In another world , me and Bhupender would hold hands and stare out of the visitor’s room window for hours at an end. We loitered in the campus from evening to night. We would needlessly take auto trips to the town and back. What a wonderful time!

Then the story takes the usual turn — the coffee loses its steam and flavour. Distance during post graduation, adjusting with a contrasting culture and community, family and financial adjustments — each took their toll on our relationship.

Well there was perhaps a time when I was just short of strangulating him. Once in a while I shouted my frustration out. At other times I just grumbled about my destiny and Karma. We were snapping at each other at the drop of a pin and things were sinking a bit too fast.

And then I self- interrogated — what happened to the love-birds of yesteryears? What happened to the girl who wanted to glide down her balcony at the sight of her Prince Charming coming towards the girls hostel, as the stairs felt too far!

Expectations were taking the sap out of our bond. I consciously meditated on liking my husband again. Not loving him— that I always did though less and less unconditionally with time. Just liking his smile, sharing a cup of tea, discussing a patient…..

By disentangling our lives in my mind I stopped blaming him for everything. Separating our routines, priorities and even financial plans actually helped us appreciate each other again as individuals . Working on an advice that my father gave me on my wedding day — always do sixty percent instinctively, never think I’ll do fifty percent. This consolidated us as a team. I wanted to go back to that fairy tale time when we would be busy in our own lives and yet when we met we would just chat, laugh and dream! I started treating him as my boyfriend again!

Last week we decided to take a duo tour to the Kevadiya Statue of Unity — sans all baggage, even the kids! There in the forest camp tent with no television and no network distractions, with one spoonful of mischief and two dollops of tenderness the coffee was delectable again!

This week was all about my little princess’s birthday. At first I had thought she’s too small to realise… just the four of us will go out for dinner and cut the cake among us. But I was consistently feeling guilty that I was cheating the little one of her birthday party.

I consoled myself — she’ll not understand, I’ll bring colourful musical candles and make enough jovial noise to make up for it! After all what interest can I have in kitty-partying with Ria’s toddler group mothers. But my husband pinched the exact nerve — what are you saving for — if not for the children’s happiness! You think she is not old enough to perceive that you conveniently down-sized her birthday to a weekend dinner!

And then I sat down with all my resolution to plan for my darling’s special day of the year. As it would go down her memory lane, consciously or sub-consciously, so I decided to acquaint her with her extended family on that day. I invited her cousins and second cousins and their parents and grandparents for a stay over party. The only catch — they are all on my in-laws side — as my family is far and scattered.

So I gruellingly worked on the details — the return gifts for the children and their mothers and their grandmothers ( the shrewdly judging aunts in law), the high-tea and the dinner and the next morning brunch, the usual cake, balloon, chocolates and party games stuff!!

Now I am exhausted. But one paragraph that came in a feedback letter from my daughter’s pre-school resonates in my mind — ‘Now that we are parents sacrificing a part of ourselves should become our second nature.’ We should sacrifice a little more of our personal time and resources to take interest in our children’s time and minds. Of course it is easier said than done — I come back home dog-tired craving a little nap but Ria drags me to the park to play with her and I download BYJUs for Ricky but the moment my attention is diverted he is back to his PUBG! I can feel a few same pinches coming along!

Just as for a gardener tending to his plants religiously the blooming of a bud is always a source of joy. So also our sacrifices are all worthwhile when it reflects our children’s smiles and twinkles. This to me is the essence of Parenthood.

My mother is an everyday middle class house-wife but she wove for my sister and me the images of a busy and posh future replete with cooks, drivers, maids, nannies, butler and what not! Growing up we were engrossed in our studies and careers. Then happened marriage and kids. And we inevitably transformed into modern day Superwomen telephonically managing the house over the mobile and net. The highly successful,supremely feminists should stop here as the rest will only be a waste of their precious time!

Instinctively managing the home,hearth and children became my responsibility. When my son couldn’t recite a poem by heart the teacher asked me why? I was stunned that why was the father not asked such a question! I felt guilty that I didn’t pay enough attention to his curriculum. And when my husband asks me where is my white shirt I coyly answer — dear its a futile question as I left and entered the house with you only na !

On a deeper note,professional decisions and personal choices are taken based on family priorities and timings — not just kids but spouse’s career and aging parents. As rightly explained by a senior once — who can do child-bearing,rearing and caring if not the female of the species! It was only after going to the hostel that I came to know that the the hot food on the table and the pressed clothes in the wardrobe did not appear by magic, my mother runs the institution called Home.

In the developed West, home-making is a respected field as it requires full dedication, time and energy. But in India we are expected to excel out of home also. And yes for me at least,financial rewards are important and a bit more gratifying than just appreciation. Sometimes I feel I am stuck in lower gradations but a steady income, however meagrely does make life a little comfortable and fanciful. Besides even a single step in the right direction only takes us nearer to the goal.

All said and done, there is still a question lurking in the air, my husband asked me the other day that with three helpers at hand, how come you are still busy the whole day? Well I don’t know how only I can see that the bedsheet is wrinkled or the dust on the books or that the kids need a haircut . That’s the XX factor sight I guess!

After seeing Chhichhore this week I was genuinely movie-happy after a long time. Meaningful story, hilarious script, and well executed acting sums it up. This was the story I was waiting for a long time to explain to my growing son that life is about giving our best, we can’t keep a condition on life that it will also give us back it’s best.

The fun-filled hostel scenes inevitably takes one to his own days. I smiled at the memories of my hostel bestie, Indrani. A month or so before every exam we would team up for combined study. My room was in the old building and her’s in the adjacent new building. Those days there were no Watsapp or free calls, so I would shout from my balcony and she would yell back from her window and thus the whole hostel endured our ‘trans-continental’ communication.

Every 15 minutes Indrani would either be peeling cucumbers or boiling tea or making Maggi, till I would sternly remind her that at this rate we will definitely munch our way to a back! We would sleep together and eat together and bathe together — in separate shower stalls of course — all the time studying and giggling together!

I know now that you have to be that age and that naive to share such comradeship. It’s a once in a life time thing!

Coming back to the movie — it aptly conveys the message that the most important thing in life is LIFE itself. As I was taught in my childhood and now teach my children that it’s a human heart that’s beating — it will feel happy also and on bad days it will feel sad also, coping with our various moods is a basic life skill. Our achievements, our career,our relationships, our passions et al are to facilitate our survival. And till we find a cause larger than life, like our freedom-fighters, life in all its shades should be duly respected.

Teachers are the bridges who transport us to where we are today.

On this Special day cherished memories from the past inundate my mind.

Being sincere and rule-abiding I have been a teacher’s pet from the start. My school teachers always encouraged me with their fond appreciations and high grades . My tuition teachers graced me with extra tuition time and cream notes.

A few days ago I spoke to my Maths tuition teacher Mihir Sir after 25 years through Facebook, it took me back to my teenage years. Once I was unwell so Sir took out time from his busy schedule to come and teach me at home! He used to say he has great hopes pinned on me. A heartfelt thank you Sir for polishing me up so that I could shine.

I also remember my favourite teacher from the 10+2 years Tapan Sir. He had such a humorous sense of teaching that at the end of one year a dreadful subject like Physics became as simple as ABC!

Then in medical college our Professors and Seniors imparted the knowledge and the skills on which we survive today. I genuinely thank my Ophthalmology HOD Dr. Bhanu Devi. As I had my son in the final year of post graduation, I was trying very hard to avoid a back . I know today that it was Mam’s quiet support that not only saved my 6 months but I passed with first division marks!

A note of gratitude to all the various people who have taught me a thing or two in my personal or professional life. The only way I can ever think of ever repaying them is by passing on the legacy of their teachings and kindness to someone next.

I have enjoyed both reading and writing for a very long time now … since my school days. And I have also chronicled them but what took me so long to bring it out is a question I ask myself.

Perhaps the trepidation of being judged held me back so long. What if it is not liked and I am laughed at ? Finally I aged enough to understand that it doesn’t matter. What matters is my happiness and I am happy to feel I have written something worthwhile this week.

Journeying into my passion has deepened my insight of life.Following one’s passion with whatever minimum time and energy possible does bring contentment. It brings a feeling of being true to oneself.

Two writers who have inspired me truly and whose styles I try to emulate are Seema Goswami and Sudha Murthy, their columns and stories are such a pleasure to read!Reading my published school friends was a booster too.

By letting my light shine and not hiding it under the bush — following the school time hymn word by word — I hope I can brighten my own path and hopefully someone else’s too.

Every morning I start my day with folded hands to seek divine blessings for the day and life ahead. This is my celestial connection and it takes the apprehension out of my day and life.

Flushing out my toxic negative thought processes and embracing the Almighty’s will eliminates unnecessary stress. In the medical profession we often meet people in situations beyond their control, mishaps they never ever expect. And I also know any day I can be at the other side of the table. Following the paths of Dharma and Karma lead to peace of mind . I think a spiritual outlook navigates our thoughts and actions in the right direction. After all that is why Man made religion in the first place ….. to set a way of living.

Transcending positive thoughts into everyday kindness , homely meals, a fashionable yet functional closet, organised clutter-free living spaces, relaxing rather than extravagant vacations can be life-altering changes.

I would like to conclude with the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr , which is my personal favourite …… God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

P.S. Happy Janamasthami to all my dear friends 😊 Stay blessed 🙏🏻

My Ahmedabad days are always glittery in my memory — the evenings especially, which were mostly spent in the various delectable eateries of the city. Ahmedabad is a city throbbing with flavours. One has to queue up for a table in the good restaurants on most nights as eating out is part of the culture there.

I can never forget the five different flavoured waters of pani puri or the fafdas , theplas and khakhras or the ice cream sandwiches at Manek Chowk at midnight! I also remember my dear ‘Masi’ with whom I could never communicate but who made my life much easier with the one phrase ‘Tame jem fave su karo!’ ( Do as you like! )

However , this luminescence is marred by the dark memory of a narcissistic energy vampire. Energy vampires are people who are extremely judgemental and bigoted. They have no empathy and can only make others feel negative.

I met one in my own department . Those were the days when I was still sore about leaving the Delhi life. Add to it the written and spoken communication gap as Gujarati is the official language there. I was also struggling with a new surgical technique in which she was already an expert.

She preyed on my insecurities to bolster her ego. She was a tyrant in the O.T. and even in the OPD she demeaned and loud mouthed me in front of the patients. It was all unchecked because the HOD was her teacher.

At times I felt that this behaviour stems from her own insecurities.But nonetheless I was so demoralised that I developed tremors during surgery. The memory of those days still depresses me. For the sake of sanity I fled Ahmedabad a year before my husband’s tenure was complete. What mental torture!

The Net tells about 101 ways to deal with energy vampires but trust me —- when you meet one — run full speed in the opposite direction!

On friendship day I remember all my dear friends — my school friends who have known me since kindergarten; my locality friends with whom I would spend my evenings and holidays; tuition friends; medical college friends; hostel mates; special friends; post graduation friends; hospital friends — the list is long and sprinkled with sparkling happy memories — those I will recollect some other time.

But today I want to tell the story of this gang of old cronies whom I see assembled in the park,in front of my house, morning and evening. They humorously discuss everything from joint aches to Modi, from their own mean late mothers in law to Ayurvedic treatment of cancer! They sing their folk ‘ geets ‘. They do their pranayama and asanas. They bring their grand children along to tend to. But no matter what the weather these hexagenerian ladies religiously gather in their usual spot and spend some time chatting and laughing together.

Every time I see their connection I always feel it is this bond that is their refuge from everyday household worries, age related ailments and a gamut of negative thoughts that will over power them if they break away from this chain. And when a member passes away, they mourn her loss but slowly bounce back to the rhythm of life. This friendship is the key to their health and happiness.

It makes me crave for my MBBS hostel days when our batch girls would enjoy all birthdays and festivals with a lot of gusto. Once in internship our whole batch was late in returning from a birthday bash and the next morning inevitably we were called in front of the hostel superintendent Mam, being the story-teller I was weaving a nice excuse. And just as I finished my bestie entered the room, she was on night duty so didn’t know what all had just been said. It became a hilariously awkward situation for all of us when Mam asked for her version of the night incident!

Catching up with friends is undoubtedly one of the best things there is to life — I just wish I had a little more time and chance to do it more often.

P.S. — A happy friendship day to all my dear friends. Thank you for enriching my life.

I am a slave of my ‘to do’ list . The projects on my ‘to do’ list navigate my daily activities and very complacently I tick them off one by one.

And then last week I fell ill. I felt helpless as my ‘to do’ list lay unaccomplished. I recently read a post by a senior doctor about how our minds are our real homes where we live all the time. Being forced to inactivity made me finally search for my restroom.

I am sure there are many like me who feel guilty for any time they sit idle. I instinctively reach out for my list. I have to keep doing something, social networking if nothing else.

The two days suddenly released my life from the hands of the clock. At first staring at nothingness was daunting, to feel the seconds elapse.

Then I consoled myself that it’s ok to just be. It’s ok to miss a few appointments, it’s ok if the house is a mess sometimes, it’s ok to be a bad mom once in a while and let the kids enjoy junk for a meal. I don’t always have to be perfect on all fronts. There’s no harm in a little day dreaming, in fallowing in memories — good and bad. The aimlessly loitering thoughts left me relaxed and self connected.

Of course the type A that I am , who thrives on the pressure, come Monday morning and I will reach out for my list. But yes every once in a while I will just put up my feet and remember dear W.H. Davis ‘s ‘Leisure ‘ . ‘ What is this life if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? ‘

I will just enjoy my existence, without anything to achieve.