God - part I

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Oh god…!

This was something new after countless days of watching snow making mounds and mounds in front my shelter. Finally, it was a bright sunny day with a lot of chill factor to make it more juicy and horny. Moreover it was Tuesday and a mandir parade was organized in my battalion to apologize for the mistakes made in the past and to request nature god to be merciful throughout our tenure. And more interestingly, after a long time I was paying a serious, though forced visit to an organized religious ritual. Unlike civil, mandir is a very formal and structured event in army compulsory for all ranks and beliefs to attend. That is why I addressed it as a parade in the beginning. So there was no question of getting a day off (I deliberately got it once and still remember the chaos it brought to my mind and soul). I was having my afternoon siesta which had generously extended to an evening one. I got a call at quarter to six from a staff officer of my unit reminding me of the parade. The hell broke. I had to get ready. My eyes were swollen. I was feeling shitty getting up from my sleeping bag at +30 and going to attend mandir in -30. What the hell has happened to me? The time has made me wiser. But I was always happy insane. Anyways, I stepped inside the mandir and saw my troops lost in a mad world of devotion and deities. Religious hymns were being sung to the tunes of bollywood numbers. I was given a comfortable place to rest my arse. I sat down and met somebody. Yes, you guessed it right. It was god. Decorated and ornamented in a beautiful stone carving and a glass frame. Besides, the punditji of the battalion was sitting on the floor waving god with a bunch of peacock feathers. Indian soldiers were chanting with their closed eyes and cracked voices, ‘we are fucked, we have been raped, please help us god!’ My relationship with god has gone through many cracks and crevices. My facebook status has shifted from a believer to a non-believer and finally to an agnostic over a period of time. There is no serious animosity between us. But we have decided to remain indifferent and insolent towards each other. It’s a mutually signed agreement. I read somewhere written that there is a 99.9% probability that god doesn’t exist and there is a 99.99% probability that he doesn’t exist in the form we worship him. Though I am not sure about the first part of the statement but I definitely believe the second one. Anyhow, we were facing each other again. I tried to look straight. Into his stoned eyes. You are still the same. You haven’t changed ever since. Are you the one I was looking for so many years? Are you the answer to my questions? Are you the one I compose in my poems and dreams? Are you…Really…? But he didn’t even blink. I tried sounding desperate. Do you really breathe and eat? Do you ever fuck and sleep? But he was as cold as a stone. I closed my eyes. I saw colored patterns dancing on a black canvass. I saw the whole world, thousands of men and women, dancing, singing and making love to each other. I felt deceived. I opened my eyes. The patterns collided with each other and vanished into a thin air of trouble and longing. Are you the one responsible for this dichotomy? The question remained. I shrugged and heard people reciting hanuman chalisa. I was the most ignorant fool sitting in the whole crowd. I closed my eyes again. I saw a big zero with millions of small zeroes in front and million others following it, running and chasing each other creating a mayhem. By the time the show was over. And I had got my answer. The prashad was finally distributed and we decided to call it a day. I returned to my room, dazed and confused, logged in to my facebook account and saw some unread messages waiting for a reply.

SCIENCE VS GOD...

The exorcism of Emily Rose

The second title may seem abrupt as the article proceeds. It is the title of a 2005 American horror film directed by Scott Derrickson loosely based on the story of Anneliese Michel and follows a self-proclaimed agnostic defense lawyer representing a parish priest who is accused by the state of negligent homicide of a young woman named Emily Rose after he performed an exorcism. The film brings out the conflict between medical fraternity and the fraternity of church over the death of Emily Rose. The film gives a very balanced unbiased opinion over the death of the woman by being both politically and scientifically correct at the same time. Rather the onus is on the audience to believe what they want to believe.

It was 7 o’clock in the evening. I was involved in a regular chat with one of my friends on facebook when I got a call from a nursing assistant on a post at 16000 ft. The doctor is usually not deployed in this terrain at such a height. So to provide medical cover to the troops serving there, nursing assistants are available giving them first aid and monitoring the patient till the evacuation by air effort takes place. It was an unusual call at such an hour of day indicating some kind of urgency. I could sense the apprehension in the voice of my nursing assistant. The things were definitely not in his hand.

“साहब, यहाँ एक केस हो गया है. एक सिपाही की पूरी बॉडी अकड़ गयी है, उसके हाथ पाँव मुड़ गए हैं और पूरी बॉडी हिल रही है.”

I got concerned as soon as I heard these words. I poked him further to get required history of the patient and other necessary details. It all started with a headache and numbness in both the upper limbs and tongue followed by two episodes of tonic spasms involving the whole body. In medical terms patient had suffered two attacks of seizures at an interval of 10 minutes lasting five minutes each. I enquired whether the patient had any such attacks in the past. The nursing assistant told me that patient had a similar attack previously while worshiping in temple when his body got stiffened. I ignored this history at that time. I found it to be insignificant. I immediately instructed the nursing assistant to give him an intravenous shot of injection diazepam to control the convulsions. The injection was given and the seizure activity stopped. Vitals were taken at this moment and they were found to be stable. It seemed to be case of Cortical Venous Sinus Thrombosis (CVST). CVST is a rare form of stroke that results from a blood clot in the venous system of brain. The symptoms include headache, numbness, weakness of one side of the body, seizures and altered sensorium. This condition though particularly rare but is fairly common at such high altitudes. The reason being the low oxygen concentration leading to increased hemoglobin and increased viscosity of blood making it more prone to phenomenon like clotting. Moreover, decreased physical activity at this altitude and such weather conditions combined with decreased water intake and more urine output contribute to the factors leading to conditions like CVST. I looked out of my window and realized that the weather was totally packed. It was snowing heavily and no stars could be seen. There were minimal chances of patient getting evacuated by helicopter. And the patient in any case could not be brought downhill by other soldiers on foot given the risk of avalanches and snow slides. It would only mean risking the life of other four to five people. I called up my officer of the unit and explained him the condition of the patient and my probable diagnosis. I also informed my senior medical consultant who advised me to put the patient on priority and raise a demand for heli evacuation. All these formalities were on. I again called up the people on the post and enquired about the general condition of the patient. The officer at that post told me that the patient is otherwise stable but is talking unusual things. At first I gave up a shut up call to the officer there and told him stop the bullshit. But he insisted me to listen to him.

“सर please आप मेरी बात सुनो. सर जब आपने injection देने के लिए बोला तो उसके बाद यह बिस्तर पर ठक कर के गिर गया और फिर एक दम से उठा और बोलने लगा, ‘ माता रानी तुम सब को कभी माफ़ नहीं करेगी. मुझे पता है किस ने मंदिर के पैसे चुराए हैं. माता को सब पता है. मेरी आत्मा बहुत नाराज़ है तुम सब लोगों से. गाँव में भी पहले किसी ने ऐसा किया था. उसको माता रानी ने बहुत कड़ी सज़ा दी थी. मेरी आत्मा को भभूती चाहिए.’ सर patient बुरी तरह से अपनी पूरी बॉडी हिला रहा है और सर झटक रहा है. जब यहाँ लोगों ने मिट्टी उठा के भभूति की तरह इसके माथे पे लगाईं तो एक दम से बिस्तर पर गिर पड़ा और सो गया. सर इसे और कुछ नहीं देवी आई है और इसलिए यह खेल रहा है.”

These were the exact words of the patient as told to me by the officer there. I ridiculed all this stuff and thought that the patient is not in his senses because of the clot. On further enquiry I came to know that the patient was from sirmaur district of himachal Pradesh and the things like black magic, jaadu toona, devi etc are very common in that belt of himachal. The patient had similar such episodes in the past and was observed by other people of the battalion in mandir before.

When this whole episode happened my senior officer decided not to raise the demand for evacuation of patient at that time. He explained me that it is a fairly common occurrence in people of sirmaur district and it is more of a psychological thing which has got aggravated because of the tough living conditions at that post. Moreover, the religious sentiments of the troops must be respected. But I insisted that the patient is critical and anything can happen to him if he is not being evacuated. Even if the weather doesn’t permit evacuation, at least raising the demand for it will save us from administrative repercussions in future if anything happens to the patient. At least it would show that we were concerned and we identified the problem timely for the betterment of patient. I explained the problem of CVST to the officer and told him that such type of behavior could happen in this condition also because the patient is not in his senses. I ridiculed that such type of behavior was related to his upbringing and place of origin.

While the discussions were hot, several other senior officers were put into picture and their opinion was taken. Everybody insisted that it is all psychological and nothing medical. I was abusing them to the highest order in my heart and calling them ignorant. Although I was the principal medical adviser for the troops there but being the most junior officer I couldn’t interfere much. Meanwhile the pandit of the battalion was consulted and his opinion was taken. He advised that a pooja would be undertaken coming Tuesday and we all would apologise to maata rani for our mistakes.

I called up the post again and enquired about the patient. The nursing assistant and the officer there informed me that the patient has become perfectly stable and is talking normally. I talked to the patient.

He said, “saab yeh mujhe pehle bhi hota rehta hai. Jab bhi ghar mein koi takleef hoti hai to mujhe maata aati hai.”

The medical adviser down below told me that it is nothing but psychological and there is no need for immediate evacuation. By this time I was also almost convinced that the things are under control and nothing sort of CVST has happened to him.

I also took my decision back and decided to go with the flow leaving everything to the destiny. Hope he gets fine and the attack doesn’t recur. The decision was taken that a big pooja would be held coming Tuesday and all the troops will apologise Maata rani for our mistakes.

I was convinced that the patient certainly didn’t have CVST. But can I explain the things medically? Yes the patient might be schizophrenic. In schizophrenia patient might feel possessed and he might have auditory and visual hallucinations associated with paranoid behavior. Or the patient might be having hysteria or the conversion disorder which may have all such type of symptoms and behavior. Or the patient might really be under supernatural possession. People behave weird when they feel possessed and under the effect of some supernatural power. But my grooming as a doctor expects me to be rational and scientific.

It was a clash. A clash between local customs and medical science. A clash between religion and science. A clash between man and god. medical science has come a long way. But it still needs to be politically correct and ecologically adaptable.

Is the patient schizophrenic? Or is he really possessed?

I rest the matter for discussion…

Trilogy - part III

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Human

This is the third one in a row and probably the last of this series. So am I done with it? Have I resolved the conflict? Have I come to a conclusion? After all what was this whole exercise for? These questions had to crop up obviously. This is the psyche we all are born with and this is what is infused into our brains in the schools we read. But was it really meant to conclude or prove something? Do I need to stand up and announce my final verdict? Why do we always want to jump to conclusions? Why can’t we stop being judgmental? I know it’s easily said than done. But I am trying to dissect myself layer by layer. The headlights are on. The scalpel has gone blunt. And there are layers and layers to dissect. Bloody. Infected. Layers. And probably dead too. Infected with millions of different types of bacteria. They have gone into my gloves and are biting me hard. Probably they want to wake me up and show the pathology. But am I ready to face it? Before that can I really face it? It’s the most cancerous and contaminated tissue of the body. But if so, can I dissect it from rest of the body? The pathology has multiplied many a fold and metastasized everywhere. It has grown its whiskers all over the structure. Dissecting it out would probably means lighting up the funeral. The pathology is inseparable. And indispensable also. A sort of love hate relationship. A form of lethal commensalism. So I don’t really have a CHOICE. Rather the CHOICE is not mine. THERE IS ONLY ONE DOOR. And it leads NoWhErE. Isn’t it cruel? But that’s the way it is. It was a long sleep. Now the dream state is over. Welcome to the real world. There are no fairies to amuse you. Or angels to love you. There are only monsters. Big bad monsters.

I wish I were an animal. Or a phallus.

But the truth is I am a human. Yes a human.

Trilogy - part II

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phallus

I often wonder who I am. Sometimes I spend hours thinking about my fate and reality. Still nothing seems to provide an answer. A generous cry in an open space becomes dead forever. I keep waiting for an echo. I have a father, who had a father, who too had a father. This is the extent to which I know my roots of existence. The fact that my father and grand fathers had a phallus provides a sort of continuity to my mystery of being. Plain. Simple. Ruthless. But. Fact. This revelation, more or less, fits into the space well. It makes me a worthy member of this chain of continuity. At least I seem to have found a thread. But is it the complete answer I am looking for? If no, the next question eagerly and obviously seems to appear. How long is the chain and where should I weave myself in this chain of continuity? Agreed, that I am not the beginning. But I must have some number so that I can roll into when I feel suitable. Should I enter as the credits start rolling or should I come in the middle? Is there somebody after me? May be that question can be answered if I produce more phallus like me. It gives rise to another troubling question. What happens if I don’t employ my phallus to complete this chain of continuity? Am I the end? If yes, where is the hook that would join me with another end? This number ambiguity is an unusual ball game all together. I had started playing well. But now I seem to be lost somewhere. Let’s leave this number thing aside for some time. Let me give myself some arbitrary number till the riddle finds some solution. Some other obvious questions are waiting for an answer. What am I doing in this chain of continuity? Do I have some purpose? Yes, I agree that completing this chain of continuity is a responsibility forced upon me. I have no other choice. But is it the only purpose? If yes, what happens if I withdraw myself from fulfilling this responsibility? Would it have an impact? I think, it would. This whole chain of continuity and similar other chains would simply fall apart and the beads will be lost forever.

Fuck..! I think I have screwed up the issue completely.

I must admit after creating this entire muddle.

I am a phallus. Just a phallus.

Trilogy - part I

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Animal

I may be a doctor. I may be a poet and philosopher. I may be good in chords and strokes. I am carved like a human. I dress and walk like a human. My head does have conscious and subconscious. I can discover, invent and destroy. I can rule and be a slave if need be. Everybody calls me a human. Everybody wants me to be human. It does hurt me a lot when they want me to be courteous, chivalrous and civilized. It takes a hell lot of effort to be polite and just. I may be smarter than him. I may be more repulsive than him. You may lock inside a room with Beatles Pink Floyd Shakespeare Bhagwadgita Poetry Philosophy 3G I- pads Volkswagen Dollars Euros 3X 7X Continental Chinese Thai Facebook Picasso da Vinci Jack Daniels Marijuana Diamonds and with all the stuff that makes me human. Nobody gave me a choice. That is not what I asked for. I kept wandering and searching to find an answer. I have taken it years to accept. I may take centuries to prove and still get stoned. I may be the master of theories but I have forgotten my basics. I may have taken centuries to evolve but I have been stripped of my instincts in the process. This black veil is jamming my vision. I want to burn it down to ashes. I want to hunt and fuck. Fuck, plain simple fuck. Fuck in the open. Fuck under the big blue sky. Pee on my feet. Shit with everybody watching me. Slumber, where I want to. Meander, when and where I feel to. I want to ramble in herds and flocks. I feel an urge to bark, roar and even mew sometimes. I want to drool and growl. I want to rip apart and lick the flesh. I just love getting naked and soaked in sludge. There may be other truths. But this is also a truth.

Being human is just not me.

I am an animal. Yes an animal.

Muse

I look for you in the white of paper. I look for you in the lonely winter. I know you are hidden there playing with me as time goes by. Why do I lose you and why do I need a reason to find you? I think and fail. I just hate it when you mock at me standing there in the corner. I feel disgruntled when I try to walk alone and stumble with the shadows. I get angry when I scratch myself and don’t feel the pain. I try to fit into it and always find myself an inch shorter. I write a poem but fail to give it a rhyme. I look at the wall and something bounces back at me hard enough to shatter everything I gathered during my stay. I pick up the stone and fall short of creating a ripple. Why do I want to create and why do I end up doing nothing? I think and fail. I stare at it trying hard not to blink. I fill up the glass and wish I don’t feel thirsty. It comes and goes inside. I see it entirely piercing and penetrating. I just stand there watching the entire bloodshed. The vultures tear apart and muddle the sky. I shout and get entangled in the babel. I lock myself to undress. But there is something that always keeps me clothed outside. I do grab and rip it apart. Howsoever, I try to go clean but it always gets inside the nail and grows there like a bug. It duplicates and makes zillions of copies. I see it ejaculate and reproduce. Why do I let it become a zygote and why do I fail to abort it? I feel confused. It’s all muddled up. I can’t figure it out on my own. Yes, you are there and you do have a name. But I don’t know what should I call you? I accept my defeat and confess that I am incomplete without you.

I need you. I do need you.