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Mysterious phone number....

I've been waiting for inspiration to strike, to write a mildly interesting blog post. But given that I'm in voluntary isolation mode, inspiration has been hard to come by. However, on Saturday this past weekend, I encountered a funny situation which I'm still trying to resolve....

I'm in that phase where I'm looking for a job, in the bay area. This means crazy amounts of networking, putting the word out in addition to tons of applying online and the like. In the process, I've given my contact info (email and phone) to any number of people. And while I try to religiously maintain a networking tracker, I'm lazy, so people fall through the cracks. So anyway, this past Saturday, I received a message on my phone from a number, i.e. there was no name associated with it on my phone anyway, though it looked vaguely familiar... So, here's my conversation with 'VFP' short for 'vaguely familiar phone number' :

VFP: Have you heard of this company, XYZ? I know someone who works there who's looking for someone with your qualifications (in Sunnyvale) and if you're interested I can put you in touch with them

This message was received at about 8:00AM (fine, maybe it was 9:30AM, but I was still asleep...) and I was, well, groggily, half asleep, squinting without my glasses reading this message. To my mind, the number looked kinda familiar and I was happy that hey, someone was thinking about my employability. I was grateful that I had so many well-wishers who were working overtime for me, while I was catching up on my beauty sleep. So, my response to this 'friend'..

Me: Just looked up XYZ, looks very interesting. Yes, could you please give me an intro via email? I can then send my resume and take it forward from there.

See what I did there? I had no clue who this well-wisher was, but I was semi-confident that I would know who this person was if I just skimmed through my email etc. After all, how many new people could I have possible made friends with in the past 2-3 months? Besides, as long as an email intro was involved, it would absolve me of any blame, really. The identity of my 'well-wisher' would be revealed without me having to go through the awkward exercise of owning up....

VFP: Cool. Would it be okay for me to give her your phone number? She is here in Austin right now, although the job is in Sunnyvale. I can ask for her email address too...

Help! So, my well-wisher is in Austin? This sucks because I now really have to rack my brain about who this might be.. I thought my search would be limited to the bay area. This might mean that I have to search long and hard for who it might've been... And how am I supposed to follow up on phone? What would I say??

Me: (no response... just silence, while I process all this....)

VFP: She said you can call her. Her name is ABC. I tutor her son (whose name is Ashwin funnily enough) in Spanish.

So, this person knows my husband and knows Spanish???? And tutors??? Who is this person? It's not my Indian friends, they don't know Spanish, leave alone well enough to tutor. I don't have any ABCD friends well enough that they might help me with a job search... It's also a non-Indian friend who knows Ashwin, my husband. My only non-Indian friends come from work.There's few of those, really and I'm pretty sure I know all of them.... So, it's someone from Austin who knows Ashwin and knows that I'm looking for a job, have moved to the bay and knows Spanish. I didn't think I could draw a Venn diagram encompassing all that info. I was pretty sure it would be a null set...

I thought about it the whole weekend with no results. I can't pursue the conversation with the potential contact, because I don't have an opening introduction line, i.e. 'Hello, so and so referred me to you...', etc..

And now I have to write to the person and 'fess up.. Awkward.....Yet positively titillating! Who could this mysterious person be? And how would I write my message?

Hypothetical message: So, I realized upon a second look, that I don't really know who you are.. It's so kind of you to try to help me and I'm really grateful.. But please could you reveal your identity and perhaps we can laugh about it?

Flavors:

It's time...

To resurrect this old blog o' mine..In case, anyone's wondering, it's been nearly 4 years since my last post. I moved to Austin in the interim. Worked on 2 postdoctoral assignments and moved to San Francisco two weeks ago.

What do I have to show for the past 3.5 years, you say? Well, I have quite a few grey hairs, a husband and 1 extra cat, I had Billi cat already, I now have a second acquisition, her name is Imli. Other than that, I don't think much has changed.  Although, I think I've become less conscientious, more shallow in life... I think when I was doing my PhD, I was a little more conscientious, I think I cared more about the world, my surroundings etc. At least that's what I feel...

But, in reality, if you look at my activities over the past 3.5 years in Austin, I've actually gone out more, participated in programs more. I guess the difference is that I've only thought about myself when indulging in these. It was either driven by the need to have fun, gain some novel experiences, take on some challenge etc.. My activities didn't really benefit anyone. At least, did not add significant value to anyone's life. That's probably the honest truth.

Everybody should work/volunteer with a non profit in life. I think it can add a lot of value, richness to one's life. I know that it did to mine. I made new friends, from different walks of life. I learnt a lot about leadership from there. I learnt new skills. I feel a little guilty now when I think about how I'm not actively doing anything. There's another interesting truth here- I don't see volunteering as an altruistic gesture or activity. Mainly because it makes me feel good about myself, adds to my self worth etc.

Now that I'm in the Bay area now, I've come across an interesting problem- when I looked up some places for volunteering opportunities here, I found that there are too many volunteers, so you get wait-listed. I don't think I have ever had this problem, it's frustrating. Everybody's too busy doing things outside their own domain. It makes me feel less needed, less special! Bah! Oh well, I'll find something soon enough, I'm sure. Right now, I have my hands full looking for a job and obsessing about the same. And, it's only been two weeks.... Maybe, I should visit the library. It's been ages since I've read a good book! And, I should blog more...

It will be interesting to see if I can hold myself to it..

A rather non interesting entry after a hiatus of 3.5 years, even if I say so myself. But on the flipside, it can only get better here on ;)

The humble Thayir Saatham

 This post is sparked off by a topic pioneered by a friend. She writes about loftier things here, I stick to the more local stuff, like my sad life, my weight, some inane topic that I spent hours thinking about, giggling to myself, like the one below....

Thayir saatham... oh the joy! The ultimate panacea.. the cure for everything stomach-related and much else! Although not too many of you know this,Thayir Saatham holds the keys to the 'meaning of life'. This secret was revealed to only a chosen few (much like Amitav Ghosh revealed his Calcutta Chromosome) and thankfully I happened to be eavesdropping by that celestial door :P. So here it is, the history of the humble Thayir Saatham.

When God left the humans to their fate, he left them Thayir Saatham as a parting gift. He (She?...Does it matter?) probably said, "And on the second day, the plague shall be wrought upon your kind (second day because as God was leaving he gave them some ooshi-ponna bajji, just for kicks). Your insides will churn and yearn for an escape from the tumultous grief of your stomach. Behold, then, the panacea of the insides - Thayir Saatham. Remember well, this gift of mine. Look unto it for all your answers." Shazzam!!! He (She/It?) left us to our fate, with a grand exit that we forgot in the furore over the gift..

Of course, he gave this gift only to South Indians.. We are deserving of a gift of this sort. All that coffee from studying, doing accounts, housework, gives us many opportunities to complain about stomach aches and acidity and indigestion ( A fragile folk, aren't we?). However, clearly we were so caught up in our maths and science that we forgot to safeguard it. We believed in open access policy back then (this was before the brahmin-oh so superior- era). So, we probably outsourced it to the Gujjus and the Punjabis who took out the rice and converted it into chaas and lassi, respectively. 

And, then we loaned some to Antonie Van Leeuwenhoek who of course thought it tasted and smelt funny and hence decided to look at it under the microscope, instead, along with all his other smelly stuff - tartar, morning breath saliva, diarrheaic feces, seminal fluid (really Anton, not a Christian, eh? )

So you see, if not for Thayir Saatham - we would never have known about bacteria, never have known about prokaryotes, never have hit upon eukaryotes after that. Darwin owes us one, for if not for us, everyone would have adopted the creationist theory. Thus, Thayir Saatham held the secret about the origins of life. Actually, it was meant for South Indians to have discovered that, but we were too busy eating it and celebrating about Aryabhata's zero and its significance in Mathematics. 

Thayir Saatham has caused nations to go to war, to redefine their borders...Take for example, Spain and Portugal.. Spain wouldn't share its sour cream... Spain took it to South America and when Portuguese came to Brazil, they were appalled that the freely available sour cream was not shared with them..Same thing with North American persecution of the Natives.. all for the sour cream. Even in its bastardized form, Thayir still wielded the magic..

Utimately, though, Thayir Saatham in its true form stayed with us, the original guardians. And we continue to look to it for all important matters in life. The gift of the Gods is still offered as 'dodhiyannam' in the temples, no South indian meal is complete without that at the end. In fact, because we so firmly believe that any worship is possible only on a full stomach, we use it to end our meal or even on our worst days, consume only that, so that we can truly appreciate the finer things in life. Songs have been written about its virtues, and poems composed in its praise, a sample of which is below: 

Oh Thayir saatham,
So white and so fine
You are a delight, the only one of your kind.

The Rich and the Poor, they both call you their own,
Your absence at the end of a meal, makes us feeble South Indians, moan

You don't support a caste, nor any creed,
Your ultimate aim is only to feed

Through you we see the might of God,
And, thus, we know that all lies not in a Bod

For appearances may defy the health of a man
But stick to you everyday, and conquer we can

Any diseases, any day -
Thayir Saatham, you make it go away. 


A post worthy of canonization....I say :)


Muahahahhahahahahah.........

Translations:
ooshi ponna bajji - spoilt Bajjis

Thayir Saatham - Curd rice :))))))

Did ya see...did ya see?

I got myself a license.... Hardly original, I know....

Really, it was inspired by Chutney's problems...

Great writer, that one! Oodles of creativity...

My blog is hardly a comparison, but I did the license thingy anyway. Maybe someday, I will have a major stroke of brilliance and actually post something beyond the sorry state of affairs in my life.... :)

But, here and here are something that I can actually take credit for... :D

Phew, three posts in a day. And all about mundanity....I rock!!!

On the other hand, I clearly will not graduate at this rate!!


Winter static

So, every winter, there comes a time when door-knobs, door handles, elevator buttons (metal ones), sweaters and on occasion, people, give me a shock. Literally... because of the static jumping off them making contact with my dry hand.

I unfailingly moisturize my hand a zillion times, till stuff starts to slip from it, but even so, the static always gets me...

As if everything metal was not bad enough, ze cat has taken to zapping me!

Here I am, coming home after a hard day's work and innocently, trying to pet Billi,with all the love and affection in my heart, and I get zapped by his fur..It crackles underneath my hand...

How rude!

Hmmmm, I wonder if I can moisturize the cat...Never heard of it being done, but it couldn't hurt, could it?

Flavors:

Short list of cribbable things...

In keeping with the cribbing spirit, below is a non-exhaustive list of some things I detest:

Bank accounts: Bane of life... I hate checking them, for one I never have enough money and for two, I ALWAYS find some charge that I don't remember and spend about 20 minutes of m life that I will never get back, chewing my fingernails, racking my brains about where I ma have spent the money and nervously wondering if I have been a victim of an identity theft...

Of course, anyone who knows my 'identity' would probably take pity and donate some money to my account.

Visiting the dentist: Hate it! I have not been to the dentist in over (ok, only a year) My annual trip to India ensures that I get the once over, my mom usually drags me there.....but its strictly a once over... no more than 15 minutes in that chair...

At the dentist's - disapproving stares over my mouth, with my mouth wide open and strapped down for benefit.
During the cleaning sessions, I usually ball up my hands and clench hard until my knuckles are white and the sides of the chair have a permanent imprint.... new meaning to the word memory foam there! Clicks of the tongue, followed by the smell of burnt bone or hair and this saw like device just edging closer and closer to your gum. I am overcome  need to move my tongue right about this time (!!!!) and I am always stricken with a vision of a hacked tongue, with blood and gore over my face and the visor of the dentist....followed by a bleak future involving impaired speech :(
And then I feel the intense need to slurp down my saliva, because the sucky thing is not doing its job well or so I feel. As if butchering my mouth was not enough, my dentist adds a lecture there and unfailingly ends with the floss angle...

I mean, who flosses, really? And does it really do anything? Besides the mechanics of flossing are lost on me.. Its bad enough that waxing, threading and all of these grooming things have to be taken care of... Now, add flossing to that list...

And I gave it a shot, once.. I tried to, with this minty fresh strand between my teeth. It was insanely boring. I don't really think it did anything much, besides it was 5 minutes of my day that I would be losing.. 5 minutes that I would have to take away from sleeping.. And I give up breakfast for sleeping extra. Flossing did not stand a chance! Ha..

I have a visit to the dentist that I should probably schedule.. My wisdom teeth are out and they are attacking the sides of my mouth with vigor everytime I forget and close my mouth. There is now a red, fleshy line on the one side of my mouth from the continuous clamping.
There is also the extra-sensitivity to hot water, cold water, sweets etc... But, so far, I have been capable of staving off any major issues by the folliwng remedies
1) permanent use of cotton in the one side of the mouth, to alleviate effects of clamping down on it.
2) use of only one side of the mouth for hot/cold beverages and sweets..

Sigh, I wonder if I can use anesthesia for everything... Even a blow to the head to knock me out would do..

Next on the list is the hairdresser,
All over the world, they are the same. I've tried Mumbai, Hyderabad and now Pittsburgh... First they look at the hair, and give you a backhanded compliment, sorta... Oh, your hair must've been very nice. Must have???? So, its not now? But, it once was? Really? I'm flattered and ashamed at the same time!
And then  there is the, do you 'condition your hair' bit? I always feel that my hair falls twice as much after conditioning... but out of deference to the hairdresser lady, I follow this regimen anyway :( So, I can be true to that one question.

Then the lady always mentions the highlights and coloring bit. Why me, I think? Growing up, coloring was relegated to the oldies who wanted to look young and dapper.. except they ended up looking old anyway, but also colored in places apart from the hair. Like the back of the neck, or behind the ears, or an extra little line above the forehead. Or you had the mehendi folks - my mom called them 'chembatta- thalai's- different shades of red-brown in patches of the hair...
Now of course, you don't have just the Godrej Hair color, or Godrej Kali Mehendi.. Now, you have L'Oreal and Revlon for men and women, so you can match the right shade of your hair color...

To add to my hair-woes, I, once did this 'locks of love' thingy, where they donate hair-pieces to cancer patients.. And to think I donated about 12 inches of my hair to the cause, very noble of me, so I thought. So, the woman at the parlor, braided it up and then hacked it off.

A rat's tail would have put it to shame :(((

So, much for my good deed... maybe a rat that was missing tail could have it?

I had barely recovered from that shock when I looked back into the mirror - what was left on my head was about 8 inches total from the highest peak on my head to the back of the top of the top of my neck :( Turned out that I had miscalculated the length of hair, it was not 24 inches as I thought, but about four inches shorter than that..

Sadly, this was a year and a half ago... my hair never recovered from that shock I inflicted upon it... Now it shivers every time I touch it, and I do so gingerly...because it sheds some with every touch. Not only that, two days ago, I saw three white strands ( I could see only these many, ok, make that five). I even looked at it under different angles, different light to confirm. Bah!
Widow's peak, here I come... Of course, there is no telling, what's going on at the back, since my overview there is severly limited.

So, I'm wondering since the going has been so rough for the hair already, if I should subject it to highlights, I will have to negotiate with the hair for a bit....The oft mentioned 'hair today-gone tomorrow' fate awaits around the corner. I hear death knell ringing.. :(

Last on the list, printers...

I think I have bad luck with printers... Or I must have some weird magnetic field thingy around computer accessories. Anyhow, they just refuse to co-operate. I have tried shaking them hard, thumping on the side, softly talking to them and stroking them, verbal assault and the ubiquitous 'turn off-turn on'. Not the best techniques, I know. But, I have already checked toners, ip addresses, connectivity, drivers etc. All is good in that dept. I can only conclude that the printer has an agenda against me.

Sadly, my laptop is showing the same signs.... I wonder if something contagious for electronics is in the air....

Anyhow, all of this is severely cramping my style.. No progress on the thesis, so far I'm still sitting on 20 pages of crap..


I would also add weight-woes to this list.. But that is deserving of an entry alone!

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So, I have been on a reading spree lately and have read two of Amitav Ghosh' Books - The Calcutta Chromosome and The Hungry Tide...

A word, nay a sentence or two... make that a paragraph of rant, about the former...


What were you thinking, Mr Ghosh?  For crying out loud, could you not have churned something other than a 'Raaz' esque storyline?
Until the very end of the book, what exactly the plot is no one knows...but the plot-like entity keeps moving on...
I tell you if Mahesh Bhatt could make it to the end of the book, he would tell you that its the perfect money spinner... This would outdo Raaz 1 and 2 and Sangharsh (I mention Sangharsh solely for its crazy factor in Ashutosh Rana.... I have had nightmares of the saree clad Ashutosh Rana doing the tongue sound thingy)

Once, back in Mumbai, on our way home from some event...my friends and I were accosted by a man, who was clearly drunk, but more importantly wanted us to take him home because he could not find his way to it.. He kept insisting that he was a well-respected man and had a lot of money, which he would part with if we helped him get home..

This was in my younger days, when my friends and I did not want to have anything to do with random strange men, especially since our own asses were on fire owing to the parental curfew that we were past by many hours. Hence, our thoughts were to avoid meandering... So, we declined poiltely, only to be subjected to some raves and rants by the aforementioned man. The man was not making sense any more since he no longer spoke about home but about problems with the world, the youth, poverty, class and so on...


Calcutta Chromosome is much like the drunken man on his way home, only no one knows where home is. Through the book there are unveiled references to a conspiracy that involves the rural folk of India - think Bengali Baba posters, like on the trains of Mumbai.. Now imagine visiting some such Bengali Baba only to find out that Bengali baba is a clandestine scientist... who not only knows the many truths of diseases (piles, fistula, hemorage, woman problems, male child beget problems, age no bar- sex bar bar etc) of both medical and social nature, but also about 'life' - the silent parts, the noisy parts, the parts where you are alive, the parts where you are dead and the parts where you think you are dead, but you don't know for sure...and yes, the farty parts too.

The story goes that some woman, named Mangala, in the late 1800's-early 1900's,(I don't know when, really, Ghosh's story telling will put a time machine to shame), hit upon the discovery that malarial parasites can transpose bits of genetic matter into your RBC's. This, while performing some tantric cure for syphillis involving the slaughter and spatter of resident pigeons. This transferee of the blood then showed  some but not all the characteristics of the host (I did not get this part, were they going guttar goo and making a lot of goo in the process, on rooftops?). Also, this happened because the flagella of the parasite was much like spermatozoic material, i.e. female anopheles mosquito makes up for lack of visible organ by unleashing her parasitic phallic self

And I use these terms rather loosely here, much like the book.... where is nothing is said in plain words, but mostly implied
.
This is like me writing my Forensic Pharmacy exam - long sentences, many conjunctions, some terminology thrown in for spice and whole lot of lawish language such as  'in the event', 'encompassing.... but not limited to......', 'will be subject ....', write it long enough and the examiner sleeps before he gets to the end of the sentence..Decipher at your own risk

By the way, did I mention that the above-mentioned method of chromosomal transfer is how immortality is achieved.. (Yeah, take that karmic cycle, even a bloody mosquito has more powers than you...) And hence Mangala or Mangala's future selves (?) keep rising to infect and impart immortality, to one or more individuals that they choos. And they (partial clones of Mangala?) also control the release of specific information to specific people at specfic times because they are believers of 'that which is unknown remains so, only so long as it is not known, for once it is known, that which was previously unknown loses its identity because now people are in the know' (I. kid. you. not.)

The story also has one sneaky computer called Ava, one that can squeal on you if you are not doing your work, (shudder), a gentleman called Antar (even my doormat has more personality than him!) who works with the sneaky computer, to whom the afore mentioned plot is revealed.

Other major players include Bengali writers (portrayed as esoteric, mysterious and as connoisseurs of literature) , British scientists (made out to be mostly bumbling men short on courage, balls. things that make a man, apparently) , some children (all of whom are 'Chucky doll' esque characters), eccentric men, even more eccentric women...and the enitity in the form of silence

Strung together are words like - malaria, chromosome, superstition, immortality, silence, in no particular order....
.
.
.
.
.
Move over Mr. Bhatt... Mr. Ghosh is the new 'Butt' on the block...


P.S.
If you thought I was rambling....wait till you see the book. This is only an orientation compared to the book..

P.P.S Hungry tide was a much better read.... for the vivid imagery of the Sunderbans and the tide people, if not for anything else...


P.P.P.S Seriously, this book was one big let down compared to his other works... Amitav Ghosh is an anthropologist and fact finder par excellence but the above mentioned Calcutta Chromosome was probably his effort at a Bollywood potboiler....

Ya wonder why they do it?

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For Alice...

Alice was a cat that was a permanent fixture in the shelter that I volunteer at. She was an old, cantankerous, crabby cat who ruled the top floor of the shelter. She did not like to be petted except on her own terms. You could never take any liberties with Alice.... of that, she ensured. And taught many an unsuspecting person, a lesson to remember... Alice, the pint sized cat, also browbeat many generations of dogs into submission or fright, if they ventured into her domain. Her aptitude at subjugating dogs was legendary, so much so, that we would use her to identify if a dog was hostile towards a cat or not. She was among the few cats that was fearless, would stand her ground in face of a dog....

Last night, Alice met her end at the paws of a dog.... it was an unfortunate accident.... that people could or could not have prevented... We will never know.. it happened too fast...

Alice is no more... she had to be put down because she was wounded in the attack....

I hasten to add that it was not the dog's fault... the dog has a well-documented history of hostility towards cats...
If anything, it was short sightedness on part of the humans who knew the dog...The dog will meet its end too, as surely as Alice met hers... just, under better circumstances..

I cannot say much about Alice's redeeming qualities....however, she was a comfort...I would sing nasty songs to her, and Alice would hiss right back... We had a routine, she would look suspiciously, at my kittens, when I brought them back to the shelter after fostering. I would stick my tongue at her, she would haughtily walk off....She would watch all the goings-on and sulk... She would look disdainfully at the invasion by my little kittens... and I would always wonder, why Alice could not be a little more like the other cats. Did she always have to be that difficult? But, Alice was formidable... and predictable.. And there was no small amount of cheer in teasing her, however, fleetingly.. She had a personality that forced you to acknowledge her. Regal, queen-like Alice...

Alice suffered a great disservice at our hands... she will be missed sorely....

And so will the dog...

Rest in peace.....

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Petition to indiblogger

 So, I signed up for this Indiblogger thingy.... and while they (ahem) go over my blog and stuff, I was supposed to pick out a badge from here that, I guess, most aptly describes my blog... I think... (yes, I hyperlinked....twice!!! I rock:) )

But, I was overcome by an identity crisis as I looked over the page....

I'm not a naturalist....dunno what this tweep thingy is...while I was enraged about Nov 26th, I did not bleed though I wont forget, for sure...
I'm not an indimommy (shudder!) or a rocker or a clicker or a gamer or a poet or an artist or a gamer or a writer or any of those.....

What I am, and I will take all the first prizes there are for this.... is a first rate cribber...

Hence, I petition Indiblogger for a new category.... - Indicribber...

And I will be the first to sign up for that badge.....

With pride too, for it has taken 26 years of practice to get to this stage... day in and day out, I have honed my cribbing skills and added skills like undeserved righteous indignation, hunger motivation, anger motivation, mood changes, sleep-induced complaints, laziness, low self esteem, egotism and other variables that all add together to make an unsurpassed cribber.... 

I can also provide an unparalleled number of references.... :D

My battle with the splinter..

 So,  about a week ago I was walking around at A&A's place...They have hardwood floors and all of a sudden I pricked myself on some stray splinter from their floor.

The splinter hit my heel possibly at an angel of 30 degrees and embedded itself in the center of my foot... You know that irritating region of the foot that curves inwards, where it is close to impossible to scratch if you itch, you only end up tickling yourself more...that aggravating beast of a center of a foot.... that's where the splinter lodged itself quite vehemently. 

I yelped for a minute, hobbled to the couch and proceeded to inspect my 'wound'. There was just a teeny weeny pin prick mark and no splinter to speak of, none visible to the naked eye of course, A&A were witness to the observation. I poked and prodded and picked the surrounding skin to check for the presence of said splinter.. But the problem with a having a foot that is quite hardy was that the skin felt a lot like rubber or leather, probably more like leather....and I could not for the life of me discern any sensation beyond pain, which I attributed to the afore mentioned prick.

Anyhow, I decided to be brave about my pain and in the face of some quite scar-inducing childhood memories - 
I've enjoyed most of my childhood, but only because I had blocked some scary memories that involved pricks and safety pins. Our household was always one for home remedies, tummy ache called for a recipe of buttermilk with some fenugreek seeds, sore throat called for hot milk with some turmeric or some honey and milk. Cuts and scrapes were subjected to some liberal turmeric dusting (this would always ruin clothes, but who cared at that age)..and well, foreign objects were always subjected to revenge by the wrath of the 'safety pin'. 
I dreaded these incidents, I would try my best to hide such incidents involving lodging of sand/glass/thorns/pebbles/splinters in hands/legs..But invariably my mom would find out and then she would wield her trusty safety pin mercilessly.. She would hold my hand or foot in a vice like grip while she ravaged the site of the prick, pulled some skin apart and get the offending object out and then to add 'salt to my wounds', she would use some dettol to 'cleanse', nay burn and cauterize the site. She would say something to the effect of,'it takes a pointy object to remove another pointy object'. I suspect she did her 'best' out of some misplaced anger at me.. Surely playing for 4 hours a day amidst the bounties of nature could not elicit such wrath....

Anyhow, getting back to my foot, I shuddered at the brief memories about incidents involving safety pins, thanked my stars and went about my business....Two days later, my foot still hurt occasionally but the skin had grown over and all that was left at the site was a tiny red speck like a dew drop and some pain..I thought nothing of it... For about a week I kept waiting for the pain to go away...and then when it did not, I had visions of some festering wound and gangrene and amputation of my beloved leg.. Only belatedly, I started to think about the possibility of a stowaway in my foot..

So, yesterday, I reasoned with myself, prepared myself to be strong, locked up the cat in case of possible spurts of blood, and laid down my non violence and picked up my arms- the safety pin. Like a seasoned warrior I fought with my foot and picked apart the newly formed skin, meticulously pulled it aside and I caught sight of the tiniest little end of wood, hiding in vain....I clutched at it with the ends of my nails and gave it one sharp tug, only to reveal a fully formed 5mm piece of wood splinter... 

I spent a few minutes just awed at the thought that this splinter had been residing in my foot for the past week or so...Then I reverently laid my defeated splinter aside and poked and prodded at my wound a little more to inspect for blood, instead I got some nasty looking drops of pus... I cleaned the site, and dusted it with, what else, turmeric. ( the turmeric was microwaved for some seconds in the interests of asepsis, I found some soframycin later)....

I glanced at the safety pin and the memories it held... and then tossed both the splinter and the pin...

Thus, ended the battle between me and the splinter...




Yes, I have a lot of time on my hands...


No, I don't have anything happening in my life... its pretty stagnant right about now...

No, I did not toss the splinter, not really, I feel a kinship with the splinter...after all, it did spend a week in my foot....but I did toss the pin, the instrument of evil...

Who I am

livewire24
livewire24

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