Rear View Mirror. . . .

Warning [not sure if I am supposed to use statutory or cautionary as the prefix] so it remains only a plain WARNING. Here’s the warning – This post is going to end with the same stuff as its about to begin. I would prefer the reader to read both the beginning and the end but the choice rests with the reader’s interest. I would guarantee you that both the Scenes would be perceived differently, for the Beginning would be read without context and the End is surrounded by a situation. . . .

I delay, a dedication that I would like to make of this article by a few lines until I write the beginning, for the Dedication is characterized by few qualities that can be mistaken for the context to read the beginning, Since I’ve promised you that there’s no context when you read the beginning. There are a lot of things I can write about, to delay the beginning as long as my intention is to do so. You can keep guessing until I reveal the beginning. . .

Now I am beginning to guess that you would’ve already started thinking what the beginning would be like. Here, allow me to remind you that it will be unlike anything you can ever think of, for there’s no indication of the context that is presented to you yet. You can still continue to think, if you assume that the title of the article is any indication of the beginning or the end. . . . Now I presume that I’ve been successful in making you choose the path that I want you to keep guessing. I wasn’t curtailing you the liberty to think aloud what you feel like, its just that I’ve masqueraded you in the direction of my choice. Now I guess you would beg to differ . . . and I appreciate that.

Now I can see that there are two parallel narratives that are being woven while you are reading this. The one that you are guessing, a fictional story that’s based on the intuitions of your mind and the other that is certain. . . One of the reasons for me to prolong the beginning is that the options are endless in your case. It is in an attempt to nurture your presumptions of the context or the beginning or the end, that I am curtailing myself from writing what is certain. There’s only one certainty. The one that I am aware of.

At this point If may request the reader to note the thoughts in your mind and leave them as comments, it would certainly help us in building a fictional story that’s based on absolutely nothing but a few factual hints. Choice is yours.

I would like you to know that I am transferring what's in my diary to the blog, so the next few lines will be an indication of the delay in posting the beginning and the conclusion.

Now there’s still another one and a half pages that’s left in my Diary. What’s needed to write what’s intended is only half a page and if that’s written now, then The Empty Page will remain Empty forever . . . and that’s the reason why I need to drag n brag about some utter nonsense before I make the point. I am not sure if I’ll ever be able to talk about any serious issues in the remaining one page. . . No man in my knowledge has ever been able to address such a thing that can change the world, in just a page. If he did exist I am sorry about the fact that my knowledge is limited. In the mean time you can keep guessing while I try to think of ways to write the prelude to the Fact.

In fact, I would love to talk about the existence of God, how he came to exist amongst the varied diversities of mankind. May be Gandhi would’ve been a better topic and I could explore how he became Mahatma. . . Caste system cannot be touched upon here as there are more castes that divide us than the number of lines in my entire diary, that’s out of question. It’s shear waste of time to write about the Indian Cricket team after their hopeless T20 World cup debacle in West Indies, nor would I be interested in the stories of Mr. Modi n Mr Tharoor regarding IPL. . . Prime minister Dr. Manmohan Singh’s Academic accomplishments and degrees do not make it to the elaboration list, As a Man with only education and no powers to implement the change, in spite of being at the helm of affairs, fails to find a place in my book. Obama and Osama are interesting but apart from the publicity that they receive for their names, I don’t see any Achievement or Worthy contribution to the society that I can mention here.

Now that I am inching close to the end of the last page, I guess its time for me to make the dedication that I was talking about.

Dear all,

            This post is dedicated to all the girls, across varied places that I’ve rode my bike, till the time when My “Rear View Mirror” was on my bike. . . .

Not completely yours,                                                                                                                         Yatisa

Sorry people, I did not stick to my word. I’ve written the Dedication before the beginning, its up to you to read it as a context to the beginning or the situation surround the end. I just changed My Mind, I did for I felt it was apt.

Did I say All the girls, there’s a small correction, all the girls whom I’ve made an Eye contact through my rear view mirror. Now that there’s no RVM on my Bike ever since I met with an Accident about a year ago, I rely on the RVMs of those vehicles on which the girls are traveling. There’s a difference though between “Then” and “Now”. Earlier I would be in front of them to catch a glimpse of them, Now I need to stay behind, to meet in the EYE. . .

Here, at this point in time you must know, how I wish what’s written on the Rear View Mirror is true in reality. . . Now the “Beginning” that’s been evading for long – “the objects in the mirror are closer than they appear” – Well, that is also the End.

37. Two Loners and a Stranger

If I may call typing as a way of writing, then I would like to let you all know that this post is being written for third time. That, leaving behind the time when it was framed for the first time in "My Mind". Now I will write word to word as it was written the second time in my diary, from here on . . .

What I am writing in this book now is something that's already written in another book on 24 mar 2010. Why am I writing what's written in another book into this one, when both the books belong to me??? May be its just the fear of losing the other book that's making me transfer the information from that book into this one. . . Its quite obvious that My acts writing this would raise a lot of questions, questions like - Would I be transferring all the data in this book into the other??? Why would I fear the loss of that book and not the book that I am writing in??? AM I going to transfer all the shit in that book into this or Is it only the important Stuff??? What determines what is important???  Wow !!!! I know, "I just love question". . . . 

Two Loners and A Stranger. . . . finally the topic !!!!

Well, I am finding it slightly difficult to begin the description of the situation. This is the story of two Loners, not exactly a story but I like to make you believe that it is ONE . . . Loner - I cannot think of a better word to describe someone who enjoys his own company.

Now, Now, Now, One of the two loners is Myself and its not my story, I am merely a spectator. Its a story of the Other Loner and the Stranger from My Point Of View. . . 

To elaborate a li'l on the Loner first, He's this handsome, bespectacled guy, who looks well educated - for carries a Pen and a paper just like me all the time. . . . The last part was just to let everyone know that I am educated too, at least I consider so. He would often Visit the coffee shop just like I did and btw he does look like he's a bachelor.

Since I don't know the person in person, I leave it at this point, where I like to believe that he would visit the coffee shop for more or less the same reason as I do. . . 

He would often write about something, may be about the strangers in the coffee shop, Just like the one that you are reading, or the activities around him or the conversations that he overheard in the course of his stay at the coffee shop. I've seen the Other Loner many a times before this but I've never written anything about him, until Now !!!! What is it that makes me write about him today ???

I've about fifteen mins before I leave the coffee shop, so I need to finish "HIS" Story from my perspective within that time.

Today, it seems a li'l different day to me, for him - unlike the other days. By the time I walked in today, he was already seated and he didn't have his fav place in the shop, for that was occupied by Some Stranger. . . We are all strangers in here. But today, I found that he was not "BEING ALONE". He looked like he was enjoying her company than his own self. She too seemed to be interested in keeping his company. But all the three protagonists in the story are strangers. 

Since two of us had seen each other before and I could Identify him to be a LONER through my observation, it so happens that We are "Two Loners and A Stranger". . . She was the stranger. we all shared same stories of each of us to each other through the occasional Eye Contact. . . It is at this juncture the story kicks off, at the eye contact of the Other Loner and the Stranger.

As I am writing this, I see that the Other Loner too is writing something. . . He's doing exactly as what I am doing. Writing, takes a break every now and then, looks around, makes an eye contact with the stranger next to him, grabs her attention for a moment. . . . continues to write.

Ever since I walked in today, I've shared quite a few glares with both the loner and the stranger. . . May be I hope I have not disturbed their peaceful, silent company - Why would I ???

As I am writing, I am beginning to think, what he's writing. I wonder, if I am being the object or subject of his writing???? Is he weaving a story around me, just like me??? Is he writing about the stranger in the store and his occasional peeks at her???? The situation only allows me to raise questions about the acts of each of Us[strangers] except for what I am doing or writing or thinking. What I am doing, are not the  answers to the questions I raise. All I want to do is to do it better than what he's doing.

How I wish to take a diversion here to talk about - How I can call what is best and what is not What sets the benchmark for it to be called ? ? ?best or better or good or fair or poor ? ? ? Is it just the effort that matters and not the outcome of those efforts that's more important??? In fact Lord Krishna told the same to Arjuna, when he was alive. . . after all, we are mere humans.

All this while I almost forgot to describe the Stranger. In fact I did not forget that, there was no intention of elaborating about her. . . She was never seen in the coffee shop before that day and she was beautiful and She was a girl. . . ha ! ! ! What more, you need to know about a beautiful girl, come one people, trust your imagination, she'd be better than the girl I saw for Real . . . .

So I need to take a break, look around, observe the two of them - The Other Loner and the Stranger. Nothing comes to my mind that can make my writing anymore interesting than what it already is. . . So I Stop it at this point where all the four of us are enjoying our strange company. Yes, You read it right and there's no writing error either, now its FOUR of Us. When I started writing at the beginning we were three of Us, in the course of time we became FOUR. Myself, The Other Loner, The Stranger and "her" Friend.

She's now joined by a friend of hers, but that doesn't stop Us from continuing each others company to share an occasional Stare, may be we can laugh it off as we walk out of the coffee shop. . . As for me, time for another Bisi[hot] and Strong Coffee, got better and more important work to do, not that what I was doing was bad. Remember I must rush in fifteen minutes. . . times up.

I hope not to add anything further to this until, One day, When I come across the Two of them sitting across the same table and sharing a good laugh at their first glance of each other. . . I hope, just plain HOPE.

two in one . . . .

yep its a combo offer . . . not exactly an offer but it sounds good this way. since one post does not make sense if read independent of the other one, i am rolling the two into one. . . 

one song and the mood swings . . . 

one of the things that i can do for long hours these days is listen to music and write what's on my mind. I've written so many things that were on my mind but was never posed with an opportunity to write about the music. Most of the thoughts that were penned down till date have always had the influence of music in some way or the other. This is not about the influence that Music made to those thoughts, its a new thought altogether and when you read this, you'll understand the relation between those thoughts of my mind and the MUSIC. . . 

For starters, I do not understand the technicalities of music, for I am only a music lover. I neither get the genres of music, the notes, the pitch, the timbre . . . . What I do understand when I listen to music, is that I like the music or I don't. . . . This is not about the music I don't like, what I do not like is not necessarily bad music, its just that, its not my kind . . . And its true with the Music I like too, its not necessarily good music. Good and bad are only personal expressions of the inclination of the mind to a kind of music. . . . 

As I was writing looking out of the window of the Kalmane coffees, Ningaraju of KC disturbed me for about a minute. 

hello saar, What ಏನು ? ? ? he said.

it ಇದು [idu], but ಆದ್ರೆ [adre],  what ಏನು [yenu] ? ? ? I replied.

That was the conversation, its a li'l  complicated to break that down to help you understand the English - Kannada versions of the words, for which I need , expertise of the other kind. The kind I am not specialized at, I can only elaborate on simple, straight forward things not the crooked ones. . . My life is too precious to be wasted Untangling things. . . 

Poor guy comes back again to serve My Coffee, and this time he wanted to learn something, something that he thought was important, because a gang of girls, laughed at him, when he replied to what they asked.

'Can I have a glass of water?' one of the girls asked, to which he said - 'No glass water, only half liter bottle. . . ' they all burst into laughter. I never heard anything, remember I listen to music all the time while writing, especially this one, for I am writing about music. . .

All said and done about my kind of music, good music, bad music, Ningaraju and the thing he wanted to learn, I need to get back to the topic. Ningaraju was never a part of the thought, he was never in the picture until the moment. At that Moment, he became a part of the diversion from the topic, as usual I do not mind the diversions. . . Why I said he was never in the picture was because when the thought of writing about Music struck me few days back, I was, like all us was unaware of the situation at the "moment of truth". . . .

Now, When I am seated in a public place like the one I am sitting right now, You don't expect privacy. When you do need privacy in a place like this, all you need to do is ignore the rest of them around you, all those who do not matter to you. In order to create my own li'l shell in a place like this, to ignore the rest and enjoy the company of the best [myself], music comes in very handy. Occasionally at the coffee shop, there's some music that'll be played out loud enough to keep the words of the people from mixing. . . That won't help you enjoy the music nor does it create a space of your own. That is when My kind of music comes into picture, all the music in my playlist is my kind of music. . . . that's why even "they" call it "MY MUSIC". . . . 

Repeat Mode - - - - 

How do I start now, I should rather say restart . . . ? What I said all this while about music was never intended to be part of the writing when I started, for then the description was already on my mind. It was not the music that I wanted to talk about, it was a particular song that you listen to in repeat mode. I shall elaborate a lot more as usual, a li'l later, about the personal space, That one song that can swing your mood and the same song in different moods - all that and much more, after a not so long break. . . [hopefully]

[had to stop writing and go for something that was far more important than writing this]

Next Day - - - -

Thankfully I am back to complete what was left pending for not so long. As I sat once again to write a li'l more, I am stuck for words, words that make the reading more interesting [in fact - it'll make the writing (whats written) more interesting and everything that's ever written will remain the way its written irrespective of the act of reading] . . . I think this is what is called a "writer's block", You know it for a fact what you want to write but to write the same you are in a fix.

I now realise for a moment that I am diverting once again from the topic. . . That one song you listen to in repeat mode, that sets up the mood for you, helps you create your own personal space anywhere and everytime, that one song that swings your mind through the different moods. . . Now before I come to talk of the song in particular, I'll have to talk a li'l about my playlist. All the songs in the playlist. . . How that one song gets into the repeat mode? ? ? What was the state of mind at the first instance when the song was played? ? ? How the mood changed every other time the same song repeated? ? ? Lyrics of the song ? ? ? the beats of the music? ? ? How the body responds to the 'mood swings' and the 'song' in repeat mode? ? ? Well, body's response is restrained by the factors such as people around, place, time etc etc . . .

Now as I have managed to raise so many questions that are important to elaborate on the point in discussion, I think its time for me to make a confession, a revelation that only very few people, who know me very well, know. The fact that "I am too Lazy" and I find ways to do things in a way that the end product is not affected and also with the effort that's worth the time spent. . .

So, here's[what you read] what's worth the time that I am spending and the li'l effort that i've put in. I believe that the moment the questions were raised, I was sure that the answers would EXIST. Answers that are individualistic and Unique of every reader. By writing the way My Mind reads and reacts to these questions, I would limit the boundaries of the Readers' Mind within Mine. . . I believe and live for an Individualistic expression of the mind. I appreciate the effort and the time of the readers who read what I write. . . For them to get what's worth the "TIME" that is spent, I need to curtail myself from writing the answers. . . 

Now that's all. . . folks! ! ! ! Did I not say that I am too lazy ? ? ? Don't you know the reason why those questions were raised in the first place ? ? ? Don't you think that me being lazy is worth all the time you spend reading this ? ? ? Don't you all know the answers to the questions that I've raised ? ? ? Ain't that a Silly question ? ? ? Now. . . Where's that song in the repeat mode ? ? ? ? That song's been playing out loud in my ears for almost fifteen days now, Including the moment when I started writing yesterday and as I am ending it today [now] - All this while My body and My Mind has a way of reacting to that song, that is truly mine - WHAT'S YOURS ? ? ?

ನನ್ನ ಕನ್ನಡ - My kannada [no more translation after this]

Here's a small li'l nothing that I had written sometime, on one of those days long back, sipping my bisi n strong coffee at Kalmane coffees. . .

ಕನ್ನಡ ನನ್ನ ಮಾತೃಭಾಷೆ, ನಾನು ನುಡಿವ ಭಾಷೆ, ಆದರೆ ನನ್ನ ಮಾತ್ರುಬಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬರೆದು ಬಹಳ ವರ್ಷಗಳಾಗಿವೆ. ಆದ ಕಾರಣ ಈ ಸಣ್ಣ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ. ನನ್ನ ಕನ್ನಡ ಭಾಷೆ ಮತ್ತು ಪದಕೋಶವನ್ನು ಪರೀಕ್ಷಿಸುವ ಒಂದು ಸಣ್ಣ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ. ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಬರೆಯಲು ನನಗೆ ಏನು ಇಲ್ಲ. ಆದರು ಒಂದು ನಾಲ್ಕು ಸಾಲುಗಳನ್ನು ಬರೆಯಲು ಬಯಸುತೇನೆ.

 ಮನದಾಳದ ಆಸೆಗಳನ್ನು ಬಣ್ಣಿಸಲು ನಾಲ್ಕು ಸಾಲುಗಳು ಸಾಲವು, ಆದುದರಿಂದ ಅದರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಬರೆಯುವ ಪ್ರಸಕ್ಥಿಯೇ ಇಲ್ಲ. ನನ್ನ ಸುತ್ತಮುತ್ತಲಿನ ಪರಿಸರವನ್ನು ವರ್ಣಿಸಲು ಇಷ್ಟವಿಲ್ಲ - ಏಕೆಂದರೆ ಅದರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ನಾನು ಆಂಗ್ಲ ಬಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಮೊದಲೇ ಬರೆದಾಗಿದೆ . . .

ಪದ್ಯಗಳನ್ನು ಬರೆಯಲು ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಾಸ ಪದ ಸಂಕಲನ ಸಂಪಥ್ಬರಿಥವಾದ್ದುದಲ್ಲ. ಆದರು ಎಂದೋ ಒಮ್ಮೆ ಬರೆಯಲು ಮಾಡಿದ ಯತ್ನ ನೆನಪಾಗುತ್ತಿದೆ. ಅದರ ಮೊದಲ ಸಾಲು ಮಾತ್ರ ನನಗೆ ನೆನಪಿದೆ, ಮುಂದೆ ಏನೂ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ, ಏಕೆಂದರೆ ಏನು ಬರೆದಿಲ್ಲ. ಒಂದು ಯೋಚನೆ ಮೂಡುತಿದೆ. ನಾನು ಇಲ್ಲಿಯ ವರೆಗೆ ಏನೆಲ್ಲ ಆಂಗ್ಲ ಬಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬರೇದಿರುವೇನೂ ಅದನ್ನೆಲ್ಲಾ ಕನ್ನಡದಲ್ಲಿ ಬರೆದಿದ್ದರೆ, ಯಾರಿಗೂ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗುತಿರಲ್ಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಹಾಗಾಗಿ ಇನ್ನು ಮುಂದೆ ಯಾರಿಗೂ ತಿಳಿಯ ಬಾರದಾದ ವಿಷಯಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ನಾನು ಕನ್ನಡದಲ್ಲಿಯೇ ಬರೆಯುತೇನೆ. ಹಾಗಾದರೆ ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಬರೆದಿರುವುದು ಯಾರಿಗೂ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗಬಾರದಾದ ವಿಷಯ ಎಂದೇನೂ ಅಲ್ಲ, ಇದರಲ್ಲಿ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗಲು ಏನು ಇಲ್ಲ. . .

ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಸಮಯದ ನಂತರ . . . .

ಕಥೆ ಕಟ್ಟುವ  ಆಸೆಯಾಗುತಿದೆ. ನನ್ನ ಎದುರಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಳಿತಿರುವ ಮೂರು ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿಗಳನ್ನು ಬಳಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಒಂದು ಪುಟ್ಟ ಕಥೆ ಹೆಣೆಯುವ ಆಸೆ ಉಂಟಾಗುತಿದೆ. ನನಗವರು ಯಾರು ಎಂದು ತಿಳಿಯದ ಕಾರಣ, ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಯಾವ ಪಾತ್ರ ಕೊಡಬೇಕೆಂದು ಗೊತ್ತಾಗುತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ ಅವರನ್ನು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಸೂಕ್ಷ್ಮವಾಗಿ ಗಮನಿಸಿದರೆ ನನಗೆ ಗೋಚರಿಸುವುದೆನೆದರೆ [ನನ್ನ ತಂಗಿ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿ ಏಕಾಗ್ರತ ಭಂಗ ಮಾಡಿದಳು] ಆದರು ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನವನ್ನು ನಿಲ್ಲಿಸದೆ ನಾನು ಮುಂದುವರಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ. - ನನಗೆ ತಿಳಿಯುವುದೆನೆದರೆ ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಇರುವ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳು ತಾಯಿ, ಮಗ ಹಾಗು ಮಗನ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತೆ [ಭಾವಿ ಬಾಳ ಸಂಗಾತಿಯೂ ಇರಬಹುದು - ಅಥವಾ ಅದೇ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನದಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ಇರ ಬಹುದು]

ಏಕೆ ????

ಅವರು ತಾಯಿ, ಮಗಳು ಹಾಗು ಮಗಳ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತನೂ ಇರಬಹುದು??? ಇರಬಹುದು . . . ಯಾರು ಇಲ್ಲ ಅಂದಿದ್ದು, ಆದರೆ ಇದು ನನ್ನ ಕಥೆ, ನನ್ನ ಮುಂದೆ ನಡೆಯುತಿರುವ, ನಾನು ಬರೆಯುತಿರುವ ಕಥೆ, ನಾನು ಸೂತ್ರದಾರ, ಅವರ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳನ್ನೂ ನಾನೇ ನಿರ್ಧರಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ . . .

ನಾನು ಆ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳು ಹಾಗೆಂದು ನಿರ್ಧರಿಸಲು ಒಂದು ಕಾರಣವಿದೆ. ತಾಯಿ ಪಾತ್ರದ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿ ಮತ್ತು ಆ ಹುಡುಗಿಯ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ನಡೆಯುತಿರುವ ಮಾತುಕತೆಯ ದೃಶ್ಯ - ದೃಶ್ಯ ಮಾತ್ರ ಮಾತುಕತೆಯಲ್ಲ. ಏಕೆಂದರೆ ನನ್ನ ಕಿವಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಇಂಪಾದ ಸಂಗೀತ ಕೇಳಿ ಬರುತ್ತಿದೆ. ನನ್ನ ಮುಂದೆ ನಡೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವುದು ಕೇವಲ ಒಂದು ದೃಶ್ಯ ಚಿತ್ರ ಮಾತ್ರ, ಅವರ ಮಾತುಗಳನ್ನು ನಾನೇ ನುಡಿಯುತ್ತೇನೆ . . . . 

ತಾಯಿಯು ತನ್ನ ಮಗನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಆ ಹುಡುಗಿಯ ಬಳಿ ಚರ್ಚಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ಮಗನಿಗೆ ಜೀವನದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಹೇಳುತಿದ್ದಾರೋ ಇಲ್ಲವೋ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ ಆದರೂ ಹೇಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ ಅಂತ ತಿಳಿದುಕೊಳ್ಳೋಣ.ಅದರಲ್ಲೇನು ತಪ್ಪಿಲ್ಲ.  ಜೀವನದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಎಲ್ಲರಿಗು ತಿಳಿದಿರಬೇಕು ಯಾರು ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಬೇಕಾದರೂ ಹೇಳಬಹುದು ಕೇಳೋದು ಬಿಡೋದು ಅವರವರ ವಯಕ್ತಿಕ ವಿಚಾರ ....

ಇಷ್ಟೆಲ್ಲಾ ಮಾತಾಡಿದ ನಂತರ ಇಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಅವರು ಹೊರಟರೆ ,ಮುಂದೆ ಅವರು ಏನಾದರು ಎಂಬ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ ನನ್ನನು ಕಾಡುವುದು ಸಹಜ ಆದರೆ ನಾನು ಮೊದಲೇ ಹೇಳಿದ ಹಾಗೆ ಇದು ನನ್ನ ಕಥೆ, ನಾನು ಬರೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಅವರ ಕಥೆ, ಮುಂದೆ ಅವರಿಗೆ ಏನಾಯಿತು ಎಂಬ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಯನ್ನು ನಾನು ಕೇಳದೆಯೇ ಈ ಕಥೆಯನ್ನು ಮುಗಿಸಬಹುದು.

ಆ ಮುರೂ ಜನರ ಮಾತು ಕತೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದು ಬಗೆಯ ಖುಷಿ  ತುಂಬಿ ತುಳುಕುತ್ತಿದೆ. ಅದು ನಕಲಿ ನಗುವಲ್ಲ , ಮನದಾಳದಿಂದ ಬರುತ್ತಿರುವ ಆನಂದದ ಸಂಕೇತ ...ಎಷ್ಟೆಲ್ಲಾ ಖುಷಿ ತುಂಬಿರುವ ಆ ಮುರೂ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳ ಕಥೆಯನ್ನು ನಾನು ಮುಂದುವರೆಸಿದರೆ , ಅದು ಕೇವಲ ನನ್ನ ಕಾಲ್ಪನಿಕ ಶಕ್ತಿಯ ಹಾಗು ನಾನು ಬರೆಯುವಾಗ ನನ್ನ ಸುತ್ತಲಿನ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯ ಮೇಲೆ ಅದರಿತವಾಗಿರುತ್ತದೆ .

ಆದ್ರೆ ಆ ಮುರೂ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳ ಸುಂದರ ಜೀವನವನ್ನು  , ನನ್ನ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯ ಕಾರಣದಿಂದ ದುರಂತ ಕಥೆ ಮಾಡುವ ಆಸೆ ನನಗಿಲ್ಲ , ಆ ಮುರೂ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳು  ಖುಷಿ ಖುಷಿಯಿಂದ ಕಾಫಿ ಕುಡಿದು ಏನೋ ಒಂದು ನಿರ್ಧಾರ ತೆಗೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಹೊರಟು ಹೋದರು . ಹೊರಟು ಹೋದ ಪಾತ್ರಗಳ ಬೆನ್ನಟ್ಟಿ  , ಅವರನ್ನು ಹಿಡಿದು, ನಾನು ಬಯಸುಹುದನ್ನು ಅವರು ಅವರ ಜೀವನದಲ್ಲಿ ಅನುಬವಿಸುವಂತೆ ಮಾಡಿದರೆ ನಾನು "ದೇವರ" ಸಮನಾಗುತ್ತೇನೆ . ನನಗೆ ದೇವರಲ್ಲಿ ನಂಬಿಕೆಯೂ ಇಲ್ಲ, ದೇವರಾಗುವ ಆಸೆಯು ಇಲ್ಲ, ಅದ ಕಾರಣ ಅವರು ಇಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಹೊರಟಾಗ ಅವರ ಮುಖದಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಖುಷಿ ಮತ್ತು ಉಲ್ಲಾಸ ಚಿರವಾಗಿರಲಿ ಎಂದು ಬಯಸುತ್ತ ನನ್ನ ಈ ಕಥೆಯನ್ನು, ನಾನು ಬರೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಅವರ ಕಥೆಯನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಮುಗಿಸುತ್ತೇನೆ ..... ನಮದಲ್ಲದನ್ನು ದುರಂತದಲ್ಲಿ ಸಿಲುಕಿಸುವುದಕ್ಕೆ  ನಮಗೆ ಯಾವ ಹಕ್ಕು ಇಲ್ಲ , ಎಲ್ಲರು ನಂಬುವ ಅವನಿಗೂ ಇಲ್ಲ ....

34. CHANGE for the GOOD

After all the nonsense that I've been writing all this while, finally a Chance for Me to make sense. Write sense. Something that can or should awaken the dead sensibilities of those who have been wrested with the powers to "HOPE". Hope of a better life to those not in despair but in ill health. This is not about "the POWER" itself, that I am interested to talk about, It is the "MISUSE" of that POWER.

Unlike all my other posts, for the first time I may not drag too much nor brag about the unnecessary details. All that will be written here onwards are some of the facts and the analysis of the rightfulness of these facts are up to the people concerned and not the readers alone. Today as I am typing this I called up the Justdial services and found the mail ID of the concerned authority. I shall mail this post to them also in the hope that there will be change for the good.

27th april 2010.

I  called up the Emergency Ambulance Service 108, to shift My Mom to St. John's Medical college Hospital, who's been ailing for sometime now - of breast cancer and was undergoing Chemotherapy at the same hospital. She wasn't responding to our words since last night, We thought She was too tired and may be she needed rest. When she did not respond to our screams and cries the following morning, that's when I called up the doctor who's been treating her - of her state, who was quick to suggest that we bring her to the emergency. I called up the emergency service who helped us shift my mom from the house on the second floor, through the narrow stairs to the hospital with in a matter of few minutes.

The doctors did the emergency treatment and told us that she has developed respiratory complications and has to be put on ventilator. She had to be moved immediately to the ICU and unfortunately we were informed that all the ICU s at the hospital were occupied and my mother had to be shifted to another hospital. She was in a critical condition, high blood pressure, abnormal pulse and on the verge of or in a state of comatose. The hospital authorities arranged for the ambulance and once again the Emergency service 108 was pressed into action. We were informed that the ICU has been arranged at a near by Hospital - ABHAYA Hospital, near wilson garden. . . 

The duty doctor at the St. John's had spoken to his counterpart at the Abhaya hospital about the patient's condition and was immediately rushed to Abhaya hospital. Abhaya Hospital, the only reason I am using the name of Specific hospital so many times is, so that the name is imprinted on the mind of the reader, when in need of any further medical assistance. The name is Abhaya hospital.

In the mean time, My dad was undergoing his second cycle of chemotherapy at the Curie Center for Oncology, which is in the St. John's Campus itself. I gave some money to my sister - in fact Rs. 8000/- to be precise, just to keep the facts rite. I had the rest of the money with me and My Mom was rushed to Abhaya Hospital. I was to be following them on my bike, but before I did that, I thought it was important for me to inform My Dad about mom's condition and Where's she's being taken for treatment. It was Abhaya Hospital.

While I was at the parking lot, on my bike, ready to leave for Abhaya hospital, about fifteen minutes later, My sister called up to find out my whereabouts. I was told that they were short of money and My Mom was not being admitted just because the advance of Rs. 15000/- was not being paid immediately. My sister begged them to admit her first and I would be there in about fifteen minutes and pay the rest of the amount, but in vain. I arrived about fifteen minutes later, while my mom was still kept waiting in the ambulance at the emergency entrance of the Abhaya hospital. . . still breathing through the manual ventilator. My aunts' and my sister and my cousin were all at the reception trying to convince them, They were in tears. . . [the emotional part of the situation is not of concern to this particular post and will be elaborated at some point in time If I ever dare to write on the same situation again] It was a horrible situation to be - YOU don't need a worse situation than this to EXPLODE, and that's exactly what happened. . .

I walked up to the reception and couldn't help but shout at the top of my voice - Why the fuck was the patient still kept waiting inside the ambulance (outside the Abhaya hospital). It was an emergency case and the patient had to be treated at the first place and then the formalities. . . I used the foulest language that I could think of at that moment, from Ba$&#rds to the Son's of Bi#$hes to a$$holes to fu#%ers to mother fu&@ers and all that which comes in between. I was angry and I was nervous, tensed. . . Nervous not because I was yelling at the hospital staff in their own hospital but because my Mom is still lying in the ambulance unattended. . . 

After seeing that I was really angry, the hospital staff said that they did not admit my mom not because of Money but because of the fact that the ventilator's not free. That irresponsible reasoning made me even more angry - If you did not have the ventilator free, Why the fuck was the patient asked to come to the hospital in the first place ??????? and Why My sister was asked to pay an advance of Rs. 15000/- immediately??????? so that they can admit, as it was an emergency case and tell her that the patient needed immediate treatment and has to be shifted to the ICU?????????

At this point in time I would like to appreciate the efforts and the presence of mind of the Emergency service staff 108, who immediately contacted their call center to find out an alternative hospital for an ICU with Ventilator. . . While all the drama was unfolding at the reception lobby of the Abhaya hospital, with all the people inside the hospital looking at me shouting out aloud. . .

I had the reference letter from the duty doctor at the St. John's addressed to his counterpart. Now I am also there with the money that was asked from my sister for the admission, The Emergency Service staff had the patient transfer data entered in their data book. . . . The emergency Service staff had found another hospital in the mean time. 

"I'll get back to you Ba$^&@ds, if anything goes wrong" I told the hospital staff as I followed the Ambulance to another hospital at Majestic - Srinivasa Hospital. She was shifted to the ICU within few minutes of our arrival and My Mom was put on the ventilator, all the attempts that were necessary to stabilize the patient's condition were made. . . I had given my cousin's debit card to my sister, this time around just in case Money was more important than the patient to start the medication. . . .

The doctors at the hospital, knew the status of my mom's condition, the moment we arrived but all the examinations were arranged for, that were necessary to confirm, what they believed was the matter of truth. . . . We hoped all day, all night, outside the ICU and at noon, the following day, the doctors finally broke the ice. My Mom was declared "Brain Dead". . . .

"I will get back to you Ba$^&@ds" - those were the words that I had said to the hospital staff at the "Abhaya hospital". This post that you read, is an attempt to get back at them. . . No matter where "My Mother" would've been treated, as the cancer had spread to the brain and the brain stem, "the end was Inevitable". . . 

The reason for me to write this is not to harass someone of the medical negligence, for I don't have faith in our judicial system, I am neither looking for an explanation from the staff of the Abhaya hospital for their actions at that moment nor am I asking for justification for the questions that remain. . . . What you read are plain facts, facts as seen from my side, what ever may be the reason for the actions from the other side, there is a need for Change. . . 

" 'Change for the Good' of something called 'Sanity' ".