tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181405230338653112024-03-04T21:03:37.777-08:00mystic musesferoze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-4781254566227800762023-01-08T05:32:00.000-08:002023-01-08T05:32:08.640-08:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b>The trick to dealing with your
wife’s trick questions- a survival guide<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So recently in our house we have
been increasingly subjected to various degrees of torture in the form of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>k-pop and k-dramas courtesy our teenager. In
general, Mr.Jungkook apparently is better than Shahrukh and Kimchi is supposed
to be way better than Khichdi.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One such K-drama we saw recently
was ‘My familiar wife’ (the title was interesting I thought since it gives the
impression that there were multiple wives involved, some more familiar than the
others). Anyway, so this show is all about a man who gets a chance to go back
to the past and change his wife/life <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as
he was getting maritally stifled in the present …only to predictably realize
that the good old one was the best thing that happened to him). <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">All good. The problem was when in
the middle of the whole thing the local familiar wife ‘innocently’ pops a
tricky one “Given a chance, would you like to go back in time and if yes, which
part of your past would you go back to?” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my defense I was sleepy and tired when I
impulsively replied “Yes, to my high school days”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Oh ok, you mean the time before
you met me in college….when you were hanging out with your ‘friends’?” (N:wives
don’t need to show quotation marks or put undue emphasis on certain words. You
just know that some words were in ominous quote marks”)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Silence. Realization. The smell
of potentially lethal emotional and bodily trauma.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Uh I mean that time in
general..you know high school, college….” nervous laughter<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The teenage k-pop/k-drama
devouring monster on the side meanwhile pauses the TV and gleefully becomes
spectator. She is the kid who is always on the sidelines of class fights
shouting ‘fight, fight, fight’<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“hmmm…..so would you change something
from that time..the time before we met time…that time” laughter from her too.
Not nervous. Just cold and matter of fact. Something like<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a sedated, bored Mogambo.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Check<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“No, not a thing……sweetheart, not
a thing …..” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Back in the game I thought<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Daughter, slaps her head. I look
from daughter to wife, feeling a bit nauseous…an odd foreboding….<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Right…then why go back dearest
husband?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Check and mate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Rule no 1 – any question from
your wife is a potential trick question.NEVER ANSWER IMPULSIVELY. These
questions are like intricate chess games. If you mess up in the opening gambit,
the endgame is quite swift and painful…and no prizes for guessing the winner.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Effectively dealing with trick
questions is an essential survival skill that all husbands (who want to
survive) need to imbibe. Unfortunately, the quality and complexity of trick
questions has significantly improved over the last few years<sup>1</sup>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Did you forget what day this
is?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>potentially life-threatening. If in
the rare situation realization dawns on you regarding the significance of the
day- wish her, kiss her, spend money and time on/with her….live. In the more
likely situation of you not having the foggiest clue of what day it is – just
hug her tight for as long as possible (if she becomes unconscious your problem
is solved, but that would be a bit unlikely), stall for time, try generic
statements like “I love you so much”, confuse, obfuscate- till you get a clue
on the significance of the date. Then go to previous step.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘How does this dress look on me?’ or a more dangerous
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>vaguer version “How do I look?” (for the
dress thing the standard answer should be variations of “any dress looks good
on you” followed by mushy, yucky endearments like ‘honey’, ‘sweetheart’,
‘darling’ etc. N: Generally practice suffixing these endearments in a
non-sarcastic tone whenever in doubt. Practice in front of a mirror to get your
facial expressions right). For the “How do I look” one try the hug/
suffocation/ obfuscation thing (unless you are a really good actor who can pull
off a “you look awesome” one while keeping a straight face)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Do you miss me” – the obvious advantage of this one is that this is
usually long distance,on phone, so she does not have to see your facial
expressions. Good answers to go for – a simple “yes, I do” (although these
words might bring back painful nuptial memories for some), or “Sooooooooooooooo
much” followed by aforementioned mushy endearments. Try not to chuckle. Be more
careful if this is on video call (can see facial expressions, can be recorded,
can/will be used against you). If messaging, be liberal with heart
emojis…mushier the better.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Did you like the food?” Wife
makes special dinner, inspired by Masterchef. Simplest solution is to
immediately take an extra large bite of whatever it is supposed to be and make ‘mmmmmmm’
sounds and blow flying kisses. Swallow quickly when she turns away. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 406.6pt; text-align: justify;">And then there
are some holes from which you simply cannon extricate yourself (eg: “Can you
give me your phone,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to check
something”). In these situations simply surrender and pray or vice versa.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 406.6pt; text-align: justify;">Finally, like
all the big things in life, no one answer is correct. The key is to join
together.Find your own path to salvation but share your solutions with your
brothers. Survive together.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">References<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Ask
any husband you dodo.<o:p></o:p></p>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-11686430183175620392022-01-05T01:50:00.003-08:002022-01-05T04:00:52.616-08:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>A routine episode in the life of a dermatologist</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, I have a teen with a bit of acne. Yes, most teens do
have acne. No big deal you would think. But this particular teen has a
dermatologist for a dad and a sharp tongue (chronologically in that order, but
in terms of effectiveness the sharp tongue is scores way above the dad).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You see this one here?” she was ranting, pointing to a
small bump on her left cheek <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s
huge…bigger than your big paunch”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked at my paunch and then the zit on her face. I was
pretty certain the paunch was bigger, but well…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My wife who was eyeing the interactions on the sidelines was
about to grab the opportunity to join the conversation and steer it towards the
more sensitive issue of her husband’s paunch (paunch= laziness X (no diet
control+ no exercise)……blah blah blah<sup>n</sup>…..hence proved). So, I deftly
shifted the focus back to the core, national emergency of unresolved acne<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">““Did you try the gel I gave you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“That doesn’t work” At least no one can accuse her of being
vague or ambiguous.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It usually takes a bit of time to work” I said, rolling my
eyes<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, I was kind of hoping to get rid of acne before I get
my senior citizen pension” Sarcasm. Scathing, acidic sarcasm. Wonder where she
gets it from. I glared at my wife, she glared back. I looked down. She won.
Life as usual.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“OK, I’ll give you another cream, let’s try with that”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She, suddenly rushed to a mirror and started looking at her
own face with a wicked smile. Maybe she realized that the acne was not so bad
after all. Then she shifts the direction of her wicked smile to me “Nothing,
was just checking if I look like a guinea pig. Apparently, the mirror does not
think so”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked at my bitter half pleadingly for help, assuming
that after being married so long she would get the message via telepathy.
Didn’t work. No telepathy and not an iota of sympathy for the beleaguered
‘pathy’. The wife on the sideline was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>actually smiling wickedly too. Some kind of
highly transmissible mutant grin. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Before I could add anything in my defense the bitter half
jumped in “Completely agree with her. I have been asking you for a good
sunscreen for ages, and everything you give me ends up making my skin all oily
and looking worse…. sometimes I think you do it on purpose!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The thought of messing up her skin purposely did induce the
beginning of a wicked smile in my mind too, but considering the volatility of
the situation and the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>raving lunatic
banshees involved, I suppressed my smile.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Ok, I’ll give you another sunscreen, let’s try with that” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Family déjà vu time<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was a brief moment of silence.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Maybe it’s not the cream, but the dermatologist that we
need to change” Says the mother in a deadpan tone, followed by mutually
addressed guffawing between mother and daughter<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">PS: The most challenging patients for a dermatologist are
probably the one’s in their immediate family, especially if they have something
on the face. These characters are the ultimate double edged advertising board
for a dermatologist. Quite a few of us have a tendency to underplay skin issues
of our immediate family, and that is something we should consciously avoid
doing. So, I guess, just as charity begins at home, good dermatology care also
begins at home!<o:p></o:p></p>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-17025170059944260432021-11-08T08:05:00.003-08:002021-11-08T08:05:58.545-08:00 A guide to dealing effectively with teenagers and other such impossible things <p><br /></p><p>So, the byproduct of my marriage turned teen a couple of years back. This is about the time when you realize why children are also called ‘issues’ (although generally spouses are bigger ‘issues’!) However, in my extensive experience of about 100 weeks+, I have garnered some absolutely fool-proof tips to ensure peace and harmony in a house with a teen</p><p>Washroom policies - If you take 10 minutes for the shower + dump combo, you are wasting yours and others valuable time, but if your teen takes 2 hours for the same, it’s totally OK because the washroom is one of their thinking spaces. So, if they take extra time there, it is quite possible that they will come out with a solution to this climate change thing. If you interrogate them about shower times, it can and will contribute to global warming. So let them be. Incidentally never ask your teen the dreaded “Did you do potty today?” question - directly or indirectly….absolutely unacceptable…...and if you do ask that in public, in the presence of other living humans, then that’s like the end of normal life as you know it…</p><p>Public appearances - You are not supposed to accompany them anywhere outside your house and if you do, you are not supposed to be seen and if you are seen you are supposed to act like you are just a stranger who happened to be there. They are not supposed to accompany you to any of your events, simply because neither you, nor your pre-historic dinosaur friends are cool enough for them</p><p>Entertainment policies - The TV is one thing you need to be really firm about. You paid for the TV.The TV is yours. Period. Just give the remote control to them. And all will be well. Mobile phones and time spent on social media are also really important and you need to enforce a really balanced approach here. So, if you buy them the latest smart phone, just to balance things, you yourself will need to go for one of those cheaper button phones (on the bright side you can play ‘snake’ whenever you are bored or throw it on stray dog chasing you). If they spent too much time on social media, you need to give up FB and twitter for a few weeks to balance things. ..and oh, anyway insta is not for you dude..so don’t even go there…like literally don’t… and if u do, please don’t follow their accounts and embarrass them.</p><p>Dress codes - They choose their dresses. You don’t get to comment. They can comment on whatever you wear…and they will comment viciously (and if your teen is of the female kind, a point regarding colors. You think of colors as light and dark, while they have a couple of dozen sub-shades in between for each color. Don’t argue. So, if they say blue is teal,turquoise and some kinda word u haven’t even heard of, they are probably right)</p><p>General behavior - Dad jokes, burps, farts – absolute no-nos. If you do lose control with any of these, please follow it up with a ‘I am sorry’, even if you obviously are not. </p><p>Finally, language and gestures- you need to understand their lingo to communicate effectively (at least act like you understand A detailed exposition is beyond the scope of this write up, but a few important aspects are </p><p>Barely audible grunts – can signify a half-hearted yes, an expression of boredom, hunger or contempt. Work it out according to the context. If in doubt go for contempt. Statistically more likely</p><p><br /></p><p>‘Duh’ - it basically means –‘you low IQ dad/mom /creature/twit, don’t you know this much?’ </p><p>‘Wassup ol’man’ - no don’t look if you have messages on whatsapp and don’t look at the sky. If directed to you, just smile. A ‘I’m good’ can be an acceptable response.</p><p>“Chill dude” no it’s not cold. Basically teenese for ‘shut up’ old man</p><p> Never reply with the words like ‘cool’, ‘chill’ or ‘dude’ even unknowingly. It would sound really odd coming from your old mouth…something like putting premium petrol in your nano.</p><p>Eye rolls- no they are not looking at a lizard on the ceiling. You did/said something stupid. If it can be undone, do it. If not apologize. Eyeroll with sighing and disgusted head shakes – apologize quicker.</p><p>Smiles + extremely lovey dovey behavior + actually talking more than 2 syllables – time to check their progress report, dig into your wallet, or both.</p><p>No communicative sounds at all for long durations– generally normal behavior. If they open their mouths for food, things are OK. If they don’t,check if the food is good (ordering pizza often solves the issue)</p><p>So, hope that these simple hacks will show them who is the boss.</p><p>All the best!</p>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-28019323988138972372021-09-29T22:21:00.004-07:002021-09-29T22:34:49.496-07:00Mind your language!<p></p><p class="MsoNormal">More often than not when you send a manuscript to an American
or European journal, and the editor realizes that the corresponding author is
desi….a standard comment packed in with the rest of the sophisticated abuse is <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>something on the lines of ‘The language needs
significant revision/ please get it checked by a native English speaker’. So it
was interesting when recently we got the same comment, when we actually had a full
blooded Britisher as a co-author….I mean, how much more ‘native’ can you get?:)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The material was not really Nobel prize worthy anyway, so we
had more or less assumed that the paper would be rejected anyway, but we still swallowed
our pride and made some cosmetic changes and resubmitted. The honorable editor did
not disappoint a bit. The submission was flushed down the electronic drain
promptly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I really
wish I could indulge in a little light hearted banter with the editor in these situations,
just for ‘time-pass’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would probably
incorporate some solid Tharoorism combined with equally solid mallu engleeshu.
Things would probably look something like:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Extremely respected excellency editor saar,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I yam the sworry that my engleeshu not that adipoli. I
studied in engleeshu school only, but very humbil and simble school only. So
some some <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>engleeshu and all knowing, but
not lot lot. U get point elle? You said to check with the native engleeshu speaker,
but regret to inform you that in my native place, all same engleeshu level
only. What to do? Sad only. Tharoor saar, u know? He very good engleeshu….much
the better than the u england people and americakaaru. Big, big engleeshu
(farrago and all….not simbil rodomontade words),but <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he native of Trivandrum, myself Kochi. Wife Trivandrum
native…but wife not author in this the paper…and wife also same engleesh like
me only…maybe little less only (PS : please don’t tell her…if she read this she
give me slow death, like the kuzhimandi chor making thing you know) . Manasillayo
saar? But u know what the thing saar, one of the co-authors…..he sayippu only,
like the you, same native place in the Elizabeth Rani’s place…and very white
skin and all. Then how his engleeshu not good. Tell tell. I know that there is
engleesh correcting DTP service and all for your journal (we also have same…Akshaya
center you know aa?)….but big moneys asking. We simbil people from the Kerala.
No moneys….we pay big money for puravastu (antique) u know. Our Monson sir
having everything from Judas paisa to rocket fuel.....but we simbil people
have<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>no money for normal fuel only (petrol
daily daily jumping like the kangaroo). Sad only. So, like your Shakespeare chettan
say, please don’t make the much ado about the nothing and all. Little problems in
the writing and just you close eyes and all is the well that ends in the well.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Nanni, namaskaram<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Your fatefully<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dr Feroze Kaliyadan<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-9480508010268445512017-09-04T23:49:00.003-07:002017-09-04T23:49:52.774-07:00In the long run everyone 'dyes'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nobody likes looking older than they are and most of us probably
don’t like looking their actual age too for that matter. It’s also very
difficult to really know when you have
crossed the very important ageing milestone between youth and ‘middle-age’.
Sometimes people around you make it easy for you though…..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, a few moons ago, while on vacation back home in Kochi, I
was getting something from one of the local supermarkets. The person at the
billing there was a 20 something petite female with a permanent toothy smile
and little bit of a squint. As I was about to leave the store, the lady calls
out to me in a screechy voice “<i>Ungil</i>,
you forgot your umbrella!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those not familiar with mallu tongue ‘Ungil’ is basically
‘uncle’ and ‘uncle’ in general, in Indianese refers to any guy somewhere around
your father’s age (it may be rarely used for actual genetically related uncles
too). If you have not yet reached that tipping age for ‘ungil’, then you would be referred to as ‘chetta’ in malluland, which basically is
something like an older brother (very important note – the emphasis is on the
‘e’ in ‘chetta’, an emphasis on the ‘tt’
implies a not so politically correct term).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My vanity was obviously dented. ‘Saar’ (sir) was acceptable,
‘Chetta’ was good….<b><i>'ungil’</i></b> was a bit depressing, to put it mildly. I did do a
desperate 360 degree look around me to
see if there was some other <b><i>‘ungil’</i></b> around me…but alas, no…the toothy smile and
squinty eyes were both unwaveringly focussed on me. No other <b><i>‘ungil’</i></b>. <b><i>Simble</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I returned home in a huff and made a beeline to the bathroom
mirror. My wife as usual noticed the beelining and gave her usual, trained “ Is
your stomach upset?” line. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But, I didn’t try your cooking today darling” Don’t
underestimate the meanness of an angry Indian husband.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hmmpph” Smart-wife switches into ‘flight’ mode.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I take a deep breath and facing the mirror, try a self pre-botox/filler evaluation session, making all sorts of frowning, smiling and sad
expressions to see the state of my static and dynamic wrinkles…more of frowning
though, considering the not so ebullient frame of mind I was in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My wife lifts her head buried into her phone, gives me a
cursory glance and some vague kind of disgusted snort before going back to her
very important WhatsApping session. My crazy 10 year old daughter also passes
by curiously, a couple of times, before she finally stands behind me on her toes and peers
into the mirror. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What do you think
you’re doing” I shot at her<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nothing papa…with all the frowning I was wondering if mama
was in the mirror” with a wicked grin she saunters off. Wiseasses….whole house
is infested with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It didn’t take too much of mirror gazing and playing ‘who’s
the fairest of them all’ to reach a final diagnosis. The hair was the issue…fair
and square…fair hair. To put the state of my scalp in parliamentary terms, the
whites were not yet in majority, but with a few more defections from the
traitorous blacks they would easily form the government in a few years (I
wonder if I could keep the black hairs locked down in some resort to prevent
them turning black). The whites were making slow but steady inroads down south
too, to my moustache and beard areas.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I will have to dye” I announce to the two other insensitive
creatures around.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you playing ‘blue whale’ papa?” The upside is that the
young lady obviously does not need a paternity test…all my scratchy genes have
been passed down as such in an autosomal dominant manner.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You should have started long time ago” This “vishesh
tippani” from Rajmata Sivagami devi (the Mrs.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that was other irritating thing. The bitter-half has virtually
no greys. Expected, you would say, because I hardly give her any stress and the
vice-versa is another story….but unfair all the same. It’s classical 3 idiots
wisdom - You’re sad if your wife looks old…but you are sadder if you look older
than your wife. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I had a teeny-weeny ethical dilemma. You see, I am
‘that’ guy who normally takes the moral high horse and preaches to patients
about avoiding hair color because of allergic reactions and stuff and generally
not hiding your age…grey makes you look distinguished and all that crap…but I
guess viewpoints are allowed to take sharp hypocritical, U-turns when people
start ‘ungling’ you. So I take a cue
from Trump and set about to ‘make my hair great again’. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went out and bought some hair color. There was a ‘buy 2
get one free’ offer so I ended up with more than I needed (and just to spite
the ‘ungling’ jackass I got it from the store opposite hers….inflicting a major
business loss for the moron). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I didn’t want to shock the world around with a sudden
color shift I opted for a more subdued and subtle looking brown-black thingy. After
half an hour of meticulous painting on the beautiful canvas on my head, I go
back to playing ‘mirror mirror’ on the wall. This time the face in the mirror
smiles back. The hairs are lovely, dark and neat…. I may not have promises to
keep but I have at least a few weeks to go before I again start seeing those 50
shades of grey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The younger lady of the house meanwhile looks up from the
newspaper she is reading, seriousness writ large on her face “Papa, do you have
any black money?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Huh”? I didn’t have too much of any money, black or white
“No, obviously not, I am an honest citizen” I assure her ( For a change I am
proud of her showing an interest in things like black money and demonetization
instead of those distorted, monstrous faces and voices in Shin-Chan)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She gives me the upturned left eyebrow ‘you are one of those
middle class- suckers’ look and then sarcastically announces to the mother hen
“Papa has no black money and no black hair either” Both mother and daughter
bond over a guffawing session at my expense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Armed with my new black mop, the next day I go back
confidently to the shop and stare confidently at the obviously visually and
mentally challenged idiot who had ‘ungled’ me. Just to be on the safe side I
left my umbrella at home (for us mallus, two things we always keep on us are
our lungis and umbrellas, irrespective of weather conditions…and you can’t keep
your lungi at home for obvious reasons). I am about to leave the shop after
paying the bill (the one with 2 GSTs added for good measure and paid with good old cash….no paytm or atm
for old ungils after all), when she shouts from behind….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<b><i>Ungil</i></b>, you didn’t take your change”…… Normally I am kinda good
with sharp and quick repartees. Right not the only thing which came to my mind
was something on the lines of ‘<span style="font-family: "Cambria Math",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Cambria Math";">∗</span>‰<span style="font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">※∅☠’</span>(now go try google
translate on that!)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, apparently once an ‘<b><i>ungil’</i></b> always an ‘<b><i>ungil</i></b>’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The same day the remaining bottles of hair color were
flushed down my toilet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To conclude (and to make a mess of the classical quote
recently made famous by our former PM – Dr Manmohan Singh) - In the long run we all dye………and then we
realize that it doesn’t make a damn difference…so we stop dyeing and start
living!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-38668828227117547662015-05-20T11:12:00.002-07:002015-05-20T11:12:24.717-07:00Career choices - doctor or pole dancer?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Papa what’s a
pole dancer?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I choke on my
cup of coffee and take a full minute to compose myself before intelligently
replying with my trademark “Duh?!” accompanied with a couple of raised
eyebrows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I hear the
sounds of plates falling on the kitchen floor. Apparently my wife has heard the
interesting question too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“You and mama
were talking something about it yesterday” The young lady clarifies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Oh that. The
latest ‘viral’ thing going about in the circle of Indian doctors these days is
a lovely piece written by Dr Roshan Radhakrishnan….all about why he would never
allow his child to become a doctor. He even goes on to mention that he wouldn’t
mind her being a pole-dancer, but never a doctor (with the little qualifier
–‘in India’)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“It’s like a
dancer who uses sticks” I fudge, like you normally would to an 8 year old. By
now reinforcement arrives in the form of my bitter-half, who changes the
channel on the ever-running TV in the background to cartoon network (from Arnab
going red in the face demanding ‘India wants to know’ something as usual) to
distract my daughter’s attention.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Oh…I thought it
was one of those ‘badly’ dressed ‘aunties’ dancing around a pole” She innocently
returns to the more serious business of watching Oggy and the cockroaches (with
Oggy doing that irritating Shahrukh Khan accent as usual).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Both me and my
wife remain in suspended animation, mouths half open for a minute.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">OK. The point is
kids these days are much smarter than we ever were. You really don’t need (or
can) tell them what to do with their life. If they are really in the mood they
may just indeed become a pole-dancer, a dacoit, a politician (in increasing
order of notoriety I guess)……or even a doctor. And you never know, 20 years
down the lane that idiot Aamir Khan might come back in Satyameva Jayate season
23 claiming that pole-dancers are the biggest scourge affecting the balanced
growth of the nation. What is important I guess is to try to give a balanced
opinion regarding your kid’s career choice…but let them decide things
ultimately…and once they do, just support them wholeheartedly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I return to my
coffee and my wife get ready to return to the kitchen to her ‘weapons of meat
destruction’ (the menu - ‘chicken-something-something ’ apparently is something
outsourced from a Whatsapp group of her friends from medical school days who very
humbly call themselves ‘masterchefs’.....that’s a story for another day though)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“So you guys
earn less that these pole-dancer guys?” return of the motor-mouth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Technically I
suppose that should be pole-dancer girls, but in these days of gender
equality....</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Wife parks
herself back into the sofa with a helpless look, I choke again on the coffee.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Um, well...it
depends” I say ““Most doctors make more money than most pole-dancers I think”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">The way starting
salaries are going for junior doctors in India I might have to revise that comment
though. I’d like to ask my wife how much a good pole-dancer makes, but I
suppose I would get bludgeoned on my head with a pole, so I drop the idea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Doctors do have
a tough life….especially in the period right after their graduation. There is a
lot of work, a lot of insecurity regarding the future and very little money.
This is the period when a good percentage of doctors start wondering why the
hell they are doing what they are doing. When I was doing my internship (where you 48
hour shifts were quite common) I had to
survive on a monthly stipend of around 2000 bucks…..my friends in engineering
were by now into five figure salaries. The 2000 bucks of course would last
about half a month, after which it was something on the lines of ‘Papa..pyaar
ke naam pe kuch de de papa’ or ‘Mama, pyaar ke naam pe kuch de de mama’…..and
usually mama or papa did respond favourably to the undisguised begging ….not so
much because of the ‘pyaar’ thing, but because they wanted to get this
irritating ‘pyaar ki nishaani’ of theirs out of their hair. Pretty much the
same during the residency too….salaries were in the range of 4000 to 5000 Rs,
which could just about make ends meet (ends of course including the mandatory
weekly dinners and first day-first shows
)….and it continues even after the residency till a couple of years at least
when you finally settle down in a good hospital or get a stable private
practice going or end up in the ‘gelf’ to make money in Riyals or Dirhams (the
last one especially if you are a mallu).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Is it easier to
be a pole-dancer or a doctor?” She seemed possessed by Arnab’s spirit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Every job needs
a lot of training” I answer philosophically “Doctors need to train longer and
much harder though” . Wifey seems to have a strange expression on her face. The
“I’ve given up on both of you” kind....which is quite usual in our house
anyway.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">But pole-dancing
I suppose does not require an entrance test at every level where hundreds of
rats compete in a rat-kill-rat free for all. And when you do get through you
have to face a hundred assorted exams, a equal number of thick text-books and crazy examiners (exposing you to an incredibly
delightful variety of sado-masochism....the only thing common being that you
are the passive partner). At the end of all this you can’t really blame doctors
for kind of hoping to be treated with a bit more respect and of course being
paid a bit more....it is strange how people
would not mind dishing out a few thousand bucks to service their car, but an
extra hundred on the doctor’s bill is met with all kinds of nasty remarks about
the ‘greedy doctor’. Incidentally defensive
medicine is the in-thing mainly because no doctor wants to labelled as the guy
who missed a diagnosis. So they end up ordering all kinds of tests just to get
things documented....something which would normally not have been done a few
years back when patients simply trusted their doctors much more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“So who is happier
finally? The pole-dancer or the doctor?” Seems like the lady was into her concluding
argument</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">“Hmmmmmm” Now
that was the most difficult question of the lot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Happiness is
quite relative (basically I am happy even if I am in deep shit as long as the ‘other
guy’ is in deeper shit) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I finished my
MBBS in the year 2000 and in our batch of around 200 students I would say that
more than 90% are pretty happy with where they’ve reached and what they’re
doing – both in terms of professional satisfaction and financial security (at
least going by the Jaguars and Audis on display in our last reunion) and
honestly as far as job satisfaction is concerned I guess being a doctor out-scores
most other jobs (even more so if you are into teaching I guess).So yes, most
doctors are happy and most doctors do have some regrets....which is pretty much
what you get in any other profession too. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">And of course
you have a higher chance of being sued, beaten up or both if you are a doctor.
I mean theoretically it would be a bit difficult to sue a pole-dancer for
negligence I guess. The beating up part is getting quite common in India these
days. I sincerely feel that martial arts should be one of the compulsory
subjects in the medical curriculum......along with communication skills. Most ‘beating
up’ incidences are usually traced to poor communication skills...but if things
get bad anyway the martial arts should come in handy. Jokes apart, doctors are
human beings and they can make mistakes. If they work under fear getting
man-handled for every mistake, quality of medical care will naturally suffer.
It’s like trying to talk to a pretty girl with your wife watching. You would
never do it properly and would anyway get a dose from your wife at the end. Doctors
need to work under better security and it is really important the ‘doctor
beaters’ are dealt with promptly and properly. We are almost scaring our next
generation into not choosing medicine even if they have a passion for it......</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Actually any
wannabe doctor I suppose is quite aware of all the problems associated with
choosing a medical career. More so now, with the net and networking savvy
present generation. So in spite of all these negatives if my daughter still wants to be a doctor, so
be it …and I’ll support her in anyway I can. Besides getting into medicine is not
really like the Mumbai <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>underworld where once you’re ‘in’
you simply cannot leave. I have quite a few friends who finished their
graduation in medicine and then moved to totally unrelated fields like business
management and even software engineering (Maybe easier said than done but basically
isn’t this what most engineers these days do?….they muddle their brain 4 years studying core engineering concepts and
then end up writing code or doing business administration). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">All said and
done, we doctors will always be under a bit of extra scrutiny because
ultimately we deal with human beings...not machines, but then that is exactly
why each day in medicine is an interesting adventure in itself...because human
beings have so much of variety unlike machines. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">One lil piece of
advice I would like to give to wannabe doctor is to choose your specialty
wisely. Many young doctors get that extra bit frustrated because after all this
trouble they go into a specialization without being really sure if they have an
aptitude or a passion for it and later
find that they just can’t handle things. So basically do what you have a
passion for. An old friend used to tell me that it doesn’t matter whether you are
a space scientist or a sweeper…what is
important is how well you do your job. Another thing is always make time for
your family, friends and of course yourself. Keep a hobby for stress relief,
take a vacation once in a while, read
normal books too once a while...and generally try to smile a few times each
day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN">I always tell my
students that being a doctor is never going to be easy……it wasn’t meant to
be…you will always have unsatisfied patients, scratchy colleagues, irritable
bosses and Aamir Khans……but somehow every grateful patient that you treat makes
up for all these negatives. So be proud of the fact that you are a doctor…. keep healing and keep smiling (and
keep ignoring the Aamir Khans</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="EN-IN">..they’re simply not worth it!)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-12965860728093572502015-01-29T07:29:00.001-08:002015-01-29T07:30:21.119-08:00Is there a doctor on board?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Few days back I was returning home
from a short trip abroad. I had just
settled in to watch Kate Winslett heroically battle cute viruses in ‘Contagion’,
when the PA system announces the “<i>Is
there a doctor on board thing</i>”. My split personality starts getting
active…the ‘good doctor’ in me wants to rush across the aisles to the patient
in distress and execute a dramatic recovery act, but the more practical shady
side (the usually dominating one) wants to dig the ear phones deeper into my
ears to block out any further announcements, hoping that some other quixotic
idiot will take the call. After 30 secs the announcement comes up again. The ‘good
doctor’ wins for a change and I
hesitantly remove my seat belt and my earphones, say a heavy goodbye to Kate Winslett and the viruses
and head towards the back of the plane where some kind of hectic activity is
going on. In the back of my mind I try to revisit the revised steps of CPR (incidentally now
after years they suddenly realize that getting the circulation thing going is
more important than the airway…so the classical ABC –airway, breathing, circulation is now CAB). Thing is I am not too much into emergency
medicine, unless you count sudden and severe itching as an emergency. Besides
if I really wanted to handle such life threatening situations I wouldn’t have
opted for dermatology, I would have probably chosen surgery… or a second wife.
In fact it’s at deep moments like this I sometime reflect on my career choice –</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
(Here are some of the most important reasons I could recollect.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I was/am/will be lazy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I
hate getting disturbed in the middle of my sleep – afternoon or night (I don’t
mind disturbing others though….my snore-storm affected nuclear family will attest to that)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I was/am/will be lazy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I
love my thick skin (some unmentionable roles in some unmentionable college
skits will attest to this)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I was/am/will be lazy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I
wanted to work with charity foundations to eradicate all the suffering in the world due to itching </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I was/am/will be lazy</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I
like getting under other’s skin (Who doesn’t?)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->I was/am/will be lazy…………..)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As I reach the empty space towards the end of the cabin I
see a small crowd of stewards and stewardesses mulling around the patient. One
of the stewards eyes me curiously and almost accusingly says “Yes?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The shady part of me wants to say
“Nothing…where’s the loo?” and go to the
loo, back to my seat and Kate, in that order.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway the ‘good doctor’ wins
again surprisingly “I’ m a ..er…doctor” says me….I myself am not too convinced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Oh…” a look over and again a very expressive “Oh!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The steward, apparently still not very convinced,
hesitantly clears the crowd to direct me to the patient. The patient
surprisingly turns out to be a stewardess….and her face is contorted with a mixture
of pain and anguish as if she just had
an extra helping of Arnab Goswami and his “the nation wants to know”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway the good thing is she
seems too young to have a cardiac arrest. I put on my best false smile and my best false serious voice
and ask her what the problem is. The patient doesn’t speak. Reminds me of our
honorable ex PM –MMS, in a time of
crisis (or for that matter even in normal times).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The lady just points over various parts of her body. Maybe she’s not
happy with her body image…the dysmorphophobia thing….I want to tell her that I
have the same problem, but that you get
used to it as you grow older. Anyway when she continues to point her index
finger all over her body I take a closer look and notice the reddish raised
skin lesions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Aha, voila!…..<i>urticaria</i>…a dermatological emergency!!!….so
now I smile even more broadly and take charge (incidentally also mentioning
very loudly and explicitly at least twice that I happen to be a dermatologist).
I take a quick history - when, how,
where, why , why not…..a little poor joke to lighten the atmosphere..and then a
detailed examination followed by a quick
counseling session. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“ Don’t worry, it’s just an allergic
reaction……I’ll just give you a little
injection and you’ll be back in
action in no time”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The ‘injection’ bit makes the
lady go a bit pale, but I insist. Anyway, injection given (incidentally the
first aid kits in commercial aircraft seem to be pretty well stocked), I get
ready to go back to my cramped cattle class seat. I was hoping that the
airlines staff would give me a free upgrade to business class considering my
invaluable skin-saving act and significantly contributing to the health of its
staff.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Excuse me doc” a sweet voice
calls out from the back. I turn to find
another petite stewardess with a pretty smile. OK, free upgrade here I come.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And then she starts frowning. Now
I am confused… I hope I didn’t mess up the injection. The sweet lady holds her
frown …actually frowns a little bit harder now. I look for the parachute hold.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Doc, do you think I need to go
for botox?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Oh. That. The frown was
apparently to help me assess her botox needs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Now this is the other thing with
dermatology nowadays…..either you are supposed to be an ‘itch doctor’ treating
all kinds of assorted lovely itches on all sorts of assorted body parts…..or
you are supposed to be a ‘witch doctor’ busy converting ugly ducklings into beautiful
swans with a simple swish of a wand…and it happens to be one specialty where
you are often asked to randomly opine on, diagnose and treat just about anyone
and just about anywhere….a blurred ‘What’sapped
image’, facebook, weddings, mid-air………… .but what the heck, why bitch
about it as long as the itch/witch makes you rich?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I do the botox consult….and a
couple of other similar cosmetic consults, everything is hunky dory and I turn
around ready to go back to my seat and
Kate…..and of course there’s no free upgrade….maybe a little extra smiles when
I exit the airlines……..but then, maybe that’s worth it too?!:)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
PS: </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
On a more serious note, it feels
nice to know that the popularity of Dermatology as a specialty choice continues
to grow the world over. The little concern is that many opt for dermatology
purely for the cosmetic part. While cosmetic dermatology is an interesting and
satisfying part of practicing dermatology, I personally feel that it should not
come at the expense of good ol’ clinical dermatology….but then to each his/her own!</div>
</div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-88655058347720041052014-07-16T07:43:00.000-07:002014-07-16T07:43:25.743-07:00Reunion diaries 2 – What do you want to become when you grow up?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></b><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What do you
want to become when you grow up?” I remember Ms Jayalekshmy , my 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup>
grade mathematics teacher asking this deeply philosophical <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>question in our class almost three decades
ago.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Doctor”,
“Engineer”, “Cricketer”,“Engineer”, “rich”,“Bigger” (!),“astronaut”,
“cosmonaut” (The cold war was very much on those days)“Fire-engine driver”,
“Policeman” (I suppose that should be ‘police-person’ in this age of gender
equality, but in those uncomplicated days none of the girl students were
particularly <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>interested in this
particular profession anyway)……..more or less standard answers you would expect
from any bunch of eight year olds, even now.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe that
when it comes to the ‘“What do you want to become when you grow up?”most<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of us grow up with vague, very attractive,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mostly unachievable dreams of being some kind
of celebrity in the future –<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>successful
film star, captain of the Indian cricket team who is part-time captain of the
football team, who is part-time boyfriend to the latest pretty young thing in
Bollywood <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>also, prime minister of a
non-coalition government,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>etc. etc….simple
and clear concepts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later at a certain
age when your abstract thinking skills are more developed (i.e ‘you see the
light’) you bring down your expectations and start thinking more realistically.
This is the first ‘eureka’ moment .Now you start thinking on the lines of the
standard job-sets – doctor ,engineer ,lawyer etc. etc. You gradually realize
that you (or your parents </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">)
have a preference for one of these standard job types and you work towards
‘becoming’ a doctor or engineer or whatever…..</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you are
really lucky<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sometimes you have that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>second ‘eureka’ moment in life, when you
realize what is that you have a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>real
passion for. It might come before or after you venture into one of the more
mundane ‘standard’ jobs .Unfortunately<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>out
of the lucky few who experience this great moment, fewer still have the guts to
throw caution to the winds and take flight with <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>their dreams.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now if you’re
thinking you’re in for a bit of the Arindam Chaudury- <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘discover the diamond in you’ thing <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or some similar <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>crazy pep psychology thing.....don’t worry…the
idea was only to get it across to you that I too had at least one of these ‘eureka’
moments’. The defining moment was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>around the tenth grade when I had to
reluctantly visit a dermatologist for a very neglected , very scratchy ,very
ugly<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fungal infection in an
unmentionable area. I had to wait a couple of hours <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before I could meet a certain Dr B . I being
me, divided the time judiciously<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to
ogle<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at 1) The sleak and shiny Mercedes
idling away in the garage of his palatial<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>home cum consulting space 2) More importantly at the impressive line of not
–so-bad looking female patients waiting in the reception area. Finally when my
turn came, the good doctor took 2 minutes and 200 bucks , gave me a list of
medicines, and asked me to come<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>back
after two<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>weeks ( I assume with another
200 bucks, though it was not mentioned explicitly in his prescription).Anyhow I
luckily got better much before the 2 weeks periods, and so skipped a review. However
now I knew what to do with my life<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
Merc + 200bucks for a 2 minute consult + loads of female patients (many of them
pimply maybe, but female all the same) + (best part) I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>get<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to
treat my own ugly <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fungal infections by
myself –Eureka!!! I wanted to be<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a
dermatologist – the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>small problem was
that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>apparently you needed <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to graduate in medicine before you get to
specialize in dermatology……………..and with that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>began a rather interesting journey which saw me catapulted into the
hallowed hallways of the Government Medical College , Trivandrum.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was recently
going through an old poll – year 2000 vintage on our batch e-groups site, which
was basically something vaguely <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on the
lines of ‘which specialty would you opt for’. We were of course freshly out of
our internship ….full time into what we medicos label adoringly as ‘entrance
thoyilalism’ (for non-doctors and non-mallus: ‘Thoyilali’ means ‘worker’ or
‘employee’ in Malayalam. This wonderful period entails full time employment
involving extensive ‘re-roting’ of all the bulky, highly detested text-books
right from day 1 of medical school. The objective is to score well enough in
the post-graduate entrance exams so that in time you can get some kind of
specialization and add the hallowed MD/MS suffix somewhere behind the not so
much hallowed MBBS alone thing)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interestingly about 50% of the responders to
this pre-historic poll actually did end up doing what they wanted to do……at
least in terms of choosing their specialty. Some of them did absolutely
fantastic U-turns though…..I know one guy who insisted that he would never be a
surgeon coz of some vague tremor while holding surgical instruments. The guy is
now a hot-shot<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>surgeon. Another close
friend changed courses around four times to finally reach a stage where he is
one of the best in his field.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However when it
comes to having long term, specific goals, I can think of two extreme cases in
our class.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The first guy
happened to be sitting right next to me on the first day of our MBBS course.
That was when the deceivingly maternal looking Dr Glorine Gnanathankam, HOD,
Physiology entered the classroom flashing a disarming smile<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(the ‘maternal’ image got pretty well
shredded after our first couple of exams when a lot of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>us were initiated into one of the
fundamentals of medical education…no study, no marks!) The good lady asked the
eager crowd of freshers the ‘what do you want to be in the future’ thing. I
was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>actually expecting people to come up
with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stupid Ms World kinda answers –
“Start a charity hospital”, “Serve rural India”….and other such obvious
hogwash. All of a sudden the spectacled, moustached, fidgety, Tam- Bram guy
next to me jumps up over eagerly and shouts “Neurosurgeon!!”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Duh?! Dude…first
day of class and you’ve managed to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>award
yourself ‘overeager nerd of the year’. I was trying to pull him down so that
the damage could be controlled, but if I remember right he also simply had to
explain the why’s and the wherefore’s about his ambitions too. Anyway I think <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not many believed him of course at that time,
but 20 years down the line Dr Gopalakrishan CV happens to be a proud and successful
neurosurgeon……..at present in Canada for some kind of hi-fi post-doc
fellowship.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the other
extreme is a guy who I believe spent a lot of time getting confused (and
successfully <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>confusing others too!) over
the broader question of whether to go for a medical specialty or a surgical
specialty (He was confused about a lot of things in general I suppose…right
from girlfriends to specialties)…and finally at the end of it all the guy ends
up as one of the CAT toppers and goes into IIM Ahmedabad. The last time I met
him he was not talking in English or Malayalam, but pure<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>unadulterated ‘Financialese’…….all about
stock options, recession-proofing, fiscal deficits and what not. I obviously
didn’t understand the language, but what I did understand that in the near
future when we poor souls who stayed on with the Hippocratic oath thing, will
be thinking about upgrading our old cars, he is going to be thinking of
upgrading his private yacht. Hari G at present happens to be minting money at a
very senior post in a famous multinational private equity company.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the whole I
suppose most of us ended up kind of happy, doing what we wanted to do. I don’t
have a specific count but I think there are virtually all clinical and
non-clinical specialties represented in our batch and almost everybody seems to
be doing quite well in his/her chosen field. Basically it means that during the
upcoming reunion any medical problem cropping up should not be an issue –
whether it is itchy rashes or hemorrhoids. So ultimately as goes the famous
statement –“If<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>people could make
penicillin out of stale bread, we could surely make something out of ourselves”</span></div>
</div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-56788069850316471772014-01-01T08:55:00.000-08:002014-01-01T08:55:06.716-08:00The sound of music<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two things are a pretty sure shot
indication that you have reached ‘middle age’ – grey hair and snoring. I am
proud to say that I have already progressed pretty well on the grey hair front.
What was until a few years ago a few isolated sad looking white hairs, has now
progressed to a slow but steady march to cover the contours of my aging scalp.
I try to convince myself that it looks dignified and all that stuff, but in the
back of my mind I wouldn’t mind a wee bit less of dignity actually. Anyway more
about my experiments with grey hair later. This little bit is about the other
interesting habit.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I get up one day groggy as
usual, yawn and a scratch here and there at unmentionable places, when I see my
dear bitter half and the byproduct of our union staring at me with menacing
looks.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So did you sleep well darling”
my wife says …honey dripping on every word (menacing look + sweet talk = calm
before the storm…… just a little bit before landfall. Incidentally I am sure
that all those exotic names for cyclones and hurricanes would be based on the
wives or girlfriends of the guy who named it…otherwise why the heck would
ominous storms have names like Katrina and Helen?!)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Duh” Intelligent answer as usual.
I do notice that the wife and kid seem a wee-bit sleep deprived.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“DID YOU KNOW YOUR SNORING KEPT
US AWAKE THE WHOLE NIGHT??” This was like a mother and daughter chorus in their
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>highest shrilly octaves.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh that. No I didn’t of course. I
mean it was a stupid question really. If I was snoring, then I was literally
into ‘sound’ sleep, so I wouldn’t have a clue whether people around me where
sleeping or doing hoola-hoops or whatever. All the same I realized that I had
to go into denial mode like our respected politicians would do.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Snore? Me? Me? Snore?”
Palindromic defence, just for the heck of it.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was around the time when our
‘pyar ki nishani’ took out my mobile phone, went to the gallery and pressed play….then
pushed the screen a few inches in front of my nose. It took me a while to
figure out that I was seeing my own distorted facies on the screen <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with a background score like a Walrus with
third degree hemorrohoids sitting on a pot.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">OK. So it was a sting operation.
Et tu wife, et tu daughter?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now if I was a politician by now
I would be in the NDTV studio saying “Barkha, the content of the tapes cannot
be verified. This is a huge conspiracy by some very jealous people who want to
ensure that I am not given my due sleep”, but this is the season of AAM AADMI
and stuff, so I humbly accept moral responsibility for my actions and
apologize. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Come night, I make it a point to
go to sleep after the good wife and daughter are in dream land. I try to keep
myself half awake with the histopathology of some itchy skin condition (not all
skin conditions are itchy by the way….i am not an ‘itch doctor’ as some
uncharitable idiots would like to put it).</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of a sudden I hear a train
rumble, with occasional whistles….no maybe that was Navjot Siddhu laughing ….no…..actually
it seemed to be an odd symphony all kinds of rumbling, grumbling and whistling noises.
I tip-toe into the bedroom and voila…the source of the creaking and croaking is
her Excellency, Mrs Feroze! And even more interesting there is<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a miniature version of the same running
simultaneously as a side-show….Ms Nadia Feroze. The lil one seemed to be
following in the footsteps of her illustrious forefathers…….</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aha! I know leap to reach my phone and record
the incriminating evidence and happily snore off to dream land. I actually
wanted to wake up both the ladies right away and press the evidence to their
noses…..but then revenge is a dish best served cold…..especially after a good
night’s sleep.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day morning as I wake
up,the good lady and the kid are up already and again seem a bit unhappy with
the way things went in the sleep department. The good lady starts to give me
the “You got to do something about your snoring” thing, when I calmly take my
phone and play THE video. The good lady’s eye undergo a slow but steady
dilation to about double the original size and then she stomps away in protest,
slamming the bed room door and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mentioning something about insensitive
husbands and such. “Mera snore, snore or tumhara snore tho bandh hua door??”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Things calmed down of course
after some time…and now we are into the “snore and let snore” mode. We have got
so used to each others’ nightly jamming sessions that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sure that over the course of time we
would find it difficult to sleep without this jarring background score. As they
say ‘A family that snores together, sleeps together’!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; tab-stops: 201.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-48284606547661236452013-12-12T08:49:00.001-08:002013-12-12T08:51:31.840-08:00Reunion diaries <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Around a decade and a half after passing out of our Alma Mater, Government Medical College, Trivandrum, we are now hopefully all set for another reunion, planned tentatively somewhere in the middle of 2014. Sounds exciting and really looking forward to seeing the old guys and gals. The ‘old’ part being unfortunately both literal and figurative now!</div>
Things have really changed over the last 15 odd years - other than grayer hairs (for those who have hairs remaining) and the varyingly impressive grades of central obesity.<br />
We were a little more than kids back then and more than a handful. Now we have kids of our own who are quite much more than a handful. We were all excited to get a little prefix of Dr. back then….now the Dr. thing is a bit like taken for granted, but the excitement remains. We were elated to finally be doctors, yet a little insecure of our futures …..Now we’re mostly settled and secure, but many have probably starting getting insecure of the future of their children. Back then a stipend of less than 2000 bucks was enough to survive for most of a month…..including the absolute basic essentials like junk food, movies and petrol. Now many of us have added a couple of zeros to the earnings…but our needs seem much more. Back then we didn't mind waiting in line for hours to get a chance to call the ladies’ hostel from the single phone in the hostel, now we have one or two smart phones with ‘full options’, but unfortunately don’t have the option of calling anyone else other than our own ‘bitter-halves’. Back then we were ‘us’ and the faculty/famous practitioners/teachers were the ‘them’….many held in awe and respect, some ridiculed, some hated, some ignored. Now many of us have become the ‘them’ …mostly held in awe and respect I think (and I hope).<br />
Life seems to have come full circle…or at least a good regular semi circle.<br />
Three people will be really missed – Ranesh, Easaw and Pushpalatha. Three good souls who left the stage a bit early. When I sat down to write this piece I was beginning to get a bit uncharacteristically senti….but then I realized that those dudes would probably get nauseated themselves seeing all this overdose of mush. So to hell with the senti…I mean we feel sad about them, but they must be laughing their butts off, wherever they are, seeing us poor haggled idiots –getting up every day to mushy ‘good morning pictures’ or stale, recycled forwarded jokes on Whatsapp, checking Facebook to count the number of likes for our latest stupid irrelevant uploads….running around under stress for that one new house, one new car, one new wife/husband……<br />
I was in a special position to know two of them as I was the only guy who was a room-mate to both of them (Obviously it had to be the two guys I’m talking about, coz for some weird reason males were not given accommodation options in the ladies hostel. This in spite of some males being around thereabouts most of the time. There should seriously be something like a ladies hostel naturalization/ citizenship option for such characters). <br />
Being roomies with Easaw (that was the correct nomenclature by the way, we never used his first name as a rule) and Ranesh were two distinctly different yet equally fun experiences. Being a room-mate is bit like being married- you get to know all the good, bad and ugly and still end up enjoying the togetherness. You can talk about anything from irrelevant things like studies to important stuff like non-existent love lives.<br />
Easaw had been demonized as a ‘difficult’ room-mate. However it didn’t take long to realize that the poor guy was probably one of the most misunderstood persons around. The thing about Easaw was that he was brutally honest. I mean if I had to deal with a difficult idiot, I would go on diplomatically on the lines of something like “ Dear respected and honorable sir, I know you are not understanding what I am saying, but please could you try to understand what I am saying…..” with a combination of honey and sugar dripping from my mouth. On the other hand Easaw’s approach would be something like “ Listen you idiot, do you understand what I am saying….if not…..” accompanied by a not –so-innocent rolling up of his sleeves to expose his massive biceps….and more often than not Easaw’s approach got work done more effectively. The guy could still makes friends damn easily. Wherever you went with him…railway stations, restaurants, cinema theatres, people would recognize him, smile at him and offer little favors.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHIA1q7_F0uKGAky56EpKDSYPjkMapFRON8OQEY_cEoeNlMmlCKzzOJW3JJQ1oq5G-Nz0RW3AxyR4Lg4QsqSiACrcV9AGYvvFSCZrQw1-asbkHPKUtQ2Egm84Ad0Xx-rOikPyqI3ze18Q/s1600/easaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOHIA1q7_F0uKGAky56EpKDSYPjkMapFRON8OQEY_cEoeNlMmlCKzzOJW3JJQ1oq5G-Nz0RW3AxyR4Lg4QsqSiACrcV9AGYvvFSCZrQw1-asbkHPKUtQ2Egm84Ad0Xx-rOikPyqI3ze18Q/s1600/easaw.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Otherwise he was just another regular guy – hardworking, great at sports and very helpful. As far as girls were concerned Easaw was more into his own type…the slightly more than moderately built and nourished kind…his favorite actresses were Kajol and Kate Winslett. I remember because the guy gave me a pretty solid headache after he kept on waxing eloquent on the leading ladies and not letting me sleep after seeing‘Minsara Kanavu’ and the ‘Titanic’ respectively.</div>
Ranesh of course didn’t have any specific likes as far as girls were concerned. Any XX chromosomal pattern was good enough for him. For that matter the guy wasn’t particular about anything I suppose. He was one of the guys who always seemed to be smiling (even under fire from the artillery of good old Dr Sudha). I still remember the day when we returned from a long vacation to see our whole room – mattresses, undies, books (in that order or importance) all soaked from a leaking roof in the monsoons. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown but this nut, my room-mate, was laughing away to glory…this in spite of the fact that his side of the room was definitely more devastated.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc3mRcWaMoRNv3MUt69ir6RcigozKC-zVTULYS8MnGiiI7ERqK4q-gDQ4ypEoZhA-ALXFlJg9yifyeuRisN8FMjNJeJTEJflWHQVR9D0GMV5Stmt3rMyq9vsBErBnIny1HEFYWdU-CyYD/s1600/ranesh.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc3mRcWaMoRNv3MUt69ir6RcigozKC-zVTULYS8MnGiiI7ERqK4q-gDQ4ypEoZhA-ALXFlJg9yifyeuRisN8FMjNJeJTEJflWHQVR9D0GMV5Stmt3rMyq9vsBErBnIny1HEFYWdU-CyYD/s200/ranesh.jpg" width="200" /></a> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ranesh was one of those misfits…a high IQ guy, a guy who got into the IIT, but ended up in medicine……but happy all the same. He was a genius with anything electronic and proof of the concept lay in the bedside operated light switches he set up in our room, which were absolutely perfect for lazy bums like us. I really miss the good ol’ days in the hostel when we would go to Nelson chettan’s exclusive ‘kattan chaya+ bull’s eye place’ during exam nights, allegedly in order to get rid of our ever present sleepiness. Of course we would come right back and end up snoring away to glory in a few minutes. Over the course of time we developed a kind of tendency to go have a cuppa tea whenever we were having insomnia. Worked perfectly! </div>
I could go on and on with the memories, but like I said, the way I know them, they would both be a bit nauseated at hearing extreme senti of any sort…especially when it is in their own names. To put it simple it was fun being with you guys….but life goes on….. You’ll miss the reunion but the reunion will definitely miss you more…….<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-66817371079624032822013-06-29T07:09:00.000-07:002013-06-29T07:09:15.103-07:00Following your dreams and all that crap...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
“I want to retire early” I announce as I slam the toilet door shut after another cathartic soul cleansing session sitting on the pot. Sitting on the pot often presents me with inspirational and philosophical thoughts…”Mein or meri tanhai” and all that stuff. I am sure that if I sit for longer durations I may end up winning a noble prize or something and at least nobody will accuse me of not straining for success. (Incidentally I am sure Rodin’s ‘thinker’ was doing exactly this when he was posing for the sculpture thing).
Wife and kid roll their respective eyes at my comments, which in local sign language means “There he goes again”. Kid goes back to her crayons and coloring books. Wife goes back to her cooking. Life is normal.
“ No really…I’ve had enough of this ‘normal’ mundane life” I insist in a slightly louder voice, giving extra stress on the ‘normal’ bit. I wanted to suffix the word ‘married’ somewhere after the ‘normal’ or the ‘mundane’, but getting physically injured was not on my immediate agenda today. “Seeing all sorts of itchy people everyday…yeh bhi koi zindagi hain…zindagi na milegi dobara..you know?” etc. etc.
I purposely keep my glare fixed on my wife. My wife ups the ante with a more threatening and wee-bit more convincing glare . “The patients I mean…itchy ,scratchy patients with skin rashes…not you” I submit meekly.The female glare always wins (old junglee saying).
This time the kid does not bother to lift her head. Wife gives a condescending nod to her head and says a very eloquent “OK”, and goes back to her cooking.
“It’s OK…people thought Socrates was mad. Only later did they realize that he was just a bit ahead of his times” I continue, not willing to give up easily.
“Hmmmph.OK Socrates dear, what exactly do you have in mind” My wife finally takes the bait.
“I want to retire early” I announce grandly , waving my hands around for effect “Follow my dreams…live my passion. It’s really the in-thing you know. Try something more adventurous. I want to travel to exotic , dangerous locations. ….maybe try my hand at wild life and nature photography. Maybe start a restaurant of my own….or write a book.….” I ramble on. The thing is that you take any ‘follow your dream’ themed movie, you tend to have the very same job descriptions repeated…the hero always decides to chuck his million dollar per annum job, stock options and penthouse to become a wild-life photographer, start his own restaurant or write a book. I mean the hero never has other simple hobbies like stamp collection, coin collection, rock collection and embroidery/cross-stitching, which were in vogue when we were kids.
“If you want to leave me, just say it. Don’t give me the early retirement nonsense” Wives always have this inherently irritating tendency of boiling everything down to the “If you want to leave me” emotional blackmail thing.
The 6 year old by-product /collateral damage of our marriage meanwhile looks up suddenly interested and enquires sincerely “ Mama, can I also think of taking early retirement from school?” She sees mama’s furious exophthalmic eyes and meekly returns to her coloring. That’s one lady who wouldn’t be thinking of early retirement for quite some time…and incidentally now you know who really makes the big decisions in this family.
“Hmmph” Wifey continues her monologue “ Dangerous places indeed. You are sooo lazy when it comes to travelling…when was the last time you visited my parents? Your in-laws?” My wife was getting into the mood. I also don’t get it why she has to always specifically clarify that her parents are my in-laws?
“Not that dangerous….moderately dangerous, but habitable places” I mutter under my breath.
“I heard that Mr. Husband…..and restaurant? The last time you tried cooking you burnt the food and almost managed to annihilate my kitchen” Now, though heavily tinged with female exaggeration , this was kinda technically true, but to misquote Edison “'I had not failed. I had just found a few ways that won't quite work to make chicken manchurian” Also please note the point : For the wife its always “my” kitchen , but when we try to completely respect their territorial integrity and don’t bother to enter the kitchen at all they give you all kinds of hell about not helping out in ‘our’ kitchen.
“And wild-life photography…you lug around your junk camera everywhere. Let me ask you how many photos of mine are there in that contraption. You ever feel like taking pics of your dear wife?” Her voice was rising like the dollar vs. rupee thing.
I wanted to agree with her…I mean with such rare and exotic specimens of wild life in the house, maybe I could have started practicing right here, but maybe I was looking at something a little bit less wild like lions, jaguars and African elephants.
Well the big boss had effectively argued with a point-by-point rebuttal and of course won. So my early retirement plans were prematurely retired. All the same, just to spite her and show that you can follow your passions even without retiring, I travelled all alone to a not-so-near pathetic supermarket , bought some not-so-fresh pathetic eggs and tomatoes, took some pics of some pathetic looking stray camels on the way back, came back and made a pathetic double omelet and then set about writing this pathetic blog. So there.
On a more serious note, it has become kind of trendy to talk about leaving your ‘normal’ routine and go flitting after more grandiose schemes. It’s all very good if you really have the passion, talent and more importantly some financial back-up for you and your family before you jump into the one of the “follow your dream” scams. There are very, very few people who actually succeed significantly after mid-life career switches. Though these success stories are highlighted and bandied around by the media, there are a hundred failures for every success that never get a mention. You can always follow your passion as a hobby on the side….till you are really ready for the big-switch. To quote from a recent FB post from the very talented wildlife photographer Jayanth Sharma ( who incidentally switched from a ‘mundane’ IT job to full time photography <b>“Learn photography so that you can click better pictures first. Please don’t treat that learning similar to a Java or .Net course after working hours that can help you change your job from being a C++ programmer. The idea of a job change has to occur when you are really good in something else that you’d like to do forever. Not quit your job to learn something new that you think you would like to do. Give yourself time and don’t rush to be an idiot”
</b>
feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-3130323718720646532013-04-09T10:46:00.000-07:002013-04-24T09:10:31.452-07:00The dummy medical student’s guide to the oral examination (viva)The medical viva exams can be interesting, amusing, out- rightly funny, ridiculous, frightening , horrible, terrible or digustlng….all depends on which side of the table you are on. If you happen to be on the ‘unprivileged’ wrong side of the table (read’ examinee’’), then you really need some special tricks up your sleeves to survive some of the more ominous examiners. There is of course a very simple way to ace your viva exams….study….but studying beyond a point is really ‘uncool’ right? So that’s why you need a lot of plan Bs. Coming up are some golden tips I have learnt from some masters of the viva exams (These are a breed of special creatures who often end up either flunking most of their exams, but somehow come through the viva smelling like roses…while the more educated ones end up smelling like assorted varieties of excrement….human or bull)
1.Empty your bowels, bladders and any other area bodily waste depots before the viva. It helps you relax better. The only bull-shit that you want to extrude should be from your mouth.
2.Dress well, shave/ cut your hair, brush your teeth, take a shower, use a comb, use a deodorant and an anti-perspirant…..I know that doing all these things on a daily basis is very cumbersome and asking too much from a medical student, but what the heck? You’ve got to do most of these things at least once in a blue moon, so you may as well do it on the day of the exam. Subjecting the unsuspecting examiners to the full glorious panorama of your appearance, and bodily odours combine with the over-activity of your autonomic nervous system may just unfavorably tilt that gentle balance between a ‘pass’ and a ‘fail’. I call it the ‘whiff between the cup and the lip!’. Almost every other examiner has this fetish for a white coat, so always wear a well washed and ironed white coat …if you can find something like that in your cupboard. If not steal it from the nerd in the next room who lives in a stupid utopian world where apparently medical school requires discipline, hardwork and white coats . Start with a greeting and a smile….you can even try commending the examiners choice of dress, even if the examiner is dressed like a mutated cross between Govinda , Bappi Lahiri and Lady Gaga.
3.Act knowledgeable – This is the key…from the examiner’s side the logic goes a bit like – “If he looks like an idiot, talks like an idiot and moves like an idiot…he must be an idiot”. So try not to be your true self as much as possible. Wearing a spectacle helps often. Most medical students these days spend more time on the internet and video games than medical texts. So there’s a good chance that you are already blessed by myopia ……If not you can always go for a zero- power spectacle. For every question hesitate a bit, filling the gaps with a few ‘hmms’ and intelligent-looking head nods – the up-down type, not the side-to-side ones (Imagine you are Manmohan Singh giving a press conference., but don’t get too much into the role coz you may end up remaining absolutely mute even if a Richter 9 earthquake strikes the examination hall) . Of course you also have to follow up the ‘hmms’ and ‘err’ with some kind of legible words, otherwise the examiner will identify that you are ‘borderline’ dumb (which you probably are…. but then not getting caught is what we’re talking about right?Capisce?)
4.Learn a few big words and try to introduce those words into whatever answers you are giving. For example for a dermatology viva – learn a few terms like ‘Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans’ and always say this instead of saying something simple like ‘epilating folliculitis’
,even though they essentially mean the same thing. So if you are asked to talk about say acne…you could say something like “ Acne is a very common disease, the lesions are similar to Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans, but there are differences, for example Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans looks different, because Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans is somewhat different and acne is not exactly like Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans. Sometimes Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans and Acne can occur in the same person and sometimes Dermatitis cruris pustulosa et atrophicans and acne can occur in different persons also”
5.Steer the examiner towards what you know……the whole funda of the exam as far as you are concerned is to get the examiner to hear what you know not know what you don’t know. So the moment you get a question on some area you know even vaguely, wax eloquently till kingdom comes and if you get a question not even remotely near the little bit you have studied, still try to connect it to the part you know. For example, imagine that the only thing you’re really comfortable with in dermatology is ‘acne’ and the nutty examiner ends up asking some totally stupid question like “ Tell me the etiopathogenesis of psoriasis” ;your answer should proceed on the lines of something like:
“Psoriasis is a very common disease- it affects the skin – there is inflammation in the skin- there are lot of conditions with inflammation in the skin – one of the commonest of this is acne – acne is characterized by a block in the sebaceous apparatus …blah , blah, blah”……..rant and rave like a possessed madman for about 3-5 minutes (incorporate all the minute, irrelevant and outright ridiculous details regarding acne that you know) …. at the end of this severe verbal diarrhea, most examiners end up forgetting that the original question was about psoriasis and not acne…and they also end up believing that they’ve just met a future Nobel prize winner in acne . Incidentally make it a point to speak as slowly and clearly as possible, when you’re talking about something you know and speak fast and unintelligibly, like unadulterated gibberish, when you’re in unfamiliar turf
6.Last ditch salvage attempts if things go horribly wrong – cry, bawl,howl, wail (Kind of more effective if you are a girl, but worth trying across genders)..tell the examiner that the previous day you had a life threatening bout of fungal infection of the left groin (be specific and inventive..the old ‘I had fever’ kinda things are too lame nowdays. Don’t say that even if you actually had a fever)…..the sympathy thing sometimes works if the examiner is a bigger idiot than you.
7.Learn to answer some of the trick questions which usually come up when things are not looking so good for you– The examiner may ask you things like “ How much time do you spend daily of facebook and twitter”…don’t jump and shoot something like “Less than 16 hours hours Sir” or complain of invasion of privacy.The best answer would be something on the lines of
“ ‘Facebook’…duh….what is that sir?” or “Facebook…is that a medical book? Who’s the author?”
<b>
DISCLAIMER: All the previous mentioned skill sets have been tried and tested by professionals, I urge you not to try out these stunts in the exam hall if you can do something more simpler, sensible and much more effective….like STUDYING.
</b>
<i>On a more serious note, it is rightly said that ‘assessment drives learning’. If the assessment process is not valid or reliable, the whole learning process also becomes undone. Medical teachers need to ask realistic and relevant questions – sampled over a wide range of topics within the subject, with the majority of questions being of a moderate difficulty. They should also try to ensure that the marking is realistic. Giving marks too liberally or too stingily really doesn’t serve any purpose. On the other side student have to understand that medicine is a really difficult course and examiners can have their own special peculiarities and idiosyncrasies. You can’ t realistically go around expecting to score a 100% on each exam and neither can you go on cribbing about each exam/ examiner. If you consistently put in really good effort, you will definitely get good scores.
</i>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-7907831131967350532012-03-31T08:57:00.000-07:002012-03-31T08:59:55.438-07:00The doctor's dress codeRecently I was leafing through an interesting article in a medical journal which dealt with patients’ perceptions regarding the dressing styles of their doctors. The study was of course in a European context and the important question addressed was what kind of dressers did patients prefer? The classic white coated type, the formal suit and tie type or the casual dressing type? Well, at least no prizes for guessing which type was least preferred.<br /> The article reminded me of some of the ‘dressing’ issues of my own undergraduate days in medical college. Looking back I realize that some of the really good doctors that taught me weren’t the snazziest of dressers and neither did most of them give a damn about what we wore or didn’t wear. There were on the other hand quite a few professors who were obsessed with the way we budding doctors dressed. The most famous was of course was the one and only Dr FM of the surgery department. Dr FM was known for his antipathy towards any female medical student not wearing a sari (i.e. wearing something else other than a sari, not what you were thinking of you perv!). Many a female student has been castigated in the hallowed hallways of the surgical ward in the Trivandrum medical college for choosing to dress in a salwar/churidar (Still have not really figured out the exact difference between a churidar and a salwar. Only thing I know is that 1) Females are never really satisfied with the ones they have 2) They are costly 3) You are supposed to buy or at least facilitate the buying of truckloads of them for having a healthy and pleasant marriage).<br />Surprisingly though most of the ‘liberated’ gals in our class would comply with this unwritten FM commandment…at least during their surgical rotations. This, in spite of the practical and logistical difficulties of getting oneself rolled up in six yards of cloth every hectic morning. Stumbling into Dr FM while you’re in non-sari attire was always a pretty unpleasant affair for the females. Dr FM wouldn’t say much…. just walk away before you could even utter ‘Sari Sir’ (pun intended), but the look in his eyes would be of someone subjected to the most extreme form of betrayal. Would remind you of some of the bollywood movies where the ditched hero/heroine would emotionally say “ Nahi!!Key do ki yeh jhoot hai!”. Some wore the sari out of fear, some out of respect….and maybe some because they actually thought that they looked better in a sari! (We males definitely agree that some of these creatures did appear to be more eye-friendly in a sari…kind of an optical illusion thing I suppose).<br />Times have changed however. Nowadays for medical students (or for that matter any student) saris are strictly for special occasions only. So you have a party or some college festival, out comes your mother’s silk sari collection…smell of mothballs and all. <br />FM had a few lines in his rule book for the guys too. White coats with light colored shirts tucked into formal dark trousers, polished shoes…..the works. Jeans and other such informal trash were absolute no-nos. Compliance was on the lower side with the guys though. I mean we guys had our own limitations, especially those of us staying in the hostel. A pair of jeans would be good for a month or two without any kind of even remote contact with detergents and water…and maybe a couple of months more with the right perfume (actually some of us even tried the same ‘no detergent-no water’ trick for our dearest undies also…but then there are limitations to what even a good perfume can do!). White coats we did have, even though our ‘white’ coats were perpetually blessed with very interesting mixtures of shades from off-white to yellow to brown…….well, at least it matched with the color of our teeth. As for polished shoes…well the lil issue is that you need socks to wear shoes and our socks were kind of like our undies -classic examples of ‘toxic sock syndrome’….one whiff and you’re out cold (definitely more relevant and useful for our anesthesia rotations I think). So keeping in mind one of the most important parts of the ‘Hippocratic oath’ –the ‘first do no harm’ thing, we diligently used to forego the socks and shoes routine. And there was a definite patriotic angle too, I mean even Mahatma Gandhi didn’t wear shoes did he?<br />So do the patients’ really care how you dress? Yes and no I suppose….and it depends quite a lot on your local cultural context. We mallus unfortunately still live in a very male chauvinistic society where quite a few patients would still not bat an eyelid while addressing the younger female doctors as ‘sister’, assuming that they are nurses and not actual doctors. Not sure, but maybe in our mallu context, the amount of respect for a sari clad female doc is just a little bit more than the churidar clad one….my humble personal opinion that is…but then ultimately though it is how you carry yourself and of course the quality of your care and compassion that really matter!<br /><br />N: All said and done, I have the deepest respect for Dr FM; he really was a person quite ahead of his times in many ways and quite a genuine human being and doctor.feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-5536037037185495112012-02-07T09:20:00.001-08:002012-02-07T09:29:06.390-08:00The dummy’s guide to handling -“You forgot our anniversary!”<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PBn2PUAq_VCw-hrCNh6h3LVyqJDe6piLfei79S5bbSE8smv2Pfpe_FWFe1jAGCPyfRC_q_B_YrVh2ZIzprRP089ZRLJWC638QpeXnFpPNDwgAFLSRZ_ZmWUmbDkZpWmxeHyazypcnaiv/s1600/crayon+art+%25282%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PBn2PUAq_VCw-hrCNh6h3LVyqJDe6piLfei79S5bbSE8smv2Pfpe_FWFe1jAGCPyfRC_q_B_YrVh2ZIzprRP089ZRLJWC638QpeXnFpPNDwgAFLSRZ_ZmWUmbDkZpWmxeHyazypcnaiv/s400/crayon+art+%25282%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706445181836045186" /></a><br /><br />N: <br />1. Dummy by default is equivalent to Hubby<br />2. The female partner might be a mummy and at times can be quite crummy, but never as a rule, is a dummy…that honor is exclusively for the male half of the marriage.<br />3. If my wife happens to read this -all loony characters in this story are completely fictious, any resemblance to actual human beings is because you are thinking too much.<br /><br />Last month (I forget the date), I had a nightmare. What was special about the nightmare was that it was after I woke up. I was still in bed, leisurely completing my big quota of waking-up yawns and stretches, when my eyes fell on my wife’s not so pleasant looking face. Warning bells were ringing, but I really couldn’t remember what I had done wrong. The good thing about wives though is that they’re a bit like Amitabh Bachchan on KBC…. they’ll always give you a clue before you finally lose the plot.<br />“Do you know what today is?”<br />The warning bells were building to a crescendo now. Now if it was a little later in the day, with some caffeine in my blood, my brains might have actually worked and I might have at least figured out the date and then tried to analyze if the date had any significance. ….but obviously she had picked her timing carefully.<br />Now when you get a question like “Do you know what today is?” or any one of its variants, you are definitely looking at either YOUR anniversary or HER birthday (never your birthday…because that is something you have absolute liberty to forget). Once you get this kind of ominous question out of the blue, there are three things you should absolutely do…<br />1) Buy yourself some time…and think<br />2) Buy yourself some time…and think<br />3) Buy yourself some time…and think<br />And there are some things you should never ever do, irrespective of the level of your consciousness…even if you are in deep coma –<br />1) Take the bait and reply “No….what?”<br />2) Keep a puzzled expression (kind of difficult for most people to do that when you’re in coma)<br />3) Walk away without answering the question….even if you are in need of an emergency trip to the loo.<br />4) Answer to the point with something like “Today is Friday, the 7th of January, 2012”<br /><br />“Of course sweetheart….you think I would forget?” I don’t act really well….especially not when my minimalist grey cell network is working hard, concurrently trying to figure out what exactly is happening.<br />It was January, my wife is an Arian, so it was not her Birthday….so that left our anniversary…now that was definitely somewhere around this time of the year I thought. I had to take the risk. No point in being afraid….. after all, like the wise men say “Darr ke age jeet hai” (No I did not have a can of ‘mountain dew’ with me to help….. the only thing similar I have at present actually are a ‘mountain of dues’……now that’s what I call taking puns to a new low!)<br />“Happy anniversary darling!” I ventured hesitantly.. I even managed a smile while mouthing out the greeting.<br />Now the Missus had an amused, but happy expression on her face…..did I make a mistake??. If it turned out to be her birthday I could always argue that a birthday is also kind of an anniversary.<br />The Missus leans over and gives me a sweet little peck on the cheek. I passed the exam. I breathe.<br />“Time flies…feels like yesterday…..do you know how many years it has been…..time really flies right?”<br />Uh oh… now I wanted to fly away. Trick question. I stop breathing again…..as a model husband you are supposed to not only know your exact anniversary date, but also remember the whole chronological details. It’s a bit like your 4th standard hindi exam – kisne kaha, kab kaha, kyon kaha, kahaan kaha, kis liye kaha………..<br /> Now I ‘m sure I’ve not been married for more than ten years (though it inevitably feels longer)…..My daughter is 5 years old ….so 6-8 years would have been a good guess, but unfortunately I doubt if an answer in a range was acceptable.<br />“I know sweetheart…..but you still look just as young and pretty as on our wedding day”<br />N: Flattery always works…. even in the middle of an inquisition, especially if you don’t have the right answers.<br />“I love you darling” I get smothered with another half a dozen kisses. I breathe.<br />Nadia my 5 year old, wakes in the middle of this emotional drama …takes a curious glance through squinted, bleary eyes and then immediately plops back to sleep. …She must have thought she’s having a nightmare.<br />“So what did you get for me?” She asks sweetly.<br />I stop breathing again. My lungs must be thinking that I’ve gone nuts.<br />The inquisition I realize is still very much on.<br />“Just a second sweetheart” I ramble out of the bed .My wife watches my exit with an extremely puzzled look.<br />N: When in the middle of a spousal inquisition, be very liberal with yucky words like sweetheart, sugar, honey etc. At least helps you buy some time.<br />Five minutes later I present myself in front of my better half with a huge smile plastered on my mug and a small gift wrapped package in my hand…red ribbons……..the works.<br />The huge smile thing seems to be infectious, as now the missus can’t stop beaming….the beaming gets worse as she opens the wrapping to reveal a cute little bottle of a Calvin Klein ‘Eternity’ perfume…..the name seemed to go well with my present situation too.<br />Its kisses and hugs part 2.<br />I breathe.<br />End of inquisition (for now).<br />Now for all those curious hubbies who are wondering how I managed the ‘All’s well that ends well’ thing……its simple actually…all you have to do is always keep a little gift (properly wrapped and ribboned of course) hidden away in some luggage. Whenever you have an emergency “did you forget our anniversary” kind of thing…Voila! Pull out the magic present…..and get ready for free hugs and kisses. The most important thing is to replenish the emergency gift stock….and of course to keep it well hidden.<br /><br /><br />PS: Now if any of you guys are thinking “Oh what a brave guy this is to write and put this stuff in public domain”, thing is that my wife is back home in India for now, and it’s kind of difficult to actually get subjected to physical abuse through Skype.feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-5683444258888991862011-11-25T07:00:00.000-08:002011-11-25T09:02:07.624-08:00Dead sea strolls - Jordan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoPluqcwrPnRGx4R9lz9Q7Sx8BnMfCWUWkQpuShEqfFlPiHDpKZRuP_QFsRp9BIwpeQagQDuozlnCPojyZUv3i4smvK5wbWC_hMjWTmJcW6urIthMkwpCrvpnaZdCDvuvwtphlmfS8x3u/s1600/citadel+amman2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoPluqcwrPnRGx4R9lz9Q7Sx8BnMfCWUWkQpuShEqfFlPiHDpKZRuP_QFsRp9BIwpeQagQDuozlnCPojyZUv3i4smvK5wbWC_hMjWTmJcW6urIthMkwpCrvpnaZdCDvuvwtphlmfS8x3u/s400/citadel+amman2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678966327979442498" /></a><br /><br /><br />One of the recent fads hyped up as a panacea for skin diseases are skin care products derived from ‘dead sea salts’. The mud derived from the Dead Sea apparently has an amazing variety of minerals and is being increasing promoted for anything from the treatment of psoriasis and allergic disease to skin aging. So if you are a self /publically proclaimed old hag, just jump into the Dead Sea, roll around a bit in the blackish mud and voila! You come out with glowing skin a la Mama Aiswarya Rai! It’s not really an apt place for suffering husbands who are planning to dispose their ‘bitter’ half by the good ol’ ‘death by drowning thing’….not only will these wives remain floating on the surface, they might actually come back looking unrecognizable! <br />A couple of weeks back I too had the grand honor of dipping/floating in the Dead Sea (from the Jordanian side of course). Unfortunately no ‘ugly duckling to beautiful swan’ thing for me….my skin remained pretty much the same…extraordinarily thick and itchy. Besides, if this Dead Sea thing actually improved itchy conditions you would have expected that the Arabs and the Israelis would have a less scratchy attitude towards each other by now……but I suppose even nature’s cures have their own limits.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCgE0n55iqdQCXRdIjSERnNOcatWXPA7dUX7VTAOA9wZuPJ-s5oCeUbOUupP_g8rwG5M4vQ0WIMtTULA3d17isvHUg0sKp6e7pupndb6WWQPzD01QirYCx95DHX8e0vpbrSmQtM4UaV6uG/s1600/dead+sea2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCgE0n55iqdQCXRdIjSERnNOcatWXPA7dUX7VTAOA9wZuPJ-s5oCeUbOUupP_g8rwG5M4vQ0WIMtTULA3d17isvHUg0sKp6e7pupndb6WWQPzD01QirYCx95DHX8e0vpbrSmQtM4UaV6uG/s400/dead+sea2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678964090225570706" /></a><br /><strong>The Dead Sea</strong><br /><br /><br />We visited Jordan in early November (We, as in my family and my friend with his family). The weather was great, the food was great and the people were great. We drove into Jordan from the Eastern end of Saudi Arabia and as expected the long drive was an experience in itself. It is about 1700 km from Hofuf to Amman , virtually a criss-cross across the breadth of Saudi Arabia. Major cities on the way were Hafr- Al Batein, Arar, Rafah and Turaif .We broke the journey and spent the night at Turaif. The ‘Omari’ border crossing is from the Saudi town of Qurayat. This time the Saudi side took just about half and hour (surprisingly!), while the Jordanian side took a good two hours, mainly for the visa on arrival thing and the car insurance (Visa is around 20 jordanian dinars per person and car insurance works out to about 50JD for a month). Most Jordanians speak at least a smattering of English, so conversation is not as difficult as in Saudi. Amman is around 2 hours from the Omari border and our first impression of Jordan en route to Amman was quite disappointing….mostly desert stretches for at least 150 km…I mean if you wanted to see deserts we have absolutely no shortage in Saudi! The other very interesting and mysterious thing is that every few kilometers you find a ‘police training center’. The Jordanian police apparently is a very professional unit, but so many training centers? I was half expecting to see some ‘Bad guy training centers’ ahead so that these cops would be kept occupied!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LyyN3AQ0BOtWtne9Ii4ZwnAIIJnf2zeK_oppj91X-O5uSeQWQxdX5zFT2DN6kvkAWyMuQ_0pUGQxu4z9k5gK9AwW-r5lcszahf4IoEFMDOxLIi-OmLBGFqAMpsHQAhsp68D1DqSfqGE8/s1600/road+to+petra1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LyyN3AQ0BOtWtne9Ii4ZwnAIIJnf2zeK_oppj91X-O5uSeQWQxdX5zFT2DN6kvkAWyMuQ_0pUGQxu4z9k5gK9AwW-r5lcszahf4IoEFMDOxLIi-OmLBGFqAMpsHQAhsp68D1DqSfqGE8/s320/road+to+petra1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678969347984080242" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dwcgcYeitIcS3yUg9sW8vEU6Z1MOrn1I42Nl4HZy97rDfG4HbOjQoOewWSISOnVY3-OY6mffioZoYHQ_JfWnrOYQasWgdKHmec0gpoD52X6b-mqzvs4C2al9wLZSl_e2_j63YZhgnaoo/s1600/amman+new.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dwcgcYeitIcS3yUg9sW8vEU6Z1MOrn1I42Nl4HZy97rDfG4HbOjQoOewWSISOnVY3-OY6mffioZoYHQ_JfWnrOYQasWgdKHmec0gpoD52X6b-mqzvs4C2al9wLZSl_e2_j63YZhgnaoo/s320/amman+new.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678949396875063954" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbzuurtohpTKz4-T2donZ5UrM3E8GuHgWB6fJLVsHlYDYNEKl1RJgojyUOQ-LkGEDxgocjuyAwiAIaipzYjsWEe7ad3gHS8gTU9x0LhiIeUm0ND4CSXjAr9VOU8mrw-I4741VWgqa9-Fs/s1600/caught.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbzuurtohpTKz4-T2donZ5UrM3E8GuHgWB6fJLVsHlYDYNEKl1RJgojyUOQ-LkGEDxgocjuyAwiAIaipzYjsWEe7ad3gHS8gTU9x0LhiIeUm0ND4CSXjAr9VOU8mrw-I4741VWgqa9-Fs/s320/caught.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678967995183482546" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Things started picking up when we approached Amman. The desert started giving rise to more greenery and then we started experiencing the typical ups and downs of Amman. Amman is basically built around hills and it shows in the roads…it’s a bit like a marriage..Up-down, up- down with few level stretches!<br /><br />We’re traditionally not very much into the planning thing, so we were cute enough to reach Amman and then search for a hotel instead of booking in advance as level-headed mere mortals would do. As expected (and as that guy Murphy found out) , we were going in circles and we had no idea where we were exactly (It felt a bit like my life story…going around in circles and not reaching anywhere..but apparently the others claimed to be more normal so they apparently felt uncomfortable). Finally we decided to trouble Dr Radi , one of our former Jordanian colleagues in Saudi, who is now settled in Amman. Poor Dr Radi went out of his way to help us. He found us a furnished apartment, invited us for breakfast and lunch the next day ( we were sweet enough to extend that to tea and dinner too!) and also gave us a little guided tour to one of major the attractions near Amman - the roman ruins in Jarash, around 65 km from Amman. We spent almost the whole of the next day at Dr Radi’s ancestral home in the village of Naimah, which is near the major town of Irbid (quite close to the Syrian border).The whole area has beautiful hilly landscapes.Besides the omnipresent olive trees and the lovely people we were treated to great food. Breakfast was ‘Khubuz’ (Arabic bread, something like a more obese cousin of our Indian roti), with hummus (made of chick peas…it’s another things which the whole middle east fights over …as to who has original patent rights – the Lebanese, the other Arabs and the now the Israelis are all laying claim to hummus….as though these dummies didn’t already have enough on their plate to fight about!) .We also had Felafel with a very tasty sauce made of vinegar and spices. In the afternoon we had Ouzi….essentially rice and chicken with lots of nuts and interesting flavours ( although Ouzi I think has more of a Lebanese slant compared to ‘Mansaf’ which is more typically Jordanian…who cares…generally if you put rice over a murdered chicken and rub salt into its wounds and cook it, it tastes good!). Anyway I’m sure we upheld the glorious image of our country in Jordan…Dr Radi will henceforth think twice (at least) before inviting Indians over again!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHf97j8OHKpwhQdfrWldw_qK7xMc2sYP3Kv40V9u0AlKVadeKdmDyoZ4JfwHGSIp7lY_91XNM5iEc45Te7nVyjvxdOVj_dJHpopLc8GtLDSgvuBMypcwWjWo0tX46_PCd_1VIUZv8ttR3/s1600/irbid+selective+color.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHf97j8OHKpwhQdfrWldw_qK7xMc2sYP3Kv40V9u0AlKVadeKdmDyoZ4JfwHGSIp7lY_91XNM5iEc45Te7nVyjvxdOVj_dJHpopLc8GtLDSgvuBMypcwWjWo0tX46_PCd_1VIUZv8ttR3/s400/irbid+selective+color.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678963689771005922" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQprrRHBaxLj2XsF44pu-iJ2g1DBo5VNeK-J_SBiHYejOaUqwi2VGr-gi9JRVr-d9MfbTm_raa3NW8tCRvadGRqmy4EcVCtTyi9ndFlNyyw7FwvIzsQfaVLnFt4Wwg5Zu6JPWnfPqOt_lQ/s1600/irbid1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQprrRHBaxLj2XsF44pu-iJ2g1DBo5VNeK-J_SBiHYejOaUqwi2VGr-gi9JRVr-d9MfbTm_raa3NW8tCRvadGRqmy4EcVCtTyi9ndFlNyyw7FwvIzsQfaVLnFt4Wwg5Zu6JPWnfPqOt_lQ/s320/irbid1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678970737345594546" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Amman city is more or less similar to most Arab capitals. What strikes you most is the almost monotonous white limestone buildings everywhere. This particularly white stone is very imaginatively called ‘Hajr al Abyad’ which means ‘white stone’ in Arabic (Ok…I’ll cut down the sarcasm next time……you think!) .Otherwise its typical congested roads, government buildings, malls and lot fly-overs, fly-unders and fly between over and unders. The people seem to be generally very well dressed (my wife though is convinced that even Bappi Lahiri is better dressed than yours truly, so maybe that’s just a relative thing).<br />Sometimes we sorely missed the luxury of talking in Hindi or Malayalam to every other person (like in the other Gulf countries).Indians generally seemed to be in short supply around here…till we bumped into a jovial mallu from Kannur who was in charge of the play area in Mecca mall, one of the largest malls in Amman. He was ‘simbly’ overjoyed and even gave free game passes to the children who were also ‘simbly’ overjoyed. The other major attractions within the city include the majestic blue mosque and the Roman theatre…but you should definitely not miss the “Citadel” on a hill in the center of downtown Amman…an area which has remains an ruins from half a dozen civilizations and is considered to be one of the world’s oldest inhabited places. So here you have the ‘pillars of Hercules’ and an ‘Umayyad mosque’ all jostling each other in the same space. The citadel also gives an absolutely grand 360 degree view of the whole Amman city around it.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KjCzekv2DwPXUc2nN3X0QnP6nKFhmidtedullC7GczHtIXc3gGhShvV8YfGQTq515qNBJFvzJ3dVit47oZtMYxqqcOs0sMkZSrYMXJl0yOKIb5vsB6IylcWD4etQz1yZ2Ms8BmMFpAfO/s1600/mosque+through+arch.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KjCzekv2DwPXUc2nN3X0QnP6nKFhmidtedullC7GczHtIXc3gGhShvV8YfGQTq515qNBJFvzJ3dVit47oZtMYxqqcOs0sMkZSrYMXJl0yOKIb5vsB6IylcWD4etQz1yZ2Ms8BmMFpAfO/s320/mosque+through+arch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678953502761498818" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Citadel, Amman</strong> and <br /><strong> The Pillars of Hercules</strong><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERRamgrxsrnHqPk8XxN7K3c8hUcN4rq3H7dnYYqOUV2R9-9djwbuuor0bEk5MV5JFcINZGSuYv37Eqd4OG-oX4jK3ILFLH1pqL3XwFbfYqBuh939W8IIx7kOBsSWZIItlumCScdwNXeoe/s1600/citadel2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERRamgrxsrnHqPk8XxN7K3c8hUcN4rq3H7dnYYqOUV2R9-9djwbuuor0bEk5MV5JFcINZGSuYv37Eqd4OG-oX4jK3ILFLH1pqL3XwFbfYqBuh939W8IIx7kOBsSWZIItlumCScdwNXeoe/s320/citadel2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678950498707243394" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The two must-see things in Jordan of course are –Petra and the Dead Sea. Petra is around 400 km from Amman, while the Dead Sea is around 100 km. ideally you should do Petra and Wadi Rum together, but our schedule was a bit tight, so we skipped Wadi Rum. Wadi Rum is apparently famous for eco-tourism – things to do include desert drives, rock-climbing and horse-riding. The area is famous because of its association with T E Lawrence, of the ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ fame. The port of Aqaba is another place near Petra- famous for water sports and shopping.<br />Petra of course is quite magnificent…especially considering that the whole city was virtually carved out of rocks somewhere around the 6th century BC. The admission ticket is priced magnificently too…I’m sure that a lot of the rocks are actually guys who got ‘petrified’ after hearing the admission fees! Maybe that’s why it’s one of the new ‘wonders of the world’….you hear the price and then you ‘wonder’ whether you really want to go in or not! One Jordanian Dinar (JD) is around 1.4 USD .A ticket to Petra costs 50 JD per head..But jokes apart, it’s worth every cent. The ‘rose city’ as it is called needs to be viewed in leisure. The easiest way of course is to walk, but there are other options like horses and horse-driven carts, especially if you’re going with older people or children. The piece-de-resistance of course is the ‘treasury’ building, made famous by the Indiana Jones movie – ‘The last crusade’<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm8K8e3llgmZLpc1qVBP_LnmkJH1pShxj1O9iYONhlCnj7KFcZfWZjFYtky1VklDKl7jPvaJCXbQmho_9HfeYXpXpBjoEBMaJ68dbaD9R9YrCm-WzX66uZIkHGaJOK64NZ13X6fpfbOUV/s1600/petra6.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKm8K8e3llgmZLpc1qVBP_LnmkJH1pShxj1O9iYONhlCnj7KFcZfWZjFYtky1VklDKl7jPvaJCXbQmho_9HfeYXpXpBjoEBMaJ68dbaD9R9YrCm-WzX66uZIkHGaJOK64NZ13X6fpfbOUV/s400/petra6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678965760808732738" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYQkc2G6k3fsgWxh0UCag-vvi3hTfxpB6j6jsaQBykdK8lwY0S9AVK6PCc0ox0ynsUzGaTsGARSUgqeHOhKrrxD2m4V1z8bEplmEt1A7HH7qKKbXUlr5eFbrqN3fWislYmtn63d0karjH/s1600/me+at+petrea.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYQkc2G6k3fsgWxh0UCag-vvi3hTfxpB6j6jsaQBykdK8lwY0S9AVK6PCc0ox0ynsUzGaTsGARSUgqeHOhKrrxD2m4V1z8bEplmEt1A7HH7qKKbXUlr5eFbrqN3fWislYmtn63d0karjH/s320/me+at+petrea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678968373067779026" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6nEEZ5pS2prGyiw_AtpPGnxtl6BpUox_K58k0-Z1gTFTcGn_uluyoUKsB68TI6HnBiSfn2ys63R5Xba3tki1YvESWceRbnDR6_M5fThps-V4ep8BI_6y6rGtB1Kr_ij_MQEhtpervkql/s1600/petra3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6nEEZ5pS2prGyiw_AtpPGnxtl6BpUox_K58k0-Z1gTFTcGn_uluyoUKsB68TI6HnBiSfn2ys63R5Xba3tki1YvESWceRbnDR6_M5fThps-V4ep8BI_6y6rGtB1Kr_ij_MQEhtpervkql/s400/petra3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678961908324900018" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Petra</strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The USP of the Dead Sea is the floating thing. You can actually lie down and read a book while floating effortlessly on the Dead Sea. Personally though I felt the drive into the area was more breathtaking. The Dead sea is the lowest point on the earth and is surrounded by a fabulous landscape which stuns your visual senses as you descend down the hairpin curves. Many Jordanians believe that it is not good to spend a lot of time here as it is a ‘cursed place’, alluding to the story of Sodom and Gomorrah of the ‘destroyed by fire and brimstone’ fame (The area around the Dead Sea is believed to be site of these ancient cities). There are quite a few historical areas nearby including Bethany along the Jordan river.<br />There are many areas to actually take a dip into the water, but most recommended is the ‘Amman Beach resort’. You have to leave before sunset though. Our guide mentioned that this restriction had something to do with the ‘not so friendly neighborhood Israelis’ being concerned about their security. The West bank is clearly visible from the Jordanian side. Our guide, an interesting and resourceful motor-mouth named Khalil, a Palestinian –Jordanian, intermittently put in nostalgic comments on his homeland where he was no longer allowed in, whenever his gaze drifted to the West Bank. Seeing the beautiful and serene Dead Sea, it would be hard to fathom the amount of conflict and hate deposited on its banks…..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy34mc3T3cBsK-u0espsuU3AApw-mOzxj4DV2DqbznsCVf30vhJ_X3_CBxB2LWHKz1jY-uTEZjz49Cr1QaGZRSjHcZcGCFKiB2m_kKoFF1NT2_EG7VpGglH_j7o_hyo2f_HxENPQs64CZR/s1600/floating+in+the+dead+sea.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy34mc3T3cBsK-u0espsuU3AApw-mOzxj4DV2DqbznsCVf30vhJ_X3_CBxB2LWHKz1jY-uTEZjz49Cr1QaGZRSjHcZcGCFKiB2m_kKoFF1NT2_EG7VpGglH_j7o_hyo2f_HxENPQs64CZR/s320/floating+in+the+dead+sea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678953112373992530" /></a><strong>Floating in the Dead Sea</strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQJCCaxR8-ewpxsQqhlSZ6WsXH0Z_tHNI0jfoOdYQ2t-98p8R1vBrze8_Gx1p7cdB0MYiNiHwmBcNZXC-6i5kUzgQkePkFy4KJ3Zh5Ct4ZJo9Z_O63VkqFBwWbdj-8EASP_JAgyuPXq0-/s1600/dead+sea.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQJCCaxR8-ewpxsQqhlSZ6WsXH0Z_tHNI0jfoOdYQ2t-98p8R1vBrze8_Gx1p7cdB0MYiNiHwmBcNZXC-6i5kUzgQkePkFy4KJ3Zh5Ct4ZJo9Z_O63VkqFBwWbdj-8EASP_JAgyuPXq0-/s400/dead+sea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678963276781789298" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Some general tips:<br />The best accommodation is around the area of the Jordan University. All major hotel chains are present. You can get a pretty good room starting from 50-60 JD a night. However if you’re going with a larger group getting a furnished apartment would also be a good option. A three bedroom furnished apartment comes for about 60-70 JD a day.<br />For moving around Jordan, it is better to catch hold of a taxi (even if you have your own car, the route can be confusing).The yellow taxis charge by the meter and seem the best option. For longer trips (like to Petra) you try a taxi, take one of the Jordanian Express Transport (JET) buses or rent-a-car. There are plenty of car rental outlets – a standard sedan like a Toyota corolla goes for about 200 JD a week (most places don’t rent for less than a week)<br />Prepaid sim cards are easily available at most company outlets. One of the best options is the Zain card which is available for around 10 JD<br />Petrol ( or benzene, like the Jordanians call it) is pretty expensive here, so if you’re driving in from Saudi, make sure you fill up your tank at the border.<br /><br />ATMS are surprisingly scarce in Jordan, so keep some cash handy.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lFvxymqq3gRwVAiY1iNcnBfPKQoxOIWFaJ20h3bwxhBz0vHl96bjlQ3gVr1M0Nf5lxNqxrh3fr17dOZSb-nYSjOO1-B_F9BRNup8g70-M23rcbtPKUggIFmr-zVDqoPI7QfR278RnPJ1/s1600/kids+at+petra.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2lFvxymqq3gRwVAiY1iNcnBfPKQoxOIWFaJ20h3bwxhBz0vHl96bjlQ3gVr1M0Nf5lxNqxrh3fr17dOZSb-nYSjOO1-B_F9BRNup8g70-M23rcbtPKUggIFmr-zVDqoPI7QfR278RnPJ1/s400/kids+at+petra.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678954921408874258" /></a><br />Nadia and gang at the Treasury in Petra<br /><br />Please feel free to use the photos with permission.Thanks!feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-703726736953052712011-10-16T12:43:00.000-07:002011-10-16T14:09:45.154-07:00Going Dutch! (Groningen, Netherlands)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigt0pHc04D7GuEwBRdEVRP-UytmYXpGS5ZU2izTlfJzUsxEAR1lhB0anx4NcgWaRb8ka8cRWGoygTFS9OOJEoikB7iFnSKqQCIxa7ul-cktE2HrYDVI1Dfutc897b6PMOnJKql4tE2ou-l/s1600/canal+new.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigt0pHc04D7GuEwBRdEVRP-UytmYXpGS5ZU2izTlfJzUsxEAR1lhB0anx4NcgWaRb8ka8cRWGoygTFS9OOJEoikB7iFnSKqQCIxa7ul-cktE2HrYDVI1Dfutc897b6PMOnJKql4tE2ou-l/s320/canal+new.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664197485898159938" /></a><br /><br />My association with the city of Groningen apparently went back quite a few years. One of my arch enemies was from Groningen (only I didn’t know it until recently…that too courtesy good ol’ Wikipedia)….now if you are thinking that I was some medieval Spanish king with a more than passing interest in capturing Groningen, I was actually talking about Mr. Daniel Bernoulli….one of those multitalented creatures that were quite a plenty in renaissance affected Europe. Never quite understood his crazy principles of aerodynamics and fluid motion. Unfortunately my high school physics teacher Mr RK did understand, and was apparently enamored of the guy and he also understood that I didn’t understand much about Bernoulli ji and his musings, so as expected things weren’t quite ‘uplifting’ when he got down to business to discuss how an aero plane takes off in-spite of its heavy butt. I of course tried to convince him that we should not be bothered about explaining things that are already known…we should be looking to the future etc etc. Mr RK apparently was not the ‘great vision’ kind of guy…so he just gave me very unflattering marks. Period. That was the first time Mr Bernoulli pissed me off…not the last though. Apparently this guy’s fantastically unbelievable super duper principle had some crazy implication in the blood flow in the human body. Obviously I couldn’t care less with my great vision of sticking to the future etc. Dr S my examiner in my medical school physiology viva however turned out to be another great fan of Bernoulli ji. So it was déjà vu with Dr S with her psychotic eyes replacing Mr RK with his invisible eye ( because of the -15 lenses he wore…..fitting in with my theory of him not having great vision).The rest of the event was pretty mundane and predictable….I think the marks were also pretty much on same low scale. We parted on good terms after though; I even asked Dr S if she had a brother who was teaching in high school….which she apparently didn’t.<br />Well the whole flash-back about my depressingly glorious past was basically because I was in Groningen for a couple of weeks as part of a training thing in the medical school of the University of Groningen, and while looking up Wikipedia before I left, I was struck with the revelation that sweet ol’ Bernoulli ji was one of the many famous sons of the Groningen soil. It kind of a put a bad taste in my mouth and an odd sense of foreboding.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFizXSBC_KV0-Wt_KTTNlW0Q903oEVBU8R2H1jk5aoiyjXNarO6nDvWjiWJmE_LUG_88C2UHw7_2ysYYFw92rO1CUcudZuEk7nBM7OYIoWf6BykT-MkAe10SvY-xuYKTpvo-eEGLw6rMdy/s1600/through+the+window3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFizXSBC_KV0-Wt_KTTNlW0Q903oEVBU8R2H1jk5aoiyjXNarO6nDvWjiWJmE_LUG_88C2UHw7_2ysYYFw92rO1CUcudZuEk7nBM7OYIoWf6BykT-MkAe10SvY-xuYKTpvo-eEGLw6rMdy/s320/through+the+window3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664188036774707762" /></a><br />I could not have been more wrong though! Groningen was a wonderful place with a capital W. By the way the pronunciation of Groningen according to Wikipedia is 'ɣroːnɪŋə(n)’….which I’m sure literally seems Greek to you (and me), but the simple idea is that the ‘G’ is pronounced something like an odd mixture of k, h and c when you have a bad cold. The advantage is that if you have something struck in your throat just say ‘Groningen’ and voila! Throat clear!<br />The moment our vehicle pulled into Groningen (Its around 2 hours from Schiphol airport, Netherlands), the first thing that struck me was the bicycles and the second thing that struck me was the bicycles and the third thing that struck me was….well you get the idea. Groningen is considered the ‘cycling capital’ of the world and it shows. Everybody irrespective of age, sex, caste, creed and species is on a bike. No I didn’t get the species thing wrong……you’ll pretty frequently find canines and felines cosily sitting on wicker baskets while the owner cycles away to glory. Like I often mention I’m really not impressed by the concept of exercise…..but got to hand it to these guys…the cycling probably partly explains the totally pollution free air that you get around there. You save on petrol, you burn calories, and you don’t have to worry about parking….and no oil change every 5000 km! You also don’t have ego clashes of the ‘Mera gaadi tumhare gaadi se chotta kaisa’ type…except for very few almost all the cycles seem to be of a standard issue type.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYH4dpL_7Mz4sanLs8_PoWZfxUus2TYIFmjlRvvOqnZnZa1PHNkruv8B7-M6jV3WYkHTs2jzTx46xBMk1cPu4umLSvyyQ-PFSNBzEc3U2ZQNiwNhOzqRd3bW_ANLxcDTXqKX0lV5nJBvp/s1600/cycles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYH4dpL_7Mz4sanLs8_PoWZfxUus2TYIFmjlRvvOqnZnZa1PHNkruv8B7-M6jV3WYkHTs2jzTx46xBMk1cPu4umLSvyyQ-PFSNBzEc3U2ZQNiwNhOzqRd3bW_ANLxcDTXqKX0lV5nJBvp/s400/cycles.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664179078934070466" /></a><br />We were put up at the NH Groningen, one of the famous NH chain. It was a really pleasant place with great facilties and friendly staff. The highlight was a basket of fresh green apples which were always there for you in the lobby…retrospectively I wonder though if it was symbolic…we were a pretty large group of doctors…maybe they thought a bunch of apples a day would keep these doctors away…talk about wishful thinking!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrfDEMsdu-qCfK9q9Fn6vFU6CBW_gka81wl29Eyehz2PHzRSZ7Bi0MnZpKUgdQ8Z_y_5rFMf-EQHd1EKL6WnaW_FOQRnz8zPfHq2v9c23bzql9P1OsIIJkXClHApA7vYOUulZWikJTCyi/s1600/green.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrfDEMsdu-qCfK9q9Fn6vFU6CBW_gka81wl29Eyehz2PHzRSZ7Bi0MnZpKUgdQ8Z_y_5rFMf-EQHd1EKL6WnaW_FOQRnz8zPfHq2v9c23bzql9P1OsIIJkXClHApA7vYOUulZWikJTCyi/s320/green.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664189844153800066" /></a><br />The not so pleasant thing at times was the weather…it was typically what Obelix (of the Asterix comics fame) would have nonchalantly remarked as “This Dutch weather is crazy!”.Luckily most of the days were pleasant, except when it was raining…which was like always though…and it also seemed that the rain clouds over here are a bit like a lady in a clothes store, finding it really hard to make up their mind on the big ‘to pour or not to pour’ question…so you have these irritating little drizzles in irritating little spurts which can make you more than a little irritated. This was especially an issue in the night which was the only time we had to ourselves as the mornings and afternoon were busy with the training sessions.<br />There are plenty of canals here too…as in the rest of Netherlands and they make quite a pretty picture. On one of the canals near the medical school there’s a quaint little restaurant in a boat called the ‘Pancake’ ship.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZfYZ1FnyhhIKDs4ZH8kKijX2O70LWr1ac-Fh0AvdLcS59Vh8Sd5_6dFqGPl8l_a6YY-uTcCRDEoM2FhSgTrPU_Z9CA5HKXEyxavLTH_PzkVkVPH2J3AAKNV500C_WfewPeHlFF-DouQA/s1600/canal.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZfYZ1FnyhhIKDs4ZH8kKijX2O70LWr1ac-Fh0AvdLcS59Vh8Sd5_6dFqGPl8l_a6YY-uTcCRDEoM2FhSgTrPU_Z9CA5HKXEyxavLTH_PzkVkVPH2J3AAKNV500C_WfewPeHlFF-DouQA/s320/canal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664180966088995730" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOqWI1HbL6pjgeLQXkHisiIsYkBr1uGLMko_Gatbk-FHxVUH_h1en-uVln65_Mf4jjxEd0Nrh9sx6lMWUOaNquoZVL5FnnqC05DZnSvxVs1QIYuizUuzMlNCF6_WYtILYVaMj6N70rsr4/s1600/groningen+canal+by+night.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOqWI1HbL6pjgeLQXkHisiIsYkBr1uGLMko_Gatbk-FHxVUH_h1en-uVln65_Mf4jjxEd0Nrh9sx6lMWUOaNquoZVL5FnnqC05DZnSvxVs1QIYuizUuzMlNCF6_WYtILYVaMj6N70rsr4/s320/groningen+canal+by+night.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664181576446278546" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The center of the city is the Martini square with the Martini tower which is probably the most famous landmark in Groningen. Next to it is the major shopping streets and the Grote market. The story goes that this area (too) was apparently pretty badly knocked up by the crazy Nazis during WWII. Groningen is very close to the German border and this was one of the last pockets of German resistance around this area to prevent the allies entering Germany. The Nazis didn’t hold on…but apparently managed to make a mess of the city, especially effectively blowing up a lot of the bridges over the canals…the famed German engineering in reverse!<br />Shopping can be a pretty expensive affair in Groningen ( in spite of not being with my wife!), however while you are here you should get some souvenirs from the tourist office next to Martini tower (typical ones being small windmills and miniature brightly colored wooden shoes) and also recommended are the typically Dutch ‘Stroopwafel’ (syrup waffles) for those with a sweet tooth. Groningen like the rest of Netherlands is quite into flowers too…you have an interesting flower market near the main square , with a wonderful collection of fresh flowers. There are some great shopping malls like V and D, Hema and C and A…especially good for sweaters and shawls I thought. I was looking for some original made in Holland Phillips products…but it seems even that has been outsourced to our friendly Chinese neighbours!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0_pIpVoK59XVUCi-0qq-QyY5wtUrLdG8st5YCgurj2NnbVFLZmgzfTcqQZNiXY38Wn6iS6Y4z_QGlpC_VA9_f2bhcrJpUmMTW8jb-uBgV9KcrH77UuTjBS7PqAT3dip8KAnHpQDAO_Hy/s1600/martini+square3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0_pIpVoK59XVUCi-0qq-QyY5wtUrLdG8st5YCgurj2NnbVFLZmgzfTcqQZNiXY38Wn6iS6Y4z_QGlpC_VA9_f2bhcrJpUmMTW8jb-uBgV9KcrH77UuTjBS7PqAT3dip8KAnHpQDAO_Hy/s320/martini+square3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664182152519439458" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraRrQqxQvNadgR3H1-gNv27aYiy3KLhDc41l3Kclzj2l0bNkbaOwflU9NXOQFATUnzQKr0xe0lzNE6V_IclEOHI2JAkwmhlH_zQgSd4p2INqM13cEXf4Vng-KyAKDkUSTiX7Mj-N6Z0eq/s1600/building.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraRrQqxQvNadgR3H1-gNv27aYiy3KLhDc41l3Kclzj2l0bNkbaOwflU9NXOQFATUnzQKr0xe0lzNE6V_IclEOHI2JAkwmhlH_zQgSd4p2INqM13cEXf4Vng-KyAKDkUSTiX7Mj-N6Z0eq/s320/building.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664183897138446066" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblgCl7DhIEsN-KMiG_USaVUWjB-_kfVWPtBLMU3CVsyb8jtUXOX-v7l7H7e4Xz8rxhy9WJn8UBFjlOrGtFLTFnjtOiCAbaGqUKX_gicAAjvz0Ybt5VsUwrXLZyRlMt2v03KjrHqyOK8cd/s1600/shopping+street.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjblgCl7DhIEsN-KMiG_USaVUWjB-_kfVWPtBLMU3CVsyb8jtUXOX-v7l7H7e4Xz8rxhy9WJn8UBFjlOrGtFLTFnjtOiCAbaGqUKX_gicAAjvz0Ybt5VsUwrXLZyRlMt2v03KjrHqyOK8cd/s320/shopping+street.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664195489612594786" /></a><br />Being a typical university town there are plenty of small eating joints all around the city and the Indians and Chinese are also amply represented (which is quite natural considering that their biggest contribution to the modern world is human beings) .There are also all the typical junk food outlets in plenty – including McDonalds, KFC and so on. Our group tried out a couple of ‘Indian’ restaurants both of which are de facto run by Bangladeshis and this was pretty evident when the ‘lamb biriyani’ was announced as ‘lomb’ biriyani and the ‘Murgh’ biriyani became ‘Morgh’ biriyani:) , the food was OK, a bit on the expensive side though. There are a slew of Turkish ‘doner’ kebab shops too (a ‘doner’ is basically like a mutated burger heavily stuffed with meat and salads).We had typical European food for dinner on a couple of days….a bit low on the spices these Dutch …if you’re Indian it might help to keep a small sachet of ‘garam masala’ in your pocket which you can drop over the food on the sly! The desserts were fantastic though. There are plenty of small cafés around ….and then there are the ‘coffee shops’ which apparently are not for coffee really but other hot stuff (which we will not discuss further as this blog has or at least claims to have a ‘U’ rating)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vZq3wbkoqAQMs7QoqQZQlDi-tJ5ba59z4g5vEWBZgNAN3wo1f44uOH24FNDorTPNUrLt2IpdqvTHpaTkEIB8n_cj0rvrTZusS7LPSHTH8a3axN12d5gNbFk9D6D-IUs6-ADik5BBd_I_/s1600/brunch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vZq3wbkoqAQMs7QoqQZQlDi-tJ5ba59z4g5vEWBZgNAN3wo1f44uOH24FNDorTPNUrLt2IpdqvTHpaTkEIB8n_cj0rvrTZusS7LPSHTH8a3axN12d5gNbFk9D6D-IUs6-ADik5BBd_I_/s320/brunch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664184344106566018" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qyBUJdcSDNmx5TgXHck2IPfJ7TAbAG1HENtHw0YXg8fTy4a-Txjdg-ARGEmWBIZ1e3xdUjbncpWq6PWkdDEcnGeizfwOf_pzjXIARfRDB7FtMsppkllpBvH5FQidiawbar_zblyxxQPt/s1600/lunch+at+bourtange.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5qyBUJdcSDNmx5TgXHck2IPfJ7TAbAG1HENtHw0YXg8fTy4a-Txjdg-ARGEmWBIZ1e3xdUjbncpWq6PWkdDEcnGeizfwOf_pzjXIARfRDB7FtMsppkllpBvH5FQidiawbar_zblyxxQPt/s320/lunch+at+bourtange.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664184703405599410" /></a><br /><br />On a Saturday we were taken to a place called ‘Bourtange’, which is an interesting ‘star’ shaped fortress near the German border. Apparently like rest of the world and especially us Indians, the Dutch too were not very much into the ‘love thy neighbour’ thing and vice versa ….so at times they were fighting the Spanish , sometimes the Germans and sometimes the British ….they would have fought more, but then there were only so many neighbours around. ‘Bourtange’ was something which helped the Dutch maintain control over Groningen. It also houses a cute lil village and an interesting wind-mill inside with a couple of restaurants and souvenir shops. We were also given a guided tour by a guy dressed in one of the mercenary outfits of yore. Worth a ‘dekho’ as one of our polished bollywood movie reviewers would say.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxc5VFlFNWxP3tbEb3-T_7i5YWAoVhclblTX91wTF_8YoZrFX665pyfXcot1jE2Qtma0RfLmfMRMCERBth8PW2dkMiTbuwtjAph57GZVTPypgOsGxl-xmPAM6NmwgqO0s3UUtWSKe976W/s1600/bourtange.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxc5VFlFNWxP3tbEb3-T_7i5YWAoVhclblTX91wTF_8YoZrFX665pyfXcot1jE2Qtma0RfLmfMRMCERBth8PW2dkMiTbuwtjAph57GZVTPypgOsGxl-xmPAM6NmwgqO0s3UUtWSKe976W/s320/bourtange.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664185229511157762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EZTl0wzzDBzTZQ04iq7E4dIS7bqkOk4wzVj6Q6K4ldkwckn0u3cNy_M2jsVBqHv65YKnt60BsY3zafnK_Gf0ATucnomN2najaKA0rEUThlEG7wlP_c93fN900bNVxgDjmg5Fe6kQdzUc/s1600/windmill.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EZTl0wzzDBzTZQ04iq7E4dIS7bqkOk4wzVj6Q6K4ldkwckn0u3cNy_M2jsVBqHv65YKnt60BsY3zafnK_Gf0ATucnomN2najaKA0rEUThlEG7wlP_c93fN900bNVxgDjmg5Fe6kQdzUc/s320/windmill.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664185764415505682" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegFx1rghmwyUgiJ3OBG8NkaY7vG0GQ05e0N_4LqJE2b4zkGBNZXmIQMr6T6co6zt9LlO7PA4brFsWNx1tABRTfym5qH7I83z31fkL0cdta2_IhAxUNwTDSzLgss7-MF4XD3UVVOiI7-dp/s1600/the+climb.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegFx1rghmwyUgiJ3OBG8NkaY7vG0GQ05e0N_4LqJE2b4zkGBNZXmIQMr6T6co6zt9LlO7PA4brFsWNx1tABRTfym5qH7I83z31fkL0cdta2_IhAxUNwTDSzLgss7-MF4XD3UVVOiI7-dp/s320/the+climb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664186324099097682" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQe0g_FSeHXlt8_jjlN-D1eu5YIwp_ewMi7dNr7blVHBj9qJQSEhoByGxyxiS9lLjqdE9g7XyCUMpVlF_jNFaMlwWTykx4SihkkDkXDXBRr5zPCyzmOqTTfPtvlnCfHgTpHrCsSG1bODK/s1600/cannon2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQe0g_FSeHXlt8_jjlN-D1eu5YIwp_ewMi7dNr7blVHBj9qJQSEhoByGxyxiS9lLjqdE9g7XyCUMpVlF_jNFaMlwWTykx4SihkkDkXDXBRr5zPCyzmOqTTfPtvlnCfHgTpHrCsSG1bODK/s320/cannon2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664187202672327794" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />The other great thing about the Dutch is their appreciation for art.You’ll find sculptures and art galleries in every nook and corner. The University hospital itself is laced with some great creative work….of course with my limited knowledge of fine art I could not appreciate the more abstract of them (but then I was never really into art appreciation….I’m the kind who would always think that Phantom comics is better art than Dali’s surrealism…but that is just poor mentally challenged me!).Incidentally there are a couple of good museums around,including an interesting comic-strip museum.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2IyQoKudroWMNvTGa5EOWRzjP71Q0VXuKCeOBr1qxYNzkGlZgbiQesihh4bXHatBU2RjIlZnrcbqfO7E_Fw6AZkTqpv-yQxulUC2IzPkB086zDkhW4TLWc3bqwDFGaM9RNwfEMoWviUFy/s1600/red+house.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2IyQoKudroWMNvTGa5EOWRzjP71Q0VXuKCeOBr1qxYNzkGlZgbiQesihh4bXHatBU2RjIlZnrcbqfO7E_Fw6AZkTqpv-yQxulUC2IzPkB086zDkhW4TLWc3bqwDFGaM9RNwfEMoWviUFy/s400/red+house.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664199660167118946" /></a><br /><br />And last but not the least ( that’s one cliché I’ve not used for a long time!), the highlight of the trip was the group at the University of Groningen who were responsible for our training….and it was an absolute pleasure academically (and socially).I really thank all those involved –including but not limited to – Prof Borleffs , Prof Cohen, Prof Molenaar, Prof Tio, Jan, Remko, Hana, Harry, Hanke,Elaine……….and of course the problem-solver, logistics expert and ‘jack of all trades’ rolled into one –Renzo! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvW8Xdr4HSXqJNwl1XnN00_IJq0dOpUM2k-Z7szj_k_eL1FTRxVbMMxHROkk7HRtRY3i15oppYILxrx_G2wydXzigAfTBhU9zrJBHoMm9K7pTxedJy00YaCbjoJhrwfdKVRPHnCH_73ofE/s1600/sunrise+on+umcg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvW8Xdr4HSXqJNwl1XnN00_IJq0dOpUM2k-Z7szj_k_eL1FTRxVbMMxHROkk7HRtRY3i15oppYILxrx_G2wydXzigAfTBhU9zrJBHoMm9K7pTxedJy00YaCbjoJhrwfdKVRPHnCH_73ofE/s320/sunrise+on+umcg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664188750431967826" /></a><br /><br /><br />N:If you feel like you using any of my pics please do go ahead, but would really appreciate it if you use it with permission.Thanks!feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-4306586164306368072011-07-11T09:42:00.000-07:002011-07-11T10:11:45.697-07:00Thai diaries 1<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8mRK0mUoSYvL6vDQlRO6fcshtTUr_gtmEvUK4waP2Ddl2F3tzWs0wTM4GYjJ14YyZNAdmsFoBcVYovJRR_ASVDzwjQJfBvyEFtet9adsTKEmxRJLyFbx799n3iQQ_qiXQOtAm3wI4euc/s1600/reclining+buddha.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628139788341501698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8mRK0mUoSYvL6vDQlRO6fcshtTUr_gtmEvUK4waP2Ddl2F3tzWs0wTM4GYjJ14YyZNAdmsFoBcVYovJRR_ASVDzwjQJfBvyEFtet9adsTKEmxRJLyFbx799n3iQQ_qiXQOtAm3wI4euc/s320/reclining+buddha.jpg" /></a><br /><br />This being my second visit to Thailand, I thought there would not be much of an issue getting around.However I forgot that the ‘eleventh commandment’ around hereabouts continues to be -‘<strong><em>Thai’ shalt not speak English !-</em></strong>Most Thai people you meet don’t speak English at all and many of those who speak the language are not quite fluent in it. In a country that depends a lot on international tourism this seemed a bit strange.So if you want to get around by yourself makes sense to brush up on a little basic Thai language…and a little trick I learned is speak real slow.Slow as in S…L…O…W.For example if you’re ordering coffee you don’t really get coffee till you say COF (1sec) pause for half a sec and then FEE (1 sec) – total duration of 2.5 seconds - and incidentally tea and coffee around here is cold tea and cold tea by default, so if you want your daily cuppa hot coffee you have to specifically say H-O-T (1 sec) - half sec pause -COF (1 sec) – half sec pause -FEE ( 1 sec)…..and whatever you say add ‘Khap’ ( If you’re male) or ‘Kha’ if you’re female at the end of the sentence….it really doesn’t translate to anything specific in english, but is a sign of good manners.(The general courtesy and manners of the Thai people really needs to be appreciated)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWrxuebNUzQC6CD-gkV6rVgS_DZ9Brkg2trLFRM0j6nE4qIFSzrBiyASAHqDGJ8kbvfa10QCEAMt7AEZ4K8XDfVbTJTd2aq6CwVYtbjOHM5TR0ETusPUgB7x6oSkSaXIskto2JeBHoTHl/s1600/ayuthaya3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628139480900678930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWrxuebNUzQC6CD-gkV6rVgS_DZ9Brkg2trLFRM0j6nE4qIFSzrBiyASAHqDGJ8kbvfa10QCEAMt7AEZ4K8XDfVbTJTd2aq6CwVYtbjOHM5TR0ETusPUgB7x6oSkSaXIskto2JeBHoTHl/s320/ayuthaya3.jpg" /></a><br /><br />The last Sunday me and a friend ( who’s been in Bangkok for over a year now), decided to pay a visit to the historical town of Ayutthaya.In spite of my friend being a so-so Thai speaker, we had trouble at times negotiating our way through.We ultimately reached Ayutthaya by taking a direct bus from the Bangkok bus terminal (chatuchak/mochit).Ayutthaya is around 80 km from Bangkok.The other options are mini-vans, taxi, train and even boat, but the bus seems to be the most convenient,cheap and comfortable option.Taxis cost around 1000 Baht one way and mini-vans around 175.Train tickets depend on the class …the bus costs only 50 Baht one way.<br />In Ayutthaya we had to rely on our ‘friendly neighbourhood’ tuk-tuk man for the local sightseeing.For those not in the know the tuk-tuk is basically a three wheeled vehicle – a distant cousin of the ‘Auto-rickshaws’ you find in India.The tuk-tuk guy I think ‘took took’ me for a ride literally and figuratively charging about 650 Baht for a 4 hour whirlwind tour (I wonder if this was how the name came to be?After a tuk-tuk ride the common refrain is that the guy <strong>took</strong> a lot of my money and also <strong>took</strong> me for a ride!) , but we really didn’t have too many options though.There are bicycles available for 40-50 Baht and hour , but the weather was quite hot and humid, also we had no real idea of where to go and how to go…..and cycling is kind of like exercise, and me and the concept of exercise don’t really get along well.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuU_wXPEkXmzNRzyz8UeWV9BoJth7dQBqNe3kRGO33VLeZnHPojv-vm8vvuHPrYVasCElqkBbD7ppGPI06qIQYiLLRgo91CKWK8iKCIAqjIe9yQhdlXUBAlSgFEJ-6zJAJaOrfILSHsrh2/s1600/ruins.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 206px; height: 320px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628139293557764578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuU_wXPEkXmzNRzyz8UeWV9BoJth7dQBqNe3kRGO33VLeZnHPojv-vm8vvuHPrYVasCElqkBbD7ppGPI06qIQYiLLRgo91CKWK8iKCIAqjIe9yQhdlXUBAlSgFEJ-6zJAJaOrfILSHsrh2/s320/ruins.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Important sights to see in Ayutthaya mainly include – a lot of Wats like - Wat Phra Si Sanphet, Wat Phra Mahathat, Wat Ratchaburana, Wat Thammikarat (before you wonder ‘wat’ the heck is going on, ‘wat’ basically alludes to temple in Thai, and Ayutthaya is basically famous for what remains of it glorious temples after it was ransacked by the Burmese somewhere in the latter half of the 18th century. The ruins of the old city now form what is called the Ayutthaya historical park, which is now recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.One of the interesting aftermaths of this ransack program is the large number of ‘headless’ Buddha statues you see across various sites in Ayutthaya.The other attraction in Ayutthaya is the interesting ‘floating market’ – a good place for food, shopping and general fun activities – including elephant rides, snake parks, traditional thai dances based on the hindu epics and so on.If you are the real nerdy encyclopediaphilic nut there are a couple of great museums around mainly highlighting the history of Ayutthaya.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RtfeDBcbEgg189AMDK08Ul_MNy4qA5iHDYqxb0Idh5oX7oVFyCt3L40Ln-FgUO7RldIIBbqrHEhYeyEoxACDEPQ5RXZlX5TlZo-xDG7E0T0Wm7hmPnCiSpn1KNeUWtG63ZvXf5lTGDXe/s1600/ayuthaya5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 217px; height: 320px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628137195610230402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RtfeDBcbEgg189AMDK08Ul_MNy4qA5iHDYqxb0Idh5oX7oVFyCt3L40Ln-FgUO7RldIIBbqrHEhYeyEoxACDEPQ5RXZlX5TlZo-xDG7E0T0Wm7hmPnCiSpn1KNeUWtG63ZvXf5lTGDXe/s320/ayuthaya5.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGI-BWwhDy9Pp_I6H9LFpl1FVy6jAe8sE4sE_E8yuZ534llneeD98scfLd_UM3jAGyeFkhpqd4OTP7OCv1dDz_aITKSDWONk0JGVXYS3M8RdHw_KoReubAeBxpR7E_osQwE2otdh3DN4sj/s1600/headless+buddhas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 214px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628136871447439106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGI-BWwhDy9Pp_I6H9LFpl1FVy6jAe8sE4sE_E8yuZ534llneeD98scfLd_UM3jAGyeFkhpqd4OTP7OCv1dDz_aITKSDWONk0JGVXYS3M8RdHw_KoReubAeBxpR7E_osQwE2otdh3DN4sj/s320/headless+buddhas.jpg" /></a><br /><br />If you do opt for a tuk-tuk I would suggest that you take a quick round of the different ruins and when your time is up ask the driver to drop you off at the floating market, where you can have grub and simply walk around.After that you can pick another tuk-tuk to drop you off at the bus-station or train station.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWqXpjydm2MqsYqVE2fP-uhhyvoQCiKb0NV7llxNlQE9SPvFn5_acwXU7QRut1WUUb8IDZce7O8qYXkrDCGfBYJ56eeaewAIwJ4-l2ecXH9J8mqImt7EIVWYgAY__bqeKnfNdnS_6fkoB/s1600/ruins2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628139079738721330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWqXpjydm2MqsYqVE2fP-uhhyvoQCiKb0NV7llxNlQE9SPvFn5_acwXU7QRut1WUUb8IDZce7O8qYXkrDCGfBYJ56eeaewAIwJ4-l2ecXH9J8mqImt7EIVWYgAY__bqeKnfNdnS_6fkoB/s320/ruins2.jpg" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-0dG2vppdgirma7Wr8X_fyYcqVndGOyoAsYRoCjW76HfVeSHBdfnbwQ2q9GNbR4aOz0qPrgbB-mn1JJCOIbdS15Q768_RgCmfW7N7G4Hbza7nOxyyLrGYro7ZPVeP2jk-9dX1_Ypk6Xb/s1600/ruins5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 217px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628138905249289410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_-0dG2vppdgirma7Wr8X_fyYcqVndGOyoAsYRoCjW76HfVeSHBdfnbwQ2q9GNbR4aOz0qPrgbB-mn1JJCOIbdS15Q768_RgCmfW7N7G4Hbza7nOxyyLrGYro7ZPVeP2jk-9dX1_Ypk6Xb/s320/ruins5.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Food is a big problem in Thailand if you are not the carnivorous type.Even the selective carnivores like me find things tough.The one thing in abundance in all food stores seem to be ‘moo’ (and if you like me immediately conjured up an image of a lazy cow….sorry ‘moo’ in Thai means pork….though a well raised conventional pig according to me should go ‘oink’ as in the Asterix comics).I don’t eat pork so one of the staple diets for me while in Thailand has been ‘Pad Thai’ (or Phat Thai), which is basically is an odd but tasty combination of rice noodles, bean sprouts, tofu and eggs. Normally either shrimps of chicken are added to the combination….and in the ‘floating markets’ of Ayutthaya too I resorted to good ol’ padthai. What was different was the setting…with all the cooking and serving done on little boats parked next to longitudinal piers which were decked with tables where people could sit and eat. It was a real novel concept.Another good thing about such an arrangement of course is that you can wash your hands right in the river water before eating( If you’re one of those dumb hygiene freaks who don’t get along well with the poor germs on your body) …….and even lovelier is the fact that if you end up eating something that does not agree with your stomach you can easily throw up in the river without bothering other people too much..though the fish in the river would not think very highly of you!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkDrJltpOdIaO3bvwCj3i8CT09v304tfN7EVaJVswYNiMQFOd850ap9TnAo-ZmRm8HC94H6D7I-7ABk1rvbvo9CjIUFr5zaR8iPExd6iRBeEwie7j0ZqF5Tl78tFwcb0YaLYfEbXLOHTc/s1600/boat+kitchen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628138621448964066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkDrJltpOdIaO3bvwCj3i8CT09v304tfN7EVaJVswYNiMQFOd850ap9TnAo-ZmRm8HC94H6D7I-7ABk1rvbvo9CjIUFr5zaR8iPExd6iRBeEwie7j0ZqF5Tl78tFwcb0YaLYfEbXLOHTc/s320/boat+kitchen.jpg" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-o_UdwcdjqeUD0D6lDQXkW-Fx09aiaP4-wC0K9PS0SX33uW8NJz9IHPz_oKE97_ZoZJKWA3m-lB5FBwcSi6xZTg7HszLzxUBHqZ8uTJI7LgGFXDITSnLeF2LD3yG2NL_2q6Ckx1XxEENB/s1600/floating+market2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 217px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628137580779730258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-o_UdwcdjqeUD0D6lDQXkW-Fx09aiaP4-wC0K9PS0SX33uW8NJz9IHPz_oKE97_ZoZJKWA3m-lB5FBwcSi6xZTg7HszLzxUBHqZ8uTJI7LgGFXDITSnLeF2LD3yG2NL_2q6Ckx1XxEENB/s320/floating+market2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong><br /><br />All images copyright - Feroze Kaliyadan - please do not copy without permission.</strong><br /><br /></div>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-30682027276897271292011-04-24T12:35:00.000-07:002011-04-24T13:41:47.577-07:00Road trip to Doha!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mbbWvq7C5VOryMvU7L5nYLa8bVXZY5NfHFBVBEHJv_dnOTDl1THi72qWa2JyYi4rXiuRL8Ipc7_nY-D8MXpM3DNUxw7VyR28NUtUlyF2ClC7eeT_-sD81wohZcWcb41gZGiKqJKQPmHm/s1600/desert+safari.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mbbWvq7C5VOryMvU7L5nYLa8bVXZY5NfHFBVBEHJv_dnOTDl1THi72qWa2JyYi4rXiuRL8Ipc7_nY-D8MXpM3DNUxw7VyR28NUtUlyF2ClC7eeT_-sD81wohZcWcb41gZGiKqJKQPmHm/s320/desert+safari.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599246976573820082" /></a><br /><br />Driving across countries is an interesting experience in itself. Add to it the lure of traversing through miles and miles of empty desert stretches in the sandstorm season and you could have the grand honour of being labelled as adventurous or plain, simple, hopping mad. When we set out for Qatar by road last weekend, from Hofuf (Saudi Arabia), where we live, we weren’t expecting much. Especially because this was going to be our second attempt in as many weeks. And if you’re thinking that the 250 km drive to Doha is something like scaling Mount Everest, requiring multiple attempts, that was hardly the issue. THE issue was, or rather IS that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia remains one of the only nations which has a rather elaborate and curious ‘exit-re-entry visa’ for all expatriates, even if they have a residency status. To put it simply: ‘no exit visa, no leave country’!<br />We had got our visa all right (We as in me, my wife and daughter + my friend and his wife).Unfortunately the first time we reached the border, the customs guy was not too impressed with my daughter’s visa. So we got out of the car and went to have a lil chat with the ‘mudeer’ (Arabic for top honcho).The mudeer was quite cordial (unlike some of our previous border experiences where the guys in charge of the border seemed to have distinct psychopathic ‘border’line personalities..yech! ...bad pun, even for my low standards...), however in spite of playing tug and war with the computer entry system for the exit visa, he too gave up. “Fi mushkil visa...irja” (In plain English ‘Visa no good ...go back’)....and we irja’ed back home to Hofuf vowing to return another day a la Shahrukh bhai mouthing “Picture abhi baki hai mere dost............!!”<br />(N: Incidentally if you want to do a quick check on your exit/re-entry visa status you just have to type in your visa number/passport number in the e-services section at http://moi.gov.sa/wps/portal/homeEN.<br />You can also check for any outstanding traffic fines etc. also)<br />And back we were the week after (After a bit of hectic running around to get my daughter’s new visa).This time the paperwork at the border was pretty smooth and we got through the Saudi side in less than half an hour. The distance from Hofuf to the border, Salwa, is 150 km. If you’re driving in from Dammam it’s around 310 km. The road is pretty good, wide with three lane traffic. There are some areas where you need to be careful of camels crossing the road (especially if you are adventurous/intrepid/stupid enough to drive at night).These camel guys apparently are quite top-heavy, so if you happen to ram one at speeds of 120 km/hr, you might end up with an assorted mixture of your meat and camel meat ...not a very tasty combo. So be careful.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQexqEGiBkLZjrOgMqWz22HIJijNjuHdD3-omyH9-kyl34Z-VhknKx9pZ93eExGQpn2dBdUUDH64rai7kUnFKoBKP3nGQksQRTCPcWb2nV8kbezfflxjfwrd1y-6Spc8pu4O04ZY1hvs3/s1600/qatar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQexqEGiBkLZjrOgMqWz22HIJijNjuHdD3-omyH9-kyl34Z-VhknKx9pZ93eExGQpn2dBdUUDH64rai7kUnFKoBKP3nGQksQRTCPcWb2nV8kbezfflxjfwrd1y-6Spc8pu4O04ZY1hvs3/s320/qatar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599236242266725634" /></a><br /><br /><br />There are virtually no petrol stations after entering the highway from Hofuf, so makes sense to fill up your tanks at Hofuf. Petrol of course is pretty cheap in Qatar too, but not as cheap as in Saudi, so it also makes sense to do a second top-up of your tank at the border before crossing into Qatar.<br />At Salwa, before the customs area, you have a petrol station, some shops and a Pakistani restaurant where you can grab a quick bite. Interestingly there is a hair cutting place too, the logic of which I couldn’t figure out. Not sure if there is some deep philosophical basis in having a haircut before you cross international borders. If you have time you can spend a while on the beach adjoining Salwa on the Saudi side. Not a very clean beach but the water’s good and there’s scope for some fishing too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9gBxU-AQO-HTS0H19mISubHJItsm3X4ZVENeRvfNY1HLlKAxnfNTTZo_Etcyma5D9FZPYkJmX37Z7wjIONgChz8X6o8R8CsOvP6ctV1Pz3a3C6qf8EOOlCB_my2fAbEUu2JRRI3SBWyW/s1600/Salwa+beach+on+the+saudi+side.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9gBxU-AQO-HTS0H19mISubHJItsm3X4ZVENeRvfNY1HLlKAxnfNTTZo_Etcyma5D9FZPYkJmX37Z7wjIONgChz8X6o8R8CsOvP6ctV1Pz3a3C6qf8EOOlCB_my2fAbEUu2JRRI3SBWyW/s320/Salwa+beach+on+the+saudi+side.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599239163488675666" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>My daughter Nadia- Salwa beach Saudi side</strong></em><br /><br /><br />Once you cross Saudi customs there is a 5km stretch of no-man’s land after which you enter the Qatari side. The Qatari immigration set-up is done up pretty well with some neat, impressive buildings and lawns. Expatriates are issued a ‘visa –on –arrival’ based on their profession. There’s an extensive list of professions eligible for a VOA, available on the net. The visa fees is 100 QAR per person and they don’t accept cash, so you have to go to the attached unit of the Qatar National Bank and convert the money into a e-cash card and then pay. Car insurance is around 100 QAR for a week (can be paid as cash).There are at least 6-7 immigration counters working at a time, so normally the whole business finishes in less than an hour or so.<br />From the border it is a straight 100 km to Doha. Doha seems to be full of speed radars and round-abouts, (Roundabouts really drive me crazy....never could figure out why civil engineers prefer a roundabout instead of a 4 way traffic island), so go easy on the accelerator pedal. Traffic fines apparently are pretty steep in Qatar. The city itself can be a bit of a maze for first timers, even with a GPS .Always better to get a rough idea about the city roads from someone in Doha you know beforehand. We were helped immensely by an old student of mine – Ashik who is doing his orthopaedic residency in Hamad Medical Corporation, the premier medical establishment in Qatar. If it wasn’t for him we were in for quite a long period of aimless wandering.<br />It isn’t difficult to find a hotel in Qatar even without prior booking, but always better if you’ve phoned in some place in advance. The average rates per night for a varies from 300 qar to 1500 qar depending on whether you’re the three star or the five star type. There are plenty of serviced apartments also available at good rates. We went for a Hotel Ghazal, which was quite near the corniche. Quite cozy and comfortable.<br />So where do you go once you’ve settled in? Again plenty of places to visit in Qatar, so you’ll have to prioritize based on the time available. We had kind of a whirlwind tour lasting for a couple of days, but we managed to cover most of the major attractions.<br /><strong>Suggested places:</strong><br /><strong>The Corniche</strong><br />You can just drive through the corniche enjoying the sights, especially at night, or if you have time, take a quiet little stroll. If you have the time, inclination and the money you could go for a dhow cruise too. There are quite a few parks adjacent to the Corniche. The Rumailah is one such well maintained park. If you’re driving by at night you also get to witness the fabulously lit sky-scraping buildings on the West-bay and also the Qatari parliament which is wonderfully illuminated in a pearly white hue.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLX6pwkWjk-bPTAVzhoTGYHnznrXYpKPjqCcVrbHkiPshffqJSO-4t4AjXsC-ULLIzEtsgxSj4MRRHES8wNrsBqqLPtd8ZX1Y2gOyIWntUy33JcghZjhyzcrhZmYB_E6LZENfRKPc03hvk/s1600/qatar+corniche.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLX6pwkWjk-bPTAVzhoTGYHnznrXYpKPjqCcVrbHkiPshffqJSO-4t4AjXsC-ULLIzEtsgxSj4MRRHES8wNrsBqqLPtd8ZX1Y2gOyIWntUy33JcghZjhyzcrhZmYB_E6LZENfRKPc03hvk/s320/qatar+corniche.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599243781794563538" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsO8nX5nrclJMtJKJmg7hQd1HD0f77p8X5th1gVKMPA0_IM_n8mn-oQJ7bSUyDcNBAs70L_RQrLdRQeE9tyZPSM39tMGpoxQyV3FsiDfgGdmlGlTRIhuS5iRdv1RTdYc8NnqjPfYLixBfC/s1600/rumailah+park.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsO8nX5nrclJMtJKJmg7hQd1HD0f77p8X5th1gVKMPA0_IM_n8mn-oQJ7bSUyDcNBAs70L_RQrLdRQeE9tyZPSM39tMGpoxQyV3FsiDfgGdmlGlTRIhuS5iRdv1RTdYc8NnqjPfYLixBfC/s320/rumailah+park.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599253002572027810" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Beaches</strong><br />Quite a few beaches – at least try for the ‘Sea line’ beach which has a resort attached to it. Very clean beach with great water. Has dune-buggies and camel rides for those interested.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnz9gXTHxAHXSkcuVDLPsWV3D7RFMSv3qhxW8Q3dN82-wvucgXKr4bddqvNxMHrGaMVImkbMo7Dkqt7_ICNz-4y2BLO4q2m5MxU_oHXsUgGId8NMooXJtQfSkBR6oDIOxz8FzZFGx-Jf4/s1600/sealine+beach5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnz9gXTHxAHXSkcuVDLPsWV3D7RFMSv3qhxW8Q3dN82-wvucgXKr4bddqvNxMHrGaMVImkbMo7Dkqt7_ICNz-4y2BLO4q2m5MxU_oHXsUgGId8NMooXJtQfSkBR6oDIOxz8FzZFGx-Jf4/s320/sealine+beach5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599244337229297074" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Museums</strong><br />Again you’re a bit spoilt for choice. The Islamic heritage museum and the weaponry museum are famous. However a bit away from the city you have the Sheikh Faisal bin Qassim Al-Thani museum which is a must see .You need to call in advance for an appointment. The whole place would take a day in itself if you’re planning to see it in leisure. The biggest attraction for me was its wonderful collection of antique cars and bikes. On the way back you also get a peek at the Emir’s palace...don’t peek around too much though, or you’ll soon be playing peek-a-boo in a Qatari jail.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHu8V2mh2yYVKzprssbLAsf730l11bgEtpNidSs9zaQEITBJ0GkIInLEYqp9bEwyUR_-oidkbEshUD23cOM1r_1C0qXFmIuLGnIs2RjrrO4eufJtI0PmIXbhDPDf-iNpoxYoUpvNEqxXnC/s1600/Sheikh+Faisal+bin+Qassim+Al-Thani+Museum4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHu8V2mh2yYVKzprssbLAsf730l11bgEtpNidSs9zaQEITBJ0GkIInLEYqp9bEwyUR_-oidkbEshUD23cOM1r_1C0qXFmIuLGnIs2RjrrO4eufJtI0PmIXbhDPDf-iNpoxYoUpvNEqxXnC/s320/Sheikh+Faisal+bin+Qassim+Al-Thani+Museum4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599245166622211394" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrX52shjj_Hf4uCYEKybAiREwKGtBsYkOg3qMfWpXvSaZde97qmh0QPTVxj1nydtc6sGRFhFOMCdgiNJN3UzPkS7zRRsaFsh37KNOVqa7uP0ieY0UfOE5IwI6iOwixHvwNjbpaWwNlW0Ms/s1600/salman+al+thani+museum.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrX52shjj_Hf4uCYEKybAiREwKGtBsYkOg3qMfWpXvSaZde97qmh0QPTVxj1nydtc6sGRFhFOMCdgiNJN3UzPkS7zRRsaFsh37KNOVqa7uP0ieY0UfOE5IwI6iOwixHvwNjbpaWwNlW0Ms/s320/salman+al+thani+museum.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599244961581626850" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong>Khalifa stadium /Aspire tower</strong> <br />Monuments to Qatar’s emergence as a major sporting venue. The work for stadiums designed to host the 2022 FIFA world cup are also going on. Sporting buffs can also peek at the Qatar golf course (Never though golf was a sport though!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKIX2uAz5U0bBRWRy_fBz9kYIwPZNZ7kuUOj5QHNILrBiZErlb8LDNDp1RudMSXfPUTvLCX7T849bO_iSRGq77Y7ArGLfYZwARvEp713ApQqM-BgizcJfEtSXsnbu1O6zYci4Bui1SfZm/s1600/aspire+tower2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKIX2uAz5U0bBRWRy_fBz9kYIwPZNZ7kuUOj5QHNILrBiZErlb8LDNDp1RudMSXfPUTvLCX7T849bO_iSRGq77Y7ArGLfYZwARvEp713ApQqM-BgizcJfEtSXsnbu1O6zYci4Bui1SfZm/s320/aspire+tower2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599243920493577826" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Malls</strong> <br />City centre mall – with its great multiplexes and food courts is near the corniche, but even you’re not really the mall type you should see the Villagio mall adjacent to the Khalifa stadium. The Venetian atmosphere built into the design is fabulous. It even has a boat ride in a canal in the middle, with Gondoliers thrown in. Parking is a big issue at peak hours, and this I suppose applies to all Malls in Doha.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6I5ME3Zm2eF4RSUHBO0P3z-N6_e9nn-SAT_g-A9L6fLFFu3lZLhxNFp4eEWqZ9Zcnpf1FnljqYUmY6bYk-cWG9hK6vKUdSg3V_43mjewnXVjMDxlv36bR_8624J2M80RCcFyraFpJ3NFb/s1600/villagio+mall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6I5ME3Zm2eF4RSUHBO0P3z-N6_e9nn-SAT_g-A9L6fLFFu3lZLhxNFp4eEWqZ9Zcnpf1FnljqYUmY6bYk-cWG9hK6vKUdSg3V_43mjewnXVjMDxlv36bR_8624J2M80RCcFyraFpJ3NFb/s320/villagio+mall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599245465203849522" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Education city</strong><br /> Education City is an initiative of the ‘Qatar foundation’. It covers around 15 square kilometers and has a number of educational complexes catering to wide variety –ranging from schools to research units. The complex has a number of esoteric, interestingly designed buildings. This apparently complex is part of the plan to develop Qatar into a knowledge-based-society. Wonder if the explosion in media growth in Qatar – Arabic and English (think Al-Jazeera), has any direct relation.<br />Souks <strong><br /> These are a bunch of clustered shops built in the style of the traditional </strong>Arabian market .The market itself is quite old, but the buildings were done up recently. Good place for collecting trinkets and souvenirs and quite close to the city centre. Special things to look for are – rugs, perfumes and jewellery. The largest one is the Souk Waqif. Should go in the evenings...we missed it coz most of the shops were shut in the afternoon when we visited. Incidentally there is a ‘Gold souk’ also nearby, but for obvious reasons (Read WIFE) we skilfully steered clear of that danger area. <br /><strong>Pearl Qatar</strong> <br /> This is something built on the lines of the Atlantis in Dubai, with high end malls and flats straddling clear blue waters .Worth a visit if you’re into photography and window shopping (If you have deep wallets you can do actual shopping too...though I’m yet to really meet a genuine idiot who has actually done some shopping in these hi-end kinda malls).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENmQv8x1p__DTfit83ZtLrsjFoxH70VXRoQN6sy1pLXb7ZEoX2tOXEFKOpTTrdolyK5GJ3etxZ7gtO6iGIJCrmrLaWoBe1DOS9toXkQa1_zrSO966-Qmi_q_Hrqir09wQolgaEeWtp6fy/s1600/pearl+qatar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENmQv8x1p__DTfit83ZtLrsjFoxH70VXRoQN6sy1pLXb7ZEoX2tOXEFKOpTTrdolyK5GJ3etxZ7gtO6iGIJCrmrLaWoBe1DOS9toXkQa1_zrSO966-Qmi_q_Hrqir09wQolgaEeWtp6fy/s320/pearl+qatar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599245640397254818" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Food</strong><br />We stuck mainly to our mallu food from a little, but comfortable restaurant named ‘Swagath’ a short walk from our hotel, near the Mansoura signal. However all kinds of cuisines are available in Doha. The city-centre mall itself houses a larger array of all kinds of eateries in the food-court.<br /><strong>Cinemas</strong><br /> The malls have good multiplexes which play English, Hindi and Malayalam movies. There are quite a few ‘traditional’ Indian style theatres around too. We took in a movie at the ‘Doha cinema’....where we were witness to Mammooty chettan as ‘Dy SP Perumal’ single-handedly (as usual) unravelling an assassination conspiracy against the chief minister of Kerala. The movie seemed to be a bit a of a propaganda thing for the communist party, but watchable all the same.<br /><strong>Aqua park</strong> <br />This is one of your run-of-the-mill water theme parks which is around 30 km Doha on the Salwa road, to Saudi. So we put in a visit on our way back. Not very large, but still quite enjoyable, especially for kids. Only issue is that it is basically an outdoor set-up, so the weather is a major factor. When we went it was drizzling and the water was a bit on the colder side.....a bit of a put-off. Nice ambience all the same. Tickets are 100 QAR per person, free for children 3 and younger.<br /><br /><strong>General points</strong><br /> Language unlike Saudi is not a major issue at all in Qatar. English is generally well spoken and understood. Of course Indians (especially mallus), Pakistanis and Bangladeshis will crop up in every nook and corner, an universal phenomenon in the Gulf (with mallus I think that should ‘simbly’ be the whole ‘werld’)...so you can get by with Hindi, Malayalam and Bengali too! Qatar is not as conservative as Saudi Arabia, but the general sensible advice is to dress, talk and behave in a manner that does not go extremely overboard the local culture. <br />Things to keep with you in the car include – copies of your travel documents, a portable air compressor unit, extra pair of car-keys, charging cables (In case you end up with a dead battery) a bit of lubricant oil (in case you need to change tyres) and of course a complete tool kit.<br /><br /><br />(All images copyrighted under cc license- feroze kaliyadan- please use with permission)feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-77786178141496428462011-02-25T10:59:00.000-08:002011-02-25T11:02:49.844-08:00Democrazy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBkHbWhmOgXzdnQfFvegphQWmGJcx4ezKVuUn-JFCVNRGyl3jXdG3-AoMOoLQAR80BKdJPsyzVPUEi9hMlH0bG5fufQbBGHaU6mXvdgIrfDDl9bnnedj_hUjvLIRbv5WfrtX0hUDzg9LY/s1600/freedom+2++new.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBkHbWhmOgXzdnQfFvegphQWmGJcx4ezKVuUn-JFCVNRGyl3jXdG3-AoMOoLQAR80BKdJPsyzVPUEi9hMlH0bG5fufQbBGHaU6mXvdgIrfDDl9bnnedj_hUjvLIRbv5WfrtX0hUDzg9LY/s320/freedom+2++new.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577704559115036962" /></a><br /><br />Some of my Egyptian and Tunisian colleagues here tell me that I’m lucky to be an Indian…..Indian as in belonging to India, the world largest ‘working democracy’, India as in a country where you have rights to equality and freedom of speech and thought.<br />I had goosebumps ( I already have bad skin…but now I’m talking about the national pride kinda goosebumps) and was inspired to go back to one the subjects I hated back in school –‘civics’- to brush up on the 6 fundamental rights that I as an Indian have:<br /><strong>1.The right to equality:</strong><br />Right.We’re all equally fed up with the system……with the corrupt cops, corrupt bureaucrats, corrupt judiciary and of course our consistently rotten politicians.We are all equally strong in condemning and bitching about the ‘system’ and we’re all equally good in acting impotent and doing nothing about it.<br /><strong>2.The right to freedom</strong><br />Right again….as long as your freedom doesn’t cross roads with the freedom of a politically better connected idiot, to do anything he/she feels like.<br /><strong>3.The right to freedom from exploitation</strong><br />Think of it this way…the previous right mentioned gives some guys the right to exploit..and they use it pretty well….so maybe we have a lil conflict of interest thingy on this one.<br /><strong>4.The right to freedom of religion</strong><br />No comments.Any comment on religion in India is too sensitive……(so much for freedom of speech)!<br /><strong>5.Cultural and educational rights</strong><br />I’m not really sure why culture and education were clubbed together.I suppose the fathers of our constitution assumed that the more educated that people got, the more their culture would grow..and vice versa.The term ‘cultural rights’ itself seems to be bit of an oxymoron…..what exactly is a ‘cultural’ right?Every regional culture in India has a bit of chauvinism embedded in its psyche….the mallus secretly feel that they are culturally superior to the the tamilians and vice versa….ditto with marathis vs gujjus, punjabis vs bengalis…..Maybe it is the right to this cultural chauvinism that this part of the constitution refers to?!<br />Education…well if you have money you have a absolutely have a right to good education…otherwise you have the explicit right to struggle through a competitive system to educate yourself!!<br /><br /><strong>6.The right to constitutional remedies</strong><br />Now even the not so bright ones among us (writer included) would realize that the first five ‘rights’ aren’t worth a single paisa as long as the last one is not exercisable in a proper way…..and there lies the whole problem with India.Basically right no:6 means that if some goon has done some wrong to you ,you can go for legal recourse – the police station or the courts.Ask any ‘aam aadmi’ who has some experience in seeking such legal recourse and you will hear repetitive and familiar stories of how the original ‘goons’ finally came out as the lesser evil when compared to the ‘goons’ in khaki and in black coats.The whole damn system has rotted at all levels, and we’re contributing whole heartedly (You will notice that the tense is ‘present continuous’) to the rot by greasing palms randomly to make sure that our work gets done somehow.Bribing someone is considered so natural that nobody really thinks of it as a major wrong….unless of course the ‘bribee’ is making unrealistically high demands!<br /><strong>The right to set things right</strong><br /><strong>Obviously not part of the official 6 ‘rights’…but we do have this right…if only we used it in the right way at the right time!!For all my congenitall acquired sarcasm, I realize that compared to many places, India is like heaven on earth..but the problem is while other countries are crying hoarse for reform, we don’t realize the strength of the freedom and democracy we have….maybe we will do so only when we lose it……or have we already???<br />Jai Hind…..</strong>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-76715157518273140432010-12-21T06:43:00.000-08:002010-12-21T06:48:46.793-08:00hubbies hobbies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9F2kIBwg4iSh5XF9tkEnPr1TZL23qZwvy-GAfoKE5PoiNKBhnWc_OEh4xAbCoNtiyphZeDpKQD7w_LrX1xfTK8Gk6ToGosqyoPiWV9HhE0aAJLmk3_QVssXcBOZoGUKWjkPuh_bNH7BXE/s1600/flashback.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9F2kIBwg4iSh5XF9tkEnPr1TZL23qZwvy-GAfoKE5PoiNKBhnWc_OEh4xAbCoNtiyphZeDpKQD7w_LrX1xfTK8Gk6ToGosqyoPiWV9HhE0aAJLmk3_QVssXcBOZoGUKWjkPuh_bNH7BXE/s320/flashback.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553146717060849618" /></a><br /><br />Hubbies and Hobbies<br /><br />Photography had been one of my old passions which has retaken wings recently. The move from film to digital photography has indeed converted many nut cases into amateur, and sometimes even professional photographers. This however can become a hazard for married people ( read husbands )…especially when the photo-sessions start taking a bit more time than that spent with the equipment you officially tied the knot with. The more you shoot pics, the more the wife feels like shooting you (with a good gun, not a camera) and turning you into a great still image…in black and blue tones….<br />(Actually I never understood why she gets so worked up about this photography thing ….I mean once in a couple of months I take her pics also….incidentally bugs are one of my favourite subjects) <br />And when the camera slowly starts becoming the third person in the marriage, the wifey may start getting a bit more pro-active like mine did….and what better way to counter an irritating hobby of an generally irritating kind of husband than getting into an irritating counter -hobby yourself.<br />My wife apparently has become a bit too interested in cooking as a hobby recently .The ‘Masterchef’ series on TV providing a strong trigger to her culinary intents. So with the present distressing circumstances, the good lady took up her weapons and started frying, roasting and baking away to glory, whenever I was in proximity with my beloved cameras. The way things were going, some day I was sure that she wouldn’t mind deep frying one of my cameras too. Nadia our 4 year old would often be witness to her crazy parents fanatically indulging in their respective hobbies, scowling at each other (Nadia’s pretty much resigned to the ‘crazy’ part…the scowling was an refreshingly entertaining change for her!)<br />However another recent TV program on ‘Food photography’ might help us find a middle way. For those not in the know, simply put ‘Food photography’ involves arranging food and photographing them so that they look yummy (even if it actually tastes like ditch water). So now she cooks, and me clicks what she cooks…we’re both happy..Almost...Only problem of course is that after me clicks, me also eats……and unlike the hollywood cop movies where they keep yelling ‘You have the right to remain silent…”…I have ‘absolutely no such right ….I have to speak (Literally meaning I have to praise)…or at least smile.<br /> “Suffering ennobles a person” Dr Christian Barnard (!!)<br />Disclaimer: All characters mentioned aboved are purely fictious …at least if my wife happens to chance upon this blog.feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-14016828255404764332010-10-26T23:45:00.000-07:002010-10-26T23:48:12.086-07:00The circle of lifeThe other day I was conducting a viva for my students and was getting increasingly amused with the sheer inventiveness of the answers given. At least those human right activist guys can’t accuse me of stifling the freedom of expression. You often notice that the more benign the teacher /examiner- the more imaginative the answers…but at least they <strong>do</strong> answer and more often than not we get a clear picture of their level of knowledge. ...something you never achieve when exams are conducted in something like a ‘war on terror’ atmosphere.<br />I was suddenly taken back a decade when we had our internal medicine postings with Dr S .I ‘m not really sure if Dr S was a genius…but she definitely gave us 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration (to stay away from her classes…especially when in a foul mood..which was basically like always)<br />Madam S , was terror personified…..to explain the gravity of the situation I present this dialogue horribly adapted from the hindi movie ‘<em>Sholay</em>’ of Gabbar singh fame :“If some medical student falls asleep while mugging for the exams, his/her roommate would wake him/her up and say “Wake up Baccha nahi to Kal exam me ‘Madam S’ aa jayegi” “<br />Every case discussion with here would be like a Hindi saas-bahu soap serial ….full of tears (especially if the person presenting the case was a female of the homo sapiens Linn species, barbed dialogues (all from her)…and seemingly no end to the story….see you tomorrow same time ,same place for more!!)<br />One of the most colorful episodes I remember with Madam S was when one of our colleagues, a certain miss KJ was asked a deeply philosophical question regarding the colors of the stools in various types of jaundice (Not the sitting kinda stools dude ..the shitting kind).Miss KJ was dumb-struck and color blind, for a precious few minutes and mixed up her palette. In the end Madam S decided to settle for the color of normal stools as a compromise , but KJ still wouldn’t give in. So ultimately Madam S handed KJ a rather colorful assignment …to check on the color of her own ‘you know what’ and return the next day. KJ was off-color for the rest of the day…..(The final results of this great scientific mission were classified – for Madam S’s eyes/ears only….so we never were enlightened regarding the true colors of human waste!)<br /><br />(Speakin’ of stools , one of my surgery teachers would often comment on the vivid yet questionable descriptions in some medical texts. Apparently some medical conditions , according to some texts, are characterized by ‘foul-smelling stools’….now whoever heard of stools smelling of lilies and roses??!!!)<br />(N: All said and done I must admit that most of what madam S ,taught me still remains quite fresh…fear at times can indeed be a potent tonic for an effective memory!! And honestly looking back, many of the interesting lil episodes with her do tend to bring a little smile to my stupid face!)feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-33769944057554890582010-09-09T01:21:00.000-07:002010-09-09T01:23:06.320-07:00“Talk shows” on TV- the ultimate reality show!Talking of news talk shows…I sincerely feel that they make for the best reality TV fare….<br />Scene : Three ‘gentle’men and one ‘gentle’ lady ( or any other gender combination ) with very similar, foul expressions on their face, leaning on shiny wooden podiums arranged on points of an arc, face a fresh looking young female with a smirk on her face. The scene reminds you of a ringmaster trying to control a quartet of wild animals. Except the characters are not in a circus (at least not in the literal meaning of that term).The scene I described is one of the variations of the political debates that we have got so used (bored?) to seeing on national television. The topics vary from ‘trivial’ issues like naxalism to ‘serious’ national issues like whether Sania Mirza should marry a Pakistani…..or even whether Sania Mirza should marry at all!!! (Sarcasm very much intended)I have often wondered what purpose these debates serve. I have yet to see one of these shouting/slanging matches come up with any worthwhile consensus or solution. I mean what would you expect when you pair up an opposition party spokesperson with a ruling party spokesperson……the only thing they would certainly agree to do is to firmly disagree. By the time the ‘holier –than- thou’ anchor concludes the show, more often than not, opinions would have been more polarized than before.<br />Well TRPs do go up I suppose. That’s about it .Whether you are a news channel or a ‘masala’ entertainment channel (Incidentally some of the Hindi ‘News Channels’ are pretty indistinguishable from the masala channels); it’s either fast rising TRPs or a slow but certain death. When you have seemingly grown up, allegedly mature and supposedly famous people shouting themselves hoarse at each other over anything from the price of onions to national security, you do get a perverse pleasure in watching the ‘tamasha’.<br />I think when we ‘progressed’ from the almost rustic, simple 30 minutes a day Doordarshan news in the eighties to 24-hour news channels; it was natural that pure, unadulterated news would take a beating. So the news channels needed to improvise……and improvise they did by creating ‘value-additions’ to the news. Harping on absolutely inane (but apparently sensational) incidents like the Sania-Shoaib wedding is one of the accepted TRP raising stunts. The other is of-course to conduct debates and discussion on hot issues to make issue hotter and more controversial than it was in the first place. One of the main problems with these so called panel-discussions is that most of the people in the panel have already got a set and rigid opinion on the issue at hand. You add in a pinch of political mule-headedness and you basically get something sillier than school-kids fighting over candy….absolutely pure and unadulterated farce. I mean how many politicians can actually see the other persons point? And how many politicians absolutely adore listening to their own voice? You answer these two rhetorical questions, combine the answers and you can understand why panel-discussions (with politicians on board) will never go much beyond childish slanging matches)<br />All said and done, these debates, I feel are the best form of reality TV entertainment. It has mystery and suspense(Half the time you have no idea what these guys are harping on about ….though you feel that the startling truth is just around the corner), violence (mostly verbal, but I suppose the day is not far when we’ll be treated to actual ‘dishum-dishum’ stuff!), comedy (More than one politician discussing a serious issue……what could be funnier?) ,vendetta (that one does not need elaboration I suppose) and of course top class acting (sometimes you’re actually fooled into believing what these ‘netas’ say!)……..if only we could actually have a few politicians agreeing to perform an ‘item’ number or two during the debate, then Bollywood would have serious completion! and the best part? IT’s REAL!!!<br />Keep’em coming!!!feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-62034989323419397682010-09-09T01:06:00.000-07:002010-09-09T01:21:03.994-07:00To strike or not to strike…..for doctors that is a BIG question…..<a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/media-practitioner-heal-thyself/5824/0">http://www.indianexpress.com/news/media-practitioner-heal-thyself/5824/0</a><br /><br />A little piece I had written for the Indian Express a few years back….still relevant I think<br /><br />Meanwhile the medical strike controversy continues unabated with the fresh issues n Jodhpur and Safdarjung.‘<strong>Doctor assaulted by irate Mob’ –‘Doctors go on strike’ –‘Patients dies due to doctors strike’-‘Do doctors have the right to strike’- ‘The ‘hypocritical’ oath’</strong>………..All these headlines and scroll lines (scrolling news seems to be definitely getting more popular that dire old newspaper headlines – especially from everything from an air-crash to a B-grade bollywood star’s latest affair is prefixed with a bold ‘FLASHING NEWS’ or ‘BREAKING NEWS’ in bold yellows and reds)<br />And madam Barkha Dutt, Mr ‘Know all’Arnab Goswami et al were at it again and busy the last few days following a string of medicos’ strikes in different parts of the country.<br /><br />The issue of whether and how doctors can strike is probably going to be unsolved for a long-long time. One thing I feel is that whatever the provocation we doctors should never the alienate the general public. There were instances when doctors boycotted official duties but at the same time set up make-shift medical camps outside the hospitals to treat patients. To take things a step forward you could set up similar camps on more visible areas like outside government buildings/police stations etc.More often than not the root cause for any underlying related problems is a stupid ,khadi clad politician or a shrewd ‘suit-boot’ clad bureaucrat…..this would be one way to take the strike to their door-step while ensuring that public opinion does not turn against us doctors.feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-13324657930708738882010-08-13T03:06:00.000-07:002010-08-13T03:17:53.114-07:00Nadia's Diary : Off to school :(<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Z4yiBvZ1EYXyHB5_PFRQzRBlKhon61Prc2JlZhCQR9xTWolnasXMWySTIXTIRsnUArQeDiQ5YmuJfjCVBdW-jvRSiJx9IfEWsUWaodS4Z60B0Y5phGLfmPsxXhrnRG8zp3RrgwPoLma/s1600/off+to+school.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Z4yiBvZ1EYXyHB5_PFRQzRBlKhon61Prc2JlZhCQR9xTWolnasXMWySTIXTIRsnUArQeDiQ5YmuJfjCVBdW-jvRSiJx9IfEWsUWaodS4Z60B0Y5phGLfmPsxXhrnRG8zp3RrgwPoLma/s320/off+to+school.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504835984729939458" /></a><br /><em><strong>My first day at school (Smiling through difficult times was always one of my strengths)</strong></em><br /><br /><br />With great power comes great responsibility…..I really don’t mind a little bit of power but am not awfully interested in the responsibility stuff.<br />Anyways ,if you thought I was bitten by a radioactive bug and started spinning spider webs, you’re far from the truth.(Though I still do manage to spin a few webs around my stupid parents, and incidentally I was actually bitten a few days ago by some cute leeches, courtesy my nutty father’s idea of a holiday in a rain forest in the middle of the monsoons….unfortunately they weren’t the radioactive type and didn’t give me any superpowers…it would have been kinda interesting though, I could be one of those anti-hero/ine things …maybe they’d call me the blood-sucker girl!!).<br />Coming back to the more serious issue..thing is I have been rather unceremoniously dumped in a horrible,horrible place called SCHOOL …..and SCHOOL sucks. Period.<br />I did try a bit of the old ‘cry yourself hoarse till they give in’ trick with my parents, but those stonehearted idiots didn’t bat an eyelid before they sentenced me to school.<br />As if to soften the mental trauma and sheer agony, the idiots who run this joint, call this arrangement a ‘play-school’. If the idea was to play,why bother with the school part?I mean I play enough back home, so why institutionalize the whole thing?It’s like that place called jail, they send dudes who do bad stuff….what bad stuff did I do??Since when is growing up a crime?<br />Now every morning I have to sacrifice my beauty sleep and get decked with a stupid ,very uncool bag (pink color with shiny Barbie pictures….yech!!totally not in vogue…but that’s what happens when you have a couple of dumb, unfashionable creatures as parents) and get dumped in that depressing place. I have started having that thing they called Monday morning blues…though this place gives me the blues all days of the week except the weekend.<br />The only good thing is that there are quite of a few us like- minded suffering pre-schoolers in this dump and someday we hope that we can throw of the yoke of these imperialistic, fascist so-called teachers. We tend to have great stimulating exchanges too ( we exchange words, flu viruses and of course occasional pinches and slaps when the word exchange parts don’t end up in a consensus).<br />Those teacher things haven’t started with the ABC,123 stuff, but one dude who’s been inside for some time before me, warned me that the unpleasant stuff would be coming soon.As of now it’s all fun and games….a big façade I suppose, before the real torture starts.<br />Anyway , I just don’t get the point of this education thing.My dear old mum and dad apparently had to study till they were like really really old …and they’re still dumb enough to buy me a pink Barbie bag to take to school and as far as I know they don’t have much dough in the bank either…apparently education doesn’t do much to make you more sensible …or rich.On the other hand lookit all those politician people in our country.Stinking rich, no education.So what the heck is the bloody point??<br />I rest my case.<br /><br /><br />(Nadia is my 4 year old daughter,prematurely blessed with an attitude of a teenager)feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618140523033865311.post-38833300812293413882010-08-06T06:45:00.002-07:002010-08-06T07:36:38.825-07:00Listening to the sounds of silence...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZ_R-Ix-pZzqR0fVvXnARKfc3qm4y9hRp12gua4I7rUz7vijksucu5MD8O70f3Ux8lRehx5tJuJ1GUkRhioAp6g6P1EevcA4dO23EQIMP0PLbaxHqFOYMCJRUzD_VgGEMGxcco5OBReWP/s1600/silent+valley+entrance.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZ_R-Ix-pZzqR0fVvXnARKfc3qm4y9hRp12gua4I7rUz7vijksucu5MD8O70f3Ux8lRehx5tJuJ1GUkRhioAp6g6P1EevcA4dO23EQIMP0PLbaxHqFOYMCJRUzD_VgGEMGxcco5OBReWP/s320/silent+valley+entrance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502293295552780530" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>The entrance to silent valley national park</strong></em><br /><br />Travelogues are really not my cup of tea (Actually anything in which I cannot mix in huge portions of sarcasm and poor jokes are not my cup of tea).<br />However a rain-drenched visit to Silent Valley inspired me to pen this lil piece.<br /><br />Where, how and why?<br />Silent Valley is a reserve forest located in the Palakkad district in the north-east border of Kerala.It is part of what is called the Nilgiri biosphere (which is an International Biosphere Reserve in the Western Ghats, in the Nilgiri Hills range of South India).<br />To get to Silent Valley, you have to first reach Mannarcaud ,which is near Palakkad town. Palakkad is well connected by train and bus to all major towns in Kerala.The nearest airports are in Kochi and Kozhikode (around 3 hours by road).From there you have to travel up through about 20 km of hairpins to reach the small town of Mukkali.The entrance to the ‘buffer zone’ of the forest is here.The actual core zone of the silent valley reserve is about 23 km from the entry point.No private vehicles are allowed beyond the entry point.You have to shell out about 1000 bucks to hire an authorised Jeep with a driver and a guide + around 200 if you’re carrying a camera.(If you’re planning on a trek you can avoid the jeep, but still have to hire the guides.The number of jeeps and guides are restricted, so you’ll have to book well in advance, especially in peak seasons).If you’re planning on a single day programme, you don’t need to make any stay arrangements (Normally the guides bring you back by 2:00 pm max, so you can return to virtually any major town in Kerala by the end of the day).However the real fun is in staying a couple of days and really enjoying the treks in leisure.If you do plan to explore the place over a few days there are a couple of options for lodging (All outside the core area of course)– there are cheap lodges in Mukkalli, a rather pricey resort slightly away and also some government owned cottages (you might have to pull a few strings to get accommodated here though) farther away in Agali (which is around 17 km away from Mukkali)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdHX1z0_eer_9NcBdHY00phrO0VhNE0wa1e1M09s4U9f3J0gii1WCSWjo29AbqPIJm4bokLzsI1x3TQeuwHKnaLBxCj1OqfooS51b3__h29WEyUODCOEBe4p_s10RSdQlyv1q5efmKvxk/s1600/silent+valley+trail3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdHX1z0_eer_9NcBdHY00phrO0VhNE0wa1e1M09s4U9f3J0gii1WCSWjo29AbqPIJm4bokLzsI1x3TQeuwHKnaLBxCj1OqfooS51b3__h29WEyUODCOEBe4p_s10RSdQlyv1q5efmKvxk/s320/silent+valley+trail3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502296258248542002" /></a><br /><em><strong>We had our trip interrupted in between due to a fallen tree.Luckily our guides and the driver managed to clear the path soon</strong></em><br /><br /><br />The history of Silent Valley is rather interesting.The area is locally known as "Sairandhrivanam" literally, Sairandhri's Forest. In local Hindu legend, Sairandhri was Draupadi, wife of the five Pandavas, who disguised herself as Sairandhri, queen Sudeshna's assistant, while they were in exile. Apparetly the Pandavas during their exile moved into a untouched virgin forest in what is now Kerala.(Our Guide who belongs to one of the indigenous tribes claimed that the remains of the cave where Draupadi and the Pandavas stayed remains to this day). The first English investigation of Silent Valley area was in 1847 by the botanist Robert Wight. There are various versions as to how the name ‘Silent valley’ came to be – One versions mentions that the British named the area Silent Valley because of a perceived absence of noisy Cicadas. (Surprsingly the moment we entered the core area of the forest we were greeted with the monotonous and unique creeking tune of thousands of Cicadas apparently orchestrating a symphony.Our guide (who interestingly belongs to one of the indigenous adivasi tribes of the area ) mentioned that apparently Cicadas and Crickets are now very much present in Silent Valley, unlike before ).Another story attributes the name to the anglicisation of Sairandhri vanam. A third story, refers to the presence there of many Lion-Tailed Macaques- Macaca silensus.(Unfortunately due to the pouring monsoon showers ,we could not get to see any of the Macaques ….of course my daughter Nadia was there,no lion-tail, far from silent, but quite the monkey most of the time!) <br />[The history part is heavily borrowed from wikipedia]<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJ4FtGNzSwoz13xKJE344_0XCBhEcvlm214gOqrZLN2YNpSi2d8i14MVlGtms-30xnswUjzwWzVOErB5hyozdpRWxmOSvGZuYXdkTLBIKQYh7juAZKqApEdqrxFx7j-2IN1VKuBebSIGx/s1600/impatiens.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJ4FtGNzSwoz13xKJE344_0XCBhEcvlm214gOqrZLN2YNpSi2d8i14MVlGtms-30xnswUjzwWzVOErB5hyozdpRWxmOSvGZuYXdkTLBIKQYh7juAZKqApEdqrxFx7j-2IN1VKuBebSIGx/s320/impatiens.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502297359589463730" /></a><br /><em><strong><br />A rather interesting slug commonly seen in silent valley</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpsTEuiZgN4gSUsb1OPgPk4ExGjN_Vqb6BjD2O6Elghctk6Kd6TIFL4Z15WB8qzr9Aql-ukPIniX4VdFzVeIXtv7a8j2LaIynY2YPRz72FAQj-561IZ2_ssE8jfTXJdNN3QhxIPR7Icdr/s1600/silent+valley3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpsTEuiZgN4gSUsb1OPgPk4ExGjN_Vqb6BjD2O6Elghctk6Kd6TIFL4Z15WB8qzr9Aql-ukPIniX4VdFzVeIXtv7a8j2LaIynY2YPRz72FAQj-561IZ2_ssE8jfTXJdNN3QhxIPR7Icdr/s320/silent+valley3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502300278750869058" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiu6cMoW23Ve7HSyp2eFhwvXpNSirKZnJWITltqQtFLyqO2_CMtolwM8wcNOvqgQTQs_ePW1oISfj2lOY6BweF0K7AVwNZ40jRpumabf7ATQFbTP83ZAEve_uPX-4007f_m3HeeoXQzXv7/s1600/mist.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiu6cMoW23Ve7HSyp2eFhwvXpNSirKZnJWITltqQtFLyqO2_CMtolwM8wcNOvqgQTQs_ePW1oISfj2lOY6BweF0K7AVwNZ40jRpumabf7ATQFbTP83ZAEve_uPX-4007f_m3HeeoXQzXv7/s320/mist.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502299224363196338" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>View from the observation tower</strong></em><br /><br />Things to keep with you:<br />Hiking boots – essential unless blood-letting is one of your hobbies.Whether or not you get lucky enough to see macaques or elephants ,you will definitely meet leeches of all kinds by the hundreds (especially if you ,like me , are nutty enough to go in the rainy season).For the same purpose you need a pack of salt.Applying salt apparently makes the leech walk away in disgust! (Plucking them off might result in their mouth parts remaining in your skin and can later induce a rash ).However half the time you never know that one of them lil suckers was sipping your blood away to glory for quite some time as the bite is completely painless.Keep a few band-aids handy too coz the bleeding from the leech bite tends to go on for some time due to a cute little anti-coagulant called ‘hirudin’ that these guys inject into your blood.<br />A Swiss-army knife, a torch , rain coats, insect repellent creams and a rope …those are the other things you need to keep with you.Of course a camera (with spare batteries) and binoculars …and if you’re into serious photography protective hoods for your lenses. You can take any kind of food with you but ensure that all the waste is put back into plastic bags and taken back with you.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8GRU9nzyDhKhr0HJMBn3YrRwoiNmW05oTvzNak_n1VsMlKeUwZiXsnm7gu7rAHWTPHrYVPGF8tjVSZNKWQozpPxZ5GSg4xfiznV5dyERC0xQWDAGOTvw3sZRslZ1tLIRWooDzRoWiGTC/s1600/bloodsuckers.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8GRU9nzyDhKhr0HJMBn3YrRwoiNmW05oTvzNak_n1VsMlKeUwZiXsnm7gu7rAHWTPHrYVPGF8tjVSZNKWQozpPxZ5GSg4xfiznV5dyERC0xQWDAGOTvw3sZRslZ1tLIRWooDzRoWiGTC/s320/bloodsuckers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502296910807697346" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>Leeches enjoying themselves on the legs of our friend Mr Ajay Bhanu</strong></em><br /><br />As of now the core area has very little mobile reception, but keep a charged mobile with you all the same (Unless the trip is partly to get away from the stresses of office or married life or both!) and finally while silent valley is a great spot for young people to enjoy nature it may not be a great place to take very young kids with you.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbfEEgoi-PCovNZQ039mDzJclvuNyC3_X4DVooqC776KzM8VrC8vMmTZoblskCL1D3NoHM_cH8gA_Reu8U_DwoNNyW8f_mLHQtgGXzAAqjr-DE0L1_hpRlx_sSv3ZRS3OZNugmYCeS0Jo/s1600/silent+valley2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbfEEgoi-PCovNZQ039mDzJclvuNyC3_X4DVooqC776KzM8VrC8vMmTZoblskCL1D3NoHM_cH8gA_Reu8U_DwoNNyW8f_mLHQtgGXzAAqjr-DE0L1_hpRlx_sSv3ZRS3OZNugmYCeS0Jo/s320/silent+valley2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502298201363550498" /></a><br /><br /><em><strong>All photographs copyright feroze kaliyadan - please do not copy without permission</strong></em>feroze kaliyadanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16614834828174838927noreply@blogger.com1