Monkey business

Bang in the middle of it all. That’s where the hospital chapel is. With doors wide open for the tears, the sighs of exhaustion, the hearts filled with gratitude, the searching souls.

When I walk past the beautiful chapel, I am filled with respect for this hospital. Respect for those who positioned the chapel in the centre. For those who know that the ministry must extend to the soul. That help is limited and hope eternal.

The last time I went though, I had little time for uplifting thought or soul-searching. I was too busy shushing, scolding and watching over my two-year-old.

“Suffer the little children to come unto me.” - and we faithfully obey. But what after?

Besotted

Some time back, a friend of mine, who had come back after 10 years in the US, told me that she, born and brought up in India, was finding it difficult to cope. Her children, aged nine and six, who had spent all their lives in the US were, on the contrary, very happy. She remarked that adults sorely missed everyday comforts like uninterrupted power supply while children enjoyed simple pleasures like meeting lots of friendly people on the street and being able to run to your neighbour’s house without an appointment.

Be like a child. Live in the moment. Never lose your sense of wonder. Words we read in inspirational books and soon forget.

Matchbox magic

It’s dark, dingy and has a depressing air to it. Years from now, were I to walk into the Men Interns' Quarters, where I spend two of the initial years of my marriage, I may find it difficult to imagine the life I had in my match-box room with its attached bathroom within the box. Yet, whenever I go back, to meet an old friend or for a meal when my help's ditched me, I can feel myself smile. Smile with feelings akin to those associated with homecoming.

I can think of no sensible explanation for the reaction.

Talking shop!

Its 2.25 am. I should be in bed curled up with my husband and my little one but here I am banging away at the keys. I need to ventilate; to ask. Why are doctors so boring?

(Or maybe that’s just what I ask when I fool myself. Is it my life that’s boring?)

If I were to put my irritation aside, I could admit that I know many interesting doctors – apart from the one I married - and that my life also has many wonderful days. But I choose not to. Today, right now, I am hugely irritated.