Category Archives: family


I have not had any urge to write all these days, and I can’t say I am in the best of mindsets to do a good job. However, here is a small essay written, with my active help, by my son. I hope you tolerate me for this. You cannot find a drier piece than this, I am sure.

I live in the city of Kolkata, surrounded by dusty buildings, most of them made of bricks, and some of them of a mix of thatch, wood, mud and plastic. The latter type of building makes for the shanties that freely thrive in my neighborhood.
In one such shanty lives Nandan. I have been seeing him for the last two years. Nandan does not study in my school. He works in a garage next door, by the side of the street.
At those times when the ball flies out of the building walls and lands in the garage (whenever we play cricket in our compound), Nandan is found ready with it, handing it over to us reluctantly. I have sometimes heard him being rebuked by his master for wasting time looking for the ball beneath some damaged car or the other.
Nandan looks like a grease monkey. Really. He works on his back, lying on the rough muddy ground and hands over tools to the car mechanic who is his teacher and mentor. As the day goes by, the muddied lubricants from the spare parts of the cars find their way from his hands to his face and neck. The only thing the black paint cannot hide is his brilliant smile. But that is something I have seldom seen.
Nandan does not play with us, as he is busy at work. When we are at school, he is at the workshop, and when we are playing, he is right there. We got talking sometimes, but not much.
While me and my friends are getting plumper watching TV and playing on the computer, he is thin as a rail. He cannot even find his country on a map, I found! He told me one day that he wanted to learn English and maths, and asked about how my school looked. I don’t know whether he believed me when I told him how grand and old my school was.
At home, Nandan gets to eat with his brothers (while I have none), but his mother is too busy with household work to talk to him or put him to sleep. Or else she is too busy fighting with other ladies in the shanties over whose turn it was at the toilet or the water pump. I have seen this many times from my verandah, high up in my building.
I am sure he must be getting bitten all over at night by bugs, while I sleep in comfort a few storeys above him. I sometimes wonder whether I deserve being better off than him, but then, this is not the age when I need to handle tough questions!


Though I am a hard-headed atheist since the time the infant Rambodoc slipped mischievously from his Ma’s lap and hurt his little head, I have a soft spot for a little head. This soft spot includes celebrating religious holidays like Kiss Mass Day.

Today being accepted by broad consensus as such Day, I went out of my way to ‘enjaay‘ the holiday. To this end, I went into a multiplex armed with a fistful of tickets to a movie about cloning. The movie was called Ghajini. This was about a The Incredulous Hulk clone made into a movie that was cloned from a Tamil clone of an English/American movie.

Except that this desi Hulk does not seem to eat anything to justify his muscles. He just keeps getting whacked in the head, and this seems to stimulate as much Growth Hormone release as claimed by the various supplement companies who live in my Junk folder with the sole purpose of inducing me to buy their wares, to give an additional three inches to my manhood. To which temptation I have never succumbed even when the pickings were short in the lean seasons. If you can understand my tortured metaphors.

To get back to the movie, Aamir Khan’s muscles grow from his brains to his ears, after making a business class round-trip to his legs. When tears cloud his eyes, you can see 58 muscles twitching in tetanic fury. When he gets walloped from the back, you can see the haarmoans pumping up his delts and traps, and he swats mutant Ganjas like a gesticulating Amar Singh in Parliament while denying allegations of bribery. All in all, very impressive. I mean Amar Singh’s escaping those allegations, and more so his great contributions to the poor of the world. Like Bill Clinton.

One thing about this movie is that it seemed to attract all the gays in the city. The guy next to me (he was alone, and this is always a negative feature in a guy, according to my wife) was singing along with Aamir in the song sequences. There were some other (equally single) guys who stood up and clapped when Aamir came out of a BMW, as if they had been paid for that errand. So the general impression from the straight perspective was that “That guy is a gay. Imagine clapping for a guy! I can accept getting the clap from a girl, but this! Fagging gays!”

The morning show started around 10 in the morning, as promised (you know, there is a 10 PM show in the evening, too, but the movie guys took us in the morning, as they said they would). By the time the last punch had landed, Aamir Khan had put on around 300 lbs of lean muscle, and the sun outside had set. We had to make the most of the Great Holiday and left even as the last song was threatening to spill over on to dinner time, with the producers of the movie exhorting us not to leave, and to get every penny of the ticket price back with bonus decibel points. “Thanks so much, but we will be back for the sequel, whenever you find a suitable clone, that is”, we said, and took a much needed toilet break.

I then went down and bought groceries. I will soon drive a couple of hours till the next block where I will, with family pulling the leash, give a gift at a party, and rush back quickly in another two hours so that I can shut my eyes on another great, memorable day.

How was your Kiss Mass Day?


An anesthetist I know has decided to quit his job and move to another city.
He is doing so not because he is not happy with his current job, but because his daughter, who is a talented Carnatic classical singer, wants to train under some guru in Chennai.

In order to support his daughter’s career goals, our man is shifting base. The fact that he is an anesthetist, and a good one at that, allows him the freedom to shift cities more easily than, say, a surgeon in private practice. Having to build a career and reputation in a new place all over again would be nothing less than a curse.

On the other hand, a doctor is getting his son admitted to a local, small-time, private engineering college, though the boy got admission in other cities with better colleges. His reason: his wife and he wanted his son to live with them. He refused to understand that the parents’ decision was rather unfair to the son’s future prospects.

I have thought about the first example a bit seriously: how much would I be willing to forsake for my family? No, not for a life and death issue, but for something merely potential, like a better prospect for a child or a better job for a wife. I have realised that I could do it, provided the family members could accept the implications and repercussions of my move. In fact, I have long made a standing offer to my wife to take up a high-paying job in a First World country, so that I could become a house-husband (is there a politically correct name for this post?), dealing with the kitchen and garden, apart from taking up a project to write a magnum opus, the kind that publishers would throw their cheque-books at me for. I have also promised her free sex if she accepts this offer.

To cut a long story short, she has not even bothered to respond. She plans to keep me in bonded labor till such time as her interests are not fulfilled. Which probably means I will work till I drop.

Would you shift base for your spouse or kid? In the first example, the doctor who is shifting to Chennai is also into Carnatic music. What if your kid or spouse were to want to do something you did not believe in or share? Would you still disturb your career for that? Comments??


My daily life is replete with ugly sights, foul smells, and sad sounds. Such is the life of practising doctors. I had accepted this long back as a part of surgical life, and trained myself to disconnect my non-professional life from the feedbacks of life with the sick and suffering.
A very minor taste of this:

My nephew, award-winning car designer Harsha Ravi, lives in a different world, as do many of you.
Here is what he is up to. Take a look.

Is it small wonder, then, that I strongly discourage youngsters from getting into medicine? With so many things to be passionate about and excel in, why choose medicine, with all the tensions, ugliness, etc.? What do you think?
One other thing, too: I consider youngsters like Harsha to be not merely lucky to have lives like this, but also smarter, in that today’s kids know what not to do!

Pics: patient pics mine; others from Harsha’s article.


Someone is taking this blog rather seriously, and copy-pasting stuff in websites.
There is this article on Biointelligence and Morphological Freedom that seems to be lifted right out of the pages of this blog.


Today, I had to admit my wife to hospital.

She suddenly started laughing hysterically.

Nothing I could say or do could change her state.

I tried tickling her to distract her, tried to draw her attention by stuffing a big cucumber into my mouth, and dancing around in underwear.

She just would not stop.


The timing was coincidental to my asking her, during an earnest discussion of our marriage:

“Do I have any downside, any negative, at all?”

Poor thing! No one knows why she is still laughing. The psychs have no answer.

Oh, the limits of medical science!


A recent article (dated tomorrow!) in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology says that anxiety increases the risk of heart attack in men.

Anxiety may increase the risk of acute myocardial infarction (AMI) in men by up to 40%, even after controlling for risk factors such as age, education, marital status, fasting glucose levels, body mass index, high-density lipoprotein cholesterol levels, and systolic blood pressure in proportional hazards models, report University of Southern California researchers and quoted by Bloomberg News. An analysis of data on 735 men enrolled in the Normative Aging Study and followed for a mean of 12 years showed that the relationships between anxiety and AMI risk remained significant even after further adjustments for health behaviors (drinking, smoking, and caloric intake), hypertension medications, high cholesterol, diabetes during follow-up, and psychologic variables including depression, type A behavior, hostility, anger, and negative emotions.

(pic credit:

Ha, I knew this all along! All this about reducing smoking, calories, and drink, and what do you have? Another dead duck. We never stop to think that we are not immortal. Unless you unwind, your heart is constantly going to be under the pressure that adrenaline (and its sibling hormones) creates. End result: an MI.

When do men actually unwind? The answer (though not from any reference I could quote) is after their first heart attack.

So, does living longer mean one should curb one’s ambition and prepare to live a life of limited achievements and stress? I think stress is harmful only if it is not welcome. If you feel stress of the kind that causes tension, anxiety and panic, it is bad for you. On the other hand, if you enjoy the challenges of life without losing out on the fun it offers, you would probably live longer and better.

I am, however, not aware of any properly conducted study that compares the longevity of people exposed to healthy versus unhealthy stress.

I have another theory, which will surely be proven in a Level One trial in the next decade in The Lancet: the worst, cold-blooded scoundrels on earth die the last, and long after the departure of those they have tormented all life. Those who cause anxiety probably live longer than those who take it. Conscience causes coronary constriction, if you can forgive this alliterative dose of alleged wisdom!
(Note that the above is merely my hypothesis.)

In case you are not an absolute monster, enjoying life’s challenges rather than merely following the herd and mindlessly aspiring for material goals, is likely to lengthen and enliven your life. It also follows that if you are a pessimistic, inward-looking man you would die earlier than one with a sunny, carefree disposition. When was the last time you smiled, dude?