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.
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.
How did he die?
ReplyDeleteHow did he die?
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