I quite enjoy my hand-to-mouth existence in UK.I do locum work for a few days and I can survive in UK for 3 months.Survival does include weekend partying, west end shows, and weekend trips across England every month and I believe I was doing just fine.

Just then the hospital I work with generally decides I have been sitting on my big bottoms long enough and that may be just may be I should earn enough to feed a meal to whole of Somalia.I am not complaining.

Don’t quite enjoy early morning awakenings.I do however enjoy morning coffee, the sun rise, browsing crisp early morning newspaper and uncrowded public transport.I also have an obsession about being on time.

My team members consisted of 2 seniors, both women and one colleague.About senior women,I personally think there are only 2 kinds, bitches* or mothers.Women I do believe make tough superiors especially if you are a woman,prettier than them in their days or your career is fast tracked beyond their own comprehension.

The mothering kinds are just nice.Not really my ideal in my field of work.However my most superior boss is neither.She is a medical consultant, just like they should be.However she comes with a great sense of humor and need for constant breaks during serious work, necessities I relate to.Over one really nice lunch she confesses her IQ pre-medical school was 78.The interpretation read, “Not very bright, should consider becoming a doctor”.So there she was.

The boss just superior to us, has just returned from Australia,is stressed about her dress size as her sister’s wedding is not even a month away and way too bogged down with research.How she manages to stay on top of all that is going on in the 4 wards with 35 odds patient in each, is still a mystery to me.

And then comes KP.A coconut* like British born Indians are called here.He comes with a very posh English accent,great interest in details of apparels and apperance and very loud voice.He himself,looks like a princess with all the grooming that seems to go into his hair spikes and matching cuff-links.I have to admit I kind of like men who pay attention to details.So vain!

It did take me a day to warm upto him.I can deal with my vanity, but he stretched it a bit too far for my liking.Gossip,extended coffee breaks,loud talking and laughing and chatting with every body possible was just not amusing.

I did get thinking may be just may be,I have forgotten what it is to have fun,to chill out, to be light hearted, to take things easy.May be I am just a stuck up ol’ granny…May be!

I was a little worried about working after almost 3 months.Warming up doesn’t really take time.Its like being a carpenter.Once you have the skill all you need is practice.2 days of hard work later, enough faith was earned to be allowed to do a fairly tricky,convoluted procedure *trying very hard not to show off*(It was quite a moment for me..and for those of you who know I put in a chest drain for a pneumothorax).Even earned brownie points for speed,sharpness and slickness.Couldn’t match up to KP and thats really when he earned my respect.

Next 2 days were spent in competing on everything.Constant quizzing, getting around difficult patients, clearing backlogs of administration work and just trying to beat the other at being the best at everything a doctor possibly does in a hospital was attempted and much fun was had in the process.

Buying lunch for the birthday boy, send-off chocolate cake,a box of chocolates given by a patient {strictly to be shared by all, },phone number exchanges, possibly new friendships made.Was a lovely week.

Faith entrusted by strangers, a job well done, an old friend’s writing recognised in patient notes,people battling to live a normal life, actually battling to just stay alive,invaluable life lessons learnt, a word of appreciation.

Some things make losing a few hours of sleep each night so much more worth it!

*No offense meant to women superiors or British born Indians

A friend has been seeking some girl gyan from me.I hate to say this,(No actually I don’t, I enjoy being right) but the girl he ‘loves’ has been using him.I wanted to tell him that; the first time he told me about her.Instead I asked him to ask her out and see how she responds to it.After a paid holiday,Swarovski crystal exchange,dinners cooked,luggage carried and all donkey work that men can resort to,for whole 10 months,he finally asks her out.She is obviously very flattered by his attention and disdained him saying she never thought of him that way, and now my friend is a miserable wreck.I have asked him to see this as an investment gone bad and move on.No,not even tubs of ice cream are helping him.Bah!

So another ‘friend’ announces his wedding.He is marrying his childhood sweetheart.For the last two years he has made wild guesses as to what my affection for him really means,much to my annoyance.Even made regular calls from India..yeah those wake up calls during my exams.Why?

An acquaintance,(I cannot bear to call him my friend.We have never got along.However he was the first and only person out of all the gazzillion so called friends of mine,who wrote me an email asking me if I was ok and untouched after the London bomb blasts.I was touched,and hence have decided to talk once every six months.) went out on a date yesterday.He gave me detailed descriptions of locations,activities,food eaten,alcohol consumed, movie watched, clothes/perfume worn and all the promises of another date.There was not one thing that I thought should be really important that he detailed.Made me think,may be I do expect a lot from men these days.

I have been chatting with some one for almost a year.I think we share a good rapport.I even visit his blog regularly.Doing ok there too methinks.So I mention to him that on my next visit to India I would like to meet him.He cringes so bad, that I could feel the recoil on my screen.I think it hasn’t struck him yet that there is a real person responsible for the exchange of kilobytes on Google and Yahoo.

Only a few weeks to go for his wedding a ‘friend’ decides its confession time.I’ve known him for more than 15 years now, and there is nothing under the sun I don’t know about him.Or so I thought.What he told me, first got me laughing,then amused, angry and now I wished he hadn’t told me.I don’t enjoy losing a bit of my innocence on Sundays.

I am not going to get into the emails I recieved today.I am so out of words now.

Yeah I’ve had a busy Sunday.If you thougth women were tough to understand try your hands at understanding men.

Sitting by my window
I stare at the world outside.
Why do I feel trapped within
When there is a whole new life to acquire.

What am I so afraid of
Why do I not let go.
There will be another waiting
I must reach out without further ado.

I fight a lost battle
What am I to win.
If only I see the truth
Will I find peace within.

I met Billy almost one and a half years ago in a hospital in the midlands. I was in the library at a very unearthly hour and I just presumed I was alone.I was working on my CV and giving me company were songs by a Pakistani band Junoon.Together we were defying all the rules of being in a library.

After about an hour of my bliss Billy came around and tapped my shoulder.I was taken aback,I said.”Oh sorry I didn’t know I had company.”,”You mean unnecessary company, you seem to be well taken care of.”.I couldn’t help but smile a guilty smile.That introduction laid the foundation of the best ever few weeks that I spent in that hospital.

Billy is a very anglicized name of a very non anglicized person.We hit it off well.Talking for hours,watching movies,heated discussions over politics religion and cricket became the thing to do.We both share a similar passion for our work.He has a personality, anyone can warm upto. I think its really his warm enchanting smile that gets his patients better.Jokes apart, he is a doctor I will trust my life with.We shared a fantastic working rapport.We both had rather dramatic struggle stories, warped love lives and similar issues with the world. He was quite amused at how much I was into Pakistani music and introduced me to another Pakistani band Strings.However,I think he came to repent that gesture soon after.

All was good between us except me listening to these new songs on loop.He would often complain that I was driving him mad with my new found obsession.He said the only thing he liked about the music was when it ended.He didn’t mind me singing along cause I didn’t sound anything like them anyway. After having introduced me to them,his irritation would amuse me.

The last weekend that I was there, our entire team went for a long drive around the country side.I had my first ever real good fish and chips in England.It was awesome. Like all things,this too came to an end.Inspite of exchanging phone numbers and email addresses,we never kept in touch.It bothered me, but I guess some things are best left alone.

Early this January, I was working continous nights for a week,in London.Sheer luck the registrar on call was Billy.We were both shocked to see each other.Different city, different hospital who would have thought.I was so happy.It is always good to work with people you know and have a good work understanding.There was so much catching up to do, but work didn’t permit much.

On one of our forced extended coffee breaks one of the nights, we chatted and he wondered if I still had the same ‘lousy’ taste in music.He told all the nurses, how being Indian I like Pakistani bands and what a horrid voice I have.I had to rattle the lyrics of my then favourite song, by the same band that he had introduced me to.Just to make a point.He had that expression, you know when a second year medical student can tell you 10 causes for heart failure.I could tell he was impressd. Trying to impress Philipino nurses with it was a more difficult task.

He called me last week to announce his wedding.He is off to Pakistan to bring back a beautiful wife for himself,and promises of lots of good music from his country for me.

Never once in my life had I imagined that I would make a friend from across the border,or that I would hit it off so well with them, or that they could ever affect me in anyway.

In a few months I will be out of here.I might never see him again.However, I hope no matter what, there will always be strings that bind us.

A stir is caused some days ago.It had several people wanting to carry the red flag and do.. blah blah.Then Jessica Lal’s case is thrown at our faces.Rudely reminding us of where we live,where we have learnt to live.What we can do, cannot do.The word ’system’ rings in our ears.Our helplessness becomes the blaring reality.

It was after second year at medical school I think.Indian Airlines flight from Kathmandu to Delhi was hijacked.Exactly a week after I had taken the exact same flight with several of my classmates.If anything life became difficult after that.

Indians from then on needed passports to cross border.Prior to that even ration cards, or voters ID would do.My application for renewal was stashed away in the nearest police station from home for police verification.When the police didnt find me at home in Mumbai, they kept my application.Actually no they just sat on it, and warmed it till one could fry an egg over it.

When such a need arose, I decided to do some thing about my passport’s renewal.My big project for that holiday was to get my application processed, police verification made,and passport renewed.So much for education these days.Ah well!

My first call was at the passport office.I got to know within minutes that my application was stalled at the police station and that,that should be my first starting pointing of follow up.

So I went to the police station.I was thrilled,I was finally going to see a real police station.The enthusiasm soon ran out.Not only the visitors looked daunting but also the inhabitants.To say the least, I never wanted to go back.The place wasn’t clean,the cob webs from god knows when,the stench.I did wonder what productive work could come out of such working environments.

After asking my way around,I finally met this junior officer who was responsible for applications such as mine.I introduced myslef, explained my version of the application story, and said I was there to follow it up.I was asked to bring a written application,stating the exact same facts.I did wonder if English would be the right medium for my letter,considering the officer only spoke to me in Marathi,inspite of telling him,that I didn’t speak any.

I was back the next day, letter in hand, hopeful,I will get some answers that day.I was asked to submit my application and follow it up in a few weeks time.I had to explain that I didnt have a few weeks time, as in 3 weeks I had to go back to college.That man heard nothing of it.When I refused to budge he asked me to come back that following weekend.I went back, and I kept going back.Some excuse or the other.Either it was the application, or officer, or my timing, or even my tone of speaking .I was constantly being asked to come back.

I only have so much patience.And I lost it.I gave that man a piece of my mind.That session didn’t go well.I told him he was taking unjustified advantage of my propriety.My respect for him was waning away.He wasn’t doing his job.And that I would have to take him up to the authorities.He just sat there smiling or was it smirking .I did get summoned to speak to his superior.

By this time, my parents were getting concerned.They had no clue why I was asked to meet the superior.My father decided it was time I learnt a few life’s lessons.My mother was less philosophical and emotional about it.She considered introducing the possibility of a bribe,but I think she thought better of it.She must have been torn between all the right things they have always taught me and what was was the only thing to be done in my situation.

Honestly,bribing that man hadn’t occured to me.I had never been in such a situation.What was I to say to him?Was I supposed to dishonour a man in uniform?

Well my mother decided she should take things in her hands and accompanied me to meet the senior officer.We also took along some family friend who had aparently worked as an inspector there in his good old days.He was more scared than I was.We reached on time.That higher ranked officer wasn’t on his chair at the given time.That is one thing I can’t stand.Disrespect for another person’s time.My mother constantly tried calming me, as she knew even this man was in for a hearing.I was really past caring at this point.I had been to the police station at least 50 times in those 2 weeks.My holiday was nearing an end.I had not done one fun thing,and all that junior officer could say to me was, he looked for my application but he couldn’t find it.

I had even visited the Criminal Records office which would have been the final destination of my application.A lady officer, assured me that once that application got to them, all they needed was 3 working days, and my application would be processed.I was losing my faith in any of the uniformed officers.She did have a calming effect on my nerves though.

Well that senior finaly came.He asked me why was I frequenting the police station at that frequency.What had transpired between me and his junior, and why did I feel the need to complain.For the first time in all those days,I felt some one was on my side.I poured my heart out to him.All he came up with, it is a matter of ‘co-operation madam’.The hint wasn’t subtle.I was furious,and stormed out.My mum didn’t say anything.I think seeing the equation there, she decided not to antagonise me further.

I then decided, fine he wants a bribe, he asks for it.He puts himself down, dishonours himself.I will not encourage it.Ha! the ’system’ try breaking my resolve.My next step was to call my Dean and explain to him what my situation was and why I would get late.For my luck he was giving all the Indians an extra week to get our passports sorted, and if it didn’t work, he had thought of some other ways to get us to Nepal.Well he is the man!!!

My saga continued.I would go there, he would tell me he looked for my application but couldn’t find it.Sadism was taking over.I was begining to enjoy his sad face.Thinking all you want is a few rupees.Beg….

That pleasure didn’t last long.I only had 5/6 days more to do whatever I could.So I called an old school friend’s father.I remembered he had been in the police department.I hadn’t dialed that number in atleast 6/7 years.I didn’t even know what I was going to say to him.I hesitantly introduced myself to him, told him I needed advice as I was in a police situation and explained to him what it was.He took down my name, passport number and the name of the officer handling my case.He asked me to go back to the police station the next day and report to him whether that man manages to find my application or not.

I wasn’t sure, but when I went back the next day, miraculously my application was the first one on the file lying right on his table.Believe it or not,I had gone through 20 odd files, rummaged 3 metal cupboards with that officer to find my application but with no luck.

I was thrilled.Happy.I even thanked the officer for working so hard on my application.I was given a number with which I could track it with the criminal records office.I didn’t need to.My application was processed in those 3 working days that, that lady had promised.

I still remember, Friday afternoon I was at the passport office.Made my request with the officer there explaining the urgency of my requirement. Saturday I had my renewed passport at no extra costs.Yeah miracles do happen, even in Indian goverment offices.

It was a post called Chillar makes cost effective grease on Mindless musings of an unmindful mind, dated February 03, 2006 that reminded me of this incident.Today when I sit back and reminisce, I don’t feel a great degree of joy.If not a bribe, authority made him do his job.In the true sense I didn’t really beat the system.

I know I learnt a few of life’s lessons that holiday.Just that I am still trying to decipher what.

ps:some one tell me how to make backlinks options work.
And Obiwan..this is for you especially..yes my last line is borrowed..but I mean every word of it.