Things I Overhead While Talking To Myself - Book review

My favourite genre in books is usually a psychological thriller. Some serial killer on the loose, some unknown mystery and twist in the tale. But in recent years, my reading habits have reduced dramatically which I admit is not a good thing for someone who aspires to be a writer.

Ironically, of the few books I read this year, the one that I enjoyed the most had no monsters, villains or even detectives. It was just an old man giving speeches and talking about life. But it is an old man who I have respected since the first time I saw him as an actor and that respect has only grown with time as I found out more about his philanthropic, broad-minded, feminist views in an era when it was deemed weird. 

"Things I Overhead While Talking To Myself" is, at it's essence, a collection of speeches given by the extremely articulate and witty actor Alan Alda. Some are speeches given at graduation ceremonies, some are eulogies while others are addresses given at memorials. 

It could have been just that - a bunch of speeches - but with Alan Alda's creative narration, you get so much more. He begins each chapter with a heartfelt anecdote - how he nearly died atop a mountain in Chile, how he dealt with his mother's illness, his own polio, his impoverished beginnings or the decision to say no to easy money as a struggling actor while he was doing part time jobs to feed his family - and then connects it to a speech he has given at some future point of his life before a larger audience, showcasing the life lesson he learned along the way and how it related to us all. 

There is a reason he was so inspirational as an actor in M*A*S*H* and was called upon to deliver so many motivational speeches across the world in his lifetime. You get to see how life has moulded him and how he has chosen to react to adversity and therein lies the brilliance of this man. 

The Chemeen Chor

I have always been fascinated by the story of Abhimanyu and how he learned to enter the Chakravyu by listening to his father discussing it with his mother while he was still in the womb.

That must have been some major first memory to retain. For me, as I enter mid-life and the gray cells within get replaced with gray hair outside, my memory isn't what it used to be. I used to be able to remember telephone conversations, dates of significance and things that happened years ago very clearly. These days, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast anymore by the time I come down for lunch! 

As a child the first memory in my mind is of a day back when I was a kid in Dubai. It had to be a Friday because everyone was home for lunch that day. I don't think I had reached UKG yet. My mother had made rice with some curry and prawns fry. Now, prawns are only my most favourite dish ever since the time I was a kid. I clearly recall the plate of prawns being placed on a green plate upon the dining table and my mother going back into the kitchen to get the other curries while dad was watching something (possibly wrestling) on television. When she returned back, my dad was still in the room watching TV and the rice bowl was still sitting in the center of the table. The plate of prawns however had disappeared.

A part of me can still hear her asking aloud in Malayalam where the plate went. Sitting in the bedroom at the other end of the house,struggling to balance the hot bowl in my tiny hands while I ate each fried prawn from that plate till it was all over, I couldn't care less.

Click here for the recipe 

That's the first memory I have of myself in life. Roshan, the prawn thief / chemeen chor (being a 'makhan-chor' was obviously too old-fashioned for a guy like me!).  

What is the first memory you have of yourselves?    

Author's note: This is my take on the theme 'FOOD' for Write Tribe's Festival of Words 2.

Memories - Those bloody juniors

Because when good friends are around, even the bad times seem bearable. Life as a post graduate doctor in any hospital can be tough. You really need to have a strong support team in place to get through it.
It's been three years since the bloody juniors and I parted ways... I'm guessing in those three years, the people you see goofing around in this video have saved thousands of lives amongst themselves besides alleviating the pain of many more.

Author's note: This is my take on the theme 'Memories' for Write Tribe's Festival of Words 2.

Write Tribe Festival of Words 2

What better way to start off year 9 than by doing something I haven't done before?

I will be participating in Write Tribe's Festival of Words 2 which takes place between 8-14 of December. Basically, there will be 7 themes for 7 days and we should try to give a different take on each theme.

Now, for those who want to participate, further details on sharing are mentioned in the link above.

For me, I've never taken these prompts before... definitely never done 7 posts in 7 days. It helps that the themes allow for a lot of freedom. In fact, in 8 years, I doubt if I've really done 7 posts in a month!

Anyway, touchwood let's see how it goes.

Themes for the week:

8 Dec – Memory/ Memories
9 Dec – Food
10 Dec – Books
11 Dec – Music
12 Dec – Travel
13 Dec – People
14 Dec – Dream/s

Year 9 - There'll be peace when you are done.

Godyears begins it's ninth year this month end. 
Nine years of writing post after post, revealing one life altering moment after the other. 

Statistically speaking, the numbers have increased quite dramatically over the last year. (social media ftw):

Year 5 - 2 blogs, 322 posts, 3333 comments, 072702 page views.
Year 6 - 2 blogs, 361 posts, 3990 comments, 100908 page views and 06 published stories.
Year 7 - 3 blogs, 432 posts, 5936 comments, 143942 page views and 10 published stories
Year 8 - 3 blogs, 499 posts, 8227 comments, 291886 page views and 19 published stories

It has once more been a very eventful year for me. 

• From a blogging point of view, there has been a departure from goofy posts to more insightful ones. Part of that transition is because of my monthly articles in the e-zine "Tamarind Rice" which allow me to finally reveal sides of my medical life which I don't usually portray in the blog, including the first time we doctors have to face death, the good that comes from death and how we yearn to be remembered by our patients.
• I finally won something in an Indiblogger contest (woohoo!) after all these y ears. Well, actually three somethings (woohoo! woohoo! & woohoo!). Blogadda was really kind to me this year too. 4 articles made it to their 'Spicy Saturday picks of the week' list this year which was really gratifying. This includes the unique feat of having three consecutive articles from the Tamarind Rice series win 'Spicy Saturday' picks at the blog.
• The book launch in Bangalore for 'Ten Shades of Life' was pretty special. At some level, all of us bloggers want to be there standing in front of an audience holding a book with your words printed in it. Also, it gave me an opportunity to catch up with some true friends of days gone by which is kind of rare given my work schedule.
  

Family Matters - an anthology

The new anthology collection which I can say I'm proud to be a part of was offically released last weekend in Hyderabad. "Family Matters" by Nivasini Publishers is an international anthology featuring authors and poets from over 9 different countries. 

As you can guess, the bond between family members plays a vital part in all the stories within this book. Proceeds from the book will go to Sphoorti, an NGO for under-priviliged children including orphans and those children who are abandoned.

For details of the book launch, I will divert you to Nivasini's blogpost on it. / their Facebook page.

My own story within the book, "A Mother's Touch" is something that is different from what people usually expect from me... no humour, romance or violence. It's a story of faith and looking beyond the obvious. 

"When a tourist on vacation wakes up to find her daughter having an acute episode of asthma and realizes that there are no medicines at hand, an unlikely saviour arrives in response to her silent prayer for help." 

 Personally, I was/am apprehensive about this story because A) it isn't a genre I am usually good at and B) writing from a mother's point of view is definitely alien to a dork like me. But some of those fears have been allayed with fellow blogger's Bhavana's kind words after reading the story (link here). Thanks Bhavana.

I don't have links for online purchase of the book yet. So for now, to get a copy of "Family Matters", kindly email nivedita(at)nivasini.com  

Snoopy Files 002 - The dog, the bone and the tree.

DOG BONES
These are dog bones.
Dogs like dog bones.
Dogs eat dog bones.
Dogs bury dog bones.

TREES
These are trees.
Trees live in forests and sometimes homes too.
Trees have branches.
Branches go on top of trees.

PUPPY
This is a puppy.
A puppy is a small dog.
Dogs eat dog bones.
Dogs pee on trees.

This is my small dog ( also known as a puppy )

  dragging me along to find a proper hiding place 

 TO BURY A TREE piece by piece after totally 

ignoring the dog bone I gave him.

This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his first officer William Riker of the Starship Enterprise expressing my feelings of exasperation succinctly.

This is Snoopy not caring about what

Captain Picard and first officer Riker
think as he dismantles the next tree branch.

Hidden Spectrum

The initial plan involved nine of us. Tired and weary after an all-nighter, most of us had dozed off as soon as we had reached our homes with the promise of meeting up for the new 3-D blockbuster release later that night. Of the gang, three backed off before I even woke up around lunch time. Another two developed sudden family commitments. By the time Sheila called me to see if at least I would be there, our colossal army was down to a tiny herd of three: Sheila, Nitu and myself. 

Nitu was our resident gynecologist: a stickler for time, she had a strong attention to detail, loved Hindi maa-bahu serials for some reason and was betrothed to one of the city's up-and-coming surgeons. 

Sheila... now she was a different cup of tea. A couple of years younger than Nitu, she had joined the hospital for a one year fellowship in emergency medicine. Blessed with soft features and a warm smile, she had quickly disposed of the 'introvert' tag we had mistakenly labeled her with and was the life of the party. 


She and I got along famously within the gang, owing to our shared love for 'the good things in life' - English comedy sitcoms, retro rock, road side food stalls and murder mystery novels. It was always a pleasure having her around because like me, she too never indulged in 'medical talk' once we stepped out of the hospital. 

As you can guess, I was sweet on her. I had convinced myself that it was just a crush but as the months wore on and the feelings refused to wane, I knew my heart had betrayed me again by falling hard. I could never approach her though - the secret I held within me pretty much ensured that I had no right to. 
For her part, if she had guessed my feelings earlier, she was kind enough not to make a spectacle of it or take advantage of it. That's just the kind of girl she was.