The diabetic catπŸ™€πŸ™€

May be I have a wrong title today. Diabetic cat eh?!!! We were all having lunch, I microwaved my pasta, the manager peeled her tangerines and the nurses cooked their pot noodles. After the first bite that crashed in those ever dying for food tummies, our tongues started to wiggle to speak. 

We often begin our chats with the pets-Carter and Maisie -the long and short of the manager’s  and Beckie’s( my nurse)place. The topics vary from their food,their walks to their wee wee habits and their cuddles,how they are naughty and scratch each other and how they become friends again. Not only the traits ,we also often discuss their fashion sense and their accessories.

That afternoon the talk shifted about this furry cat who started visiting the principal dentist’s garden. His daughter would observe her for hours, how did she yawn,move, run and mess with the grass. After a few days she asked her dad, ” I want to feed that cat.”  Both the daddy and daddy’s girl started feeding the hairy beast. She enjoyed every bit of the meal,sipped the milk,licked her lips, rubbed herself in the garden and the little girl enjoyed watching her. The cat perhaps thought there was no harm in having a little brunch outside in a  cafe before dinner,especially when those tiny hands were at service.

This became an everyday event. It was in the schedule to feed the cat after school for Mili. She thought she would name the cat ,may be she would call her Bambi or Caramel or perhaps ,Ginger. The other day when Bambi was purring after the sumptuous meal, Mili asked daddy if she could keep Bambi for good. She promised daddy that she will take the whole responsibility but a tear shed when she was explained that she could not have her for good. However, Mr daddy agreed that Mili could feed her whenever Bambi visited them.

The trend continued for some days. One day when Mili waited with daddy with food for Bambi in the garden, Bambi was a bit late then her usual time and a note hung in her neck. Daddy held Bambi in his arms and read the note aloud,” please don’t feed the cat while she visits your garden,the cat is DIABETIC.” 

The exchange stopped soon and the course of after school  activity changed for Mili, yet Bambi etched a laughable memory of being diabetic!!😜😜


Never too late,are we?!

Everytime I reach a point, I am saturated sooner than I would have planned for initially. I am trying to find out where does my passion lie? What makes me excited ? When do I feel the high without the sips of red wine ? Everytime I ponder, wonder, think and feel, I land up in no discovery. I have nothing that I would do for hours together with all my heart into it. How weird is that!! 

My other dentists go online to see a cricket match in their off time or visit a webpage showing the best dresses in the least prices and I do an audit when I get a chance to breathe. An audit for godsakes!! Back to work from work in work. This is what I am passionate about?? No,I am sure no. If that was it then I would not have had days of self doubts and days when I repeatedly said that I don’t want to be a dentist. I prefer to be honest in my exploration.

Then in the adventurous bus journey to get back to my cocoon, I start writing on my discovery of my passions. Is writing something that I want to do over and over again? Is it something that will keep me engrossed to levels that I would always be ecstatic? I continue to disagree. I do not read. I do not know how I passed my exams all these years but I don’t!! Then if I cannot admire what someone else has pictured then how can I grow in what I scribble. I thought passion takes you to a high.

I often end up couching on weekends in front of the TV screen trying to fiddle with that remote to kill my time with a Bollywood masala. May be all I want to do is watch some flashy songs with nonsensical lyrics and listen to the dialogues that stand out on delivery. I think I haven’t got a class while I nudge into the Sky TV, so may be this is far too idle to be passionate.

Food and to be precise good food excites me. Anything on a contrasting plate with vibrant colours and mild flavours brings on the spark in my teeny weeny eyes. Cooking flavoursome food is my cuppa tea but I have calorie meter in my brains ticking. For no good is sin free, indulgence is a crime for me. The passion sighs and dies having seen those numbers. 

I have filtered them all. My canvass has colours but I don’t know which one is the one that I want to squeeze so hard that my whole life would be around. Am I lost or am I not quite ready for it? 

I am walking as the day is asking me to with no drive, no heat and no clarity. It is good to live for the day but is it worth living without a focus? I am not miserable at the moment but may be I lack info or may be I am yet to reach the fathoms in one of them stated above. 

Hope has not died. The spark is wiggling but it is there. I will rekindle it and I pass it on to burn me ,eventually!! 

The last story !!

I am not a fond reader and this is one fact that keeps me off from learning more. I  am pretty selective in reading and definitely reading by choice never happens to me! 

After the entire day of analysing human relationships and yapping all day with my family members, I needed to calm down. For a change I reverted to a book on acrylic paints. I finished some sixty pages and I quite picked up the tips. I watched a comedy series,brushed and while I lied in my cozy bed I agreed to read a short story to myself.

A story of barter of red marbles to some peas,apples and peaches. The grocer never claimed any marbles from those needy kids and yet filled their tummies each day. The little kindness helped them groom and turned them into fine gentlemen,who eventually stood by the grocer in his last hours!! It was a heart touching story. I instantly reflected on the big hearted poor grocer. The thought that gripped me was is success different from fame and which is more important?

I was watching an interview of some Indian celebs on television a few days ago. One of them when asked what did he think of the newer performers , the fellow confirmed ,” They may be famous but they are not successful.” The next episode in the same series had another celebrity mentioning that on his first successful film his mother said to him,” Son if others have not been successful,do not think they are fools.”

The last story I read left me into the same dilemma. I have always wanted to be famous and popular but now I was questioning  my own goals. There has been a change in my thought process and I am through a rigorous process of defining success and fame for a while now. The conclusions are suspended at the moment and making a choice has not been easy. I would like to mention here I haven’t tasted either so far but I want to choose one of them for my future. 

The many thoughts and attempts that break into my mind make me realise that I rather do less and fill myself with satisfaction than appear bigger yet empty. 

The idea of being famous is from the spectator’s eye but the fruit of success is from one’s effort. The audience will change after every show and one shall observe peaks and troughs in his fame but once successful within himself he shall stay successful for the rest of his life.

The grocer died with no mention in the society, no big mansion,no wealth in his banks but his little successes in that barter for marbles stood by him while he struggled to survive. He was an infamous vegetable seller but his story helped me write and discover. He was successful in making lost souls like me choose.

The celeb’s mother was confident that such a fame will not keep him grounded and hence she mentioned that his contemporaries are equally good!

May be I could say that true success is never followed by a fall and unless one fails several times no true success is his!! This is still processing and may be one day I will successfully define the terms:)


Lifeline todayπŸ”πŸ“ˆπŸ“πŸ˜Š

Very few things make us happy in life and over a period of time I have realised the few things that make bring a molar to molar smile on me  and in priority they are food, writing and a smile on my patient’s face post treatment.

I have undergone transitions at every decade  of life and I have always been in the process of defining happiness and reducing to reasons that create an upward curve on my face. While I continue to do the same, I have come to some conclusions. One of them being people don’t and can’t make you happy . When you are happy in a relationship you expect and what you expect is not known to the person who was making you happy and then you get disappointed . It is a viscous circle and eventually you have to restart your search. 

After repeated failures I started looking for my happiness in myself. I would still cross the same cycle of expectations but it would be easier to forgive myself. We are playing safe!! We are slimming the chances of failure!!

 Food is for survival but for me it is a beautiful means to survive. I love my food and every little effort that goes in developing my skills to make the recipes palatable fills me with satisfaction. It is a means from me to me! The very little times that I have failed to present it up to the mark, I have vigorously risen to the challenge. How silly is this comparison?? But when I substitute  this passion to a relationship, I wonder how many times would have I picked up myself to make it more beautiful ? There is no risk and I am not answerable for my repeated failures. 

I discovered writing at a very early stage of life. I began writing few lines for every festivity as a child. It went into a transformation and I did not realise when my poetry started reflecting my relationships, my love   for my dear ones and my pain of losing them. Expectations and attachments reflected in my bloody lines. Then I blogged. I was actually venting and surfacing the lava! I did not need a friend then to listen. Not only this, I am not being judged for scribbling my thoughts on a paper. I am so secured and at no threat of being criticised for my baseless ideas! Happiness is bound to bounce.

Although I did say the patients make me happy when they smile but I fear the hour when one of them will curse me after all they are not an ingredient or a page. But I can’t deny the happiness because when I restore them pain free or fix their smile, they express the gratitude. I do not expect it as I do not know them. They are a mere name to me , a name that hasn’t slept a night for the gnawing ache yet they thank me! There is no boundation and even if they did not emote I would be alright and will continue my job. 

How dry is my write up today?? I am trying to run away from the real world,the real people and the real emotions. I am not embarrassed though and I don’t want to be a hero in believing the same as the rest of the world. I choose to differ because from where I see it is hard to find the real hearts. 

Happiness is scarce and every  soul is deserted already. I am not seeking it any more and I have accepted these little tinkers as my lifeline!! How about you??