Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts

Monday, December 15, 2014

The Power of 'Right'. The Power of Dreams.

     "Why always win?"
     "Why ever lose?"
     "But not winning isn't equivalent to losing!"
     "How different is it anyway?"

     This was the conversation I had with Yash and Bhargavi one late night while working on the medical symposium team 2 years ago. We were talking about the potential of our topic and the possibilities of us out-rightly dominating the other teams. I JUST WANTED to win. They were fine if we didn't really win because the learning opportunity with the project itself was so huge and worth all the efforts. Now I am not saying they didn't care. But I remember that I literally cried when they declared AFMC as the winner that year while we didn't even stand third. On the contrary, when LTMMC won last year, I danced like a school kid, jumping around in the INHS Asvini campus with the navy officials and renowned doctors around us, with the entire team, in spite of me actually not being the official team member. I think I am a sore loser. Perhaps that's what makes me a desperate winner.
     I was watching Jack Canfield's videos online few days ago, where he was talking about the Power of Dreams and the importance of telling your dreams to others. He said, telling someone about what you really want to do with your life or achieve in life makes you accountable to yourself, because now cannot go back from the 'oh-so-impossible' dream that you thought of, to something miniscule and mediocre. This article is about me telling you about my dreams. I am not sure if you'll find it arrogant, boastful, inspiring or simply ridiculous, but I want to write because this is what I believe. Truly. This is what gives me strength.
     I am currently giving my practical examinations of third minor year of MBBS. I am pretty confident today and I believe in my preparation for the subjects this year. I am editing this draft while I should be reading Dhingra, my ENT book. But I know that I know. I know that now reading Dhingra for about 11th time isn't going to teach me a lot more than what I already know about ENT from the book. Yes, I'll understand the deeper intricacies better but I am pretty sure that I will give my best shot at the viva anyway without it. The reason I am writing this article today is because I see myself being calm and not panicking like last year when I wasn't so strong with my concepts. At the same time, I see many of my friends probably ten times better prepared than me and still scurrying about something the 15th time and still not being confident about it. I am not saying that its a bad thing, in fact I sincerely respect that kind of preparation, but I frankly believe that there is a fine line between underestimating your potential and the desire to learn more while being confident and strongly grounded. And a similar thin line exists between being unaware of your deficiencies, lack of preparation, ignorant and being calm, cool and confident about what you know.
     My Baba tell this to me many times - 90% of the people out there are underestimating themselves or overestimating themselves. The remaining 10% who manage to know exactly where they stand and what they need to do to get better are the real winners and happy about their life. Now I don't know in which group I lie, but I bet that everybody would want to be in that 10% group.
     Baba also tells me that you don't someday randomly become a winner by just being OK about not being a winner throughout. Its a daily habit, a process, an addiction of not settling for anything less than winning. This was my answer to Yash's question, "Why always win?" I know it sounds arrogant, but it makes me desperate to do anything to win. I can't rejoice that I scored above 70% in the finals, I will regret that I didn't study enough to beat someone who secured the first rank. I won't be happy with just getting a rank in my college, but I will keep sulking about the fact that someone in JJ got the Gold Medal in the subject that I considered as my forte. I am foolish enough to keep thinking similarly even when I frankly know that my preparation is not up to the mark. I probably belong to that group of overestimating non successful people. But I know that it is because of this belief that I managed to go for my Microbiology practical even without having read the entire book once and still got a distinction in it, where I knew I didn't deserve it. The most hilarious thing being that instead of being thankful for a really good result I managed to sulk for not scoring first rank that year and being second instead. 

     And that formed the basis of my study and work ethic this year. Which grew to dreaming about a Gold Medal in ENT. There. I finally told you what I secretly wish for. I know that probably I am going to be made fun of and criticized for being apparently so over confident. But it is this dream that gives me strength to read a topic like Glomus tumour or Proptosis at 4 am in the morning, on the night prior to exam when I am feeling dead sleepy, something that is rarely asked in the papers! The dream doesn't let you be fine with just passing this year and promising yourself how, "agle saal mein pehlese Harrison paddhunga" or being ok about at least getting 2 marks by, "kuchh toh likh denge re, anyway rare question hai." I desperately want 9 on 9 even on that odd question of Optic Neuritis because I had read it only once many days ago, but I had then taken the efforts to search what Marcus Gunn pupil looks like and why it is so common with Multiple Sclerosis. Oh, the joy of watching Dr. Foreman telling Dr. HOUSE why he thinks that the blindness could be because of optic neuritis and why he thinks the patient has MS! You drink to get high? I get high this way! The satisfaction of knowing, and the belief that I know!



     In fact, if you are reading this you are also most likely a winner. I bet you must've been a topper in your school or junior college or probably till last year. Just ask yourself, when did you give up about "pehla number" thinking that getting it always was impossible and convincing yourself that there are better people than you out there? 'I am hardworking, but XYZ is so talented they don't even need hard work' or 'I can remember things by reading just once but ABC has read this 10 times already.' Somewhere, someday you 'grew up' to tell yourself that you can no more run back to your mom and dad with a report card in your hand, telling them how you got full in all subjects. Somewhere along the way you lost the taste for addictive winning!
     Now I am not saying that its possible to stay pumped with adrenaline every day and going all in about everything you do. Yash still makes fun of me about the way I was explaining to him my concept of life - If you chart your happiness, satisfaction and achievement of life time across the age axis, you will see that it more or less resembles a sine wave. You do the right thing, you succeed, you're happy. And you just procrastinate, give up on something majorly important, fail temporarily and decide to do better the next time. This is completely normal. There are going to be crests AS WELL AS the troughs. It is just impossible to have only a rising linear line. What decides where we eventually go is what we do when we are on that trough. Most of the times we DECIDE to do something about it, which we know is the ideal way and the sure shot path to success, but there are times that we fail to EXECUTE what we decided. The things to be done and efforts to be taken to put yourself on the crest again sometimes seem impossible and we eventually convince ourself that, "hey, just staying here isn't so bad either!" The problem is that this trough becomes your new crest which you will soon strive to maintain because you became fine with not taking efforts and soon a deeper trough will follow. Eventually it becomes a 'Positive Feedback Cycle' which Guyton had so beautifully explained. This is where I wanted to talk about doing the 'Right' thing.
     We are blessed to be born in the Indian society which is full of values and morals, where we have been guided properly about the wrong and the right by our parents and learnt about it from every medium. Few years ago I wrote an article called 'The Better You' where I wrote how we always know deep down what is right but choose to ignore it. Eventually it becomes a positive feedback cycle. In my second year I did too many extra curricular activities which helped me a lot towards building a wholesome, multi faceted personality, yes, but I was very under-prepared academically and there was a point where I would check the mark list to see whether I had passed the subject. Soon, it came down to studying only the 'markings' and only studying 'Bhalani Question Sets" where I had rattofied  perfect answers to be written but would be jittery when it came to vivas and always scared, what if they ask 'Cancer drugs' SAQ in Pharmac final? I was scared of Pathology because I hadn't read entire Robbins. Many juniors from all around the country would write to me and request for "Guide to Second MBBS: The DOs and the DON'Ts." But frankly I hadn't read even Robbins completely to be advising on the chapters to be specifically read from Boyd's pathology. Hence I would reply back to them saying that now that they are in MBBS they shall carve out their own way to study everything in coming years. I didn't believe that I was anywhere good enough to write anything, hence such a long leave from the blog. I think that at this point I was in a NEGATIVE 'Positive Feedback Cycle'. I wasn't doing what I should've been doing, failing at everything and justifying how it was no more necessary to read books cover to cover since I could still score decent with just the 'markings'. It just goes on aggravating, accelerating until one point where you look back, get anguished and say, "Enough! I can be better than this!" It is this point where you break away from that NEGATIVE cycle to do something RIGHT which now puts you in a POSITIVE 'Positive Feedback Cycle.' Soon things aren't so difficult and impossible to achieve and soon you start regaining the confidence in your capabilities. I started gymming, talking more often to my parents, reading non 'markings' questions even 2 days before an upcoming exam, telling myself that it doesn't matter how much I score in these internals but I should have a holistic view of this subject and complete knowledge about it. I stopped talking about other people's lives, gossiping, gave up the urge to be talking to everybody always and the constant desire to be noticeable, switched off my WhatsApp notifications permanently and developed a habit to not touch my phone for entire day. I started chanting Gayatri Mantra whenever distressed and doing Sashtaang Namaskar everyday to our caretaker here. I don't know what helped and when it did. But it for sure helped me grow more mature and understanding, while also helping me identify my dreams and pursue them better. This was the Power of 'Right.'
     

     I think I have again managed to write yet another philosophical, irrelevant and a long boring article but I am happy about this, since today I am feeling very satisfied about this entire academic year.

     Jack Canfield asks what do you see yourself doing in your perfect world? I don't know which specialty I would be doing Post Graduation in. I love Medicine and OBGY both equally. I want to be the honorary lecturer and a guest lecturer at the major international conferences. If I become a Physician, I want to see my name as the author of some article in Harrison's Principles of Internal Medicine.

"Recent Advances - by Dr. Sujay Sanjay Nigudkar"

Monday, November 5, 2012

He Just Laid There...


He just laid there. Waiting to die. A tiny beam of light entered the room, piercing the curtains. It landed on his face. He didn't shun away. It made him warm. Maybe the only warmth in the freezing cold. He thought, a cup of chai with some chapatis would be so great. But it didn't matter much now. It won't matter much any further. This shall pass. SOON...

He heard the cuckoo cooing. Or at least he thought he did. He didn't know what time it was or what day it was. But he chose to believe that it was a pleasant spring morning. And he SMILED!

Smiled?! How can one just smile in the face of death? Was he content? What had he accomplished in his lifetime to be at peace? Was he remembering his fond memories? Was he seeing the faces of his beloved ones? Where were they anyway? He just laid there, on his deathbed. But none of his family ever came to see him. Did he even have any?
He wasn't very rich. At least his clothes and belongings said so. They were in fact, practically non existent. He wore the same shirt everyday. Wet, it smelt bad. Vomit, fungus, blood. He just laid there, waiting to die. 
Cancer, had caught him really badly in its grip. But he wouldn't cave in so easily. He was too stubborn. He had decided to not to surrender to it, or at least the hospital staff.
 They tried to convince him to change into the hospital clothes. He didn't budge. They also promised to get him a shirt just like his. A dark pink one. "Which man wears PINK shirt these days?", he remembers that nurse whispering. But he still won't agree. All the biological additions to the shirt had given it red, green and yellow tinges. Maybe, that shirt was something special to him. And maybe, he wanted to breathe his last while still in it. He just laid there, smiling. Waiting to die. He didn't ask for a heater. Happy with closed curtains, he didn't let them switch on the lights. What would he do with all that light? Just stare into empty nothingness? Realize his own loneliness? Still in his late forties. And it was his birthday today! He wondered how the tune for the 'Happy Birthday' song went. He hummed a few notes but soon his cough put an end to all the excitement. Coughing, gasping for air, he still smiled. How childish of him to try and sing to himself.
It was silent. What broke it intermittently was just the beeps of a machine that told the doctors that it wasn't yet the time to sign that death certificate. They kept it ready anyway. Cruel? What could they otherwise do? This homeless could never pay the bills of the hospital.
He thought he should sell his ring and thank them with all that he could. Trying hard to lift his hand up, he felt he was trying to move boulders. He heard the bones chuckle at his efforts, he let a sigh out. Bringing the ring finger close to his eyes, he opened them. In that tiny beam of light he couldn't see much clearly with his moist hazy eyes.
And he was shocked! The tiny beeps in the room now crooned faster. He opened his eyes wide open to find his ring finger empty. Then, he realized something and the beeps mellowed down. He let his hand fall by the side again and heaved a sigh. He remembered; it was stolen many days ago. Not that it mattered much. It was a stolen one anyway. He felt sorry now, for having taken away something from someone that would've meant the world to them. He imagined, having to part with that shirt of his. The thought itself was so painful. He regretted all his wrong doings now. Living off the streets, he never thought about the tomorrow. Friends? You don't really have them when you just share footpaths. Acquaintances, yes. But with all that he has done or rather not done for anybody, will anybody remember him at all? Maybe he won't be punished in hell for his sins. Maybe he won't be damned. And maybe there will be some place for him in the heavens. He just laid there... Waiting to meet his lord.
 He was once a free bird. Living carelessly. Celebrating life, even when he didn't have a great one. Does one really need money to be happy? Luxury, to live like a king? He welcomed morning suns on his face and bid good nights as he stared at stars in heavens. He drank till he fell down and got up to drink again. Death? He never thought about it. Never. And now, he just laid there... Reminiscing.

 His room was in one corner of the hospital. He could hear innocent laughter of a small girl who had come to meet her dad in the room just across the wall.
He could feel the grief and sorrow of an elderly woman crying for the loss of her husband. He envied him. He envied them both. For they had love. For they had somebody who cared. Somebody who grieved. Somebody who prayed. Somebody who would miss them when they were gone. And he asked for nothing more than that. Nobody out there in that huge world would care or even know about some sick, ill, lonely, diseased. He didn't want to die like that. With nobody knowing that he existed. That he ever lived. He just laid there... Hoping somebody would know.
He wasn't disturbed much even by the hospital personnel. His existence remained now merely as a bed occupant. Often an intern would come and note his vitals. Measure his pulse. Simply the human touch would add a few more breaths to his last remaining few. He had otherwise refused any medications. With no therapeutic hopes left, the only pills they could give him were to reduce his pain. To let him go quietly. To make his end softer. Had that happened he would be practically gone long before he really did. He wanted to feel every moment of existence. He wanted to feel the pain, it reminded him that he was still alive. He wanted to live every moment while he was 'alive', as much as he could. He just laid there... Waiting for death to lay his icy cold hands on him.

The door opened. The lights came to life. In came a maid, with a broom in her hand. She smiled at him, inquired about his well being. Asked him if he had breakfast that morning. Sweeping as she spoke, she asked him his name. "Naam kya hai aapka, chacha? Diwali aa rahi hai, aapke gharwaale kahan hain?" She finished her job and came up to the bed. She smiled at him and noded. She said, "Daro mat chacha, sab theek ho jayega" and she left.

Everything will be alright. Everything will be fine.

He smiled. He couldn't speak, but he felt really nice. He could hear the beeps slowing down. Tired, as they were, they told him that it was time. His breaths became slower. He closed his eyes and smiled. A tear drop escaped the corner of his eye and trickled down along his cheek. The drop disappeared on touching the sheets and he knew it was time for him to go too. At least somebody now knew that he existed. That he lived. That he died. Now, he just laid there...
 ... At peace.