when de dead delights de living

'when de dead delights de living'

prologue
'let laughter cease
let conversation flee
this is where the dead suffers to delight the living'
Theese are the words adourning the walls of the dissection hall of my medschool which houses both virgin medicos and menopaused cadavers alike.


For past so many days,i have been comptemplating with myself on the question of identity of the people i meet everyday,living and dead,or else half living and half dead.
A cadaver(a dead corpse put up for dissection studies) neither seems to fit into any of the above categories nor qualifies to carve a category of its own.
The imbroglio i have engulfed myself seems to drive me inquisitively insane so much that i no longer feel amalgamated to where i belong.
A lot more dead,a bit less killed and never ever buried,its(his) identity was shunting my brain to hallucinable levels of herculean magnitude.
The facade of identity is pandemoniously swappy as each man is a prisoner of dreams of others and rarely his.And defining one for the dead is all the more crazier.

Any astrologer would have overlooked many a mile on predicting the poor soul's future and people who speak on life after death will be dumb on what a cadavers fate is at the hands of God and doors of heaven............
Which heaven??? Whoose God???
Ram,Christ or Allah!!!!!!!
The case of a soul whoose ashes never polluted Ganges,never raised sandal smoke or wasted a 6 ft cemetry space may not interest many a God.
When answer to life after may tactically run off without an answer ,the question of rebirth is certainly out of the portfolio.
If given a chance,the man in his all conscious mind would never charter him a human life, i presume.

The lost identity of the dead man is no ones fault.If the news of your death or no news of your life does not interest the blood you leave behind,your identity is naturally at stake and even you might end up as a cadaver.
An unclaimed corpse after being deserted in the mortuary for the stipulated time is set aside for the medicos after the legal procedures and the formalin treatment assures that the corpse 'lives' for next one year.And this formalin treatment is the sole reason this unclaimed unburied corpse can claim any identity if so ever.
For me ,the difference between life and death is all about identity.
With soul and mind not counting, it is his body which still makes me believe he still commands life.It virtually lives with us all through the 1st year of our course.

My job is to kill him after he is dead and build my brain at the cost of the murder.It is arguable if i really feed my brain of any worthwhile anatomy lessons with this one year ordeal.
I see him being stripped of his limbs,heart,lungs and brain virtually pacing up the loss of his identity.
Each cunningham volume (the dissection manual) gobbles up one-third of de palate of little identity left with the man that too maintained by aged muscles and ruptured bones fastly giving way to the greedy scalpel.
The cherry on the top of the sadism is claimed by the callous act of castration of his manhood well preceeded by sexist comments of the gifted gabs.

A typical indian medico starts his dissection work from day 1 itself and virtually lives with it for the first one year.And any medical professional can trace back his days at the dissection table.
The ultimate friendships and the intense sagas of friendships start here.If it means that a dead man is the cause of a flock of medicos finding their best friends and first fiance,that is quite musing.
The ultimate identity a cadaver can claim and nurture is as a talisman who suffers to alleviate the suffereings of the human race he too was once apart of.

The most despondent fact is the way that this identity has trivialised by many of us who can never appreciate the life that lived in the man lying in front of us.
A monument need not be erected nor a ballad be composed to appreciate this service.
Only if we could rediscover that he too once lived just like you or me does now,we would be doing much more in redefining his undefined identity.

epilogue
Nawab rajendran ,one of prominent social voices of the last decade after his death had donated his eyes and his body to Trivandrum medical college for the study of medicos.A protest has now erupted against the authorities who then buried his body without actually using it for dissection studies.
A corpse with news value and glorified identity is not always the first choice.In a medical college where hundreds die unclaimed ever year,a voluntary donor is not always coveted.After all, we need just 10 an academic year for our scalpels.

00:45July 27,2008
rjV PROCLAIMED
rjvachas.blogspot.com
my bro 2 iz a medico nw @ calicut medical college n he ll start his cadaver work a week 4m nw. BOL! lil bro!!

glimpses of my lyf n thots

'glimpses of my lyf n thots'

Im nw posted in de ophthalmology dept which means i c many a face who cant c me.Der iz an increased uncertainity in de patients as a blind life is as better as dead and a basic assurance if given at de beginning does haf de job ,my prof tells me.2day i ws moven @ heart by a 6 month or so baby who ws still 2 respond 2 any visual stimuli.De young mother and de grandmother looked heart broken.In dis case wer de basic assesment of vision itself is difficult,treatment is a stellar process.Imagine never having seen ur mom,home or kids.can God b more sadistic?

Me along with friends r nw in de duty of running our hostel mess.I learnt quite a few things i would hv neva learnt in my normal course.For de 1st time in my life soaring prices brought me heart breakes.And i new de cost of a kilo of rice and a litre of oil.I new de ingredients of sambhar i had 4 last 2 decades.I understood hw tuff a task cooking was.Now i no a tasty dish is an art and my mom is a silent artist.and budgetting food bills was complex economics.I learnt 2 taste dishes n give opinions.I decided 2 tax my mom less wen @ home n decided 2 abstain 4m bad opinions on food she cooked. I decided 2 go behind de curtain 2 c her cooking n appreciate her work.i ll learn 2 cook some day.insha allah!

2day i had chilly porotta 4m a local hotel.i usually have this cheap n out of de menu dish which takes me back 2 my schhol days.it makes me so nostalgic dat i feel like running back 2 my school days.De weekend chilly porotta @ changanacherry aaryaas was with dat i had some of de best moments in life.And i feel its much more an experience dan a pizza hut or a CCD outing.We grew so close wid de hotel dat de dey used 2 reserve a seat 4 us every weekend.Even nw i hate dis fast food sotta outings coz i feel so disconnected wid my fellow diners tho i can easily act as dey do.Yeah, im so old fashioned tho neva artificial.

i have been closely following a PG mam in our college net cafe who is on matrimonial sites deciding her new second name.She was obviously reading all the responses to her matri ads and was constantly switching windows.I meet her so often which means she has tuff demands or an undecisisve nature. And she was blushing on a few guys while others received frowns.Lady docs have almost no choice than marrying a doc.Some of her classmate guys would come and pass a few comments as if why should she search when we are right here.she is defenitely on a hard job and i wish her all de best wid her ordeal.BOL!

IT professionals have swarmed in nos so much dat de city bears a new age cosmo look.Inspite of de big bucks dey make, i hv always believed dey live demselves into a stereotypical mould of people who work uncreatively and monotonously gaining little love 4 der life.De etiquete dey carry along is so substandard of der income n age group.I had a personel exp in de hotel near by wer dey wer chatting n celebrating as if dey wer on a pvt dining table much 2 de dismay of de fellow diners.Dey invited so many frowns dat dey wer a disgrace 2 de degrees dey carry.shame on u!!!!

23:55 august 01,2008
rjV PROCLAIMED
rjvachas.blogspot.com
'de wisest men follow der own directions'
is it true de other way around???

5 reasons 2 yawn @ Innathe Chinthavishayam

(review of the malayam movie IC)

1)The director has evidently scripted the movie on the lines of his earlier and remarkable work of rasathanthram.
The left over ink from the earlier movie reduces IC to nothing more than a near xeroxed copy of rasathanthram.
Well,a plaguearist may steal even his own work.
Both the films run on the same cast n crew which defenitely adds 2 the rasathanthram- 2 feel.

2) The script sux in the sense you feel you are glued n stuck onto some philosophy lecture by an old hog.
The dialogues have been penned in an utterly disgusting formal language that makes you wonder if anyone ever spoke his mothertongue in this fashion.
The attempt to pass a few morals to the audience is applaudable,but then we dont go to theatres for a lesson of moral science.

3)The attempt to potray 3 different families and their divorce sagas puts IC on a 3 movie course.
The story of 3 close frens ,all divorced @ the same time makes you feel sorry for the director who has tried an improbable story.
Meera's independant story in 2nd half makes you wonder what purpose it served other than a village trip to the crew n a desperate attempt to make a 3 hr movie.
That quite makes it de salaam-e-ishq of malayalam

4)The director has succumbed to some sort of stereo typical urge to potray all the blame on the 3 men who are on the verge of divorce for reasons ranging from possesiveness,extra marital relation to career restrictions on the spouse.
It makes you wonder if all ladies were perfect n the only good man ever was Mohanlal.

5)Though de booby butty Mohanlal has got used to our eyes,Meera the heroine has disappointed with an utterly unfit appearance.
Wonder why SRK n Bipz live on long workout hrs n steroid diets.

Both the music director,Illayaraja n film director ,Sathyan anthikad has competed in making the music not worth hearing or watching.

Defenitely,i did not love the movie.
'u can never love anything you try judge'
but then i should confess i did nt hate it either.

If movies were to be all thought provoking and not just to enjoy,IC could be a good movie.

It certainly leaves a thought for your senses to ponder on.At times a bit too much!

de ultimate suicide

suicide ultimatum.........
18 year old with 90% burns adorning her body, bringing an inapt yet subtle kerosenic aroma into the 11th hr casualty can be a gory scene even sans any worthwhile description.

Yet another sound sadistic suicide attempt failing to provide the final bang and solace to yet another bewildered soul.The ferrari had blown off in the final lap.

She is half dead if not more, all conscious if not less
muttering words of agony blaming her ill fate which would not even allow her complete a successful suicide.

Me, the junior most member of the unit expects the entire unit to pull up the socks and save the burning soul and body.Noone really seems to do anything except for a bit of exchange of words.
The unit was reeling on a glacial pace.I move up to my favourite house surgeon and ask him.He gives me that characteristic smile i too give my juniors.
"since even a 50% burn case doesnt stand any chance of survival,......i think you have got your ans.We have nothing much to do"
All that the unit could do was to prolong her death which might be very contarary to the popular motto " we heal"

I run out of the casualty fearing an overdose hallucination only to find the victims mother doing the perfect female byestanders act raising an aura of mourning.None of the people can find any reason for their daughters toughest decision of life which faintly points onto
a romantic humiliation.

My chief runs into the scene and explains to her uncle
"get the news to her near and dear"
Though the english translation fails to convey the mood and style,i guess its still audible to my readers.
The medico in me learns to concieve the ultimate message
" Get set for the funeral,there is nothing more we can do".

The only job for the attender was to apply some sort of cream on her body.Burns drain down the fluid level in the body creating shocks which wont end up with nothing less than death.The casualty which had seen innumerable deaths for past half a century geared up for its latest victim.The forensic dept had to be alerted and the death certificate had to be searched on.

I was back in the hostel and got onto the bed with a no: of thoughts all murdering my senses.
The young girl was stained chacoal black and the body had taken a complete fire shave.The words uttered were beyond recognition and that was a bit different from the familiar sounds the trauma unit knew.
But then you can communicate even sans vocals.
She was crying all in despair " let me die in peace"
Peace can mean a hell lot different from the way u knew it.

Next day i woke up late and my lady of the night is in the newspaper all in smiles.I could not get the face though the name kept echoeing into my ears.
but was the girl in the picture the one i saw???
oh no, i missed it.
This pic was taken when she was passionately carrying on her romantic career and not on the post mortem table.
rjV PROCLAIMED
08 March 14,12:34
rjvachas.blogspot.com

"suspected 2 b HIV+"

"Suspected 2 b HIV+"
De long wait @ physio dept: corridor ws disgusting n de laborious work of begging de teachers 2 sign de most untidy n incomplete of ur records is quite an art in itself.Waiting 4 something interesting 2 turn up,i could see a lady (dats a misonomer ,u ll find out as u read,if only respected women r 2 b called ladies)walking all alone 2 me.

De attire ws street cheap,de flashy red would turn u colourblind n u had run off 2 find other reasons 2 keep ur stare running.De sari ws worn carelessly enough dat its purpose ws minimal.De seemingly deliberate skinny revealations added 2 de momentary vulgarity,tho she din realise dat.De smile ws seemingly artificial,yet luring and de jewellary had run out of fashion long ago.De overdose lipstick sucked and de flowers on hair showed off.Even sans de walk,curls,curves n figure,she did manage 2 draw de eyeballs on de verandah nw dubbed her ramp.And before i could collect more details 4 u,she came near me n kept de smile running.

"Wers de jyothis centre." I couldnt make out de fucking tvm slang.I asked her 4 de slip in her hand.She ws supposed 2 b sent 2 jyothis ,de counselling centre in de college.
And @ end of slip ,de result read "Suspected to be HIV+".

Rather dan being sad 4 her ,i ws busy confirming de image i built of her in de short span of time.
She sumptuously offered me another smile n ws on her way.Wat ws she??? De guess of de porno monger in u n me iz rite.Not a call gal,if my notion dat call gals hv model like curls n wore bollywood still holds.And she din seem wicked enough 2 b de cruel brothel runner wid dos macho bodyguards aside,if de movie stereotypes r 2 b believed.Yeah i had 2 settle 4 a less sinful n more vibrant term,prostitute.But ryan ,hw can u b so prejudiced???,i asked de good samariat in me.

But i ws sure my guess ws all rite coz u can never ever ask a woman if shees a prostitute n morover, i always wanted her 2 b a prostitute.Or else ws de thrill of having talked 2 a prostitute all digging into me???
On my way 2 canteen,i just new one thing" de smile still haunts me ".i tried 2 plug in some music into my ears n i new i ws not listening.

But y did she smile?????????
"Ws dat her marketing tool 2 drive in de prospective customers?"
"Does she find de people in our college all de more interersting?"
"Were many medicos already in de list of her loyal clients?"
"O ws it her natural reaction 2 de opp: sex?"
"Or ws dat her ultimate fuck me tag?"
And i stopped hating girls who wore tshirts written "pls c my face also".

But den hw can she smile???????
Is she still not told she is gonna die soon???
May b dat job iz left fresh 4 de counsellor.
Or did she always wanted 2 die???
May b she thot death is a better option.
Or ws she de courageous lady hu din worry???
May b she doesnt leave anyone 2 worry 4.
.As dey say"it takes nothing 2 smile,so y not".

De path 2 canteen is over and de food n frens r beckoning me n i ws back 2 my senses.
De Akon music in my ears ws,
"nobody wanna c us 2gether,buddy no matter,no".
I refer 2 de smile n me if u thot something else.
Music 2 has reached its sarcastic levels.

Well,i had enough reasons 2 make my blog running.As my lazy lunch reached its end,i saw myself rushing 2 mythri park so as 2 catch de perfect climax 2 my story.Nothing happened n nobody turned up. I took de disappointing walk 2 de anatomy lecture hall.

Soon i ws in de evening bus 2 de hostel n as it reached de medical college jn:,n just wen i ws about 2 4get de entire incident,i happened 2 catch a faint glimpse of de lady hoos counselling session ws obviously over,but clear enough 2 figure out de 2 things i wanted 2 no.
"De smile ws still running
and she ws still all alone"

rjV PROCLIMED
2008 JAN 6, 00:20
rjvachas.blogspot.com