The Voice of Love..
Can you love someone, a completely faceless stranger, whom you have never met, never conversed with, nor shared neither experienced the vibe of your existence?
I think, I possibly could.
The year was 2010. And I was struck in one of the worst year, any medico, could possibly think about; Just after you have graduated. Ironically, graduation should confer you a joy, a job and an immunity to the tantrums of the society, who had been, all along, questioning your parents and yourself, about your long and relentless relationship with the books.
But then, it just prolongs the unending experience, cajoling you to believe that, "..just one more year of hard-work will fetch your dreams.."
So, I was there, believing in myself and the lies, I told to myself, to keep the vicious cycle moving.
For the unenlightened non-medicos, we call this phase of life as pre-pg preparation or mayhem. I, personally, prefer the second one (mayhem), because, there's a constant chaos running non-stop at the back of your mind, about the non-existent future, at one end. And then, there's an intermittent reminiscing waves of nostalgia, breaching the shores of your precious, carefree and glorious undergraduate days, like an inevitable scrolling advertisement, flashing across your mind and grabbing your unwanted attention.
You are sandwiched between the past and the future. Yet, you are nowhere near the present. This is such a complicated state, brooding over your in-capabilities to remember the basic facts and to choose the right answer and failing miserably, repeatedly, given that you've just completed your MBBS and you have that proud "Dr" tag in front of your name; Yet, you see the futility in it.
Everyday's routine would start from snoozing your early morning alarm, again and again and getting up late and then complaining about the inept alarm tone to your roommate, who is also traveling on the same boat.
Some days see an early shower. Some evenings get lucky to experience the bath, once at least. some days, you just miss it completely and blame the hectic schedule.
Speaking of schedule, what is it actually? You try to sit down with a book and you are supposed to be recollecting things, you have read in the past 5 years. But given our habits of reading "swadeshi" books, doesn't actually confer any particular advantage. So its almost like reading the standard books of MBBS (4 and 1/2 years), anew, with some newly introduced clinical subjects, which you have never tasted before. All these and subsequent rounds of revisions in less than a year . How is that for a schedule ?
So you sit in your comfy arm-chair and try to remember the crazy mechanisms, names of the persons, drugs, diseases, signs, symptoms, and so many bizarre and weird things. The list never ends. Since remembering is never easy, you start by formulating mnemonics initially. After a while, this becomes a little obsessive, as your creative mind is constantly thinking of newer mnemonics, all the time. At the end, you end up remembering only the fancy mnemonics and the subject is completely lost in the haziness.
Amidst those, you do have your breakfast, lunch, tea break, dinner, late night coffee; the occasional weekly classes that release you both from your mental and physical prison; the mock tests that mock your intelligence, hard-work and sometimes both; the test marks and your nation wide scores that depress you like your lost-love; the determination you make up each and every time after a failed mission to rise up like a phoenix, which sadly, never materializes into action worthy of.
Some days, you are ecstatic about the number of pages, you covered and the number of questions, you religiously worked out, in the stipulated time. On other days, you are filled with the guilt of having wasted your time in day dreams and your inability to harness your full potential.
As those guilt-filled days reach their climax, I would switch on my earphones and tune into Radiomirchi 98.3 FM, blowing into my ears, "ithu semma hot machi". That's where I found myself, magically transported into a portal of unknown bliss. Her voice had such an amazing charm and a mesmerizing melody. It was so hard to resist hearing to her monologues. It was not just the captivating voice; It was the content, she spoke with deep understanding and sensibility as Dr.LOVE (I think that was her show). Paradoxically, I would skip hearing to the songs she played in between, and wait for them to end so that I could enjoy her speech for hours. It was such an un-explainable feeling that only very few can relate to it, genuinely.
Listening to her shows, all I knew was her name, possibly a pen name(just for the show). Nothing else. Thanks to the social media, that was not, as vibrant as it is, now. But that didn't stop me from googling her for more details. But I don't remember anything bout it now.
Living in the precocious age of 23, trying hard to understand the emotions and feelings, it was hard to categorize what I felt.
A huge respect for her sensible talks, an admiration for her clarity of thoughts, a mysterious liking towards her inherent unparalleled voice admixed with the magic of the dreamy nightfall altogether created an alluring aura, just around her imaginary imagery in my mind.
A crush is something superficial, usually drawn to the looks. But I had never seen her.
Can it be termed an attraction? Could be definitely, but to her unknown personality.
Love is too serious a word to be thrown upon here. But still there are different forms of love.
I think, I had an unquenchable curiosity towards her, into knowing her.
After I left Chennai to Madurai for my post graduation in surgery, I did miss her show very much. Such is the void, these people leave in our lives, unknowingly to them and us. And there are very few out there to cause a havoc in you.
Can you love someone, a completely faceless stranger, whom you have never met, never conversed with, nor shared neither experienced the vibe of your existence?
I think, I possibly could.
P.S. After all these nine years, I found her in my social media feeds and that's when I thought of writing this down, honestly, as much as possible. Because, I believe, writing honestly and mercilessly is the best way to relieve and re-live yourself.
Also watching a movie(kaatrin mozhi) in recent times, helped in digging this out buried inside me.
I think, I possibly could.
The year was 2010. And I was struck in one of the worst year, any medico, could possibly think about; Just after you have graduated. Ironically, graduation should confer you a joy, a job and an immunity to the tantrums of the society, who had been, all along, questioning your parents and yourself, about your long and relentless relationship with the books.
But then, it just prolongs the unending experience, cajoling you to believe that, "..just one more year of hard-work will fetch your dreams.."
So, I was there, believing in myself and the lies, I told to myself, to keep the vicious cycle moving.
 |
| Thats how you end up at the end.. Loads of confusion on and off the brain.. Loads of adipose on and off your body.. Some get lucky as me .. |
For the unenlightened non-medicos, we call this phase of life as pre-pg preparation or mayhem. I, personally, prefer the second one (mayhem), because, there's a constant chaos running non-stop at the back of your mind, about the non-existent future, at one end. And then, there's an intermittent reminiscing waves of nostalgia, breaching the shores of your precious, carefree and glorious undergraduate days, like an inevitable scrolling advertisement, flashing across your mind and grabbing your unwanted attention.
You are sandwiched between the past and the future. Yet, you are nowhere near the present. This is such a complicated state, brooding over your in-capabilities to remember the basic facts and to choose the right answer and failing miserably, repeatedly, given that you've just completed your MBBS and you have that proud "Dr" tag in front of your name; Yet, you see the futility in it.
 |
| The Work place, always a mess.. |
Some days see an early shower. Some evenings get lucky to experience the bath, once at least. some days, you just miss it completely and blame the hectic schedule.
Speaking of schedule, what is it actually? You try to sit down with a book and you are supposed to be recollecting things, you have read in the past 5 years. But given our habits of reading "swadeshi" books, doesn't actually confer any particular advantage. So its almost like reading the standard books of MBBS (4 and 1/2 years), anew, with some newly introduced clinical subjects, which you have never tasted before. All these and subsequent rounds of revisions in less than a year . How is that for a schedule ?
So you sit in your comfy arm-chair and try to remember the crazy mechanisms, names of the persons, drugs, diseases, signs, symptoms, and so many bizarre and weird things. The list never ends. Since remembering is never easy, you start by formulating mnemonics initially. After a while, this becomes a little obsessive, as your creative mind is constantly thinking of newer mnemonics, all the time. At the end, you end up remembering only the fancy mnemonics and the subject is completely lost in the haziness.
Amidst those, you do have your breakfast, lunch, tea break, dinner, late night coffee; the occasional weekly classes that release you both from your mental and physical prison; the mock tests that mock your intelligence, hard-work and sometimes both; the test marks and your nation wide scores that depress you like your lost-love; the determination you make up each and every time after a failed mission to rise up like a phoenix, which sadly, never materializes into action worthy of.
 |
| Can you get intoxicated with books? |
As those guilt-filled days reach their climax, I would switch on my earphones and tune into Radiomirchi 98.3 FM, blowing into my ears, "ithu semma hot machi". That's where I found myself, magically transported into a portal of unknown bliss. Her voice had such an amazing charm and a mesmerizing melody. It was so hard to resist hearing to her monologues. It was not just the captivating voice; It was the content, she spoke with deep understanding and sensibility as Dr.LOVE (I think that was her show). Paradoxically, I would skip hearing to the songs she played in between, and wait for them to end so that I could enjoy her speech for hours. It was such an un-explainable feeling that only very few can relate to it, genuinely.
Listening to her shows, all I knew was her name, possibly a pen name(just for the show). Nothing else. Thanks to the social media, that was not, as vibrant as it is, now. But that didn't stop me from googling her for more details. But I don't remember anything bout it now.
Living in the precocious age of 23, trying hard to understand the emotions and feelings, it was hard to categorize what I felt.
A huge respect for her sensible talks, an admiration for her clarity of thoughts, a mysterious liking towards her inherent unparalleled voice admixed with the magic of the dreamy nightfall altogether created an alluring aura, just around her imaginary imagery in my mind.
A crush is something superficial, usually drawn to the looks. But I had never seen her.
Can it be termed an attraction? Could be definitely, but to her unknown personality.
Love is too serious a word to be thrown upon here. But still there are different forms of love.
I think, I had an unquenchable curiosity towards her, into knowing her.
After I left Chennai to Madurai for my post graduation in surgery, I did miss her show very much. Such is the void, these people leave in our lives, unknowingly to them and us. And there are very few out there to cause a havoc in you.
Can you love someone, a completely faceless stranger, whom you have never met, never conversed with, nor shared neither experienced the vibe of your existence?
I think, I possibly could.
P.S. After all these nine years, I found her in my social media feeds and that's when I thought of writing this down, honestly, as much as possible. Because, I believe, writing honestly and mercilessly is the best way to relieve and re-live yourself.
Also watching a movie(kaatrin mozhi) in recent times, helped in digging this out buried inside me.
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