Chapter 40-Countdown to the Five Paper Festival

March-April 1996

.and so I commence my all-important PSM posting. Every morning, around 15 of us get into a college van and make the half hour drive through some nice countryside to a small village, whose name escapes me. I have a Pocket Robbins in my pocket all the time and spend the journey revising the stuff I have already read. This really adds up to a lot of Path that I know now but very little Micro and I hope that will not come back to haunt me.
We are accompanied by 2 PSM guys, one of whom is a constant called "Shortie" and the other one varies. Shortie is a bit of a pain. I have heard many stories of previous PSM postings and in one, a senior got a bit carried away and jumped up onto a bullock cart, succeeding only in scaring the bullock who promptly got loose and ran away. I also heard that he failed his PSM exams. Shortie, it seems, has been posted with us to prevent exactly that.

The first few days are spent looking around the village. It's a typical place, lots of thatched roofs, semi-nude kids and plenty of fresh hay. Lots of sunshine, palm trees and general peace and quiet. But of course, it's not a holiday and so we are divided into groups and made in charge of some families and houses. The first task is to get the orientation and layout of the place, which will be presented as a map later. This done, we do a census, and there is plenty of information to get. Who lives where, how many live there, is there overcrowding (and of course, there is), the sanitation, water, what the kids eat (if they do), etc etc.
My job is to interview all the kids I can find and get details of their food habits. I will evntually have to make a massive presentation about nutriotional status, caloric deficits and Protein malnutrition. There are around 300 questionnaires to analyze.

While this occupies my mornings, I continue to slave in the afternoons with Pharm, which is now holding test after test. They think they are helping to improve Internal Assessment but I think they are just being sadistic, as is their reputation. However, I have the benefit of having read all of Pharm already last year and so I score spectacularly (relatively) in the tests and suddenly become the darling of the batch from the pariah.
I also spend time looking over the specimens in the Path Museum, some of which are going to turn up for the  exams. There are plenty of these, from hearts to lungs to livers to genitalia and they are all either black, or shrunken or enlarged or "creamy" or " jelly-like" or like "bread and butter". Path is pretty morbid.

But I have to admit, constant steady reading does make me more confident. I've never felt that way before, having spent my course so far doing night-outs amidst desperate attempts to pass exams. That has it's benefits sure, but good steady reading cannot be beaten.
It has taken an attendance disaster and much face loss for me to get here and for the moment at least, I'm savoring my new found ability to answer any question and face any viva.
All of this, however, is not applicable to Micro which has now begun to catch up with neglect. There are 2 reasons for said neglect.
1) It's so damn boring. And dry.
2) There is SO much Path to cover.

And I have a PSM presentation in 2 days. The posting so far has been fun overall. I've spent the journey to and from the village reading Pocket Robbins and the time in between interviewing semi-nude kids and their parents. Some of this time is spent generally doing nothing, wandering around the village, noting the only 2 brick houses with TV antennas, drinking Coke from a road stall and very happy to get away from the academic environs of the college. Shortie is always around, making sure no bullock cart type incidents happen.
I am in charge of presenting the nutritional status of all the kids in the village and there are 300 or so questionnaires to analyze. Lots of numbers related to how much food they eat, what they eat, how much protein goes inside and what the caloric values of rice, idlis, dosas and other stuff are. In another time, this could be useful for me also, since I do need to diet, but that is furthest from my sleep-deprived and tired mind which is somehow buzzing at the same time. I'm living on adrenaline most of the time.

In the middle of all this, our Send-Up dates are announced and will take place shortly after this posting ends. I have 5 of these to get through. They will be starting quite soon and I have 5 theory papers and 5 sets of practicals and vivas to face. They are all really closely bunched up and there won't be any time between them. This is for the good since there is no time to panic and generally get depressed and philosophical-something I'm quite good at that.

 First, there is Pharm, a Department with which I have made peace, partly because I have to and also because my Internal Assessment has skyrocketed, thanks to more tests. There is a Theory paper, a viva and 2 Practicals-Pharmacodynamics and Pharmacy. Then there is Micro 1, taking care of General Micro, Bacteriology (a HUGE chunk) and Immunology Again, a theory paper, a viva and a practical. And of course, there is Path 1 which has General Path and Hemat, with it's own theory paper, viva and practical.
The Path paper has something called "Diagnosis" where we are given a short 2 line case history and asked the diagnosis and related stuff. It can be hit or miss. It also has Hemat slides with Leukemias, Anemias etc and Bone Marrow charts to interpret. I find this both simple and fascinating. But then, to make up, there is the Histopath slides, which, for all intents and purposes, is a just a collection of pink and blue dots and blotches on slides.
All of that, of course, I should have finished last semester.

THEN, there is Path 2 , which covers all of Path except Hemat and it is massive. It is also very interesting and I love it. The viva has a section on specimens where I can be asked to describe any specimen floating around in the mueseum and the Pracs has the dreaded slides.
Micro 2, I'm sure, will be my downfall. Parasites, with their life cycles and eggs, Fungi, which are described so inadequately in the book and Virology, full of viruses which can have DNA or RNA and come in many shapes and sizes and cause so goddam much.
When writing these many papers, something has to give, and Micro 2 suffers. I coudn't care less.
I am now really sleep deprived. All of the constant readimg is taking it's toll and it's a relief that exams are around the corner. It's like a marathon run at a very fast clip with no room to fail.

But before we get there, there is PSM. The night before the presentation, I am running around the hostel collecting questionnaires from my batchmates. By 11 PM, I have all 300. I have all night to sit and analyze them, make my "extrans" and perhaps get some sleep. I start with a flask of coffee and get down to it. Classifying malnutrition, calculating how many kids fall in which category, protein deficits, caloric deficits etc. I know exams are in a few days, but after 3 months of non stop mugging, this is actually a welcome breal from the tedium. And I am back in my night-out mode which is when I am at my most productive. It's ass on fire time.
Around 5 AM, I finally finish. I have made about 35 extran sheets and it better be received well. There are figures in blue and red, neat lines in green, final figures in black. It looks pretty good. I'm totally dead on my feet.

Somewhere in the middle of all this reading and mugging, there was a Cricket World Cup. I didn't have time to see much but when India plays Pakistan, how do you resist? So after India finished batting, and Jadeja had provided some soul food by smashing Waqar Younis, Pakistan got off to a flier and I abandoned all hope and went up to get some precious sleep. I didn't really sleep though, cricket not too far from my mind and when a massive roar went up, I rushed down to find Prasad and Aamir Sohail replays being played nonstop.
I do hope you saw that incident but if you missed it, here it is.

Prasad-Sohail 1996 WC QF. 

It gave me goosebumps and I sat happily sat through the match.
I also sat through the disaster that was the Semi-Final with Sri Lanka and was very happy that India was not playing the final and I could avoid it completely.

In the meantime, Shom has decided to get married and will do so next month, in Delhi. There is a long story behind this, but maybe he can get into it himself at some point.
May means that I won't be able to attend it. Another punishment from God. Damn attendance.

I'm groggy but still alert. This state of mind is very usual for me and I'm used to it. So, I present the mountain of data I have in front of the entire department, get chewed off a bit but manage to escape mostly unharmed. On the whole, it's been exhilarating. I love this last minute, massive presentation stuff. My PSM posting is over and I have exams to look forward to. The fun, it seems, never stops.

2 days later, something very weird happens. Our University Exam dates are announced. And I find that Our Univs are starting 5 days before our Send Ups are ending....

This means that I may have to write a Univs paper, come back the next day and write the same Send-Ups paper and go back to Univs the next day. It's crazy and is duly conveyed to the College authorities who happily oblige by bringing our Send-Ups 1 week forward.
So, now my Send-Ups start in 2 days and there is a whole 48 hours between Send-Ups and Univs.....

And 5 papers.
If there is a God, he better be on my side.

Chapter 39-A kick in the butt

Jan 1996-Onwards

My "vacation" in December was a lot of soul-searching, introspection, answering awkward questions from parents and vowing to do well in the upcoming exams in 3 months time.

I fell short of attendance in Pharm by one class. One.

That is in the past now, however. The fallout of all this is that I have to take these papers along with the 2 regular ones in 3 months time. I also have to attend extra classes to make up attendance and Internal Assessment marks (which are OK anyway) and these classes have to be done outside my normal classes somehow. Along with all this, I have clinics and my PSM posting will be in March.

This is a problem.

The PSM posting is serious stuff. We have finished the happy, carefree field trips and will be posted in a village for a month, going there for 3 hours every morning. At the end of this posting, all of us have a presentation to make which is taken and marked very seriously. It usually involves things like mapping the village, calculating nutritional status of kids in the village, measuring energy deficits, etc etc. It takes a long time and could be fun if it wasn't for my 5 paper debacle.

And it is in March, right before my 2 sets of Send-Ups and 2 sets of Univs.

So, we start the semester. This is a short one, with exams in April. It's supposed to be an easy one, with only Path and Micro, but well, not for me.

My nose is to the grindstone from day 1.

For reading purposes, I shift to Shom's room, who is also reading for upcoming PG Entrance Exams. We are left with about 75% of Robbins, the big Path book to read and finish before March. This covers the whole of systemic pathology and then there are parts of Micro still left-Virology, Parasitology and Mycology.

My days consist of reading Path in Shom's room and little else. It's a huge book but easy to read and very interesting, so that’s not a problem

In the evenings, after class, after the customary tea at Snappy and the compulsory gossip session, I sit down with my reading board in Shom's room and open my Robbins. In the last year, we covered the first 1 chapters or so with Hemat and as I flip through the remaining 30 or so, there is a feeling of impending doom, never far away and barely kept at bay by reading constantly. 

I uncover some interesting tid-bits and tell Shom who makes a note here and there, hoping that some of these little useless facts will crop up in his exams.

This is how the days go by. Come back from class, go to Shom's room, read Robbins till late and sleep. Then repeat the next day.

This semester, in Micro, we have Parasites to deal with and it's just too confusing to remember accurately. I'm sure it's important stuff, but my head starts swimming after the first few worms. All of them seem the same. They all lay eggs which become worms eventually and then lots of things happen in the middle. Some are in water, some go underground, some live on leaves and some in human tissue. Some eggs are round, some are oval, some are single and some are in groups. This kind of thing is best left for the end when hard core mugging will be required. I can't deal with this now.

Of course, there is the entire syllabus of last year on my lap also. All of Pharm, and most of Micro and Path. It does help that since I didn't know my attendance fate till late last year, I did read all of this well and so I can leave it till later.

In Pharm, my nemesis, I walk across to the Dept, meet Dr G and request that I be allowed to attend a few classes and practicals with the Additional Batch. She is all sweetness and light now and agrees readily.

This is going to be like a mini-Final Year. All studies, nose to the books, all serious and no time to play or party. It helps that I am in love with Robbins and every page is being read and underlined.

It's a kick in the butt for sure. Deserved also. I know that and I aam ready but boy,

this is frustrating to the core. Here I am, reading non stop, attending classes, taking notes and abstaining from all manner of fun and frolic, while my classmates are doing pretty much the opposite. Sometimes in the middle of a reading session, usually in the company of Shom, who is reading for PG Entrance Exams, I sit back and take stock of what and why exactly I am doing what I'm doing. 

I know that all of this is my fault and that's the only thing that keeps me going. Over the past 2 years, I know that I do my best work when my ass is about to be kicked and when deadlines are tomorrow and now, I have the entire syllabus of the 2nd MBBS to cover in 2 months. And it's not a small affair by any means. 

Ash has finally left. Probably too tired of the state of room, he has decided to shift to Monkey's room, in Lister Annexe and that's where he will live for the rest of the course. I am alone in the room now, and although it's sad that my roomie is now an ex-roomie, there is much more space to scatter books, clothes and rubbish and more than enough scope for my room to become the worst room in the entire hostel. 

This fits in nicely with Shom's plans though. He has graduated, and gone from the highs of a full blown ceremony with black hats and proud parents to being unemployed and homeless in 1 day. He has been asked to vacate his hostel room and has decided to shift in with me.

This is great news. Shom is a normal person. So that means he likes his room to be fairly clean, which implies that my room will become clean. Which is great. 

He starts by hanging those round, paper lamps we call "globes" and sorts out the interior decor, putting good looking bedsheets and the like. For him, the environment in which to read is important and everything should be just-so. I don't complain since anything he does will be a major improvement. And so, with all of that sorted, the reading marathon continues.

My inability to keep my room anywhere near clean and my penchant for being completely unaware of what's in my room and where it is a well known fact, I believe. Shom has one side of the room, with a nice bookcase and a shoe rack and a bed cover that hangs down from the sides and looks nice. I have all the muck on my side and although Shom has made an effort to make this presentable, it's still rather sad.

One evening, I am sitting in the TV Room, killing precious reading minutes when Shom walks in and announces that there is a snake in the room and I should get up there pronto. No one is really surprised that a) There is a snake in the room and b) I have no idea that there is one.

So I go up, slowly.

It turns out that there is no snake. There is, however, a big fat pregnant cat under the bed waiting no doubt to deliver her little litter right there. It's still a shock and we proceed to somehow coax this cat out and onto the balcony where she can do her thing in less inhabited surroundings.

Also, Puneet has turned vegetarian. This is interesting because he won't tell me the reason for this sudden change in lifestyle or for how long this state of affairs will continue. Puneet is also reading for PG Entrance Exams and has got a bike from Bangalore, on which we sometimes zip down to town for a quick bite. It usually involves a quick trip to Fillo or some place nearby where I grill him on Path and Pharm and he eithers answers or feels like crap. It's like a quick 20 questions with food. But his current situation has complicated things somewhat. Now he wants to find out where the "Chilly Mushroom" tastes like "Chilly Chicken" and where the "Baked Fish" tastes like "Baked Brinjals" etc. It's a fun exercise because now I get to eat all the good stuff and he experiments with new places. It's like discovering a whole new Pondy.

We do this many times in a week and it's instructive, fun and is a huge change from the tedium of the room and reading. I concoct many questions hoping that some of them will land up in his exam and I can get a major party. He just hopes he can get through.

Jan-April 1996

My mornings and afternoons, interrupted by a welcome lunch break are all about classes. In the morning, I have lectures, and clinics, all of which I am attending dutifully, mainly because I have no desire to get caught up in another Attendance disaster scenario.

This semester, we have started classes in Ophthal, ENT and Forensic Medicine in addition to all the various subjects we will be tested on next year. These include Medicine, Surgery and OG and of course, the BIG ONE for the semester, PSM.

The Ophthal book, I soon learn, is a lesson on how NOT to write a book. Apparently copied from a British book and written in an impossible to remember point and bullet style, this one is written by our Head of Dept and so we are expected to memorize this verbatim. And by that, it seems, one means totally word for word, with all the points in order. In a viva, if a point is missed or is not in the exact order as in the book, it shall be pointed about by the examiner who is the author the book.

ENT is a pain. Most of our classes are taken by a guy who's joined Jipmer recently, is close to being obese and takes the most boring classes I have encountered so far. It's just reading off slides and projections. He drones on and on and we doze off and on. I suppose the subject could be interesting, but who's listening?

I am told that when I get a bit older, I will look like this guy. I'm slowly getting there, thanks to Snappy.

Forensic is fun though. It's very different from what we've encountered so far and is about laws and their applications to medicine. So, we have our Prof taking a class on "How to Conduct yourself in Court" and his example is that one should not, under any circumstance, stand in a T-Shirt and Jeans with the T-Shirt caption saying "Screw Me". And other similar stuff. He makes it fun. I am awake during most of these classes.

There are class tests happening at intervals. These are my regular tests in the subjects being covered this semester. Also, there are tests for the Additional Batch who are 6 months behind and so are nearing the end of their semester, the part I was supposed to have finished last year. In the middle of classes and clinics and the odd test, I also have to go and sit for tests with these guys in Pharm and the parts of Micro and Path I have already been tested on. What this does is boost up my Internal Assessment which has now been padded up and looks really good. So I guess that's one good thing.

On the other hand, a typical week would involve 2 or 3 tests, classes, clinics, writing records, attending practicals and answering vivas.

Jan and Feb pass off in peace and pretty fast. It's amazing how time passes when one is NOT having fun too. I discover that though I'm keeping up very well with Path and seem to have really got the hang of it, Micro is not such a fun thing. March is here and my exams will be next month. Also, in this month, as if to really drive home the point, I am starting our PSM posting.

Now, we have had PSM (Community Medicine) postings before, lots of them. But before, they were all about class field trips to various places and general fun and frolic. This one, however, is very serious stuff. This is our last PSM posting and can make or break our PSM Univs also. And it's happening 30 days before I take my exams.

In this posting, which lasts from 10 AM to 1 PM daily, we will be allotted one village somewhere. Our job will to analyze the whole place, from layout and geography, to health issues, to water and sanitation, nutrition  etc etc. This will then have to presented to the Dept at the end and is marked and taken up for Internal Assessment. I used to use some of the Clinics time, especially the minor ones like Dermat and Radiology to read some Path or Pharm while lounging around the hospital, but here, there won't be much time. So I put a Baby Robbins in my coat pocket, hoping to read some stuff on the bus and we head off.

This could have been fun. Maybe it will be.

Chapter 38-Spandan Highs and Attendance Lows

August 1995-Spandan

Interclass is over, we lost the trophy, the College was treated to the most vulgar skit ever and accusations of fixing the Cooking competition fly back and forth. They are all denied, we have no proof and pretty soon, things are back to normal. It was the most competitive Interclass in years, I am told.

A new batch has joined and right from the get-go, they want to be different. Our first impression is that they are stuck-up kids, desperately wanting to be "different" and not mixing with the hoi-polloi, i.e the rest of the College. Needless to say, they are good ragging material.
One of these guys is someone called Rao. He is from Andhra and we immediately label him as a "psycho". One evening, sitting idle in Bong's room (who is in Final Year but is frustrated and hence on a small study break), Rao walks by. Now Bong, being in Final Year, has, for some reason sundry things like a syringe and a glass slide in his room. He also has talcum powder.
You can see where this is going.

Rao is escorted to Bong's room where 7-8 seniors, including me, wait in anticipation. There is much verbal abuse, no physical stuff, and some of us take the powder on the slide and snort or pass the syringe around, everyone extra-eager to get a "shot". The syringe has water in it. Rao is scared, which is the whole point.
This continues for 5 minutes,  pausing every few seconds to coax Rao into joining this druggie gang he's landed in. With desperate cries of his "No, No. save me!!!" and Oscar worthy efforts at us stifling laughter, the scene carries on for a few minutes more till Rao decides he's had enough, breaks free, zips through the corridor, leaps off the ledge, onto the mess roof, back on the ground and we last see him running full tilt to Aschoof House, 500 long metres away.
We just make sure he doesn't break something on the way down, and that out of the way, we continue killing time, which has become a favourite pasttime.

My reading is going on OK. I pass a few tests and am enjoying the academics of this year. We've been through making many powders and solutions in Pharmacy, have decapitated frogs, chased mice around the labs and have been subjected to much sarcasm, outright screwing and threats of being stopped in exams if attendance is short. Vij, from a few batches senior has joined Pharm as a "Non-PG" and we all know him well. He's very helpful and time passes fast.

The Pharmacodynamics lab is a fun place to be, not so much for the animals in there. One time, we need to take a frog, pith it to a board on a wall, decapitate it and put it's still flailing legs in acid. I don't remember what the experiment was all about though.
Another experiment involves injecting some amphetamine into a guinea pig and watching it run crazy in a cage while it's co-caged unamphetamined partner walks around in slow motion. The cage floor is covered with paper with lots of squares on it and our task is to count the number of squares each pig crosses. I learn why Amphetamines are called "Speed". In an exam, we will be given 2 unmarked tubes, one with saline and one with the Amphetamine and by injecting and counting, we will have to figure out which is which.
Another one is placing a rat on a contraption with a nichrome wire at the end. This is a heating element and the task is to see the effect of morphine on the time the poor beat takes to figure out it's tail is on fire when the switch is turned on.
As opposed to "ass on fire" which is a term reserved for exam-going students.

These animals are in cages before being taken out for our chance at animal cruelty and sometimes, they escape the clutches of the Lab Asses and run around the lab, all of us in chase. It's hilarious in an otherwise strictly monitored Lab.

Path has moved on to Hemat. We switch from Robbins to DeGruchy and our time in Labs is spent looking at slides of Leukemias and Lymphomas etc. There are many types of Leukemias, especially one called Acute Myeloid (which has 7 sub-types) and then there is Non-Hodgkins lymphoma which has so many classifications that it seems like no one has quite figured it out. It's damn confusing, with many types of  cells that may be cleaved or not and so on. There are bone marrow charts to interpret and clinical scenarios to diagnose. It's fun and is the closest I have come to Medicine proper.

Microbiology is getting weird. We have finished the General stuff like types of bacteria and Autoclaving and have moved on to Bacteriology. There are loads of them, each with it's own peculiarities and within each chapter, there are different species, and they have differing properties also. It takes some time to get used to all this but it's not so bad.
We learn to do a Gram Stain, used to rapidly diagnose what general type of infection is present and an Albert's stain for Diptheria bacteria. Now, in Albert's, when done properly, there is supposed to be a green background with the bacteria showing up as rods here and there. Every time I do it, I get green blotches with no evidence of any bacteria. Every. Single. Time.

Then there are a group of bugs known as the Gram negative (appear red on the stain) which collectively play havoc with our gut. E.Coli etc and the like. Just to torture us, they are differentiated by biochemical tests called "IMVIC" with I standing for Indole (and I forgot the rest). And each bug can be positive or negative for each of those........
...and that is a must know for us.
PKP is a Senior Resident in Micro, great fun in Pracs and makes life easy and sometimes, inspite of the drab that Micro is, even fun.

The PSM (Preventive and Social Medicine) Department, which has a practical once a week in the afternoon is a welcome break from the drudgery. It organizes field trips to Heath Centres, Malaria Control Centres etc, in an effort that we learn first hand what the Control programmes are like on the ground. It's still work, but it's good to get on the bus and go somewhere in town. We also visit a Soap factory, a distillery(!), a hand-made paper factory and a Milk factory to see worker conditions and sanitation etc etc. After the business part of the trip, we have some time to buy the paper if we want before heading back.
One time, someone sneaked away and tasted fresh, cold beer coming straight from a huge barrel. We are learning about mosquitoes, the size of holes in mosquito nets, which ones bite in the day and which at night and the killer....the many types of loos one can build.
Statistics, which flies way above my head.
All stuff we must know.
However, the Univ exam for PSM will be next year so we take it easy.

In the meantime, Spandan is approaching and the design for Vikrant's Memorial Trophy has been finalized. It is about a foot long and has a short pedestal with a person playing the guitar, representing Vikrant. We all think it's a good one and suits Vikrant well. The film show was good and with the help of contributions, there will be a significant cash award also.

The lead-up to Spandan is as usual. I am not in any particular Committee and will watch as much of this Spandan as I can. In the lead-up time, there is also a Quiz open to the College including students and staff and Rahul, Bong and I form a team. There is a prelim round and much to our surprise and delight, we make it to the top 6. The Quiz is being conducted by Brian Martis and he does a great job. There are audio rounds, vague unanswerable stuff, buzzer rounds and the usual Quiz things. The Lister Square is packed and we are up against some heavyweights like Dr J from Surgery and Dr Jai from Dermatology.
We manage to come 3rd and receive a trophy cup. Which I still have.

Spandan 1995:
What I remember is this:
1. An awesome rendition of "Too Much Love will Kill you" by 2 guys without instruments. Just vocals.
(It's the best version I've ever heard, better than Queen's).

2. We did a skit in Spandan and won something.
3. Ditto for Ad-Zap.
4. Bong and I come 2nd in "90 seconds".

90 seconds: This was a version of "20 Questions" started by a Micro PG, Sudhanwa. It was an instant  massive hit because one could ask as may questions one wanted within those 90 seconds, the winners being those who got it correct in the least possible time.
A personality, dead or alive, fictitious or real is given to one member of a team. One guy sits alone on a chair and has to ask all the questions while his team-mate, who knows the answer, is only allowed to answer in "Yes, No, Also and Maybe". Days before the event, Bong and I have worked out strategies and short cuts and have fine-tuned them to near perfection.
On the day, I mess up our last one and we lose by mere seconds. Bong is furious. We come 2nd. We should have easily won it.

5. The trophy

It's the last day of Spandan. The trophy has been on display in the Reception throughout the week and many people have dropped by asking for the background behind it. It's a new trophy and prize.
After 5 awesome days of food, fun and friends, Spandan is coming to a close. The last event of the festival is, as always, the Basketball finals. We are there seeing it, but are waiting for the final whistle.  When that happens and the noise has abated somewhat, the winning Cultural team is called. They know that they have won obviously, points having been tallied that day, and are waiting in the wings.

It's a proper ceremony, fitting with the significance of the trophy, with a photo of Vikrant, a few words spoken by one of us, and finally the trophy is presented to MCC, the winning team. (Madras Christian College).

Their captain delivered a beautiful acceptance speech. Straight from the heart.
Perhaps the most emotional moment in my time in College. I stand there, on the sidelines, wipe the tears and walk away.

Post Spandan 1995

Jipmer becomes a ghost campus after Spandan. Nearly everyone is involved in Spandan, in some way or the other and Nov-Dec means exams for all batches. So, while there is physical evidence of a recently concluded Festival, there are no festivites of any sort.
Lots of people, however, are in a blue funk (aka Post Spandan Sickness Syndrome) and this lasts for a few days. It's just a normal cycle of events.

Mainly due to Pharm class starting at 8, and my continued inability to get up on time, attendance has reached danger levels. The required cut off is 75%, a reasonable figure and with a token fine, it can be condoned upto 65%. I am hovering around this latter figure.
My views on attendance in general are not the subject of this blog.
The problem is that there aren't too many classes left to make up all this lost attendance. Another problem is that Pharm still sticks to it's 8 AM schedule, obviously currently oblivious of my current predicament. The ignorance will not last long.

The final part of Pharm is on "Antibiotics", a rather large section which will be covered by the Head, Prof S. Seniors have told me his classes are excellent and it's nearly compulsory to take notes. One or two classes later, I know they were spot on. He has the knack of telling you everything in a way that you can't forget and if you do, a quick brush of the notes is all you need. It's far, far better than KDT, our standard book and I take regular, copious notes.

Vinay has not taken notes as diligently as I have and some bits and pieces are missing for him. I, therefore photostat mine (the first time in College anyone will read notes I have made).
Path and Micro are winding down and we are approaching the end of this year. Send-Ups will start soon and a month or so later, the University Exams. I am bit on tenterhooks now with regards to attendance but I read anyway. I might not make it, but then, I just might.

One evening, after a test, my room hosts a party. A cassette of the Beatles I had borrowed from Shom (and who had borrowed it from Sonal) sits on my desk, it's tape having got stuck in the deck and looped out, the black magnetic tape lying around on my table. My Pharm notes are also lying on the table. My water bottle cap is being used as an ashtray and is half full of ash.
A few drinks later, we finish and go to shacks to get some muttha-paarotha (mashed up egg paratha).

When we come back, my room is on fire. 2 foot high flames have engulfed the curtains, the stuff on my table is either burnt or melted and it's scary as hell. I take my quilt and with some help, we manage to smother the fire. And assess the damage.
The water bottle cap is stuck on the table. It's melted completely. The Beatles tape is plastered on the table.
And my notes have been burnt to a crisp.

Note on muttha paratha:
This dish was made 24 hours in the shacks outside. One takes a few eggs, some spices, onions etc, paratha flour and then a non stop rhythmic "taka-taka-taka" kind of sound is heard as the paratha guy proceeds to mix all this up on the big stove. I spent many long nights in front of a book with this sound coming all the way over to my room, a few hundred metres away.
.............................................................

Someone (could have been me) left a burning cig in the "ashtray"......
Now I will have to read my own photostated notes.

As we progress, things start to look bleaker for me. My reading is fine, I'm passing tests and answering vivas but attendance is a thorny issue. In Pharm mainly. In Path, the attendance is marked in as "P's" and "A's" in the register and once, we manage to get our hands on it and change a few of those A's back to P's. Just old fashioned over-writing.
The same is not possible in Pharm.

Send-Ups come and go. I pass, but thats not the point.
Prof S, the Head of Pharm calls me to his room and with Dr G, informs me that due to attendance at 64.4% (1 class), I will not be permitted to write the December Univs. That is that.

So, I call up home and inform my parents. The reaction is more flabbergasted than anger etc. I am also a bit shaken and know that all my socks will have to be pulled up real fast.

I am given the option of taking Path and Micro this year and carry Pharm over till the next semester. However, this means that I will get 2 attempts in Pharm, which I do not want.
I therefore, tell the Admin that i will take all 5 papers (1 Pharm, 2 Path and 2 Micro), attend extra classes with the Additional Batch and make up my attendance.

The nest few months will be interesting....................

Chapter 37-Coming Back to life

July -InterClass 1995

My room is in neglect. Not one to clean rooms on any regular basis, I have left nature take it's course with mine. There are strings of cobwebs here and there, scattered books and notes lying randomly, yellowish bedsheets that were previously white as Surf and loads of dust on the floor. Some of us, including myself have laid mats on the floor in an effort to hide the dust. In my room, pieces of this mat are coming off and I make no effort to do anything about it. Clothes are strewn around.....the walls are no longer white. 

There is no way I can clean this up. In any case, the clean state will only last so long, so why bother? When the time comes and the room is unliveable, I shall just shift into a new one. 

The novelty of clinics, stethoscopes and being part of the hospital system has worn out a while back. It's an effort to make the 8 AM class and many times, this is Pharmacology which I end up missing. If someone gets there even a minute late, the door is locked and it's all a wasted effort. So, if I'm up by 740, I make the dash. Else, I get up at 840 and make the dash to the 9 AM class.

One afternoon, Dr G, who has an interest in ethics and loves a debate, has started one on "Organ Transplant". The conversation goes back and forth between her and us and it's getting a bit boring. I am sitting at the back, with my co back-benchers-Vinay, Condom and Harry (the only sardar in our class) and my mind wanders.
In the front row, Deepak is saying "....If something something happens then they should be screwed". I start laughing. It is funny after all and I laugh loudly for exactly 2 seconds before various hands are put on my mouth to shut me up. The class is otherwise silent.
He had said 'sued" apparently.
I am lucky I didn't get thrown out of class.

Another time, I feel like a nice big stretch so I stretch my arms wide....and find they dont come back. Vinay, Anup and Condom have grabbed me, and knowing that I'm ticklish, proceed to tickle me as vigorously as possible. It's torture that goes on a minute or two made worse that I can't laugh and I have to keep a straight face.......

InterClass is coming up soon and this time our Senior batch, led by Rama as the Cultural Secretary, is organizing it. What this means in practical terms is that they will probably win the InterClass Cultural trophy. (Nothing on Rama, but the Organizing batch were always the favourites to win).Our batch, however, has some very talented guys....a brilliant band which has won prizes in College and outside, the best guitarist in Jipmer for a long time in Moa, good skit writers in Rajni TV, Vinay , me, Vinod and decent actors also.
Ultimately though, I saw last year, the Cooking Competition can be decisive. We shall see.

This year, apart from the music, dance and the Skit/Ad-Zap, there will be a play. This is serious stuff, with plays marked on the quality of sets, props, acting, coordination etc etc. Vinay informs us that his brother will be dropping in from somewhere and since he has some experience in plays (not sure quite what), he will happy to give us a few pointers.
The play we are going to do is called "The Monkey's Paw". Roles are decided, many inputs arrive, some sought and others not. We decide to use one of the rooms in the College building for practice, far away from potential prying eyes and near the music Room, home to the percussion sets and guitars and amps.
Vinod and Shreya will play the lead roles and I will be the main supporting actor.
The play revolves around me telling those two about a monkeys paw which can grant three wishes. Interfering with fate not good, that kind of thing. It's a well known play apparently, not to me however, so it takes some time to get the acting and voice modulations done right. Props are brought; I am an old guy, so I have a hat, coat etc and in one scene, I'm supposed to be drinking!! Nice...

Our practice continues daily well into the night and Vinay's brother is great with lighting angles, gestures, expressions etc. It's great fun. After practice, I see Vinod and Shreya, now single, going back to Curie House together most times.

Our music band is hard at it too. Chakma is on vocals, singing "Neele Neele Ambar" (नीले नीले अम्बर), Moa will play some hard rock solos, Condom is on the bongo and Vinod will also play rhythm. We have good reason to believe we can win the Trophy this time. 

We just need to cook well. 

InterClass 1995

All events will be held on the stage in Lister Square, right in front of the ground floor of Lister Annexe, the shorter histel building at right angles to the main Hostel. This is where Spandan is also held, though then the stage is extended a few feet on either side. 

As usual, there will be Indian Music and Western Music, choreography, Ad-Zaps and skits. The play, which is still not perfect, but pretty good, is a new thing. 

The atmosphere is always great. The entire Lister Square (the field in front of the stage) is packed with various batches, all in very vocal support of their respective batches and equally vocally against the others. The vocal cords are lubricated liberally, of course. 

......

We have arrived at the Play. Our points tally uptil this point is close, but we are just in the lead. A good play will see us through.
We set up our stage. There is a chair at the corner next to a fireplace where I will sit when I enter later, a hat stand, a sofa and some assorted decorative stuff. Vinod and Shreya start off and a few minutes later, I am supposed to knock. I am also supposed to be wearing a hat which Vinod will ask for, and place it on the hat stand.
I knock, Vinod opens the door and he asks for my hat. But there is no hat because I've forgotten it outside. So, we ad-lib a bit and then comes my scene.
I have the monkey's paw which I'm supposed to describe going on the front of the stage and basically explaining it to the audience. There are 3 wishes this paw can grant, so I saunter to the front and start talking. When I say "There were three wishes", I notice that I have four fingers pointing out. So one is hurriedly withdrawn. No one noticed it seems.
I walk back, still mouthing dialogue and once I finish, I sit on the chair next to the fireplace. At this point, the drink I was drinking is supposed to be over and Vinod has to ask me for a refill. And so he does.
But my glass is still half-full ,because I didn't take big enough swigs while talking and walking. I just dump the drink in the fireplace with a flick, glass is empty again and Vinod refills.

That was my part, with three hitches. The rest of it went smoothly though I didn't stay till the end going over to get some Egg Chicken Rolls from Snappy.
We get some of the prizes, but the Best Play goes to the Senior Batch. No cribbing because the judges were neutral.
The Ad-Zap is difficult. There are no pre-suggested themes, one creates one out of thin air. Marks are for voice overs, coordination, acting and humour and we are good at all of that.
Unfortunately, 15 minutes before we are going up on stage, we still don't know what to sell. I am sitting in the Reading Room racking my brians when Vinay walks in with a black T-shirt with a green screwdriver on it.
That is it. We will sell "Screw Me ScrewDrivers".
The Ad-Zap is a big hit. Lots of innuendo to play around with, double meanings, laughs and great voive-overs (Some mine...:). A joke on the Curie "Pump House" (water pump) with suitable gestures etc. We win it hands down.
 That leaves the skit.
The skit was going to decide the prize. There are only 2 entries, one from us and one from the seniors so we know this is it. The skit winner will win the thing, simple as that.

We go first. Even though I, along with Vinod and TV wrote the skit, I don't remember the script exactly. But it went well.
The skit of the seniors is awesome. It really is. And that sets the cat among the pigeons.
Now, that was the final event of InterClass and we know we have lost. But, we scramble to the judges and tell them that we have one more skit (which we don't), and we need 10 minutes to get it on stage. Our reasoning is that even if we manage to get 2nd and 3rd (1st is now out of the question), we will win.

The problem is that, in 10 minutes, the mind only works in a particular direction. We write it, and are writing it and improvising it as the skit is being done on stage. It's called "Star Trek" and we open with
"To boldly go where no man has gone before.....The Ladies Bathroom"
"With Speed faster than light.....(Voice loud now), Fart Speed...(and a fart noise on the mike).

Someone has put a couple of shuttlecocks on the chest and someone else is ogling. Vinay and I create some script to go with this as it happens. Another guy is in a skirt, with a guy staring up and saying
"It's a jungle out there"...

The crowd doesn't know what to do. Neither do all our Lecturers sitting in the front row. We are having a ball though.
We get disqualified. Of course. But at least we had a ball.

Our Seniors win the trophy. Of course.

And soon Spandan will be here. My main interest will be in ensuring Vikrant's trophy is done and is presented well.
Life goes on as it has to, but thoughts of Vikrant are never far away.

Chapter 36-Schindler's List

Jun-July 1995

The idea of doing something meaningful for Vikrant unites many of his friends, some of whom are connected only through Vikrant. The core idea and planning for raising money for the trophy came from his class, with all of us, juniors mainly, more than happy to help in any way possible.
Discussions start with what to do, and when that is finalized, in the shape of the screening of "Schindler's List", logistics of that are being worked out.

Vikrant also had a Red Yamaha with the number plate PY-01B-3262 and it was lying just outside the Mess without an owner. Shom took over this responsibility and rather than selling the bike to a complete stranger, he bought it with Vikrant's father's permission. It is nice to see his bike at least still with us, in our hands.

Much of the details of the movie screening I don't know because I wasn't really there when the details were hatched out. I was there for the screening itself though.

.....We, many of us, classmates and juniors and seniors, assemble outside the Movie Hall, a one screen theatre like all in Pondy. The days preceding this have been a fremzy of activity, from posters in town about the show and invites to all the staff in Jipmer and other Colleges in Pondicherry. The cause is important of course and to some, so is the movie. We choose it carefully, Schindler being a new one and not having to come to Pondicherry before. This was the era before torrents.
The theatre could have been Balaji, but though I remember it well, the name eludes me.

On the day, I am responsible for getting people into their seats on time. All of us have taken on various roles normally done by sundry cinema staff. It's a highly personal cause to many of us. I am interested in the movie too, of course, having heard a lot about it and knowing that the print is brand new, sourced from Madras. I drift in and out, my mind not really on the movie all the time of course. I can see it later.
As the movie gets over, so many people, many not from Jipmer, come over and express condolences and wish us well. Thanks to the efforts of the guys who organized the whole thing, it goes off well.

More support has come in from his family and some from us. The details of accounts and banks are being handled by Vikrant's classmates and we are confident of having a trophy which will keep running through the years.
I know that when the trophy is finally presented, in Spandan, on the last day, between the Basketball Finals and the Rock show, it will be a very emotional moment.

It's been an exhausting and draining time for all of us. Circumstances one doesn't wish upon anyone.
With some direction for our defocussed, drained spirits, however, I am slowly getting back on my feet.

Chapter 35-Coming to terms

May 1995

I am back from a Summer Vacation that never felt like one. I visited Vikrant's family once or twice after and then it was time to go back.
Coming back, I am on the same road on which he died, on a bus from Chennai to Pondicherry, and somewhere I know that I will pass the exact same spot where the accident happened. I didn't go to Chengelpet or to see the site of the accident and so I can only make an educated guess. That is the only real thought occupying my lonely journey back to College.
The scenery seems so normal, so utterly normal that denial bursts through again. But then slips back quietly inside, replaced by mild despair and a very strong sense of "what if" and "why".

The College is also the same. What did I expect after all? I am dropped off at the main gate, and bag in tow, I walk through Osler House and stand on the InterClass road gazing at Lister House for a few minutes. Lister in all it's glory, with the volleyball court in front, the mess besides it and Snappy, hidden from view, further down.
I see my room on the right and my gaze shifts steadily left and stops at 225. That was Vikrant's room. It's locked of course. One thing we all learnt over time was to identify what locks each of us put on our doors. It was just born out of constant observation of seeing doors locked, their occupants presumably in hospital saving lives. Vikrant had a small padlock, a "click lock", slightly greyish-black and of course, all that it meant before was that he had gone out somewhere.
I trudge up the first floor and I turn right towards 225. There is now a generic lock, belonging to the Hostel. I could write cliches about how I expected to see Vikrant pop out of the room, book in hand, but that didn't happen. Too much reality has sunk in.  The removal of that lock, in some ways, was the final nail.

I put my bags and go in search of Rahul and Bong, who are back too. Shom is at work- as an Intern there is very little leave. He was supposed to have Vikrant as his co-intern.
I meet up with Vinay and Condom. The three of us had made the journey from Delhi to Chennai that previous winter together. The train journey starts in freezing cold from Delhi, shifts to a pleasant day across India and reaches Chennai, as steamy and hot as ever. On that trip, Vinay, whose father was posted in Bulgaria, had got 2 packets of Camels as a gift for Vikrant. A combination of cold and boredom ensured that they never reached him. We got an earful of Vikrant's finest.

Vikrant was a unique guy. As fun loving as any of us, he nevertheless had his sights set and focussed. He was that rarity amongst us, a regular reader. Every evening, regardless of when a test was, he could be seen reading his faithful Harrison's and over a few drinks later, telling us to do the same. He had this pinkish, crumpled shirt and a faded pair of jeans he used to wear often and was named "Clip-Clop" because of his quick, short steps that always seemed to be taking him somewhere specific. As opposed to the rest of us, aimlessly roaming around.
And he was an excellent guitarist too. Late nights, after a reading/boozing session, I would saunter across to chat while he would strum. Sometimes, I would just shut up and listen.

I look at a Neil Diamond cassette I had borrowed from him to listen on my partially melted deck. The album was titled "The Best Years of Our Lives".
The irony.

May-June 1995
Life goes on. Classes and clinics. The routine does help. Rahul and Shom have atleast started talking again.
We have completed General Pathology complete with Inflammation, the Complement system, Genetics, Neoplasia, Environmental Disease etc and have moved on to Hemat, a subject I fall in love with instantly. I even understand the slides and the peripheral blood films, the bone marrow charts and the many, many classifications.
Rahul and I created a pneumonic for the manifestations of SLE (Systemic lupus Erythematosus) which I cannot repeat here. One of my classmates was involved in it......

There are 2 months here between the end of our Vacations and the start of InterClass and Hostel Days and, of course, Spandan, a further month away.
There are class tests in this period, all Departments keen on maximizing academic time before the Festive Season. We are bombarded with tests in Path, Pharm (the 3 week version), Micro, Surgery (fail), Medicine (God knows what happened), OG and PSM. They all happen in sequence and all the studying helps take my mind of things. Which is all the good they do, more or less.

Vikrant was always a keen supporter of the Cultural events in the College fests, especially Western Music and over a few reminiscing sessions, some of his classmates and us start talking about how to best preserve his memory and legacy.
We want to create a trophy in his memory that will be awarded to the Best Cultural Team in Spandan. This is quite a big deal as the teams will have to perform across many events such as Indian Music, Western Music, Choreography, Skits, Ad-Zaps, Mimes, Acoustic (Unplugged) etc. Many teams come to Spandan in all seriousness and some, like the Christ College team are even semi-professionals.
We are certain the prize will be a valuable one and we know, from previous Spandans, that competition will be very tough.
We also want to institute a cash prize in the region of about Rs 50000 and we want to keep it rolling, not as a knee-jerk one-off. The trophy part is easy,raising cash will be a challenge.
Someone  floats the idea of holding a screening of a movie "Schindler's List" where all the proceeds will go towards this trophy. The idea takes hold slowly and germinates. Contributions come in from us and a major one from his family. The movie is chosen for its newness and its success.
We want to do this soon so that we will have enough time to get the trophy and the cash before Spandan. And so, it's fixed up for July or so.

I am happy something is being done to perpetuate Vikrant's memory and remember him perhaps the way he would have like to be, standing with his guitar across him. That becomes the design of the trophy and will be awarded in Spandan, on the last day.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, one day, I walk into Shom's room, just like normal. I sit down and tears start to flow. No words are necessary. None are spoken.

Life can change in an instant, they say. It can also end in an instant. But while its still there, we just muddle along.
And that is what we are doing.

Chapter 34...The Immediate Aftermath

April 24 1995-next few days

It's a blur, to be honest. Vikrant's room had been locked for the past few days and with no mobile phones in those days, I hadn't spoken to him while he was at home. Walking past his room now, inventory done and locked again, I allow myself to imagine he is still at home and will be back soon, chiding us to read in that characteristic way he had. It's a luxury I have for a few moments because the sight of Shom, Rahul, Bong and Jain, all Vikrant's neighbors brings me back to the reality that Vikrant's room will soon no longer be his and that he is dead.
Dead....My mind cannot process that word. The finality of it. The sheer irreversible, inescapable knowledge that I have to accept it, however I feel. There isn't much choice.

Of course we spend a few hours in rhetoric....."Why did he have to go so young? What made an otherwise so-sensible guy take a lift from a truck? How do I face his parents when I go home, a few days from now?"
Most people he was close to are in varying degrees of shock and denial, anger and disbelief. If there was one person who was "grounded", as they say, it was Vikrant. He knew his priorities, knew what he wanted to do in life and knew how to party. He wanted to do Medicine later as a career and had read nearly all of Harrison's, much to our amusememt and wonder. He was rushing back because his Medicine Internship was due to start that day. A day missed would have meant that he would be ineligible to write the PGI Chandigarh Entrance Exam, a very big deal for him since it is a top notch Institute, in his hometown, and one he (and all of us) were sure he would crack.
We looked up to him. Now we were doing that literally.

There were some practical issues. The body has to formally identified and brought back. I refrain from going to Chengelpet Hospital, an hour away, and some of his classmates, on bikes accompany a Hearse Van. Pammi, a senior and doing Radiology, is also there as are Manoj, Sonal and a few of his seniors close to him.
Vikrant's body is brought back to Campus and is kept surrounded by flowers. I still haven't gone to see him and Shom tells me how impossible it is to believe that he was a victim of a violent accident. There are no apparent outward injuries, no blood, nothing. In some ways, this is the most difficult thing to take.
A mind in denial cannot differentiate between this and a person sleeping. Outwardly, there WAS no difference.
I am devastated. I see the body and I am hit like a sledgehammer. In waves. Again and again.

The second important thing is that Vikrant's father and his brother, rushing from Holland, arrive. Within a few hours, formalities are completed and the body is put in a coffin. Accompanied by many of us, we make the sad, silent trip to the airport to bid a final goodbye to a departed friend.
What can be worse than surviving your own child, I cannot possibly contemplate.
The funeral will be held in Chandigarh and I will reach a couple of days later, starting a summer vacation that will be anything but.

I am very disturbed. I imagine making my 54 hour journey home, alone on a train with these thoughts and I cannot. I'll go crazy. I call up Dad and ask him to send some money for a flight back to Delhi, make the painful solo journey as short as possible.
There are many things to sort out. Many people had borrowed stuff from Vikrant-books, money, notes etc and all these are tracked down and recovered, mainly by Shom and put in bags. His room needs to be emptied and I take the black book case he had, with a few books still in them.
On every front page, he had written "In God We Trust"
We did, most of us anyway. But now that faith was being challenged.

The next few days:
I am going home. Dad has arranged an overnight stay for me in Chennai since my flight is in the early morning and he tells me not to take the night bus to the airport. There is no argument there.
I leave College and reach the Raj Bhawan where I am staying for the night. Dinner is brought but I can't eat. I'm just pacing up and down the room, not doing anything in particular, not thinking anything specifically.
The next morning, I am dropped off to the airport and a few hours later, I reach home.

Around 30th April:
Vikrant's funeral is over and I make my way to his house in Sector 24. His photograph, smiling as ever, lies surrounded by flowers and wreaths. I meet his parents and his two brothers, exchange some banal conversation about life in Holland and life in College, with our real thoughts elsewhere.

The sight of that photograph brings the first tears to my eyes. I am not alone.
I leave with a heavy heart. College will not be the same again.

Chapter 33-Goodbye Old Friend

April 24 1995-next few days

8 AM on that day is as vivid as ever.
I am woken up with persistent knocks. There is none of the typical shouting that usually accompanies this kind of apparent effort to get inside-just a gentle, persistent knock.

I open the door, dressed in a towel and a T-shirt. It's bright outside, a typical Pondicherry morning.
The news is broken gently and softly.
I remember not being in denial, the first emotion that usually accompanies such news. I do, however, recall being completely stunned. Even though it sounds like a cliche, it seems that inspite of a bright, sunny, clear morning, things are in sharp focus yet a blur. I shuffle to the loo in my towel, see Dr J, the Warden standing outside, see and walk through him and spend some time inside, washing my face many times. I'm afraid that when I come out, I'll find out I'm not in a nightmare. I want to just stay inside the loo.

Outside I meet Shom, Vikrant's classmate and best friend. He tells me that Vikrant's flight was a bit delayed and instead of taking a risk trying to get the last bus to Pondy, he managed to hitch a ride with a truck going to Pondy.
On that dark, unlit highway, his truck hit another stationary one parked on the side, no hazard lights on. It was head on. The news is that death was instant and the truck was crushed like a matchbox.The driver escaped.

I recall Rahul telling us that he heard a scream in his subconscious last evening when we were chatting and waiting for Vikrant. This he told us at the time, not now, and I don't know what to make of it. Not that it matters. Suddenly not much does. I am supposed to be in class right now, but nothing could be further from my mind.
I dress in slow motion, a few people milling about in the corridors. There is talk about informing Vikrant's parents in Chandigarh and I am asked to go across to the Director's office in the Admin building. The Director and a few others are sitting inside and I sit too, unsure of what they want from me. They know that I knew Vikrant and our families are acquaintances and this is what they asked of me:
"Can you ask your father to inform Vikrant's father"?

I stare at them for a few minutes, not sure I heard right. But I make the call and inform my father and from 2000 miles away, I can almost see what he must have felt at that exact moment. I convey the Director's message to him and of course, he cannot do it. It's the College's responsibility and I say as much to them.
I leave before that call is made to Vikrant's parents. I won't be able to take it.

There is no pandemonium outside. Everything seems as it always has been. People going to class, milling about near the water cooler next the Histology lab. The news has not made its way around yet. I wish to God that it was a normal day but things won't be normal ever now, not normal as yesterday anyway.
One person will be missing from his family, from the College, from his class and from our gang. And that person happened to be my guide, my mentor,  a senior and a friend.

Vikrant and I used to pass time listening to Neil Diamond and watching him strum his guitar late into the nights. Nights in Pondicherry were always cool and with the front and back doors of the rooms left open, a lovely breeze blew right through it. A glass of the finest and some munchies from Snappy or the shacks used to complete a perfect evening.
Many evenings were spent like this and often there would be periods where I had to put up with Vikrant telling me to attend more classes, read more and pay attention to clinics. In many ways, he felt responsible for me since our parents went back much further than we did (His father treated my father's father for cancer) and it was in part, because of him, that I was here in the first place. There were just the two of us from Chandigarh, a long 54 hour journey away.
Sometimes we talked about Vikrant's brothers, settled in Holland as chemical engineers. All of them and I were from the same school in Chandigarh with Vikrant being the middle son. He was the only doctor among them. He used to smoke occassionally, far less than most of us but this fact was hidden from his family, like all of us secret smokers. His elder brother had dropped in last year and Vikrant had spent a whole evening airing his room and clearing all the "evidence" of his smoking escapades. The one thing he forgot was an ashtray which his brother found sitting neatly in the middle of the room. While Vikrant tried to explain it away, his brother told him he wished he had known so he could have brought the 2 Duty Free Cartons allowed back from Holland.

Vikrant was a popular figure in his class and many of his classmates are gathered around the bike shed in Lister House, just below his room. No one really knows what to do and what to say. Some opine on how dangerous it can be to hitch rides on trucks, with well intentioned, patronizing  hindsight.

Finally, Shom, Chetan, Plaha and a few others open up Vikrant's room. It has to be done. I go inside too, with the room exactly as it was 10 normal days ago. The black book cupboard, the guitar, some shoes, the mat on the floor, his chair with a reading board resting on the arm rests, some clothes here and there, books. 225 Lister House, 4 rooms down from mine. And so is the ashtray, still sitting neatly on the reading board perched on the chair, Vikrant's Harrison's lying on the coir mat on the floor next to it.

I open the book.
"In God We Trust". Vikrant wrote that at the front of every book he had. I put the book down and go out.
There are no tears. I am in too much shock.

Chapter 32-When a Friend Died

April 1995

Our Summer vacations start in May and even though College life is better than ever, I need a dose of home to keep things in perspective.
My trip to Chandigarh is a long drawn out process. The first thing that happens is the ticket booking. So, one fine Sunday, Rahul and I hop on his bike and make our way to Pondicherry Railway Station, whose sole purpose of existence is to let us book tickets on a brand new computerized system. The line starts early and can be long so we get there early. At 9 AM, we are already 25th in line.  We use this time to fill up our forms, carefully checking train numbers on a board behind us, marking off the 2nd A/C box and counting the cash. As the line inches forward, we realize that the guy behind the counter has probably just learnt computing and so, it's all one finger typing for him. By the time we get there, it's almost 2 hours and I just want to get out of there. The reward though, a ticket on the Tamil Nadu express, is worth it.
The trip will involve a 3 hr bus ride to the station in Chennai, a 34 hour train ride to Delhi and a 5 hr car/train/bus ride to Chandigarh. I look forward to that.

Vikrant has left for Chandigarh in the 2nd week of April on a short break and I am spending my time partly in Shom's room and partly in Rahul's. They are still not on talking terms and this situation is getting increasingly awkward for me. Vinay, Bong, Mishra and Jain are the other usual suspects in our evening post-mortems of the day.
Jain has developed an Osho fixation and spends some time late night listening to Osho tapes while cooking Maggi noodles and trying to convince me to listen too. On the one occassion that I do, I'm a little high and Osho makes a lot of sense.

I have moved on to Surgery posting in Clinics. Ulcers, lumps, bumps, abdominal masses, thyroid swellings, hernias and smelly cancers on the unmentionables are the highlights of our morning. This is actually a fun subject and one I get comfortable with the fastest. It's a logical subject with none of the games that Medicine involves. At our level, things are cut and dried and I'm grateful for that.
Thats the easy part though. There are some super sarcastic consultants, some specialize in blowing your head off, some are style personified (particularly the Head) and some are outstanding teachers. Our classes are taken in the OPD where we present short cases, get duly screwed, make our way to the wards, take a long case and get duly screwed there too.
We read a book called "Das" which is a clinical "how-to" book and this is more than enough for us babes in the woods for the moment. I know that for the finals, we will be reading a book called Bailey, a brilliantly written monster of a book but that can wait.

23-24 April 1995

Vikrant is supposed to fly back tonight. His flight reaches Chennai around 8 or 9 and I suppose he will catch a bus back from Tambaram, a rail stop just outside the airport where a number of Pondicherry bound buses stop for passenger pick-ups.
We know that he will probbaly get something from home, perhaps some sweets, so Rahul, Vinay and I loiter around the bike area of Lister House waiting to hijack him before anyone else does. It's getting late though and past midnight, we assume the flight is probably delayed. We know that he is keen to come back that day and won't delay his arrival at all since he must join work the next day at 8 AM.

We separate around 1, each of us with classes to go to.

24 April 1995 8 AM

I'm still sleeping. A loud, persisitent knock on the door wakes me up and I stumble out.

I am informed that Vikrant died last night. At about 10 PM. Near Chenglepet, between Chennai and Pondicherry.

There is not much else to say.

Chapter 31-Kids, Men and Bugs

March -April 1995

Coming back from a holiday, however brief, is always slightly depressing.

Our Kodai trip, like class trips tend to be, was a make or break trip for some and I saw some "pairs" being firmed up during the bus ride to and fro, cemented by long periods of togetherness while there. Kodai itself was beautiful, but getting there was a 12 hour pain. There was plenty to do-rowing on the lake, walking around the quaint town, mustering courage to go down Guna Caves and soaking in the many waterfalls. Condom and Vinay managed to have a huge fight over breakfast when one of them threw a glass of water at the other over an occupied chair. There were emergency loo breaks in filthy loos, awesome guitar solos and not so awesome singing on the bus rides and breathtaking sights of the Nilgiris. The weather was cool, cold even, and the air was crisp enough to make me not want to smoke in it. And I did not-for the two days we were there.

But now we are back in Jipmer and are faced with upcoming realities of class tests, records, lectures to attend, clinics to troop into and attendance to make up.

My Paeds posting is over in a blur and I have a new found respect for the Pediatricians who manage to examine these sick, often understandably irritable kids with supreme patience. There is more than just that, however, as they need to know dosages of drugs that keep changing as their patient grows older, milestones in a child's development, vaccines...etc etc.
I am appalled at the numbers of kids we see with dehydration and diarrhea, with malnutrition and skin disease and am depressed at the sight of kids with heart defects and cerebral palsy. We need to learn how to diagnose all of this and if you thought hearing heart murmurs in an adult was tough, try a kid's chest.

In the meantime, the slog continues.

Microbiology has a unique system of Internal Assessment, one that I have not seen in my 1st year and, I am assured by seniors, I shall not see again after I pass Micro.
This system is called "Tutorials". Just as a recap, each subject holds class tests throughout the year (about 4-5) and just before the Univ Exam there is a full scale dress rehearsal called Send-Ups. Out of all these, the best 3 are counted towards Internal Assessment and the marks divided so that one gets a result out of 30.
In Micro, the tutorials are like a small group viva and they happen throughout the year too. So this year, we will have about 4-5 of these. The average of these will make up one test towards Internal Assessment. It stands to reason therefore, that one must attend all the tutorial sessions to make it count since an abscence is marked a zero.
It also stands to reason that if one misses a tutorial, it might make sense to just skip the remaining ones totally. So I think " Why bother? Why not just skip it entirely?"......And so, starting with the first, I make it a point to skip all the tutorials valiantly resisting all exhortations to "just go bugger, it's the going that counts".

Our Medicine posting is up next. Located on the top floor (3rd) of the hospital, it has 4 units, each manned by Heads with contrasting styles and personalities. The Head is a short guy, a Professor and always wears a tie which is reddish or marron more often than not. He has a reputation of being very fair in exams and is thus a popular man. He speaks fast, holds marathon ward rounds and I make it a point to wish him at every opportunity.
The 2nd Unit is manned by a serious looking Prof who wears thick glasses and is considered by many to be the best clinician in the Department. He is apparently very fair in exams also and if he thinks you should pass then you will. Also vice versa- a philosophy I would agree with unless I were the one being examined.  He's written a small yellow book on Ethics and Clinical Skills in Medicine and we duly troop over to the Co-operative Stores to pick it up.
Then there is Dr PR. A smooth talker, even if most of the talk is in Tamil. He thinks Medicine is Maths.
"So Doctor, this patient has a one leg and a big spleen. Diagnosis Doctor!!!!" He says this with a flourish. And according to him, there is only one answer. Which in this case turns out to be Polycythemia.
The posting is an Introduction to Medicine and it is here that our stethoscopes are actually put to good use. We are constantly told that the stethoscope is actually just the end point of a well taken history and a thoroughly performed examination, but who's listening when there are heart murmurs to be heard and stomach gurgles to be identified? I quickly learn that Medicine is a game, where each piece of information may or may not add up to something at the end. It's a tough game, made tougher by my incompetent Tamil.
There are subtle signs like pallor and even more subtle ones like clubbing. Needless to say, this is the point where we all turn into hypochondriacs to varying degrees.

The posting ends with me just marginally more aware of the subject than before. We are all expected to read the bible of medicine, a book called "Harrison's" and this is a more than a mountain for me. 2 volumes of double column small print with no photos and crammed with facts. It's a brilliant book I'm sure and one that Vikrant swears by, but even though we need to read the first few chapters, I give up after duly underlining a few pages. There is enough time for that in the next 2 years.

There are some rumours going around about Vikrant and someone he's met in Ramanathpuram. I don't ask however, and he doesn't volunteer so it remains a rumour. He will going back home in a few days and asks if he can get anything from home, but since I will be following him soon after for my Summer Vacations, there isn't really.
Shom and Rahul are still separated by silence and I am the mediator.

With Osho sessions and Maggi noodles, beer and Old Monk, clinics and class tests, falling attendance and Snappy meetings, the days tick by. Just a normal routine that was soon going to get a massive jolt.

Chapter 30-Of Ward Leavings and Melted Tape Decks

Jan-Mar 1995

..and so, after failed attempts at asking names in Tamil and getting used to stethoscopes hanging around necks, our 1st 4 week OG posting is drawing to a close. We are escorted to the Labour Room to get a close-up view of the nitty-griities of delivering babies and the like. There are 2 Labour Rooms, one called "Clean" (CLR) and the other Septic (SLR). At first glance, the SLR is FAR cleaner and quieter than the CLR, but the SLR is where potentially contaminated cases (mothers) are housed.

It's chaos. It's overwhelming. And it smells of amniotic fluid.
The CLR is opposite ward 12 and the corridor is lined with a few pregnant mothers awaiting their turn inside. A ward just outside has patients being treated for Eclampsia (Epilepsy in pregnancy). We enter a pair of swinging doors and are greeted by a freezer located next to the door.
We are made to take some guesses on what this freezer could possibly hold.

There are placentas. Lots of them. Frozen.

There are 4 rooms with delivery tables and a few doctors running around. I also see the Final Year guys I had seen in the Ward, looking even more haggard and stressed. It turns out that they do this posting for 14 straight days, sleeping for 3-4 hours in the hospital, going back to the rooms only to eat and bathe.
They are the backbone of the Labour Room and do deliveries, suture wounds, assist in surgeries and generally run around all the time. They are also exempt from all classes except OG. I guess that''s the only silver lining.
When not doing all this, they monitor patients and rumour has it that their records are seen by Madam A. Hence ,there is much tension in the air. Bad behaviour in the Labour Room can come back to haunt you in exams it seems.

Our Ward Leaving arrives. When I call home the day before, my mother imagines that this event consists of a party to celebrate the end of our posting.
Each of us is allotted a case and we need to take a history and present it to whoever is coming to listen. Marks will be allotted and will count towards Internal Assessment. The history, naturally, is to be taken in Tamil. No interpreters are allowed.
I have mugged up all the Tamil needed and ask away. As usual, figuring out the answers is a problem, but I'm catching on just a little,enough to fool my examiner into passing me.....
So much for a party. Till I graduate, there will be about 30 more such "parties", increasing in intensity and importance.

There is talk about organizing a Class Trip, now that University exams are a year away and there is some time. There is a toss-up between Kodaikanal and Ooty.

In the meantime, the usual happens. Classes go on, some without me, Snappy sessions are in full swing, almost never without me, and rooftop and hostel parties happen regularly, never without me.
Our whisky drinking is progressing. Starting off with a crude brand called "Bagpiper", which tastes like a mixture of alcohol and spirit, we've moved up to "Bagpiper Gold". This is just slightly better but indicates improving tastes and better appreciation for the finer things in life.
A Rum/Coke pre-mixed drink called "Cariba" has made it's appearance and it saves time and money since there is no Coke mixing involved with the Rum. It's just OK and is in our arsenal for a short time, till Old Monk makes a roaring come back.
So it is Old and Gold for a while. And the parties continue in the wing, once in my room.

My room is a favourite venue for some parties since I have a Music System, a Philips deck gifted by Dad. This has a double deck, a radio, but no CD. I'm in love with it and try to catch Sri Lankan Radio, succeeding only after numerous attempts have been made at pointing the antenna in different directions.
Now, this deck has a plastic casing and has sliding controls on top. When the slider is slid, there is thus a gap going deep into the bowels of the thing.
In one particularly rowdy party, late at night, Vinay decides that he must mix the drinks as a bartender does. Therefore, he takes a 7 Up bottle, opens it and shakes it vigorously, with his thumb partially blocking the opening, creating a fountain of 7 Up which is supposed to mix with the Vodka some guys are drinking.
That is the theory.A steady stream of 7 Up lands on my deck and makes it's way through the various openings in the various sliders.
That was the day the music died (for a while).
The music splutters and stops. I am really pissed (and drunk). Everyone is taking turns to screw Vinay but I'm more concerned that that my deck just died. Someone gets the bright idea that "After all, it's just liquid. So if we focus the table lamp on it, the heat will get the 7 Up out of there and the deck should work". This sounds plausible and so I focus my lamp with it's 60W bulb closer to the top of the deck.
The party over, the music stopped and our stomachs rumbling, we head off to the shacks for tea, egg parathas and other sundry stuff.
About an hour later, Rahul and I come back to my room.

The heat has melted the plastic on my deck partially. The sliders now are stuck halfway. But it plays!!! My deck stayed that way forever. Melted, partially burnt but working.

In another party happening on the roof of Osler House, Condom is seriously drunk. It's a full moon and he's going on and on about how he's in love with the moon. How the moon is so beautiful and how it's shining etc etc.  This goes on for a while and finally, some part of our cocktailed brains figures out that he might actually be in love with a person and not the moon. This is interesting and we spend the rest of the night pestering him about who this might be. He does not oblige.
In other news, Rajeetha and Phani are now officially a pair and very happy about it. They are often seen spotted in the library or here and there, but always together. So Phani bites the dust.

My First Ward Leaving Later...

...So that's the end of OG and the beginning of Pediatrics, about which my memory is extremely fuzzy.

Pediatrics is spent mostly in the Ward, looking at impossibly small and desperately sick children and babies. The Ward is on the 1st floor and just outside it is an examination table where I always see someone trying to somehow examine a crying, screaming child.
The Head, Prof S, is a stickler for breast feeding and we are reminded constantly about it's various advantages and how bottle feeding is the new "pure evil". There are posters here and there about this, along with a chart showing the symptoms of something called "Dengue Fever" and "Chicken Gun Ya fever" which of course, sounds funny at first.
The feel of the Ward is the same we encountered in OG one floor below. The number of people is twice as many, since babies are accompanied by mothers, some of whom look so worried and helpless that it's depressing when I can't answer any of their questions, mostly because I just don't have the answers.
I haven't mastered the art of "saying something but nothing" yet that doctors somehow learn. I keep quiet.

Pediatrics this posting involves more History taking and an introduction to examination. I see pallor, clubbing, malnutrition, heart disease, kidney failure, cancers.
It's just depressing to see all this in a kid. Yet, we have to, and will be examined on it.
One guy takes 6 attempts to start an Intravenous Line on a kid who is so sick he can hardly scream. Veins in kids are small and fragile, I learn quickly and this is a skill where Pediatricians are masters. This subject requires tremendous patience, not my forte.
I decide that I cannot do Pediatrics later in life.

Along with this, we plod along in Pharm, Path and Micro. Other lectures in Medicine, Surgery etc are taking shape. I always sat on the back benches in 1st year and that has not changed. It's fun to read the graffiti on the benches and then to contribute some of our own. One feature about lectures that has not changed still is that the girls and boys sit separately. There is no decree or rule about this but that's how it happens. Always. The boys occupy the Right and Middle Sections and the girls sit on the Left.
Some girls sit on the front bench and take copious notes, often pausing to highlight important points and using Sketch pens.....
It's remarkable how interest in a class declines from front to back.

Our 1st Pharm Test is announced. This will be a 3 week marathon. So I gear up and make a Time Table for it like a good student would.
And like 99.9 % of Time Tables, it's shot to hell and I am studying at the last minute.

The theory part is OK..At least this is an interesting subject and Katzung is a Godsend. The pracs are OK too. In the PharmDyn lab, we draw lots to see what experiment we get. Mine involves injecting an unknown drug into some tissue to see what happens and then identify it. Something on receptor actions on isolated heart muscles. There is a viva also, typically sarcastic which is the norm for Pharmacology.
We then switch to Pharmacy where I have to make some kind of a solution. The "recipe" I recall well, but the damn thing just won't dissolve. So that's that.

The main viva is terrifying. One on One with someone whose sole purpose of existence is to make you realize how little you know. And so, after a reasonable exam and like most of the class, I fail.

Back in the civilized world of the hostels, I see Shom and Vikrant on and off on their way to and from the Rural and Urban Health centres. Internship is kind to them for the moment and Vikrant is making plans to go home (Chandigarh, my hometown too) in April. They have a 4 week Elective posting after their Comm Med posting and Vikrant has chosen to do Cardiology.
The lazy bums have chosen such things as Forensic medicine, where all one does is see some autopsies and sleep all day.
Rahul has exams in 2 months time but this is not deterring him in any way from the usual hostel party scene. Bong has disappeared completely and is engrossed in Final Year.

One evening in Snappy, me, Vinay, Rahul and Shom are wasting time as usual. Someone says something and before we know it, Rahul and Shom are in a nasty verbal exchange. Really nasty.
Now, Rahul is much better built than Shom and so before it turns physical, Vikrant intervenes and the two push off. They don't speak to each other or even about each other. For many days.
This is particularly awkward for me since I know both of them so well, they were both (still are) good friends till a minute ago and they live practically next door. In parties, they don't talk. They don't drop into each other's rooms. Like they don't exist.

Our Class Trip has been finalized. We are headed to KodaiKanal  for 3 days. It will be cold and beautiful, the booze will keep us warm and it promises to be much fun.

Kodai here we come!!
A few days later, we come to know that we will going to Kodaikanal. Awesome. I've never been there and this promises to be fun.....