Does this error message pop up every now and then on your newly acquired mobile? Here's how you fix it! Take a piece of paper, fold it up and stuff it between your battery and the sim-card holder (if your phone is a nokia 3120 classic or has a similar holder of course) it is not a soft-ware or a firm-ware problem. Just a stupid loose connection which is an accidental legacy nokia has left i think even the e series phones.
I get the feeling this post is going to increase my blog readership!
Friday, July 03, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Floating leaf 3
I have carefully considered my future for the past few days now, and have discussed it with a few well-meaning people. I have had various ideas and advices (if that's a word) flooding in on how I should make a good career change, or study more, or settle down. (and let's not forget those who ask me to find a girl soon!) Everybody is worried for me and my future. The fact that things ahead are so foggy begins to make me week in the knees.
And then, when I think about the HIV patients I serve, and the fact that their perspective of the future have changed since they knew about the disease they carry, and death, which once appeared so far away to them now seems to take precedence in their lives and plans. Their future is filled with horror, oppression, sickness, loneliness and an early death. But as I watch them stand up to these insurmountable odds with determined smiles on their faces, making sure they'll make a difference, I feel small.
No matter where we are, and how things work out, the future has always been and will always be more muddy, murky and futile than the past. But that should not stop us from struggling to live, love and make a difference in this world. All I need to do is take care of myself and walk in His ways one day at a time. God has taken care of my future plans. The least I could do is not be bothered about it.
And then, when I think about the HIV patients I serve, and the fact that their perspective of the future have changed since they knew about the disease they carry, and death, which once appeared so far away to them now seems to take precedence in their lives and plans. Their future is filled with horror, oppression, sickness, loneliness and an early death. But as I watch them stand up to these insurmountable odds with determined smiles on their faces, making sure they'll make a difference, I feel small.
No matter where we are, and how things work out, the future has always been and will always be more muddy, murky and futile than the past. But that should not stop us from struggling to live, love and make a difference in this world. All I need to do is take care of myself and walk in His ways one day at a time. God has taken care of my future plans. The least I could do is not be bothered about it.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Crack for the Soul
Sorry readers, for the late update. I am on vacation now, and am really enjoying myself. Literally in a state of Euphoria. Two whole weeks with absolutely no responsibilities, (except the occasional work-related emails that require quick co-ordination and organization skills) and just watching TV or playing PS2 with my bro has really defragged my brain.
No philosophical thinking and worrying myself, my parents and everybody else around me to death. Usually in Delhi, with the lack of the modern opium of the masses, namely the TV, I tend to think so much that I amaze myself and frustrate my friends.
All my friends decided that I needed to take a break (with good home made food and a nice rest in an air-conditioned room will help me get my thoughts together). But with the proximity of family that includes a super-duper funloving brother and a television set, even if I try as hard as I can, I cannot think the same thoughts I used to think before. It is so weird! I just wonder if it is a good thing or not.
In a weeks time, I'll be back in Delhi. More like back to reality with all its troubles, and my blog will start to look morose again. Until then, I'll try and blog as much as I can.
No philosophical thinking and worrying myself, my parents and everybody else around me to death. Usually in Delhi, with the lack of the modern opium of the masses, namely the TV, I tend to think so much that I amaze myself and frustrate my friends.
All my friends decided that I needed to take a break (with good home made food and a nice rest in an air-conditioned room will help me get my thoughts together). But with the proximity of family that includes a super-duper funloving brother and a television set, even if I try as hard as I can, I cannot think the same thoughts I used to think before. It is so weird! I just wonder if it is a good thing or not.
In a weeks time, I'll be back in Delhi. More like back to reality with all its troubles, and my blog will start to look morose again. Until then, I'll try and blog as much as I can.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
A bitter core
On my way to work, I observed this petite, strikingly attactive figure walking ahead of me at a fairly high speed. She really knew how to dress up, and make heads turn. I was walking a few 30 feet behind her, watching her and the stares from male passerby's. Some men actually stopped what they were doing and escorted her with their eyes from one end of their field of vision till she disappeared into the other.
Looking at her face, with the red Tikka on her forehead signifying that she is married, you'd say that the she must be busy thinking about her POA for another day at work.
If only all these assumptions about her were true.
She was not going to work, as the average guy would have thought. She was going to our clinic to take care of her ailing husband. He is an extremely skinny 6 footer, giving you new insight to the phrase 'skin and bones'. (And that was just an understatement). The first time I saw the couple together, I was so amazed as to how a guy, hideous as he was, could possibly manage to get such a young hottie for a wife.
To make things even more interesting, he doesn't seem grateful at all, instead, he uses her as a punching bag to vent out his frustration. Sick as he is (he cannot walk, as he cannot completely straighten his knees) he still finds the energy to beat her with whatever he can find, and verbally abuse her when she gets out of his reach. One particular night, he actually tried to hit her with a rock he had concealed under his pillow.
Both of them are HIV positive. They also have a strapping 1 year old boy, who needs to be taken care of. Taking care of a child and a childish (and extremely ill) husband could be quite a challenge.
Obviously, she would love to run away from such a nightmare. But how can she? In spite of her looks, she is HIV positive. The stars in a prospective new groom's eyes would dim into disgust the moment he hears about her HIV status. Besides, she knows that her beauty is short lived. She will in a few years fall sick, and may look just as ill and become just as grumpy as her husband, and then who will take care of her? No, not her family, because she ran away from her home to get married to this man, and the only place can get help when she becomes a widow is from her husband's family.
So, she will have to leave her child at home every day to tend and care for this beast of a man, to receive no gratitude, but only more and more hatred.
But every day, she dresses up in her best clothes and accessories, offering visual candy to all the men she passes by, and comes to the clinic to take care for one of the least attractive man she must have seen along the way.
Not because she loves him, but because she doesn't have a choice.
The second glance isn't as pleasing as the first
Looking at her face, with the red Tikka on her forehead signifying that she is married, you'd say that the she must be busy thinking about her POA for another day at work.
If only all these assumptions about her were true.
She was not going to work, as the average guy would have thought. She was going to our clinic to take care of her ailing husband. He is an extremely skinny 6 footer, giving you new insight to the phrase 'skin and bones'. (And that was just an understatement). The first time I saw the couple together, I was so amazed as to how a guy, hideous as he was, could possibly manage to get such a young hottie for a wife.
To make things even more interesting, he doesn't seem grateful at all, instead, he uses her as a punching bag to vent out his frustration. Sick as he is (he cannot walk, as he cannot completely straighten his knees) he still finds the energy to beat her with whatever he can find, and verbally abuse her when she gets out of his reach. One particular night, he actually tried to hit her with a rock he had concealed under his pillow.
Both of them are HIV positive. They also have a strapping 1 year old boy, who needs to be taken care of. Taking care of a child and a childish (and extremely ill) husband could be quite a challenge.
Obviously, she would love to run away from such a nightmare. But how can she? In spite of her looks, she is HIV positive. The stars in a prospective new groom's eyes would dim into disgust the moment he hears about her HIV status. Besides, she knows that her beauty is short lived. She will in a few years fall sick, and may look just as ill and become just as grumpy as her husband, and then who will take care of her? No, not her family, because she ran away from her home to get married to this man, and the only place can get help when she becomes a widow is from her husband's family.
So, she will have to leave her child at home every day to tend and care for this beast of a man, to receive no gratitude, but only more and more hatred.
But every day, she dresses up in her best clothes and accessories, offering visual candy to all the men she passes by, and comes to the clinic to take care for one of the least attractive man she must have seen along the way.
Not because she loves him, but because she doesn't have a choice.
The second glance isn't as pleasing as the first
Monday, March 02, 2009
Painting my room
My once upon a time mess of a room now looks like a porche condo.
I entered my room today to find all my stuff thrown carelessly outside. The room empty, but for a filthy floor, dirty looking walls and a filthier the ol' YWAMer on a ladder with a paintbrush in hand.
He once discussed on painting our flashy green walls with a homely yellow. I couldn't understand why he would want to do that, the green walls didn't look great, but they were ok. He insisted we need to change the colour. I told him I would help him when I had the time, meaning never. He seemed to get the message, and decided to the entire job alone. In order to get the job done faster, I quickly stripped, picked up a paint-brush and started stroking away, grumbling aloud, criticizing him for his bad timing, and lack of thinking ahead. I was at the grills of our windows, while he took charge of the entire walls.
He had already finished the first coating, and was going for the second.
I was still stuck at the first coating.
Painting the grills, I realized was harder than painting the walls. For one, you can be messy with the paint at the walls. All you have to do is stick to the up-down motion. While painting the grills meant you needed to be really careful with the relatively expensive paint. You also have tough corners and crooks to handle, and there are plenty of spots you can miss. I kept painting the windows while he moved quickly across the room. I realized that even while painting, mediocrity is an easy pit-fall.
I ran out of paint, and he had finished all the walls.
We quickly dropped our paint-buckets and started washing the floors, mopping the windows, doors and electric appliances down so the paint won't stick. We then poured water down our room and cleaned up the place. Rearranged the room, and had a shower. I treated us to a good biriyani dinner, and I felt great when we returned back fresh, in good clothes to a fresh looking room.
Many things don't last long, but give lots of joy while they do.
I entered my room today to find all my stuff thrown carelessly outside. The room empty, but for a filthy floor, dirty looking walls and a filthier the ol' YWAMer on a ladder with a paintbrush in hand.
He once discussed on painting our flashy green walls with a homely yellow. I couldn't understand why he would want to do that, the green walls didn't look great, but they were ok. He insisted we need to change the colour. I told him I would help him when I had the time, meaning never. He seemed to get the message, and decided to the entire job alone. In order to get the job done faster, I quickly stripped, picked up a paint-brush and started stroking away, grumbling aloud, criticizing him for his bad timing, and lack of thinking ahead. I was at the grills of our windows, while he took charge of the entire walls.
He had already finished the first coating, and was going for the second.
I was still stuck at the first coating.
Painting the grills, I realized was harder than painting the walls. For one, you can be messy with the paint at the walls. All you have to do is stick to the up-down motion. While painting the grills meant you needed to be really careful with the relatively expensive paint. You also have tough corners and crooks to handle, and there are plenty of spots you can miss. I kept painting the windows while he moved quickly across the room. I realized that even while painting, mediocrity is an easy pit-fall.
I ran out of paint, and he had finished all the walls.
We quickly dropped our paint-buckets and started washing the floors, mopping the windows, doors and electric appliances down so the paint won't stick. We then poured water down our room and cleaned up the place. Rearranged the room, and had a shower. I treated us to a good biriyani dinner, and I felt great when we returned back fresh, in good clothes to a fresh looking room.
Many things don't last long, but give lots of joy while they do.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Bus ride
Well, I haven't posted in a while, so this post is more of a 'for the heck of it' post than anything else. That doesn't mean it removes everything interesting about it.
Today's journey to work was quite exciting. I usually take the RTV, which basically looks like a tin-box on wheels. My colleagues joke about it calling it a pull-back gaadi (because of it's strong resemblance to that spring driven toy that shoots forward when you pull it back). Needless to say, it is quite a congested ride. The vehicle is perpetually full of people, and the conductors main job is to make people stand in a particular way so that the maximum number of people can sit/stand in the bus. You should also consider the fact that the roof is about 5 1/2' feet high. Tall people have to bend over double. The conductor once noticed my neck scarred slightly. I was also wondering how I got flesh-wounds on my neck until I realized that this particular RTV had it's roof peeling off, and the sharp edges gave me my scars! After that experience (and other equally insane ones) all conductors on my route try and find me a place to sit asap!
All the buses that run on this particular route (namely bus number F839A) belong to one owner. So the drivers and conductors of these routes plan their trips so that there is an exact 5 minute gap between one bus and the next at peak hours. A passenger is not supposed to see two F839A at the same time. At this unfortunate instance, the air is filled with the words of purest hatred, courtesy the drivers and conductors (let's call them 'crew') of both buses. If a bus overtakes another on the same route (and this happens at times), the second bus stops the other bus, and baseball bats come out of both drivers seats! Though all drivers and conductors know eachother well and I haven't seen anybody use their weapons till date, there is generally a grand display of anger and violence.
Today, one bus apparently left the stand behind schedule, giving the second bus a chance to overtake and take more passengers than usual. The second bus did overtake, and picked up all the passengers (which included me), leaving the first one running its route absolutely empty. This spelt all kinds of bad things to that crew because the owner will not be pleased with that bus. May be they'll get a salary cut.
Obviously, the crew of that bus knew that. In frantic hurry, they overtook our bus, fishtailed it, got out and hurled abuses at our crew asking them if they had no shame, not giving their fellow-bus driver a second chance. The conductor was abusing, shouting, and flailing his fists at our bus with fear and anger in his teary eyes, while the driver (with a similar countenance) was flailing his baseball bat at our bus. He reminded me of Type A personalities we learnt in school. Our crew initially laughed, and hurled back equally loving words, and later on took a detour so that this bus could collect a few passengers.
(I hope all this made sense)
Today's journey to work was quite exciting. I usually take the RTV, which basically looks like a tin-box on wheels. My colleagues joke about it calling it a pull-back gaadi (because of it's strong resemblance to that spring driven toy that shoots forward when you pull it back). Needless to say, it is quite a congested ride. The vehicle is perpetually full of people, and the conductors main job is to make people stand in a particular way so that the maximum number of people can sit/stand in the bus. You should also consider the fact that the roof is about 5 1/2' feet high. Tall people have to bend over double. The conductor once noticed my neck scarred slightly. I was also wondering how I got flesh-wounds on my neck until I realized that this particular RTV had it's roof peeling off, and the sharp edges gave me my scars! After that experience (and other equally insane ones) all conductors on my route try and find me a place to sit asap!
All the buses that run on this particular route (namely bus number F839A) belong to one owner. So the drivers and conductors of these routes plan their trips so that there is an exact 5 minute gap between one bus and the next at peak hours. A passenger is not supposed to see two F839A at the same time. At this unfortunate instance, the air is filled with the words of purest hatred, courtesy the drivers and conductors (let's call them 'crew') of both buses. If a bus overtakes another on the same route (and this happens at times), the second bus stops the other bus, and baseball bats come out of both drivers seats! Though all drivers and conductors know eachother well and I haven't seen anybody use their weapons till date, there is generally a grand display of anger and violence.
Today, one bus apparently left the stand behind schedule, giving the second bus a chance to overtake and take more passengers than usual. The second bus did overtake, and picked up all the passengers (which included me), leaving the first one running its route absolutely empty. This spelt all kinds of bad things to that crew because the owner will not be pleased with that bus. May be they'll get a salary cut.
Obviously, the crew of that bus knew that. In frantic hurry, they overtook our bus, fishtailed it, got out and hurled abuses at our crew asking them if they had no shame, not giving their fellow-bus driver a second chance. The conductor was abusing, shouting, and flailing his fists at our bus with fear and anger in his teary eyes, while the driver (with a similar countenance) was flailing his baseball bat at our bus. He reminded me of Type A personalities we learnt in school. Our crew initially laughed, and hurled back equally loving words, and later on took a detour so that this bus could collect a few passengers.
(I hope all this made sense)
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Of Destiny and Common Sense
When I got to the clinic today, I found out that two people had died in the ward last night. Gopi (name changed) died of anemia (of all things) because of the strong HIV drugs he was taking. The doctors had stopped that medication and were hoping to get a blood-transfusion from the government hospital soon. (We can't do blood-transfusion at our clinic). Because of all that red-tape, the blood-transfusion couldn't be done on time, and Gopi died.
Rahul (name changed) died a little while later. He was a really sad case. He had tried all sorts of tests to find out what was wrong with him, but nothing seemed to be medically wrong with him. Still, for some reason, he's had continuos fever for a whole year! Finally, AIIMS decided to give him a bone-marrow test (apparently the only test he hadn't taken all this time) a few days ago. Amidst all that hope of finding out what he could actually be suffering from, he died, awaiting the results of that test.
Sundar (name changed), the only staff here who's younger than me, is still in shock. (he's doing his BCom by correspondence and has to study when he goes home) Just a few days ago, his father died because of cancer. He came to office today (after a 2 day break) with a shaved head. He had to take care of the entire funeral himself, and at the same time be a shoulder for everybody in his family (including two sisters and a brother) to cry on. Whose shoulder will he cry on? The only person who used to listen to his problems was his dad, and now...
Listening to those who want me to 'stop doing that stupid HIV work and get a "better job"' because I can do so much better for myself, I feel nauseous.
There are people dying here. Orphans and widows wondering where they're going to get their next meal. Scared that their relatives would disown them and kick them out of their own homes. In places like these, a person does not just leave an emotional hole in his/her family when he/she dies. They also leave their families without money, or worse, with debt. Do I really deserve more than them? When God has given me the grace to be born in a great family with almost everything a young man like myself could want, how can I turn my back on someone who God has decided to not show so much favor on?
The bullies who tell me I can, and should do better for myself (because "What will you do when you have a family?" "You'll be fine now, you're still young, but what will happen when you grow old?") confuse me and make me wonder if I should. Yes, this job is good, but is this the stream I want to continue in? Do I want to become a Director of a HIV/AIDS project? I don't know, but all I know is, right now I would rather be doing this than anything else. What I will become tomorrow or ten years from now is tomorrow's or ten-years-from-now's (or rather God's) problem. When I see others with an even more dense cloud of uncertainity around themselves, the fog around me immediately ceases to scare me.
Rahul (name changed) died a little while later. He was a really sad case. He had tried all sorts of tests to find out what was wrong with him, but nothing seemed to be medically wrong with him. Still, for some reason, he's had continuos fever for a whole year! Finally, AIIMS decided to give him a bone-marrow test (apparently the only test he hadn't taken all this time) a few days ago. Amidst all that hope of finding out what he could actually be suffering from, he died, awaiting the results of that test.
Sundar (name changed), the only staff here who's younger than me, is still in shock. (he's doing his BCom by correspondence and has to study when he goes home) Just a few days ago, his father died because of cancer. He came to office today (after a 2 day break) with a shaved head. He had to take care of the entire funeral himself, and at the same time be a shoulder for everybody in his family (including two sisters and a brother) to cry on. Whose shoulder will he cry on? The only person who used to listen to his problems was his dad, and now...
Listening to those who want me to 'stop doing that stupid HIV work and get a "better job"' because I can do so much better for myself, I feel nauseous.
There are people dying here. Orphans and widows wondering where they're going to get their next meal. Scared that their relatives would disown them and kick them out of their own homes. In places like these, a person does not just leave an emotional hole in his/her family when he/she dies. They also leave their families without money, or worse, with debt. Do I really deserve more than them? When God has given me the grace to be born in a great family with almost everything a young man like myself could want, how can I turn my back on someone who God has decided to not show so much favor on?
The bullies who tell me I can, and should do better for myself (because "What will you do when you have a family?" "You'll be fine now, you're still young, but what will happen when you grow old?") confuse me and make me wonder if I should. Yes, this job is good, but is this the stream I want to continue in? Do I want to become a Director of a HIV/AIDS project? I don't know, but all I know is, right now I would rather be doing this than anything else. What I will become tomorrow or ten years from now is tomorrow's or ten-years-from-now's (or rather God's) problem. When I see others with an even more dense cloud of uncertainity around themselves, the fog around me immediately ceases to scare me.
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