The modernity of life amazes me a lot
I remember the words, think of what you need and want not
Childhood was simple, no denying it
Strutting in shreds that grandma would creatively sprout
Nostalgia is attractive, such a delightful escape
From the life of today, my nerves with drudgery grate
I take a step back and look around in strong belief
Who am I kidding, my world couldn't be a better place to live
The simplicity of modern life
May seem to many a crippling complexity
Yet my faith buzzes with optimism that
These frailties have made human life much easier to be !
On a mission away from the comfort I know
Away from family, friends, in an isolated burrough
Yet connected I am, each minute if I choose to
Freedom I have, as not known before
Free to choose what I want to do
And how to live my life, to worship or not
Free to choose my partner, my livelihood
Even free to let life silently pass by
Yes, I know this fortune
Is only available to a chosen few
More imperative then, wouldn't you think
To acknowledge it is an ideal nearly come true
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
See this
Oh yes, I want to direct some attention to my other blog, and absolutely want some feeback there.
http://hpsarathy.wordpress.com/2011/03/19/counting-my-blessings/
http://hpsarathy.wordpress.com/2011/03/19/counting-my-blessings/
Monday, January 31, 2011
An ode to thee
Frigid cold was yesterday
The wind on my face
The steel on the knobs
Hands and feet all sore
The wedding ring stinging white gold
He searched for life
And found a face botoxed
In cold, weary, worry
Expressions of delight I lacked
Stranger was the warm hug that slacked
He stared at me in silence
Knowing I know his question
Caressing that strand off my brow
Wiping away that cold unwelcoming tear
Holding me when I was too afraid to answer my own fears
What else can I do but stand up
When inspiration looks at me in my face
The warmth of love searing
Without burning my hopes in flame
Oh! Love is such a loopy game
This sunny morning
I sit in my chair at my desk
Thinking of my husband
When a wish to succeed surges in me
I halt only to pen an ode to thee.
And then I smile
It's coming back to me
All falling in the loop I own
My pen, my thoughts, my drive
You complete what I call my life.
The wind on my face
The steel on the knobs
Hands and feet all sore
The wedding ring stinging white gold
He searched for life
And found a face botoxed
In cold, weary, worry
Expressions of delight I lacked
Stranger was the warm hug that slacked
He stared at me in silence
Knowing I know his question
Caressing that strand off my brow
Wiping away that cold unwelcoming tear
Holding me when I was too afraid to answer my own fears
What else can I do but stand up
When inspiration looks at me in my face
The warmth of love searing
Without burning my hopes in flame
Oh! Love is such a loopy game
This sunny morning
I sit in my chair at my desk
Thinking of my husband
When a wish to succeed surges in me
I halt only to pen an ode to thee.
And then I smile
It's coming back to me
All falling in the loop I own
My pen, my thoughts, my drive
You complete what I call my life.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Under the rubble
Dark heavy clouds
Surround me up close
Thunderous steps
Bellowing applause
My heart beats faster
Thrill palpable
Lungs choke on my throat
Chest under rubble
What was it, an earthquake
a landslide, a wall
That fell on my vision
Smile, and my pride tall
Will I ever get out
Will there be a lending hand
Can I ever push away these rocks
Ever seen the coloured band
Surround me up close
Thunderous steps
Bellowing applause
My heart beats faster
Thrill palpable
Lungs choke on my throat
Chest under rubble
What was it, an earthquake
a landslide, a wall
That fell on my vision
Smile, and my pride tall
Will I ever get out
Will there be a lending hand
Can I ever push away these rocks
Ever seen the coloured band
Sunday, May 16, 2010
through the ages
I was seven
When I dreamt of this place
Far from my reality
Entrenched in future faze
A helping hand
Radiant smile glowing face
Hope served on breakfast platter
To ill, weary, sick and lifeless
I was seventeen then
When I dreamt of this space
Of fragrant roses and bright bougainvillea
Adorning the soft grass in my front gaze
Romance, a man of thinking and integrity
Toothless smiles in cherubic faces filling my days
Inane endless tell me whys
Retrieving my father's answers to my quests
I am to be twenty seven now
Living that dream but just a trace
A bit lost in the wilderness I find myself to be
Second thoughts, revisions, in a daze
And then I realize I have them all
My education, an honorable man, a loving family, designed my way
Cruising pleasantly with a dream distinct
Reality and aspirations will merge, I have determined
When I dreamt of this place
Far from my reality
Entrenched in future faze
A helping hand
Radiant smile glowing face
Hope served on breakfast platter
To ill, weary, sick and lifeless
I was seventeen then
When I dreamt of this space
Of fragrant roses and bright bougainvillea
Adorning the soft grass in my front gaze
Romance, a man of thinking and integrity
Toothless smiles in cherubic faces filling my days
Inane endless tell me whys
Retrieving my father's answers to my quests
I am to be twenty seven now
Living that dream but just a trace
A bit lost in the wilderness I find myself to be
Second thoughts, revisions, in a daze
And then I realize I have them all
My education, an honorable man, a loving family, designed my way
Cruising pleasantly with a dream distinct
Reality and aspirations will merge, I have determined
Monday, May 3, 2010
no moon day
sparks fly
tiny stars
eye lights
glimmer afar
stupefies
sinking heart
affect incongruent
liar epitaph
give me rhythm
give me space
give me music
to save myself from disgrace
storm inside
i cannot feel
know not see not
what's right for me
crystals fall
a plea to stay
to strive righteous
rewrite the play.
tiny stars
eye lights
glimmer afar
stupefies
sinking heart
affect incongruent
liar epitaph
give me rhythm
give me space
give me music
to save myself from disgrace
storm inside
i cannot feel
know not see not
what's right for me
crystals fall
a plea to stay
to strive righteous
rewrite the play.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Delayed gratification
I have never thought of myself as being indecisive, ambiguous, or confused. Well, definitely not about major decisions in my life. (That the trivial mundane simple daily chores pose a Herculean task to me, is, well a story for another day). Taking up studies in medicine and then pursuing a seemingly-misdirected attempt at a degree in epidemiology have been well-thought, well-planned, and well-weighed agendas that have over time proved worthy in my service. Yes, of course, there are those momentary lapses of 'what if(s)', but these transgressions of resolute are permissible and well within limits.
Then,what am I talking about now? I have always wanted to define my work in the field of health. That is something I have been absolutely sure of. I worked my way into a place in medical school that I earned for sheer hard work and dedication in preparation, topped with a little luck - what is popularly known as the 'merit seat'. I mention luck too, as I am sure there were many peers who similarly worked hard and lost out to factors intangible and inexplicable. Medical school brought me face to face with people - and it was this aspect of medicine that I loved. The feeling of bringing health to the ill, of saying a comforting word and lending a helping hand was honestly the reason I took to medicine.
Yet, behind this humane face, there is so much competition and the pressures of doing well, examining and reaching a decent diagnosis and treating the ill can indeed be overwhelming. I was surely overcome by fear of not being up to the mark. And in my growing disenchantment with my own capabilities as a doctor, I found solace in a field where 'we save million lives at a time' - epidemiology and biostatistics.
The daughter of an engineer and a mathematician that I was, I was always encouraged to love the rule of numbers and figures. Sometimes, I surmise, my act of entering a non-mathematical field was an act of rebelliousness against my parents. Little did I know how mathematics would continue to haunt me years later. I still marvel at how population genetics and genetic variation are fundamentally explained by the one equation from my 7th Std algebra class by Mrs Sati Purushottaman - a^2 + 2ab + b^2. How diagnosing a case is an individualized method of hypothesis generation, and how exploratory data analysis helps us identify patterns of characteristics in groups of people and how tweaking numbers and equations helps us define associations and causation such as smoking and lung cancer, identify and radically institute treatment measures such as that seen in the SARS epidemic or more recently the influenza pandemic in 2009. I also learnt how numbers can be manipulated in clinical trials and how vigilance can force reversal and recall of drugs after they were marketed. It was because of rigorous experiments on a large scale that gave impetus to local governments to create policies banning smoking in public places and especially in closed environments. But there is so much that goes on in the background of 'research', that my earlier dismissive notion of epidemiology has largely been corrected and I am humbled. Health policy, treatment, prevention, health promotion, natural history of disease, causes - I saw it all happening during my sojourn in epidemiology.
Then why now the thought of going back to clinical individual medicine? I am not frustrated, nor do I find the lack of a challenge. Logistically, I do feel my experience as a clinician will bring more to the table than just as a medical student - only because I do not have hard core statistical background, and especially because I regret neglecting calculus in high school. (Yes amma - you were right!). But now, I truly miss talking to patients, I miss learning from them. I have learnt that it is okay to make mistakes, and that all doctors kill people before they start saving lives. Yes, even in clinical medicine, we are allowed a few mistakes - as long as we recover from them, learn from then and make sincere attempts to never repeat them. As scary as it sounds, this is probably why our careers are renamed our 'practice'.
I am oft asked about the reason for my digression. These are manifold, some of them I do not understand too well myself. And then in times like these, I close my eyes and go back in time to three well-etched memories. One in my 3rd of medical school, talking to two of my dearest friends and confidants while strolling around our campus; an earlier memory that occurred a year earlier of me talking to one of those two friends in my room; and the oldest one, of an unsent letter to my parents and sister, that was discovered by my dear grandpa. And the common thread connecting these incidents was the desire to study populations to make inferences about clinical medicine, to be involved in disseminating the technology involved in this process, and to devote some of my time in the service of those ill and to make their illness disappear, improve or at the very least bearable.
I always knew I wanted to marry mathematics to biology, and in this I was fairly inspired by a close cousin who uses mathematics to model how drugs affect cells in the body. At the school of public health, I went through a phase of low morale that kept me from believing in myself. My plan was to get into a residency program next year and start running at full steam. Somewhere, I started to doubt my own abilities as a doctor, as a healer. I reached a nadir, and then when there was no lower to go, I started climbing up. With so much support from those closely associated with me, I have begun to realize that I was consumed with fear of uncertainty and with time and experience, my skills as a doctor will hone and fine tune themselves. I have finally begun to believe in myself, and I want to give myself a second chance with this attempt at my residency.
i do not want to rush into it, and then be overwhelmed by the whole process. I would rather take slow but sure steps. When I think about the big picture, I realize how there are some loose ends that I need to tie up, before I plunge three years of my life into the oblivion of residency. One more year, I sigh. And then think, one year, where I can firmly carve out the next five years of my life. (And work on enlisting the support of friends, confidants, family, and some special people in planning and espousing my dream).
I see myself coming back to me. I have begun to feel happier with the person I am. One year for a life long dream. A gift to myself with the promise of delayed gratification. I think, it is worth it.
Then,what am I talking about now? I have always wanted to define my work in the field of health. That is something I have been absolutely sure of. I worked my way into a place in medical school that I earned for sheer hard work and dedication in preparation, topped with a little luck - what is popularly known as the 'merit seat'. I mention luck too, as I am sure there were many peers who similarly worked hard and lost out to factors intangible and inexplicable. Medical school brought me face to face with people - and it was this aspect of medicine that I loved. The feeling of bringing health to the ill, of saying a comforting word and lending a helping hand was honestly the reason I took to medicine.
Yet, behind this humane face, there is so much competition and the pressures of doing well, examining and reaching a decent diagnosis and treating the ill can indeed be overwhelming. I was surely overcome by fear of not being up to the mark. And in my growing disenchantment with my own capabilities as a doctor, I found solace in a field where 'we save million lives at a time' - epidemiology and biostatistics.
The daughter of an engineer and a mathematician that I was, I was always encouraged to love the rule of numbers and figures. Sometimes, I surmise, my act of entering a non-mathematical field was an act of rebelliousness against my parents. Little did I know how mathematics would continue to haunt me years later. I still marvel at how population genetics and genetic variation are fundamentally explained by the one equation from my 7th Std algebra class by Mrs Sati Purushottaman - a^2 + 2ab + b^2. How diagnosing a case is an individualized method of hypothesis generation, and how exploratory data analysis helps us identify patterns of characteristics in groups of people and how tweaking numbers and equations helps us define associations and causation such as smoking and lung cancer, identify and radically institute treatment measures such as that seen in the SARS epidemic or more recently the influenza pandemic in 2009. I also learnt how numbers can be manipulated in clinical trials and how vigilance can force reversal and recall of drugs after they were marketed. It was because of rigorous experiments on a large scale that gave impetus to local governments to create policies banning smoking in public places and especially in closed environments. But there is so much that goes on in the background of 'research', that my earlier dismissive notion of epidemiology has largely been corrected and I am humbled. Health policy, treatment, prevention, health promotion, natural history of disease, causes - I saw it all happening during my sojourn in epidemiology.
Then why now the thought of going back to clinical individual medicine? I am not frustrated, nor do I find the lack of a challenge. Logistically, I do feel my experience as a clinician will bring more to the table than just as a medical student - only because I do not have hard core statistical background, and especially because I regret neglecting calculus in high school. (Yes amma - you were right!). But now, I truly miss talking to patients, I miss learning from them. I have learnt that it is okay to make mistakes, and that all doctors kill people before they start saving lives. Yes, even in clinical medicine, we are allowed a few mistakes - as long as we recover from them, learn from then and make sincere attempts to never repeat them. As scary as it sounds, this is probably why our careers are renamed our 'practice'.
I am oft asked about the reason for my digression. These are manifold, some of them I do not understand too well myself. And then in times like these, I close my eyes and go back in time to three well-etched memories. One in my 3rd of medical school, talking to two of my dearest friends and confidants while strolling around our campus; an earlier memory that occurred a year earlier of me talking to one of those two friends in my room; and the oldest one, of an unsent letter to my parents and sister, that was discovered by my dear grandpa. And the common thread connecting these incidents was the desire to study populations to make inferences about clinical medicine, to be involved in disseminating the technology involved in this process, and to devote some of my time in the service of those ill and to make their illness disappear, improve or at the very least bearable.
I always knew I wanted to marry mathematics to biology, and in this I was fairly inspired by a close cousin who uses mathematics to model how drugs affect cells in the body. At the school of public health, I went through a phase of low morale that kept me from believing in myself. My plan was to get into a residency program next year and start running at full steam. Somewhere, I started to doubt my own abilities as a doctor, as a healer. I reached a nadir, and then when there was no lower to go, I started climbing up. With so much support from those closely associated with me, I have begun to realize that I was consumed with fear of uncertainty and with time and experience, my skills as a doctor will hone and fine tune themselves. I have finally begun to believe in myself, and I want to give myself a second chance with this attempt at my residency.
i do not want to rush into it, and then be overwhelmed by the whole process. I would rather take slow but sure steps. When I think about the big picture, I realize how there are some loose ends that I need to tie up, before I plunge three years of my life into the oblivion of residency. One more year, I sigh. And then think, one year, where I can firmly carve out the next five years of my life. (And work on enlisting the support of friends, confidants, family, and some special people in planning and espousing my dream).
I see myself coming back to me. I have begun to feel happier with the person I am. One year for a life long dream. A gift to myself with the promise of delayed gratification. I think, it is worth it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)