Which is better fish, wine or great conversations? Can’t quite decide.

Sometimes people come by your life quite by accident and I have been one of those lucky people who have always had nice accidents happening at random. At times these accident meetings are like bomb blasts; the people who enter your life make such an impact that everything gets rearranged there after. But some of them are like a pleasant fragrance; subtle, lovely and enjoyable. But I am not here to elaborate on that. What I really want to do is talk about a pleasant weekend that busted couple of myths and pre-conceived notions about stuff in general. Perhaps why this weekend was ever more so eventful. Because it just changed my perception about a lot of things.

Myth #1 Red wine is best with red meat
I had red wine with fish fried in Indian masala and olive oil. I am telling you this was an all time new experience for me. And It was *uber* good. Amazing!

Myth #2 White Mosaic can be kept spotlessly clean for years

My husband’s tharavdu has been battling with white mosaic for 24 years; today let’s just say it looks more like chocolate brown mosaic. Not too bad if you never know that it was once white mosaic. But @ the friends place not only was the mosaic without blemish, it just made their pad look less of a pad and more of a very tasteful yet homely space with lot of light and fresh air.

Myth# 3 Olive oil is only good with continental food (read Italian food)

I had an entire sumptuous Keralean fare cooked in olive oil. What more, didn’t notice the difference?

Myth#4 Corporate Honchos who taste success young are pretentious

It just humbled me to see how very successful people could be so grounded and earthy and modest and gracious all at once. I was simply swept off my feet by the genuineness.

Myth# 5 you can’t have great conversation with people with whom you don’t share lots in common.

I had one of the finest times and exchanged great conversations this weekend. I realised it’s not really important to have lot of things in common in friendship, other than a good mind. I am glad I had very few things in common with this lovely duo. There was so much I learned from them hence.

Myth#6 Trivandrum is a dry city

Trivandrum is far from dry. There is so much to explore in the city. It’s a peaceful and clean city loaded with history. Besides, it takes just a few people to make this city appear interesting suddenly.

And like I said earlier, fragrances are pleasant because of the good feeling that lingers even after the moment passes.

Thank you both of you!

Sometimes Clichés Are So Untrue

I remember once while writing something, I used a clichéd sentence. I followed the sentence with another adage: clichés are oft repeated truths. The latter sentence was me at my defensive best. I have done this several times while talking to people, comforting people, reassuring people, I have used my own fair share of clichés. Like, time will heal, the weight of our cross will never be heavier than us, If you love, let it go...if it’s meant to be it will come back. Lines like this. But each time I have used it or said it or tweaked it a bit, I have always believed it and meant it. All of it was true and genuine under most circumstances. But sometimes life just proves otherwise. Some clichés are untrue. Like the time I told a dear friend,“ This sorrow/loss will strengthen you dear, for something in the future.”, Just when I heard myself say it then, I knew there was something wrong, it didn’t convince me either. The sentence lacked the lustre of my otherwise steadfast faith in oft repeated truths aka clichés. But it was too late the words had already left my tongue and it floated in the air and placed itself on her ear. She looked up at me. I saw it in her eyes that I had blundered in the name of solace. She looked at me with eyes wrought with disappointment, “you are my friend, and you still don’t understand, do you?”
Zerene, my friend was a dedicated gynaecologist who was rewarded with an enviable practice and nearly perfect record of happy patients to her list. But that was no surprise to us. For she never compromised on her work or her dedication. She wore her heart on her sleeves for the ‘girls’, like she called them. She almost became their mothers. She had the uncanny ability to see them, the girls as her own. That was her professionalism. Contrary to her friend’s advice “Zerene detach yourself from the moment, be professional.”
Like every doctor who at some point in their practice reaches a state of Buddha, like I would like to call it. Her enlightenment did come as well. As a rude shock and the toughest reality check; that of losing one her ‘girls’. Just like that. Not even in the labour room, or in operation theatre. Just like that, after dinner and after quietly relishing some payasam her husband brought her. They called it embolism.
{(Amniotic fluid embolism AFE) is a rare and incompletely understood obstetric emergency in which amniotic fluid, foetal cells, hair, or other debris enters the mother's blood stream via the placental bed of the uterus and triggers an allergic reaction. This reaction then results in cardio respiratory (heart and lung) collapse and coagulopathy}
It didn’t take much time or large quantities of fluid, I am told. Everything happened in minutes and in teeny weenie measure trickling into her bloodstream, for no reason other than just like that. By the time Zerene arrived, it had been minutes that the girl’s heart had stopped beating. But Zerene quickly checked for the foetal heartbeat. The baby was alive and then and there Zerene took the baby out. The baby is well and ready to be fed. But there is no mother.
She did everything she could possibly do. Like Faizal always says. She is at her best during a crisis. Working efficiently. It usually takes few days for it to sink in. But this time Zerene just withdrew. For the next day the girl’s husband came to see her to apologise for his entire family, if in case anyone of them had unknowingly accused her of anything. Also to thank her for saving the baby in time. Zerene just remained emotionless. I knew that look. I knew it was the calm before the storm. So I quickly went to her and she collapsed to a heap. Her sense of loss was deep. She kept replaying the entire day, entire week, if somewhere she could’ve done something differently. She wondered if she should’ve tried more at resuscitating her girl. She wondered if she made right choice of going for the baby than spending more effort on the mother. She played the reel again and again and again. It was painful to watch. That was when I told her, “ Zerene, take this as something to strengthen you.” A cliché, like the several I have used before. But Zerene from the depth of the abyss, I thought she was pushing herself into. I heard her talk as if she was crying out from a deep well. Weak but firm. “This does not strengthen me Shalini. This weakens me. I am resigned now. I am resigned to the fact that as a doctor, I am just hands. He is in charge of giving and taking away. I am nothing.” And then she added, “ I exalt in my weakness.”
So that day I learned a new truth. Some things weaken you. And in being weak there is strength. So let it be.

Telomeres of a different kind.

Some of the most amazing moments in life are the moments spent with friends. At least it’s been that way for me. Some say you rely on friends when you don’t have much of a family to hold on to. TRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIING, I disagree. Both are different equations. I would say you need your friends as much as your family. I think, to become a wholesome person, good friendships are essential.
All that gyan apart, I am here to talk about a person I stumbled upon virtually. Literally virtually. Through the World Wide Web. Besides from the fact that our relationship grew from being just ‘chat’ acquaintances to deeper levels of understanding, she has today become an indispensable part of my life. All this happened at frightening pace of just over three months. But as she became my shoulder to cry on, my soul/sole confidante, my reason for existence on some days...I learned over time that besides from being this generous human being, she had a side to herself which she(I quote another special person here) “ tries best to hide from the rest of the world”:her sheer brilliance! Her work in the field of science. Her road to accomplishment was a bumpy ride by any standards, both physically and emotionally, and today she has arrived. She is a scientist. We have a zillion of those in the world as she always makes it a point to remind me. Maybe there is, I don’t know and I don’t care. For I know only one. And this one surely made a difference in my life and I am glad to know she’s contributing to science as well.
‘Beautiful Mind’, worked on the enzyme Telomeres, which has gained popularity among the science illiterates as well. For which we have the media to thank for. It has been in the papers now for some time, about the noble prize in the field of medicine, going to the ‘richly deserving’ female duo Elizabeth H. Blackburn and Carol W. Grieder. Their collaborative effort has solved one of the greatest mysteries of our time-how chromosomes are protected from degeneration as they divide continuously. They discovered that telomeres, the protective caps found at both ends of the enzyme prevent it from degradation. Pretty much like how the plastic caps at the end of the shoelace protects it from spreading apart. So this is where my friend ‘beautiful mind’ comes in. She worked on this very same enzyme, during her stint in cancer research. From what I understand, as she very patiently tried to explain to me, it is this discovery which helps us comprehend the nature of malignancies(cancer) as well.
I am in awe of my friend ‘Beautiful Mind’, fiercely proud of her. And more than anything humbled by her modesty. Beautiful Mind is not just another one more of a science nerd. Besides from being brilliant and successful, she has over and over proved to be a person who is not just good to her friends but to all who come in touch with her. Through several of her mails from our daily correspondence, I can see that her young life is filled with experiences and acts of kindness bestowed on all those who have come in contact with her. Even when storms brewed within, experiences haven’t hardened her, she continued to be spontaneous, fun, chirpy, gorgeous, fashionable, and last but not the least a pilot of tour de gastronomia (fabulous cook). Can you ever imagine a scientist being all that...She has redefined my image of a science freak. I realise that they can also be engagingly charming, heart-warmingly benign and out-of-the boxly fun. But only my friend here can be all that and even a sophisticated chic with a golden heart. She breaks all proverbial stereotypes. That of a science nerd being arrogant. Of a beauty being a dunce. Of an absent minded professor being a fashion disaster.
Kudos to you my lovely lovely friend. May your kind prosper and thrive and fill the earth with the fragrance you so bring in to the room you walk into. (She literally does that. A fan of Lush products, she smells heavenly too) Thank you for your gentle kindness, thank you for understanding. And most of all thank heavens you are a scientist, you sure manage to save their faces and make them glamorous. May you inspire many to join you, whereby saving mankind from degeneration like a chromosome would without telomeres. You are my telomeres of a different kind. Hugs and Muah!

Through an Open Window

I sit here by the window and look outside at the world. The view may seem limited but it still is a room with a view. And an entire vision of things for someone who seldom steps outside. I see people. I see things too. But it’s people who catch my attention. It is them who interest me. Things, I notice only when the people use them. Like I notice the girl in a pink slipper. Who jumps with glee for she got herself a pink pair to match her pink top. Actually it’s the girl I noticed first. Then the slipper. Then the top.
The girl was petite and pretty. She had her hair long and straight. She had it up to her bum. But what I liked most about her was that she had pretty feet and it looked pretty in her pink slippers. She looked up at my window and smiled. It was irresistible. I just had to smile back. Or she would’ve remained there just beneath my window smiling till I smiled back at her. Satisfied with my smile she nodded and walked away. Turning to look towards me a couple of times. Then she turned the corner and disappeared. And I missed her and wondered if she would pass by my window again.
Then I saw a man. A short man. With long strides. If January was the month he took the first leg forward, it wouldn’t be until September he followed it with the other foot. That long was his stride. Though great distances were covered it seemed like a slow walk. He looked around. He was watching people from down there just like me from up here. I wanted to tell him, ‘Come up here, join me, the view is great.’ But I am sure even if I did call him, he wouldn’t agree about the view. He would say his is better than mine. He would say, I am older than you, so I know. He would say, I have seen more of the world walking on my two feet, so I would know. Therefore I did not call him up. I would not be able to give him answers to that, even if I still think I have a better view from up here.
Then I see another man. This time, a man with a hat. He’s dancing along the way singing aloud. Not bothered that all eyes on the street were on him. As he rushed down the streets his gaze catches mine. Surprising me. I looked away. But then I looked back at him. He was still looking at me. Of all the people in all this time, none has asked me step down. He asked me with his eyes. He asked me to come down. And I asked why? What for? With my eyes. He said you look lonely up there. I then told him. I am alone but not lonely. I like it up here because I see things that you cannot. He wasn’t convinced. “But you just see the street below”, he said. “Come, walk with me”. “There is so much more to see”. I say to him, “the street below, that I see, is really a wedge of every street around the world.” “Though I have not stepped out, I know how things are out there.” “How can that be?” He asks.
I say to him, “Each of the people who walk beneath my window, have roamed the world on their two feet.” “And each of their gazes upward, I capture and I see in them what they have seen on their journeys. That is my vantage of looking from up here. For you begin to really see.” I said. Puzzled, the man said, “What is true for one may not be true for another”, and walked away. Shaking his head in exasperation as if to say “Will she ever learn.”
I couldn’t help smiling at his gait. He came without a worry, singing and dancing. Now look at him walking away like a deflated balloon. The girl in the pink slippers walked by just then. Their eyes met and he said to her “Come. Walk with me.” She gladly and willingly did. She looked at me and smiled and turned back to the man with a hat. I smiled back, feeling my smile spread across my face, feeling happy that life is a gift. And choices people make may seem dissimilar, but actually is the same, in truth. They walked away and disappeared round the corner.
I wanted to say to him, “Only if you could come up here and see, how beautiful that looked to me.” Then he will understand that I see more than he sees, without stepping outside my vista, through my open window. From a room with a view.