Should I just count my blessings instead??

Life hasn’t been great lately. Well, it hasn’t been great at any point of time in my life, as my face structure and life choices will tell you, but last few months have been a little extra demanding. I don’t usually introspect, except once in my third semester when I probably had a rather strong dose of ‘herbal’ nebulisation, and went thinking about the meaning of life. In case you are wondering if I found it, yes, I did: “Carrom bambanu, juice peevanu, majja ni life.”

In my small little world, where everyone from my parents to my brother to my special someone has been overprotective of me, I’ve lived rather lavishly in an emotional sense. Yet somehow, I’ve spent the last few months pondering over what all is wrong in my life, so that I can feel Bollywood-ish and look outside my window like Ranbir Kapoor looks at the rain in a lot of his scenes. It will be closer to an uglier Ishant Sharma looking at the Delhi smog in my case, but worth a shot.

So, I tried and made a list of what I thought wasn’t going good for me, and here are a few unedited notes:

1. Least gratitude-inducing job in the medical world.

I’ll be honest here, my pay isn’t so much that I can go home and feel nice about my job because I get to spend the remaining day going online and buying things that I don’t actually need. My only shot at job-satisfaction being a doctor is a patient thanking me for my contribution to his health. My job as an anaesthesiologist ensures that my patients give me utmost respect when they say the words “Matlab aap apni field me exactly karte kya ho?”. It’ll never get old. Or less irritating.

2. Being away from my better(and saner)-half.

No matter how many promises she has made to me about tolerating me for the rest of her life or I have made to her about trying to come up with better jokes and not breaking into “mera rang De Basanti Chola” while passing the Indian Flag at CP, and better general conduct in front of her friends, a little insecurity is bound to creep in when one is in a long distance. She says she has made peace with it, but my friends tell me that the fact that she is dating me is enough to prove that her decision making is questionable. After all, she did say ‘yes’ to a guy whose number plate would probably read “BURI NAZAR WALE TU KYA UKHAAD LEGA, KISMAT PEHLE HI G**NDU HAI MERI”

3. Receding hairline.

May be it’s the tense exam-going year, or may be it’s the fact that I use Ayur/Patanjali shampoo to save money, or may be just unfortunate genetics, but my hairline is receding faster than Arvind Kejriwal’s common sense. A hair transplant will be a necessity in some years, or may be my contacts will ignore my balding head because my nose is still the funniest part of my face.

4. Exam-Going Post Graduate year.

I’m called an EGPG now by my peers, to which my usual reply is “behen ki gaali de do, EGPG na kaho”. My books make as much sense to me as GST makes to economists. Ask Arjun Kapoor to act well or ask me questions about my field, the response will be an awkward 10 minutes of err-umms followed by an amazing dance performance on “Hawa Hawa”.

The above nonsense can also be summarised as a sentence that I’m a mature-for-age doctor in a secure relationship about to be done with my MD degree soon, but what fun is that? Also, it doesn’t allow me to look out the window and imagine “Kabiraa” song playing in the background.

Apni chhoti si duniya me main khud ko hero samajhta hu.


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Almost a Court-Room trial of a Manchester City fan

As a member of the Manchester City Delhi Supporters Club, I contributed a post for an Indian football website,

It’s an attempt at satire and banter, and I’ll leave it to you people to judge how successful it is. Give it a read, it’s just a click away.

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On Your Marks! Get Set! EGPG!!

Out of the approximately three lifetimes that it takes to become a real doctor in India, 2 years are spent after 10th standard making the worst decision of your life, and the next 5 and a half are spent regretting those two years. Eventually, you get the title of a ‘Doctor’ before your name, and are thrown into adult life to earn and look after yourself with a ‘best-of-luck’ message including the motivational words “just an MBBS degree isn’t enough, you must specialise in something”. Anurag Kashyap once (probably) said, “Aurat ka chakkar aur NEET PG ki preparation, pichhwaade se aansoo nikalwa deti hai“, and it was not before another frustrating MCQs-filled 18 months of life that I finally started MD, with the feeling that I had taken enough exams in life.


Keeping in mind all the year-end, professional and entrance exams, I had taken exams every year since my nursery admission, so MD brought with it a welcome change of two long years without any exams bothering me. I did what any responsible Indian student would do in such circumstances. I got drunk. A lot. Just kidding, only every alternate day. The hit that my lifestyle and general decision-making sense took was evident by the fact that the money my garbage-guy made from the bottles that I put outside my flat was probably more than my expenditure of textbooks plus stationery. Hence, the whole ‘Indian Education System needs to change’ argument seems a little flawed to me. We are Indians. You need either to put a stick up our rear or emotional blackmail to get anything done by us.

Well, fast forward to 2 years ahead, and finally I have a stick up my rear called ‘MD professional exams’. I was given three years to study the curriculum of my subject, which I’m sure has at least 4 standard textbooks, one of which has 3200 pages with font size that can only be read if your eyeballs pop out the way they do for dresses worn by admirable ladies on a friday night at Hauz Khas village. Now, although less than 7 months are left for exams, I’m sure even if I had been given 13 years instead of 3, I would’ve been in a similar position right now. I’m an SRK fan after all and I firmly believe haar ke jeetne wale ko hi MD student kehte hain.

The last seven months will go by very quickly, and I need to get my priorities straight, hence here are the steps to my final plan for success:

1. Must study daily. At least try to study daily. At least think about studying daily. At least feel guilty about not studying daily. Ok at least every alternate day.

2. Practise my ‘poor villager with jobless father and unmarried sister’ face to perfection, also known as the ‘Sharma Viva Face’.

3. Take the question papers of the past 10 years. Pant nervously and sweat profusely for 20 minutes. Go to sleep. Repeat the cycle every weekend.

4. Avoid talking to female coPGs about the topics they have covered. Their usual response of “mera to bas <<insert the entire course plus topics that you didn’t even know existed>> hua hai, par kuchh yaad nahi rehta yaar” may pop a vein inside your head.

5. Limit further alcohol sessions only to birthdays, break-ups, anniversaries, break-up anniversaries, and special occasions like “kitna time ho gaya yaar!“.

So, as you can see, I’m set with all the false confidence in the world for the final lap. Heres wishing all the exam-going PGs the best. Remember, crying is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength and desperation so that someone will donate their notes to you.

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