Two Hundred and Eighteen

 Today I was going through Dada's things with Savi in India and we came across two shirts hung up by Dada from almost 7 years ago. He hung them up in the typical rush of preparing to leave for the United States. The expectation being that there would be plenty of time to take care of all material needs and closing-up-of-the-apartment prior to departing and the truth of being Rushed Rushed Rushed to get the bags packed and get to the airport for that 4 AM flight. 

Those two shirts, hung up by my grandfather 7 years ago had gathered age themselves as their owner aged further and proceeded to outlive his son and subsequently pass himself at the age of 98 a little over a year ago, in a land far from his homeland and people. yellow spots of some odd cabinet discoloration had appeared on the shirt. Puffs of dust arose as I removed them from the hangers. Then, I noted a heft to one of the shirts. 

Taking a closer look, I noted the front left pocket, the pocket which my grandfather forever kept full of tissues and paper towels, to be full of coin. A fistful of 1 and 2 rupee coins filled that pocket. I solemnly showed my grandmother and we proceeded to suddenly sob over the loss of this man who was our quiet patriarch. Our collector of items whether coins, rubber bands, paper towels, and other bric-a-brac. My grandmother's life-partner for 77 years. My first playmate and a solid pillar of my life for almost 40 years. 

We cried. We cried in the way all grieving family members do. In the way all spouses do at the loss of their person. in the way of all grandsons at the loss of their grandfather. The type of crying that can make rough-and-tumble uncles put on a brash front and tell us to stop crying, as he has his own way of grieving. In the way of my grandfather's niece-in-law providing support from the side as she herself admits her own method of grieving over the past few years. 

We cried at the loss of someone who had knowledge of us in different periods in our lives. Those who knew us when we were in our prime. when the youngsters were but spitting up milk and toddling around. The loss of a man who travelled the breadth of India on the rail lines. Who travelled to another country to help his son. Who played Aggravation with an 8yo despite not knowing the rules. Who kept change in his front pocket. 

Two Hundred and Seventeen, Two Thousand & Twelve!

It's the new year! And I'm not inebriated! Really, I'm not--likely I'm helping friends who might be inebriated!

Two Hundred and Sixteen, Carburetors

     Puttering along. No, that would imply I work in a factory or office setting. Unfortunately the profession I'm in is increasingly being run like a factory improving efficiency however the acceptable losses is still considered to be zero. Unlike carburetors–of which the worst case scenario is a flawed shipment costing $$$–people are not expendable. When a carburetor isn't functioning properly the usual treatment is to replace it.  Not so with human beings. There is no reason for a mechanic to be on call to fix a car emergently in a night.
     It is enjoyable though and satisfying. That little part that glorifies in fixing problems while interacting with people burns brightly every day for me. Although every now and then I fix a problem or two and then my patient happens to pass away from something else despite the improvement he or she had shown.
     But those thoughts are for another day.

Two Hundred and Fifteen, Match!

March 17th, 12:00 PM is when I find out where I'll be for the next three years of my life!

Two Hundred and Fourteen, The Spark!

Often I'm reminded by a few friends why I need to stay in my college town. Why? They love me. And I do love them. So what pushes me to go away--far far away? My father went around the world for his education, then career, and brought me into the world here as well. Talking to him teaches me that none of it was preplanned. It just happened that way. With the sole exception of that first foray over here. What spurred him to it? That is what I wonder because I'm searching hard for that part of me that will send me off into the corners of the country. I need to know who I am and cut my own path through this world. I love my friends. At times I feel stifled by that love because I worry about meeting enough people to find some who think like me while hanging out in the same places. I need to get out and away--someplace where I can meet others in a similar boat and we can explore our new boundaries, such as we choose to set.

Another sun-soaked season fades away...

Two Hundred and Thirteen, Departures

I watch as some of my friends in the past month have proceeded to pack up their belongings and either move or prepare to move as their residencies begin, husbands return to jobs in other cities, and simple need to get outta Dodge sets in. Some of our crew here would fight this, the general erosion of our people out of the cracks of the city to other places. I say Go, Go Boldly and announce yourselves. Whether you go simply to the suburbs, to states a goodly drive away, or to the other side of the nation, Go! Chase your dreams and your education and your spouses. If you must return, come home with the knowledge that you lived while you were where you went. And always remember that we all love each other lots and we can draw strength from that wherever we are.

Two Hundred and Twelve, Wildfire

It's amazing how fast news can spread in today's day and age. If we go back simply two generations, news traveled as fast as the post did and even then not necessarily to everyone. First the immediate family would get notice and then they would inform close friends in their locations. Dire news such as deaths often had a travelling family member who would go around telling other family members of the death before everyone went to the town where the person used to live for the funeral and such. Friends of those folks would be brought in to take care of the farms/shops/plants while the family was gone.

Now, less then twenty-four hours after the fact, folks connected online have knowledge of deaths of people they might not have seen in years. Those folks tell their friends who are not online about it and then they end up calling others and so on and so forth. It amazes me the speed with which the news spreads, good or bad. Wildfire.

Two Hundred and Eleven, The Blind Side

WARNING! SPOILER ALERT!

"Michael Oher, you listen to me, all right? I want you to enjoy yourself, but if you get a girl pregnant out of wedlock I will crawl in the car, drive up here to Oxford, and I will cut off your penis."

I thoroughly enjoyed it. Of the whole movie, the part that caught me most unawares was the ending credits.

Two Hundred and Ten, Stagnation

It's not that life is stopping all around, it's just that my personal development has slowed down to a crawl. I see myself as the same person who entered medical school four long years ago. Have these years meant nothing to the personable side of me? Can that side really have remained unchanged as my professional side underwent immense challenges? I look around at people moving forward with their lives--their real ones that matter! and see that I will have to work just as hard at my life as I do for my future career. While I rarely assume things will fall in my lap in most things, I see that in this area I have remained quite naive. Things will work out as they usually do but I will have to help it along a lot. And that means I have to learn, and learn quick.

But what is it I need to learn?

Two Hundred and Nine, Reactivate

[cough] [splutter]

Life happens. More on that at a later date!

Off to Canada for a week and who knows, I might be better at posting up there where the weather is nice....and hot as well!