Chro: Jan 7, 2009

Doctor* did not come in today. Was bored. I ended up writing some stuff that will change history, as we knew it, for ever.

This story happened about 1980 years ago. Our man was so stressed to the core, that stress had become a new normal for him. Times of peace and calm gave him allergies, rashes, and the occasional ulcers. Things were not always that way. The transition happened after he came back to his high ground after spending quite a bit of time in the wilderness. Stung by what he saw, he started spreading some good word among people - words of affection, goodwill, hard work, and the occasional paranoia. He had just one weakness: wine, which he liked to drink and serve. Even with a full time job, that would have been a problem, but thankfully he knew the fine art of converting water to wine (and from there, to something saline).

In the end, his efforts and words looked like they would take off, but there was a complication. The high priests were not pleased with all of this. They spoke to his disciples, (12 of his favorites) and one of them (let's call him Judas) blinked when promised 36 coins of gold, one for each year of our man's life, in a symbolic sense. In inflation-adjusted terms, that might have made Judas the richest man on earth today, but thankfully, men don't live that long, nor their evil.

Our man knew that betrayal was on its way when the hen crowed (unusual for a hen, don't you think?) multiple times. Pontius Pilate, the prefect who worked during the times of Emperor Tiberius, got involved and delivered a potential verdict, thanks to the damning statements of Judas. But Tiberius himself knew of the work done by our man and he overturned the verdict. And thus, unfortunately, for students of theology, a great religion was never born, because our man was never crucified.

As for Judas, the coins were never delivered to him because the contract (in an implicit sense) required an outcome. The cross meant for our man was burned, much to the chagrin of the high priests, who were at least hoping to salvage some firewood. The alleged thieves who were supposed to be crucified with him were let go. Wilson, who was sharpening his best nails for the crucifixion, had to shut shop. As for our man, he went back to work on other things, some closer to  his heart, some his karma.

*I checked with doc, and he certified that no religious sensitivities were hurt in the making of this blog.

Chro: Jan 1, 2009

I laughed, I drank, and I smoked,
And embraced everyone who cared to walk with me,
Save the ones that were slithery.
I felt at home even with the rats that ran around,
Rats gave me the pain they had squirreled away for good,
In return for the food that i (in lower case, italics) served on the ground.
But then I had turned another page, for another story,
To blame me.

I did good, and those, in God's sweet time (i.e., the time that the almighty has left after updating his/her FB status and heeding to my friend/help requests) came in handy
All that I did bad, even in good intent, they haunt me
just till the hour of the reading of this line, no more
Such is the nature of the world, and its mediocrity

Whether it's a rant or not,
On average, I have to blame me.
As I turn another page.

Boom! The sound of the church bells that drove the doves away were but fleeting
Like my footprints embedded by the waves on the sand while I kept walking
The doves they returned when the bells stood still
Those feet of mine, they never did, they were on to a hill
Nor did the waves, they had turned another tide,
Till they drowned all alongside, in a deluge
While I turned another page, for another story.

Like the time (and then, there was this time, when I) I did not sleep for a few days,
But, when I did -one goddamn day in 365.x- for an hour, or as luck would have it, 3,600 seconds,
I had a dream that felt like eternity,
And when I woke up, I felt good,
In my dream, I fell, and I hit rock bottom, but...at the nadir,
there was elastic, from the bubble gums I never chewed.
And I bounced back, to turn another page, and live another day,
For a brand new story. And this one's for glory.
I call it Version 2.0, watch out, or be sorry!

Chro: Jan 13, 2008

Doc, do you know what pain is?

D: Hmm, it depends. Mental or physical?

Mental, the searing unbearable type, if we can discount all the physical harassment you give me in the name of treatment.

D: Haha. Sure pal, everyone feels it. If you ask me, I feel it all the time. But what I think is, and I could be wrong here, but....our minds are designed to take a healthy dose of real pain.

Mine isn't, which is why I ended up in your custody. And, what I'm talking about is THE real pain that comes from a feeling of helplessness. Guilt, which you cannot clear, which you cannot correct. The only way would be to go back in time.

D: Hmm. I guess that's not an option you're considering?

Nope, not yet. But...don't you think it's sad that life does not come with a Ctrl Z option? I mean, how can you live with that single formatting error you made that you cannot correct.

D: Wait a minute. Did you kill someone?

No.

D: Rape?

No.

D: Did you bully the new nurse?

No.

D: Pillage? Plunder? Destroy?

No, no, no! Mine is emotional, not a flesh wound, so to speak. That said, no matter how much you scream from the rooftops, the person at the receiving end of your lack of judgment would not buy it. And that's when you feel the real pain.

D: I don't buy that.

Buy what?

D: That part about the person at the receiving end.

Why not?

D: Now, if that person really is a friend, someone for whom you mean something or the other way around, he or she would get it.

Really?

D: Yeah, really.

You mean I got all worked up for that?

D: Yes you did.

Goddammit! Guess I added a lot of sad pus to a bad wound.

D: Something like that. And, by the way, in about 5 minutes, you're gonna get another injection. It would make you feel better.

Now is not a good time to talk about real physical pain, is it?

Chro: Jan 10, 2008

Hey doc, wanna talk about something?

D: Like what? [Looks at me and smiles.]

Well, that's a welcome change - a smile. You're kind of warming up to me these days.

D: Really? If you think so, may be it is because you're starting to make some sense. My kid is a taking a better interest in grammar, after I showed him your write-up.

Hmm. I hate flattery.

D: Oh, that's news. But I'm not flattering you. My kid really liked it.

No. I'm not talking about a kid's fascination. I'm talking about types of flattery that are unwarranted.

D: Why so? It's always a good thing to hear something nice, once in a while at least.

Couple of years back, I used to get it sometimes. But some of them always made me uneasy. You know I could tell between real appreciation and the spurious kind?

D: Nooo. How can you tell?

Well, it's like this. The real appreciation is dropped in to a conversation - it may have been planned - but you're enamored by it. Mostly, there is a hint of hesitance and apology attached to it. The subversive one is shot like an arrow - it sticks out like a sore thumb - one that is pushed against your neck making it difficult for you to breathe.

D: Well, that's hard to tell.

Well, I could always tell. At least, before I came here.

D: What??? Ok, thanks for not flattering me about my treatment.

C'mon, I haven't lost that skill completely. I believed you about the grammar bit, because you brought the kid into the picture - and also because you have nothing to gain from me.

D: What has gain anything to do with it?

It has everything. I learned it the hard way. I tell you what - next time you totally flinch at something flattering - to the extend that you honestly think you do not deserve the praise, remember the sound of a knife that's being sharpened. It's getting ready for you.

D: Well, I'm honestly tempted to dismiss your thoughts as being whimsical or flimsy, but I would resist the temptation to do so, considering the fact that I respect, for whatever it is worth, your thought process, from which sometimes good ideas originate. So...

Ha - some rehearsed self-restraint spee[cut short]ch

D: That said, with each and every passing second and comment, you are pushing the higher levels of my tolerance, so much so that the idea of doing an irrevocable and irreparable damage to my sense of self-restraint sounds ever more appealing. So relax. [Walks away]

[Mutters] Why do I always break bubbles?

Chro: Jan 3, 2008

Steven did not come that day, he was off on a hunting vacation. They send a junior doc who looked intelligent.

Jr Doc: Jim, Good day?

Yes. Good day, except Steve is out hunting, which does not sit well with me.

Jr Doc: I wonder why it does not sit well with you!

Well, it brings back old memories that I do not like. Forget about it.

Jr Doc: No, tell me. Steve has told me you're a good conversationalist.

That's charitable of him. Personally, I really like to forget the 1930s. It was like I was doing God's work, helping the villagers stay safe. I was in Kumaon, in British India, and the region I was in was infested with tigers.

Jr Doc: Wait a minute. You said 1930s?

You asked for it and a good conversation you shall get. If you will not interrupt, the villagers called me Corbett the Savior, and I used to go alone to hunt down the tigers that cost them their livelihoods and in some cases their lives. It was an enriching experience. I wanted to write a book about the man eaters of Kumaon, but before I could write that, I ended up here. [Sigh]

Jr Doc: Oh Really! What happened that brought you here?

I know you don't believe what I'm saying. You think I'm cookin up stuff. Not that I care what you believe, so here's what happened. I was hunting these terrible animals down with the zest of an evangelist who wasn't afraid to take the gun. Then one fine day, I was sitting there in my pajamas, planning my offensive, smoking a bidi, when a little kid called Biddu came up and told me in Hindi "Saheb, you have started looking like a tiger." I thwacked his head jovially, and walked into the forest to hunt the menace which was the bloodiest I've ever encountered. This tiger had killed 3 people in the last 2 weeks.

Jr Doc: Ok...

Truth be told, I emerged victorious in a jiffy. The tiger was distracted or idle after a fine man-meal, and I shot it dead easily. Then I stopped to drink water from a light current flowing nearby and I saw my reflection in the water - my face was furry. My moustache was longer than usual with the strands separated in a sweet polished feline fashion. I blinked at the reflection and my eyes looked bloodshot.  My mouth went dry and I used my tongue to wet it and my tongue came up to my eyes. I then remembered what Biddu mentioned, and I ripped my fatigues apart and I saw - I had them stripes on my chest - of the tiger. In anguish, I cried aloud, but it sounded more like a fierce roar in the forest. I had become the very animal that I wanted to hunt.Grotesque!
Or so, I made myself believe that day.

Jr Doc: Why couldn't you shake yourself off that thought and get back to life?

I did get out of that, but before I could do it, the villagers heard my roar and came running. I bit Biddu's dad's head off  before I knew it. The next thing I know, I'm in your facility.

Jr Doc: Hmm - Too bad. [Injection] This should help you sleep for a while - Mr. Jim la la Corbett.

The drug that is flowing through my veins seems to help, after a long gap of about seventy five years. Hey Doc, look..

Jr Doc: What?

Look at my sharp claws.[Sink]

Chro: Dec 31 2007

Doc: Happy Birthday fellow, you look awesomely happy today.

Thanks. And, as a matter of fact I’m trying to look happy. Hey Doc, have you have ever been hit by your close friends?

You know I’m not going to answer any of your non-treatment related questions, don’t you?

C’mon doc. It’s my birthday, surprise me. Pleeeaaassse – consider it as my birthday wish.

Ok ok. A couple of times. But we were drinking and it was in jest. I guess it was a fair fight, ya know.

No. No. I don’t know. That’s not what I’m talking about. Have you have ever been hit by your close friends? I mean “hit” as in, hit to hurt you.

No major way buddy. It hurts, punches always hurt, don’t they?

Yes they do…they do. Punches hurt. They are equal. But as George Orwell said, and let me paraphrase it for you, some punches are more equal than the others.

MMM?

Doc, I know you don’t get it. So let me be the doc here. There are them punches. Like when I was in school, and I was liked by everybody, or so I thought. There were two warring factions, and I belonged to one of them. And there used to be fights. And I was there always, not fighting, mind you doc, but throwing people one way or the other, trying to put an end to the madness, yelling STOP.

And, were you successful?

Well, yes, at times I did manage to push them away, coz I had friends on both sides. I’m not sure if you heard this quote – “the success of a man’s efforts needn’t always be measured in outcomes, but by pure intent and in some cases sheer audacity of the effort”. It would have been Nietzsche, but he did not say it, coz he wasn’t ever in my position.

Ok, I’m getting this, I think. Ciao, and be good.

Doc wait, it’s my birthday, and moreover, the best is yet to come.

Hmm. And?

And I was playing the invincible, or so I thought. Till it all came to pass. There was this day. One of my faction guys pulled me out and BANG hit me. And it hurt.

What? I mean, one of your people?

Yes, one of mine, and I was like ouch. What the fuck is wrong with him? Thankfully, I kicked back just out of reflex and it was not BANG BANG BANG and in 5 seconds it’s all over. People came running and it’s curtains.

Ok. Did that hurt?

You had to ask, didn’t you? That hurt. Baaad. And I walked away, and there are these other faction guys, the vultures swooping in, asking me if I was hurt, and chweatly “We need to do something about this. Can we settle this for you?” And I was like – No, thank you very much." And I think I just left the place. I think I yelled a lot before I left.

Doc: Did that hurt?

Not exactly. I was surprised.

Ya know, I think you were a good man that day, doing God's work, and I feel sorry for you.

Like hell you are, you would feel sorrier if you were me today. Hahaa, gotcha. actually, you would be sorry if you were me the NEXT day. I was having this conversation next day with one of my opposite faction friends and I learn that my-faction-guy had a misunderstanding. And I was like ok….And then I learn from one of my-faction-guys that my-faction-guy had a misunderstanding. And I’m like ok. And then I learn from everyone that my-faction-guy had been telling every-faction-guy that he has had some sort of understanding and that he planned to settle it. And none of them my faction or your faction guys bothered to tell me shit is coming. Does that qualify in your DSM as anything?

No. I think I lost you.

Cool. Coz I lost myself too that day. And from there on, I never had friends.

Chro: Dec 1 2007

Hey Doc.

Yes?

I read that a company in Japan makes high-end diagnostic equipment to check blood samples for the presence of leukemia cells.

Ok..so?

Now these are big machines, you know. High-tech that only them Japanese can do. But this company outsources the manufacture of nameplates for these machines to China. It's cheaper there apparently.

Really! That's news.

Now don't pull my leg on this one doc. Everyone knows China is cheaper, even me who's been in this facility for the last 6 years.

Alright. What's your point?

Doc, it bothers me. These metallic nameplates just list the company's name and specifications and says "Made in Japan".

And again...your point is?

Is it ethical to emboss "Made in Japan" on a nameplate that's actually made in China?

Yes of course! Wait. Good. very good. Do you know what got you here into this facility in the first place? You think you think too much.

That's not the point. Is it ethical or not?

I'll get back to you on that. Remind me to cancel your newspaper subscription, IF you get them from tomorrow.

Chro: Nov 7 2007

Again a day off for my doctor. No substitute physician seems to be coming my way today.
May be they know that I'm getting better.
May be I'm like wine.

Chro: Nov 6 2007

Doc, there's some condition that refers to "I have everyone, but I have none-feeling."

None that I know of.

It should be there. Loneliness in a crowd - rings a bell?

Nope

At least call it chronic loneliness, will you?

Listen buddy, I have failed - and miserably so at treating you.

No you have not. You have not. It's me. It's always been me. I have failed you...doc..., isn't that right doc? As a patient. Your faults as a doctor is MY failure as a loon. I must be one of those lone patients that must have failed you. I feel even more lonely.

Chro: Nov 5 2007

Doc?

Yes?

Have you ever stabbed people in the back?

No. But I'm sure you have.

What makes you think like that? I may be a bit awkward, pissopraynic n all, but that does not make me thaaat, you see.

I see.

Being sarcastic, aren't you?

No, just doin my job.

Actually, I've never stabbed people in the back. They thought I did it, when I was doing from the front. It's interesting.

What's interesting in that?

Studies reveal that 99% of the people who claim that they were stabbed in the back were living in a false world. They always saw it coming. They just refused to believe it would happen. Something like cognitive dissonance. And when it finally happens they weep, and say stuff like "How could he do that? I mean, how could he of all people."

Ahem.

And then they come to the obvious-and easy to make-but faulty conclusion that he was always like that. But the fact is, there are just a few backstabbers, not even enough ones for this world, and that excludes Brutus-the debatable father of this art, but a large number of hopeless idiots who push people to the edge, and then stick it on backstabbers.

Hmmmm

Ok. Let me put it this way. Has someone ever stabbed you in the back?

No, never...hey listen, I gotta go.

Doc?

Yea?

You would watch out next time you turn around to pick up the medicines from the lower cabinet, wouldn't you?

He gave a dirty look, and as usual left without another word. I don't know what's wrong with him. Btw, he did not seem interested in my conversation. All through it, he was scribbling some crap in his notebook. I'm sure he'll stab me from behind one of these days.

Chro: Nov 4 2007 Night

The true meaning of "Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?" came to me in my dreams. I made a mental note before I drifted off to sleep.

When you're apprehensive about a voluptuos woman, quiz her whether she has been molested. And consequently, has her voluptuousness been nullified by some faggot
loser?

Shleep Mister...Shleee

Chro: Nov 3 2007

Doc was giving me an injection (some tranqui stuff to calm my innards) when I decided to speak.

Me: You know that I only speak to you these days?

Yes, I guess.

And only a few words. But yesterday, after you left I spoke 598 words.

Really! That's some improvement. What did you speak?

Actually it was only 26 words. I repeated it 23 times.

Well what was it?

Excuse my Latin: "Quis autem vel eum iure reprehenderit qui in ea voluptate velit esse quam nihil molestiae consequatur, vel illum qui dolorem eum fugiat quo voluptas nulla pariatur?"

And that means?

"But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure?"


Doc: And I understand that you don't know Latin?

Bingo, doc!!! You're psychic. How did you guess?

Well. Let's put it this way. Newton saw the apple coming. Didn't he?

Oh yes....oh yes. I understand...I understand...I under stand where the apple falls. Eppur si muove. no, what would Galil have said? Eppur si fall. You and your tranq..

Chro: Nov 2 2007

Nov 2 2007
Doc, you know something, for years I peddled the same lines to girls that I met.

And that would be?
Here, read it. I have scribbled it again for you.

---
I love you like rain, like the sunshine, like a moon in her prime, like the last wind that blows before you close the doors.
I love you like venom, like everything that's taboo.
I love you like the mountains, like the snow that it brings, and the thankful blanket that protects me from all that is cold
I love you like desert, like the dry sand that flows, to the ocean of thirst on a lonely traveler's mouth
I love you like life and death
And if one of us passes away sooner, I would die if it were you. If it was me I would want you to cry - once, when no one sees. where no one can see.
And when the years pass,
In heaven or hell, wherever it is, I'll seek and find you.

I love you like age loves youth, like tomorrow would crave yesterday
I love you like nicotine, like tar, and all the carcines that cause cancer
I love you like no other, for there never was one, and you were -after all- a distant feather
---

Interesting. And what came of it?

Nothing. Someone told me it's the last two lines had a profound impact on girls.

I think so too, I think you should stop at the first para.

I will. Would you read it your wife tonight? It will be fun.

Doc didn't respond. He just picked up his scopes and left.

Chro: Nov 1 2007

Does October have a 31st? I think it does. My Diary looks empty. They must have drugged me for a whole day.

M: Doc. Do you know there was a wise man who once said that shit stares at us all? And all a man can do is piss back.

D: Never heard.

M: You must have. It was your father.

D: No way.

M: You didn't have one?

D: Of course I had one. I mean I still have. But he never said that. And what would a fre.., I mean a person like you know of my family anyway?

M: I heard you right doc. You broke a rule in the book. It doesn't matter anyway. In fact there's more that I know that you don't. You don't even know that he told your mom when you were a sick kid that "he would have been better off being a girl.

D: Shut up

M: Or that he you used to call you "Dipsie" when you were still in the womb.

D: I said just shut upppp, he fumed.

That just did it. I lost it completely at that point.
I don't like taking orders.
I just don't like them.
In one swift motion, my lips pursed and I fell silent.
I obey them nonetheless.
These days, at least.

Chro: Oct 30 2007

Doc appeared to be a bit tired after the holiday. Didn't bother to ask why. He asked:

D: So how did the doc treat you?

M: She was fine, can't complain.

D: She said she found you unnerving.

M: Did she say unnerving or unveining?...hahahaha

D: What was that all about?

M: Oh that was nothing. One of those "you had to be there" jokes. Have you read Love in time of Cholera?

D: No, why?

M: It's amazing that everyone has heard about it, but too few have actually read it.

D: Have you?

M: No

He didn't prod further. Thankfully.

Chro: Oct 29 2007

I don't feel no physical pain. Which is why I do inane things. When I was four or five I chopped of the top bit of the crown of my left thumb. It was really funny, watching the way blood oozed out, wondering all the while why everyone was screaming.
I could fight and win any battle (well, almost - once or twice guys had knocked me senseless.) mainly because I couldn't feel pain. Once a guy broke my left arm and with that crooked arm I pummelled the fellow. I threw my hand at him. The bone that stuck out from my broken arm apparently got into one of his vitals. I don't remember which one, becuase I had hit him in a couple. I think he was in a morgue for a long time, because there were no takers.

Btw, quack came and left, without even making eye contact. I brazenly checked out her veins again.

Chro: Oct 28 2007

Listened to Janis Joplin 97 times. Oh Lord, won't you give me a Merecedez Benz.
Doc was on leave today. A junior quack came to see me, and prescribed an injection. She tried to make conversation to confirm that I'm loony. I remained silent, all the while looking at the prominent veins in her neck. She was very fair which made them stand out. That look must have spooked her, he he. She said the injection would have a therapeutic effect. As though that would make me feel better...I was hoping for something more like a Tera Patrick effect. She pricked and left. "Tera Patrick", I mouthed.

Chro: Oct 27 2007

There was a time, when I was a kid, when I even made made my teacher cry. But forget it. Today I was more pacifist. I seemed to be at ease with myself. I looked at a wilting flower at the window and imagined it to be her. I was happy. She was there. Right next to me in my room.

Doc: Why're you so happy today?
Me: "You mean gay?"
D: No I mean happy?
M: That's what I meant too. In my times gay meant happy. Actually I'm always happy. The only times that I'm not is when I'm sad. That's how you tell a happy man from a sad man. The sad man is always sad. The happy man is happy except when he's sad.Know what I mean?
D: Yeah, kind off. Where did you pick up that trash dialogue from?
M: From a guy called Philip. We used to call him Phil. He had a girlfriend-name was Sophy or something. Whenever he went on a date, we used to say philo-fucking-sophy. hahaha.

Doc smiled and left. He must be thinkin I'm sane.