Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

  It was the nth time the junior doctors were on strike, and chaos ensued for us not-so-junior doctors! Back to the basics and the hustle-bustle of the on-call life. I reminisced about my days as a junior doctor in India, where a call boy with a quaint little on-call book dictated our nights. Sign, sprint, and attend – regardless of the sleep deprivation! Then came the bleep system, a shrieking disruptor in the calm of the night. It was as if my ENT qualifications had traded peace for sleepless emergencies. Oh, how I wished I had known the grim reality of on-call chaos! Maybe I should've just been a barista, serving coffee and listening to customers' tales. But duty called, especially on strike days. First up, a rugby enthusiast with a mangled nose. He scoffed at the idea of anesthesia, opting for a swift fix. With a deep breath and a crunchy noise, his nose was good as new – one satisfied customer down. Next, an elderly gent with a nosebleed rivaling a faucet. A quick cauteriz...

  As I called my next patient in, a sense of intrigue accompanied me, knowing he had experienced a sudden loss of hearing in one ear. A gentleman in his late eighties entered, his age evident but his smile radiant, calming the room. Throughout our consultation, he exuded a remarkable composure and attentiveness. As we delved into the need for further investigation, a sense of familiarity stirred within me. I couldn't quite place it until he revealed, with a humble tone, that he was the inventor of the middle ear implants widely used today. Shock and elation intertwined within me, witnessing a professor emeritus humbly attending an appointment at a local NHS DGH. Not only did he follow my advice diligently, but he also engaged in a conversation about the evolving landscape of middle ear implants, the advancements in hearing technology, and the burgeoning role of AI in modern medicine. His praise for my bedside manner and diagnosis felt more valuable than any accolade.His modest , hu...

  As the morning sun tiptoed through the curtains, I embarked on my usual morning routine, anticipating the warmth of breakfast and the comforting embrace of coffee. However, my journey downstairs took an unexpected detour when I stumbled upon the closed door of my daughter's room. Was surprised to see that her room's door was shut .She was at her friend's and hence I  was more perplexed.Then I thought it was probably my son's way of conserving the radiator 's heat and barged into her room , ready to conquer the chaos within.  As I busied myself tidying her desk and inviting sunshine into the room, my eyes caught sight of the telltale mound of duvet at the foot end of her bed. Ah, the familiar sight of youngster disarray—proof that tidiness was a foreign concept to the younger generation, unless it manifested as an obsessive-compulsive disorder. Satisfied with my efforts, I descended to the kitchen, only to be greeted by a bewildered husband, his words a jolt to my ...

  As Kiran and I sat in the  corner of the Mexican restaurant in London, we were treated to a spectacle both inside and out. The restaurant, despite its small size, boasted expansive windows that made it feel surprisingly spacious. The staff, oh so chic and glamorous , were like eye candy for all the patrons, offering a feast for the senses along with the delicious food. As I savoured my hibiscus mezcalita, I couldn't help but chuckle at the scene outside. London's typical wet and rainy evening had turned the bustling streets into a stage for a diverse array of characters. From the meticulously prepared with their umbrellas to the carefree souls embracing the rain, each passerby seemed to have their own story to tell. But it was the couple sat next to us that stole the show. A young, cute, white pair, with the boyfriend epitomizing the quintessential English gentleman complete with a neatly folded brolly by his side. It was clear he was the type to ensure his girlfriend's h...

  So, picture this: we were all geared up for a rockin' Saturday night out, ready to chow down on some grub and catch up with Akshaj, who we hadn't seen in ages. But oh boy, did fate have a twisted sense of humour. Akshaj's train got stuck at Brookmans Park station because of some random incident. No biggie, we thought, we'll just meet him at Hatfield instead. But then, the train decided to play a game of "let's see how long we can keep everyone waiting" for an extra 30 minutes! We were like, "Enough is enough!" and hatched a plan to rescue Akshaj from Brookmans Park. But as soon as he stepped off the train, it suddenly zoomed off without him! Talk about bad timing! We rushed to the station, only to find the road blocked by the police. Seriously, could this night get any crazier? But thanks to Gargi's common sense , she managed to break through the barricade and track down Akshaj at a nearby pub, where his phone decided to call it quits. Afte...

 In this age of phones so smart, Humans seem to play their part, Scrolling through screens, day and night, While their own brains lose their might. Phones can now do more than we think, While humans struggle to pour a drink, From reminders to maps, they guide our way, While humans forget what they did yesterday. Autocorrect fixes our every typo, But human spelling? Oh, that's a no-go! With each new app, our phones expand, While human memory slips through our hand. We ask our phones for every fact, Forgetting our own brains we must enact, While our devices get smarter each day, We seem to get dumber in every way. So let's put down our phones and reclaim our wit, Before we become just screens that sit, For in this race of smart and dumb, Let's make sure our humanity doesn't succumb! MKP  8.2.24

  Ah, that first kiss... The surge of electricity that dances through your veins is like a lightning bolt from Cupid himself, leaving you breathless and dizzy with anticipation. But alas, after that initial spark, reality sets in like a cruel hangover after a night of too much wine. The subsequent glasses of life are like a relentless assault on our poor livers, leaving us longing for the intoxicating euphoria of that first sip. Oh, to have every day be as blissful as that first glass of chardonnay, where worries dissolve and joy bubbles up like the effervescence in a fine champagne! And what about those first drops of monsoon? The air thick with the promise of renewal, the earth eagerly awaiting its quenching embrace. But alas, it's fleeting, like trying to hold onto water in your hands. The magic of those initial raindrops fades as quickly as it arrives, leaving us yearning for that fleeting moment of pure olfactory ecstasy. And then there's that unforgettable first walk hand...

  I've only been back a week, and I'm already on a first-name basis with Beechams( cough cold syrup/ potion). The local air is like a ninja, sneaking up on unsuspecting noses. Maybe it's the cleaner air's way of saying, "Welcome back! Let me gift you a cold." This cold has me reminiscing about my glorious KEM days, where battling bacterial sinusitis was as routine as morning coffee. Ah, the good ol' antral puncture under local anesthesia – a delightful procedure where we'd tap into the 'cheek' sinuses like seasoned plumbers fixing a leak. Picture the satisfaction as gooey, green stuff flowed out, a sight more gratifying than a waterfall. It was a dance of relief between patient and doctor. Today, suggesting such a procedure would raise eyebrows – barbaric, they'd say! But is it really, or have we just upgraded from medieval decongestants to antibiotic superheroes? In this saga of battling colds and contemplating sinus rituals, one thing rem...

  Us friends hit the town for a quick meal  on a day so crisp it could double as a potato chip. Sunshine, a pinkish sky ,great vibes in the air !  Post-ordering, still on an India trip mentally, my brain went full-on foodie. Reminiscing about kheer, pedha, barfi – the all time favourites and then, the fusion dessert  madness:  boondi-custard, ghevar doughnut, gulab jamun cake – it's like my taste buds took a Bollywood dance class! And let's not forget the ice cream scene – guava ice cream with a side of salt and chili, because who needs seeds anyway? Gulkand ice cream's riding the popularity wave too! Observing people order and eat in a restaurant is like watching a culinary circus. You've got the daredevils dunking pav bhaji with such gusto; the slithery sound is practically a horror movie soundtrack – "eeeeeks"! Then, enter the cleanliness squad, armed with sanitizers, treating their hands like they're about to perform surgery on a salad. And oh, the pic...

  Today marked my return to the grind after a blissful break in India. As I dragged myself out of bed, missing the frothy coffee and garam-garam nashta made by Mumma, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the workday looming. However, the radiant sky and rare warmth reassured me. Upon arriving at the hospital, I was engulfed in love and cheer. Familiar faces greeted me with, "Doc, we missed you!" The day started on a positive note, setting the tone for what lay ahead. As the day unfolded, a sweet patient brought a bag full of goodies for the entire team, accompanied by a special Christmas and New Year's card just for me. Her words expressed gratitude for the care and empathy we provided. I was genuinely touched, realizing that my impact reached beyond medical treatments. The warmth of appreciation melted away any lingering reluctance. It turned out my hiatus hadn't rendered me forgettable; patients and colleagues alike welcomed me with open arms. Boarding the fli...