'Star' of my hospital

I have learnt some of the biggest lessons in my life by being in the company of selfless people. One such name that has always rekindled hopes, even in the state of uncontrolled inner turbulence, in me is Sister Mercy Mathews. She is, without a second thought ever, matron of Khetarpal Hospital and one of the best persons that stepped in the realms of my life ever. I am yet to see a more disciplined individual than her. She has never turned a minute late for her duties in past 15 years.

Most of my old patients know her, and take pride in the fact of knowing her, for they believe to have been looked after by the most angelic personality ever. Sister Mercy remains imperturbable, and glowing even in the face of prevalent chaos and mounting work load. She, possibly, is alien to the concept of any other vocal tone except to that of utter compassion and care. Many a times, patients’ relatives, in a frenzied state, tend to speak harsh, but that hasn’t came across her way of displaying the most beatific and saintly spirits.

I have seen her fighting some of the callous battles of life alone with undeterred belief in the power of hope and belief; needless to say she has been able to overcome every possible atrocity that crossed her life. I make it a point to appoint the newly joined staff nurses under her supervision so that they may take a slice of life and attempt to reinvent themselves. I have never had a patient complaining directly about her, and the list of patients who genuinely express eloquent words for her selfless nature, compassionate attitude and kind gestures seem to be on a constant uphill. 

What is your elixir of life?

We crib a lot of times that the world doesn’t love us. In a burst of negative birr, we tend to filter out the positive aspects of a situation and the left-over remnants of a complicated mental process make us realize, falsely though, that we are no longer loved by anyone in this world. It’s such a common thing to not to realize that you are, indeed, loved by more people than you expect in the brightest of your days. We are all commanded by different set of thought processes; some of us churn our thoughts more than the others; some of us get presided over by the wings with poor control, so what they are following is an ungoverned trajectory; some of us are the eager beavers, you give their minds a simple, dead-looking thought and they would, exotically enough, create a lesson of life from it.

We, very often, overlook the love that our colleagues and acquaintances harbor for us. It happens that we get indulged in our families and close group of friends so much that we don’t really appreciate the silent glances that scream of enormous love. Not everyone that takes you in high spirits is expected to cross your path and announce his or her feelings for you. Certain feelings are preceded by a very small slice of life or plainly by a déjà vu, or by an involuntary force that is difficult to be overcame. The existence of such seraphic love happens more than our hackneyed mind-process and biased eyes can see. So, in most of the cases, we don’t really reciprocate our feelings and an imminent beautiful equation is never delivered.

Look around you to catch the signals of unconditional love; give your thoughts the eyes of an eagle; let your mind wander uninhibitedly and identify the subjects of it’s alter existence. You would be amazed to find more love in the universe than you ever imagine. The universe is built with fabrics of love, so there should not be much difficulty in finding the quintessential part of the universe’s basis. And love is not just a feeling; I am sure it has its own properties. You believe in it and it strengthens your belief in everything; you throw it over someone and you get it back in return; you bend it and it shows its tenacity; love is a cure-all elixir of life. Give your mind some elbow room and find love at all around you.

Prolonged Cloud-Commuting. La-Nina calling shots.

The bloom of winters is not fading away even though we had our customary festivities i.e. Lohri, Makar Sankranti that announce the onset of warmer days ahead. New Delhi has become the cathedral of mist and heroically steps into the league of western urban climatic realities.

It happens so may times that your touch phone requires sustained efforts as you finger pulps, frozen cold, fail to evoke the senses out of that intuitive-gone-numb touch screen. 

While driving, your pupils remain mid-dilated to capture the maximum visual field, courtesy the smog. So many penurious people, who inhabit in footpaths and streets, succumb to hypothermia while we continue to liver our quota of saturnalia. 

Those of us who have been non smokers attempt to exhale in twilight to visualize what it likes to see the impression of smoke coming out of our lips.

The days have shrunk considerably in length and the people working in night-shifts might feel cheated by the elongated spree of winters this year; the hubbub of night fails to settle. I read in newspaper that this prolonged duration of winter this year is attributed to La-Nina effect, an ocean-atmosphere phenomenon. Is the climate giving us a clue for some precise messages?

The incessant binge of freshly brewed coffee, the chatter of colleagues over unending supply of roasted cashew nuts and home made pakoras (the fried snack made by batter of gram flour), the picturesque surroundings when even the ordinary looks carve out a memorable artistic expression – a photographer’s delight, the shattered and shriveled appearance of those living out in the open, the helpless stray dogs, the feeling of being involved in cloud computing in the office and in cloud commuting when driving back home, the incredible number of hours spent beneath the quilts and cushions, the aggressive beams of the cars that work overtime due to Sun’s leave without notice, the terror of touching something metallic with bare fingers – Winters give us a different slice of life.