In The Land Of The Pharoes.

I felt bad for ‘Egypt Air’. I think they did not even recover the fuel cost of our flight to Cairo. The Airbus A330 has a capacity of about two hundred and eighty passengers and there were hardly one fourth of that on the flight. The flight took off at 3 am on the dot from Mumbai and as the passengers were preparing to catch some sleep and make the best of what was remaining of the night, ‘dinner’ was served. It was 3.45 am! I never imagined that I would ever attempt eating anything at that time. But I was hungry and found myself looking forward to it! I had eaten my regular dinner at 9 pm as usual but the lack of sleep associated with the unusual activity during the ungodly hours - travelling to the airport, checking in, security check, immigration check etc etc - make one hungry. I greedily ate the hot dinner of rice, bread, vegetables, salad and dessert and felt much better.

We had left Goa in the  afternoon and had taken the 3pm flight to Mumbai.

I was extremely impressed by the facilities at the Mumbai airport and the

ease of hiring a taxi. By the time we reached my cousine’s place in Mumbai,

it was six in the evening. The Mumbai skyline lit by the setting golden sun looked

beautiful from their tenth floor flat at Mazagaon docks. I never thought that

Mumbai was capable of looking so good! 

Now, after the dinner, at a time which was closer to my breakfast time, I tried to

settle my head in as comfortable a position as possible and get some sleep. Many

passengers had stretched out full on the middle row of four seats and so had my

wife. I spent two uncomfortable hours trying to sleep and gave up. Then I paced up

and down the aisle for half an hour and kept myself busy with isometric exercises

till the breakfast was served and it was followed by the announcement

that we were approaching Cairo.The ground lights looked beautiful from the top and

we touched down at 6am Cairo time. I was impressed  by the courteous service of

the cabin crew and received some bonus bows on complimenting them. The Cairo

airport was a pleasant 17 degrees (as announced, but chilly for me) and appeared

un cluttered and peaceful.

We finished the arrival formalities and were soon on our way to Port Said. It was

about three hours of comfortable drive and even though the highway was very busy

and everybody were driving at breakneck speed, there was some order and it felt

good to be on the move. The road cuts through the desert but closer to the cities it was

a polluted desert with plastic trash littered everywhere. Inevitable result of the present day

living style and indifference towards nature and environment. Cairo was smart but the

small town ships we came across were as unkempt and shabby as any

small town in my own country. Bajaj three wheeler auto rikshaws appeared to be a

favourite mode of transport. After a break for coffee on the way we were home by

ten in the morning.

The town appeared to be asleep. Later I learnt that the town was really asleep. I

believe life begins here around one in the afternoon and goes on till two in the night.

I entered the house, looked out from the balcony and caught my first glimpse of the Suez Canal

and a ship just entering the mouth of the canal beyond the minarets of the local mosque.

Am I ‘Potty’ to write about ‘Potty training’?

One of my friends, a couple, recently made a trip to the US. This being their umpteenth trip to that country, the excitement associated with visiting a new country, the eagerness to see places, and the wonder and amusement of experiencing a new type of life had all evaporated. The only attraction in the US now, was their grand child who was two years old. They returned last week after enjoying the company of the child for three months. The highlight of their visit : Potty training of the grandchild.

From what I heard, I understand that the child was never without a diaper during its two years of existence and was only aware of the diaper being changed by the parents when it felt wet. The child had no idea why and how the diaper was getting wet.

It seems the grand parents spent a considerable time noting down the frequency at which the child got wet, timed it, and patiently sat in the bathroom by turns with the child, explaining how the diaper was getting wet and showing it to the very inquisitive child. The child, who I believe, was quite skeptic about the process in the beginning, soon got the hang of things and ultimately let out a joyous shout (I quote) “Yes, granny! You are right. I can feel it! It is coming. It is coming!” 

My friends returned to India with the satisfaction of a job well done and feeling that the trip was very fruitful and worth every paisa spent!

I could appreciate the euphoria of the grand parents very well and to some extent could also imagine the excitement of the child at its newfound talent. But an unexpected personal development, which happened around the time, put me in a much better position to appreciate the feelings of the child!

You see, I had to undergo a surgery in my foot to treat a minor ailment. The surgeon decided to do it under spinal anesthesia, meaning that they would stick a needle in my back and I would go numb below the waist. I was quite apprehensive about this ‘sticking a needle in the back’ business. But I was lucky to have a wonderful anaesthetist and all I felt was a butterfly alighting on my back and taking off. Since I was awake during the surgery, the anaesthetist kept me occupied with small talk. When they were about to finish, he said  “Let us know when you feel like passing urine. Rather, make an effort to pass urine. If you can’t, I will have to catheterize you and I don’t like to do it”.  

I was wheeled to the ward and shifted onto the cot and I lay there looking at the third bottle of IV fluid flowing into my body. After sometime the anaesthetist’s words started bothering me. It was the third bottle, meaning, that a litre of IV fluid had gone into my body during the past two hours. But I was not feeling an urge to empty my bladder. Was anything wrong? I did not want to end up with a tube to empty my bladder.

I was thinking about this when I vaguely felt a little wetness on the sheets under me. I wasn’t sure. My body below the waist just felt like a big lump of sponge. And I could not check anything as my hands were immobilized by the IV needle and the monitor leads.  I called the duty sister who confirmed that the sheets were wet, and in a matter of fact way, arranged for the them to be changed.

The fact was that, along with all my other senses below the waist, my sphincters were also out of action due to anaesthesia. Hence, urine was passing out as and when it got collected in the bladder with out waiting for my permission! I was alarmed. The anaesthetist’s words “Try to pass urine. I do not want to catheterise you” kept ringing in my ears. I decided to invest all the physical and mental faculties that were still under my command in to the process of feeling some sensation in my bladder and gaining control of the sphincter.

I waited another hour and knowing by experience that at least a part of the bladder must be full, decided to do something about clearing it. I asked the attendant for a urine can and with his kind help, put in a concentrated effort trying to feel my sphincters and making them obey my command.

After may be some five minutes, which felt like an hour - as the saying goes - I realized that it was not working. I was tired with the effort and was disappointed. I despaired and having resigned myself to having a tube in my body, was about to give up. But just then I felt a vague sensation of something happening in my abdomen and felt a faint feeling of something passing through some tubing somewhere there.  After another long minute, I could hear a faint sound of liquid trickling into the can.

Oh, what a pleasure it was!! Well, I did not actually shout “It is coming, It is coming” like the child did. But I was almost there!

Going Digital - Being 'Cashless'

It is little more than a year ago, that our PM decided to cleanse our economy by shock treatment and converted our cash to ‘Raddi’. He urged us to go cashless (There was no need to urge. We were totally, helplessly ‘cashless’ anyway!) or digital or whatnot and help build a better India. I don’t understand the connection between ‘cashless’ and ‘better India’ but there are many things in this world that I don’t understand. Since I want a better India I am trying my best to go cashless and use plastic money. I haven’t been very successful in that. I think that’s why I haven’t noticed a better India yet.  

Almost all my patients who have had the misfortune to step into my clinic and grudgingly convert ‘their’ hard earned money into ‘my’ hard earned money, prefer to grudge in cash. So, I accept cash, paper currency - which are usually kept folded together (multiple folds in a miniature purse, if the patient is a female) and are carefully separated using licked fingers, counted and handed over. I straighten them out, fumigate them in a formaldehyde chamber (to counter the licked finger effect) and transfer them to my purse.

Since the vendors of my daily requirement of pav, milk, vegetables, fruits etc etc and my other service providers like the barber, dhobhi, helpers in my clinic and also our domestic helpers accept only cash, there is no chance of ‘cashless’ transaction anywhere. ‘My’ hard earned cash now becomes ‘their’ hard earned cash, and it continues its journey in cash form. So, I have no reason to enter an ATM kiosk or proffer a Debit card anywhere but since my bank has given me a ATM/Debit card, I carry it in my purse along with the picture of our family deity. The card does not do anything other than increasing the bulk of my purse. I hear some banks are offering to print the picture of our choice on the ATM cards. If my bank can print the picture of ‘Nanjundeshwara’ on my card, I can have a two in one card and a slimmer purse!

Since I would like to keep up with the times and since our PM has said using plastic money gives us a better India, I intend using my card and have been trying to master its use.

My recent trip to Chennai, I thought, was an opportunity. I always carry cash when I travel. I hate to get stuck with a piece of plastic money, which suddenly decides not to perform its duties. That is bad anywhere but more so in a place away from home. People who live their lives by flashing plastic cards everywhere have been telling me that I worry unduly and need to change my mindset. This time I decided to change my mind set. I carried very little cash, just enough for the taxi and a cup of coffee at the airport. (You may say that amount is not ‘very little’ at all, but let it be)

My sister and brother in law live in Chennai and I stayed there for three days enjoying a unusually pleasant weather and free classical music concerts. I started my learning process of using my debit card with the Ola auto and persisted using it for the Uber taxi, Tiffin/Coffee at the concert canteen, tender coconut on the footpath and gobi manchurian and ice cream on the beach. It was duly rejected everywhere by the vendors and provided an opportunity for my B - In - law to take out his cash and express his generosity.

My return ticket was booked for the afternoon flight, 4.40 to be precise, and I was dropped at the airport at three in the afternoon. I hate people who arrive late, push aside others waiting patiently in a queue in front of the check in counters or the security gate and rush forward shouting that they have a flight about to take off. My curses follow them. So, I always plan to reach the airport well in advance. The smart CISF guard saw my boarding pass, looked at my identity card and looked at my face. Fine. Normal procedure. Then he looked at the boarding pass again and consulted his colleague - my heart started beating faster. He came back to me and said “saab, yeh aaj subah ka flight tha” (sir, this boarding pass was for this morning’s flight) I looked at the boarding pass and immediately realised my blunder. While doing my booking in a hurry to grab the lowest fare available, I had booked the 4.40 am flight and had arrived at the airport hoping to catch the non existent 4.40 pm flight!

“Aap Indigo ka counter me puchiye agar kuch ho sakta to” (“please enquire at Indigo counter if they can do something”) The CISF man was very kind but I knew that the ground staff at the Indigo counter would not be kind towards my stupidity. I called my BIL who had come to drop me, explained the situation and asked him to remain at the airport till further instructions. (If I couldn’t reach Goa, I had to ensure that I had a comfortable passage back home at least!) I ran to the Indigo counter and asked the girl there if  there was any possibility of finding a flight to Goa? She said that I could take the 16.00 flight to Bangalore and the connecting flight to Goa at 21.20. She said that would make me poorer by Rs 5126 but I would reach Goa alright.

It was 15.05 or 3.05 PM, 55 minutes left for the flight. Counters close 45 minutes before the flight. I had to hurry and I had no cash. Now was the time to use my plastic money! The auto rikshaw driver or the Tender coconut vendor may not accept my debit card but Indigo would certainly do.

“Can I pay with my debit card?”.  

“Sure sir”.

“Will I be able to catch the flight? There is hardly any time left”.

“Of course sir, I will check you in right away”.

I handed her the card. She entered the numbers and handed me the portable machine to enter my PIN. I did and hoped it was correct. Five seconds, ten, fifteen. The machine remained silent.

“There is something wrong with the connection sir. Transaction is not going through. Can you please pay cash?”

“But I don’t have cash. Is there no other way?” I was panicky.

“Sorry sir. I can’t do anything. But sir, you may get cash from the ATM machine here”

Using a ATM is always a challenge to me. Right from the correct insertion of the card, entering the correct PIN, answering its questions and waiting with a fast beating heart till my cash and the card are spat out the machine puts my physical and mental faculties to a tough test. In the mental state I was in, I doubted my ability to coax the ATM machine to part with its cash. But I had to make an attempt at least.

“Where is the ATM?”

“Near the entrance gate number two sir” (That was just about half a kilometer!)

“Is there any later flight to Goa?”

“Yes sir. 5pm. Via Bombay. You will reach Goa at 7am tomorrow”

Thank god there was some alternative.

“And the fare?”

“Twelve thousand eight hundred sir.”

I knew that was NOT an alternative. Seven minutes left for the check in counters to close for the 4 PM flight. I left my suitcase in front of the counter and ran to the ATM. Fortunately there was no line in front of the ATM. As I was about to rush in a small hand written note stuck to the corner of the glass panel caught my eyes. “ATM out of order”. I was jinxed, as far as plastic money was concerned.

My brain did not know what to do and allowed my limbs to do what they want. They decided to run back to the Indigo counter. I don’t know for what purpose. But as I reached the counter I found my brother in law standing next to my suitcase

“I knew that you were booked by Indigo. So I decided to put the car in the parking lot and came here. I have to pay 100 rs for parking but it is ok” He said. There was no time or need for any civility.

“You have cash with you” I asked eagerly

“Yes”

“Five thousand”

“Yes”

Oh what a relief! I don’t know why he was carrying that cash. There was no need to know as long as he was prepared to part with it!  My ATM/ Debit card may ditch me but god almighty (in the form of my BIL, presently) would not!

I snatched the notes from his hand, snatched the boarding pass from the girl’s hand and ran towards the boarding gate 7, shouting “excuse me I have a flight in half an hour” and pushing aside decent people standing patiently in a line -  with a cloud of curses following me.

I think I will stick to cash. I can wait a little longer for better India!

Politically Correct Course of Pranayama

A Pranayama course was going on in our sports ground.  About a hundred people were sitting cross legged on the ground in the semi darkness, shivering slightly in the early morning chill. I was walking along the walking track next to the ground and could hear over the loud speaker, the trainer talking. He was talking about the benefits of Pranayama, pausing every two to three minutes to demonstrate ‘Kapalbhati’. (trademark owned by Patanjali)  That is the usual pattern. I have attended these courses and know how it goes. It is somewhat like this. 

talk….talk….talk….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….talk….talk….talk….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….ugh….blah….blah….blah….ugh….ugh….ugh…. ugh….ugh….ugh….   If you haven’t attended any Patanjali pranayama course till now, do attend one. It is fun.

According to Baba Ramdev,  “Kapalbhati”  is the sure shot remedy for any and every ailment known to mankind. It is also a sure shot remedy for ailments which are yet to be known!

If you have high blood pressure, it reduces it. If you have low blood pressure it increases it. If you have loose motions it stops it. If you have constipation it starts the process required. If you are over weight it reduces your weight, if you are under weight it increases your weight. Sugar, cholesterol etc etc are child’s play to kapalbhati. So on and so forth.  

The trainer tells these ‘facts’ in a very appealing way, explains the technique of ‘kapalbhati’ and demonstrates it.  The desciples try to follow and learn.  (Actually it does not matter whether they learn or not as about 90% of the people who attend the course do not care to practice it later!) They are given a few minutes to practice and the talk starts again. This process goes on for an hour and the day’s session ends.

Whenever anyone speaks about Yoga, Pranayama, Ayurveda etc etc it is customary to exalt the virtues of these practices, which were said to have been (by default!) part of our daily life in the good old days, and decry everything supposedly ‘modern’. As I completed the third round the trainer started on these lines.

“In the good old days people used to eat what was grown locally and we were healthy. Now we eat everything brought from out side, full of fertilisers and pesticides and we are always ill” 

“In the good old days we used home remedies and local herbs to cure our illness. Now we run to a doctor for every minor ailment and swallow chemicals.”

“In the good old days we did our house work like sweeping, washing, drawing water etc etc and we remained fit. Now we have machines or employ others to do them and lose out on the benefits of such work.”

At this stage he got carried away with the good old days - modern days comparison and said,

“In the good old days we cooked and ate inside the house and went to toilet out side the house. Now, we eat out side and go to toilet inside the house”

Just as he said the last word he realized that he was talking against the ‘Open defecation free India’ initiative of our beloved PM, a political blunder from the point of view of his organization and tried his best to cover it

“Of course one has to use a toilet inside the house but one should stop eating fast foods and other stuff cooked out side which are harmful to health!”

I could visualize Baba Ramdev nodding his head in approval!

Note : Before the practitioners/followers of Yoga, Pranayaama, Kapalbhati and Baba allow their sentiments to get hurt, I would like to state that I am a staunch supporter/practitioner  of Yoga and Kapalbhati.  I have been practicing yoga for fifty years and have reached the stage of three hundred Kapalbhati a day. (It is just an ignorable side fact that I also take one tablet of Atorec 10 mg everyday to keep my cholesterol in check!)