiful old lady.

One day, when Andrew was working in the fields and his mother Scarlett was reading stories in her open-air classroom, she suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence and fell to the ground. Afraid, one of the kids called Andrew out from the fields. When Andrew arrived, he saw his mother lying supine with a Charles Dickens book by her side, palms open to the sky and tender sunlight playing on her smiling face. He checked her pulse, her heart had stopped beating. Tears rolled down his cheek.

Tears roll down his cheek once more as he reminisces the scene now lying on his bed in one of the most advanced intensive care units of the country.

It is Christmas of 2010. Andrew had a heart attack 3 days ago, and his condition has since been deteriorating. He had lost orientation for some hours and in a state of dizziness had tried removing the intravenous line following which he has been kept under restraint by tying his hands with bandage to the cold steel rail of his bed.

Since this morning, he has been feeling severely breathless. It is becoming difficult for him to utter even a single word. He squirms on his bed as he realizes his lungs can take no more. The pulse oximeter beeps loudly as his oxygen saturation levels begin to fall. A nurse comes running to his bed with his file. She sees Andrew whispering something through the oxygen mask on his face.

“Some light!”, she hears him say. Frantically, she keeps his file on his bed and rushes to the switchboard to switch the lights on.

The monitor beeps once more.

Supine position, windows closed, an ICU room instead of the open verandah, a bed instead of the comfortable green grass, restrained hands instead of palms open to skies, an oxygen mask on the face instead of a smile, an artificial LED light flickering on his face and his case file instead of Charles Dickens by his side.

Andrew has breathed his last.

“Sun light!”, were his last words.

-         DR. DEVASHISH PALKAR.