The Obsessed.

“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”
Franz Kafka

The problem with mercilessly following our intense obsessions is the relationships that we leave on the wayside. The fun- times that we discard at life’s sidewalk. The holidays we sacrifice at the alter of it’s pursuit.

Is is fair that people around you may have to bear some of the weight of the millstone that you perennially carry around your neck. People who dare to love or care for you may inordinately be forced to share some your vexation.

Will my progeny remember me as the selfish human who hounded my own obsessions, rather than cherish their fleeting childhood? Are missed park appointments and hasty bedtime routines a true benchmark for the parenting prize?

Is spending time massaging others’ egos a prerequisite for the “good human” epitaph.

Are romantic pursuits as wasteful and corrosive as they seem?

If one chooses to integrate into conventional society, one is signing an unconditional waiver of one’s true nature. We lie, make polite conversation, bend to others’ will, alter our basic personalities, practice meaningless small talk and generally waste the precious and limited time that could otherwise be utilised to nurture our obsessions.

Whatever people might say, and despite the mockery that the Obsessed are subjected to; we must thank them for all the things that they have brought forth, out of their convoluted minds. Their fruitions have given us every great book, piece of art, scientific innovation and technological advancement.

Let us let them be, please. For they allow us our fun, hassle- free and easy lives.

Till next time,


Finding time

There is always time. ” I have no time” is an excuse we make when we don’t want to do something.

We always got the time we need.

I did not feel the urge to write, the past few months.

Or to be honest, I felt the urge but could not be bothered to actually make the effort. Lack of time, was a convenient excuse.

Life has changed dramatically folks. Apart from the possibility of moving countries, jobs, separation- there is also the unrest within.

Mid- life crisis?

Considering a lifetime of 60 years, this would qualify as midlife.

I am aware that this post could come across as cryptic and vague. But, there is no elaboration to offer.

We have no idea where we are heading. Not sure, where we will be in the coming months.

Never imagined that national policies or regional politics could ever have a direct impact on our personal lives and family matters. But then, life is always beyond our imagination- ain’t it?

Till next time,



Lately, I have been thinking that I am stuck. Stuck in a rut. On a hamster wheel that obviously isn’t going anywhere.

It’s odd though. If you asked me three years ago, where I’d like to be three years on- the current state of affairs would seem to be a great place to be in.

There have been tremendous changes in all walks of life. And recently, huge life events have occurred.

My only sibling is now married.

I’m soon to welcome Progeny No. 2 into my life.

Home and work ships are on calm waters.

And generally, life has been decent. No unyeilding problems, no insurmountable crap-hills, no unplayable curveballs.

Yet, the inertia is like an itch I cannot scratch. The sort of itch which is exactly at a point on yourself that no limb of yours can reach, and one that another person can never locate exactly. Therefore, the itch remains. It lies low when you are occupied with more pressing concerns, but it always rears it’s annoying head and begs to be dealt with at every moment of joblessness, however minute the time span may be.

Damn you, boredom.

Damn you, inertia.

Till next time.



Hello there!

Yay! I have found my way back to the blog.

I am not a fan of the all-too-often used word “hiatus” and therefore shall refrain from using it to explain my absence here. I have no fancy excuses to cover my a%s* (the usual – sickness, horrendous rotation schedule, family, travel, weddings…); but things got more hectic than usual, and being the inconsistent slob that I so proudly am, I let these online pages of mine fall by the wayside.

To the few precious, loyal readers I *once* had, my most sincere apologies. I know my bordering- average rants and general whiny- ness provided some kick to your coffee and a feeling of ‘I-ain’t-doing-too-bad-hun’. I’m sorry for being an inconsistent slob guys. But I cannot promise anything more, for I embrace my ficklemindedness whole- heartedly. The posts here may or may not be regular.

For those lovely folks, who left comments and sent worried emails asking if something is wrong, I apologise if I have not replied- I was at a weird place mentally.

Currently, I am travelling but will be getting back to the daily grind soon. Z is a head- strong toddler who refuses to heed to any will but her own. Mr H is generally well, but I’m sure is harassed by the women in his life.

We expect huge life- changes in the coming months, will keep you guys posted. Thanks for sticking around folks.

Till next time.


Second chances.

Life is a horrid, evil little miser when it comes to second chances. She rarely ever hands them out. At least, not in the ‘big’ things, or in the matters that matter. No sir.

So, what if Life presents you with a second chance in something that you thought was over and done with. Something close to your heart and something that literally sucked the life- force out of you the first time.

Do you cower under the burden of fear? Do you doubt your competence, the second time around? Or do your wallow in self- doubt?

Maybe you should just thank your stars and charge on. Maybe The Universe does really have a Grand Plan. Who knows.

After all, you a mere, insignificant, tiny speck. Like I keep saying que sera, sera.. But a second chance should make you want to work that much harder, cause you bloody ain’t gettin a third one!

Till next time..

Dr J.

Friday Flutters- It creeps up again..

It come and goes.

Waxes and wanes.

Gathers and disperses.

Blooms and withers.


The blinding light and the pitch black.

The all- enchanting angel and the all- consuming demon.

Both within. And without.

Ripping apart.

And making whole again.


The misery and ecstasy, bound irrevocably. Inseparable.

The joy is superfluous. Reasonless. Beyond rationality.

The wretchedness is equally immeasurable and inexplicable.

Both entwined.

One inevitably giving way and morphing into another.



Living life in hyperbole. Plagued by exaggeration. Blessed by the extremes.

The happiness is beyond reason. An impending explosion.

The darkness is all consuming. An imminent implosion.

It is too bright. Or too dark.


Life is brilliantly vivid. Intensely intensified.

Feeling more than required. Thinking more than necessary.

One trudges on.


Blessings can still be counted.

For the heightened emotions. The love around. The support.

For the gift of being able to appreciate the extremes of human thought and feeling.


Life is still beyond precious.

For the darkness makes the light that much more beautiful.

The extremes teaches the worth of mundanity.

The hour is always darkest when the dawn is nigh!


Battle on.

Fight each day. Yet, let it go.

In the darkest hour, just live to fight another day.

Embrace the angel and tame the demon. For they both co- inhabit.

‘Tis the only way.

To live on.


Till next time.











Friday Flutters! A wise man’s words….

As I sit in nigh darkness, I contemplate the state of my life. And my love.

Of chasing dreams. And of the sacrifices that such pursuits entail.


Of passion and perseverance.

Or rather the surplus of passion and equivalent sparseness of the requisite perseverance.

Can passion alone sustain one’s dreams?

Without the luxury of foresight, how does one decide the path to tread on?


Is love invincible?

Can it sustain the throes of individual dreams?

Does love need proximity to thrive and flourish?

Or does it wither and die in the miles that separate it?


Does society and past stories dictate my life story?

Or do we make our own unique and true happy ending?

Are stereotypes stereotypes for a reason?

Or are we meant to shatter them and make them invalid and baseless?


Should I wait for the next big wave, and then get on my surf- board?

Or make do and enjoy the smaller, less- dangerous undulations.

Should I make hay while the sun shines?

Or save for a rainy day?


As the thoughts run amok.

And as eerie restiveness settles in, I reach for distractions.

Aah, yes. Like ever. It shall be a another man’s words. Another man’s thoughts.

A book.


As the heart’s aflutter and the mind tempestuous, I seek solace in the written word.

If Whuthering Heights is the food for my romantic soul, then The Prophet is grub for my philosophical psyche.


I leave you folks with some wise words. The words of Kahlil Gibran.


On Reason and Passion.

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house.
Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.


On Marriage.

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.



Aah! So few words. But so much implied.

Inner peace is a far off island at the moment, but at least the sea is calm now!

I hope you folks too derived your own meanings and poignancies from the words above.


Till next time..

Dr J.


The end of the world…


The end is near lads.

Life seems rudderless.

Oh Lord, how am I to survive!

I’m lost and lonely.

Friends faraway, hope ye’ all doing good.

Mum, hope breakfast was good,

And hope Dad didn’t throw a fit.

My other Mum, hope things have quietened down,

Hope Kerala is not in chaos anymore.

Wonder how the crazies of the world are doing?

Wonder how many more they killed.

Wonder how much more ice- water has been spilled.

Wonder who has gone viral and what bacteria threatens an epidemic.


The end is near lads….

The end of the world.

Of mine.

Or so it seems.


No GPRS/ 3G/ 4G either.

I’m disconnected lads.




Skypeless. Faebookless. Twitterless. Newsless.Gmailless. Instagramless.




The end is near lads.

Two working days I’m told!


Two days of peace and quiet…

Of being isolated.

Of watching hard- disked movies…

Of having a converation with no “virtual” distractions…

Cuddling with a sleeping baby,

With no iPad intervening!

Of switching off.

Of living.

A real life, albeit “un-connected”.


The end is near…

It will soon be back up.

No internet lads…

So, how am I posting this….

You ask?


You don’t want to know…

You really don’t!


The end is near….


Till Mr Internet returns…

I pine for thee, my love.

Please come home soon….


Dr J.

Back to work? Hang on, my “feminist” buddies. And thanks for the free advice!

I am on an extended maternity break. Not advisable for someone in a male dominated domain with high career aspirations, I’m told.

But the choice has already been made.

Now I face the consequences.

Of lagging behind my peers. Of being judged as not being “hard-core” enough. Of being a “low-aimer”. Of not being ambitious enough.

Blah blah blah….

I go from being the ‘one-with-great-promise’ to the ‘one-that-got-way led’. Ha.

Years ago, I was also told I wouldn’t land a residency spot. That marrying when I did  (a long, long time ago), was akin to career suicide. That long distance relationships do not work. That a non- Doctor husband would never understand the hours and demands. That taking a year off (to enjoy marital- bliss) before getting into a post-graduate program was stupidity.

More blah…

Sure…..Bite me!

I will not lie to you, my dear detractor cum envious discouraging “well-wisher”…My hands itch to wield a scalpel again. To palpate a mass…To explain a procedure to a befuddled, unsuspecting patient. I would even love to do the things that I once thought I disliked- empty surgical drains and urobags, pass urinary catheters, deal with a nagging post- op patient….

Do not worry my feminist fellow womankind, I have not traded in my scrubs or my aspirations. I’m still the hardest, craziest,  most ambitious nut on the block. The nut’s on time-out, that’s all.

The nut almost cracked a few months ago, it needs to recoup and replenish itself.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Running full throttle for a few metres will get one nowhere.

Except maybe collapsed on the ground.

Feminism and career do not mean neglect of family or giving up on family altogether. No. I chose to not travel that path.

I have no illusions of “having it all”. I do not dream of being a superwoman. A super- mom or a super- surgeon or a super- anything.

Superlatives are not my goal. A full and happy life is.

A life where I can tire myself in an OR and then come home at a decent hour.

Home to a loving family, not to a flat- screen and take-out food. Okay…maybe a giant flat-screen would be a nice addition to the family…

A life which involves travel and reading and music and books and all things I love…

A life of meaning and purpose…

A life of doing the best that I possibly can…

A life of moderate yet balancing sacrifices….

A life in pursuit of passion and perfection…knowing full well that perfection is an unattainable mirage.

A life of few regrets…

A life of my own…

Not dictated or foretold by anyone.

Do not tell me what should be or can be…

Do not mock, judge, criticise or  vilify my choices if they do not match yours…

My life is mine to live, friend…

So kindly, just let me be!

The fun lies in doing what no one else has done before….

Of bucking the trend…

Of breaking the mould,….

Of defying the norm….

Of forging a new path.

So please, let me just forge mine.

And thank you!

For the unnecessary, unwarranted, unsolicited advice my friend…

Till the next rant…

Dr J.