A day in the life

It was 1630 hours. I had half an hour left before I made my escape from the ward.I had made myself a terrible cup of coffee, lukewarm and super-sweet, trying to ignore the coffee and concentrate on the caffeine.
Starting at 8, I sleep walked to the hospital in the bitter cold, crushing the thin,stiff sheet of stillborn snow on the grass,bemused to observe that my bum had turn numb in the cold.As was usual,I had woken up unprepared, slightly late and tired.Ironed my clothes desperately with the cheap stem iron, and said my prayers running.Hungry and stinging from a hurried shave with an old razor, I reached the ward and fond that my colleague's car had "broken down" once again.That left the two of us to man a post designed for the services of six men.
Avalanched with strange and perplexing jobs by the nurses, I snapped more than once, raving and ranting that I needed to get out of this shithole, I needed to get back to my warm country, I needed to die.
I smiled politely at patients walking around, dragging their intravenous lines behind them.Some out of the jaws of death, wearing death metal t-shirts. I flirted with a pretty young nurse, and went for a couple of clandestine cigarette breaks with her,sweet moments of self harm between the hours spent working like a zombie.
I smirked as I said "sharp scratch coming" before I plunged the needle in. I felt nothing.
I made myself buttered toast as I waited for the radiogy results to come in.
Then, at half past four, all the jobs were done, and I was free at last. Nothing to do but hide away till the next man came in and took over. Not my headache anymore.Switch off the bleep and be my own man.Get drunk and watch a few shows on BBC-4.

Then Arlene came into the doctor's room and told me that Peter Laughton had died.
She wanted me to confirm his death.
Peter was in his early 50s, and till a few weeks back had been leading an unremarkable life,newly retired and looking after his grandchild. He looked in his early forties and had been admitted with a short history of feeling unwell, with pain in his flank and little else.
The next day he was told that he had advanced kidney cancer,rapidly multiplying in his lungs, liver and brain, and he was doomed.
That was a week back.
I asked his wife and two daughters to wait in the doctor's room while I went in.
It felt slightly creepy, so I took Arlene in with me. There he was. I remembered just two days back, sitting at the bedside, mechanically saying "sharp scratch coming" before I plunged the needle in. He said "why now?. why this hospital, this town of all places?"
I stayed silent and tried to look professional. After a three year expeience of dealing with the dead and the dying,I still felt inadeqate.
He was unblinking and his mouth was half-open. I felt his pulses, listened to his chest and shone light in his eyes
"I went to examine Mr Laughton, and I am very sorry to tell you that he has died" I quickly mouthed the mentally rehearsed line to his family."If you want to be with him, we shall wait. we will give you some time alone". His daughters, red eyed and tired,nodded silently.
It was 20 minutes past 5.I wanted to ring up home and speak to my parents.Cursing my luck for being late again,I hurried to my room, and left that world behind
The only conection being that I have to fill in his death certificate tommorow by 10 a.m.

vikramaditya and the betaal conundrum

ok this is the story as far as i know....there's this couple, theyre childless, not for want of trying, thoi. theyve tried it every which way, doggie, froggie, maggie(who was a very nice lady who was secretary to the malkin at the big house, and tho they did have a very exciting menage a quatre together, nothing really came out of it).
so deep dudgeon. despondency, despair, and gloom.fertility is universal, and in india, women are so fertile, u pass them on the street , they get pregnant(actual quote from my gynaec boss, and he shud know!)so major backbiting by the nighbours. ladies saying mean stuff at parties, husband chided at the local pub, wife shamed at village tap, the works.someone says something abt how she was less of a woman because her womb was barren.and she's depressed, of course. as hell. this is india, and everyone has babies, or is on their way! and the gender equations in it ensure that she gets the brunt the poor lady.he's taken to golf,she's started playing cards, and losing quite a bit. the sex is not as inventivce, but is still quite fun. (YAY!)
then wandering mendicant. comes to village.matted hair. ash smeared body.genitals on public display. chillum in hand. year worth of malana cream in rucksack. red eyes, no clearine. says he can help them.just get wife naked, get her to come to his room. major prevarication.husband wants a menage a trios, wife says that might dilute the issue, and in turn, dilute their own issue.finally, they consent. she comes to his bedchamber in true mahabharata style, and they roll in the sack. also true mahabharata style??? i wonder.... hmmmmm..... the sex is great. all that tantric sex guides that they distributed at the chai shop in kanchenjunga, they helped. the man goes on and on. the woman's screams keep the whole village up, most of the night. and i mean that they cud not sleep, u naughty person!the lady who made the nasty statemnt looks over at the sleeping form of her hubby, snoring gently, blowing small spit bubbles in his sleep.overweight and gross, his pajama flutters briefly, alive in the breeze of his dal-fuelled flatulence.well, sadhu smokes a fag, rolls over and goes to sleep, while woman is expectant,(not expecting tho). and the dogs finally settle down from their furious barking. the sadhu finally wakes up in morning, has a little pillow talk, coffee, and tells her to wait in nine months, leaves.nothing happens.
ok that l;ast para, not how the story went. but was just there to spice things up a bit.childless couple, sadhu came, wily, cunning looking guy. talks abt curing their problem. u want a kid, i can help u! etc etc. so he gives her a fruit/berry/nut/mantra/position/pill that she must eat/chant/try out/swallow.she will become pregnant, but there's the rider(sin't there always?). when the kid is 14, the sage wants him back.the couple is ok, we'll cross the bridge when we , etc etc. now just give us the kid. and begone,. odious wasp, unless u wanna stay and make it a menage a canq tonite, the malkin is coming over, with the luscious ms maggie.
sure enuff, nine months , and bonny baby boy.smart, fast learner, and curious dark eyes. recites the vedas soon, speaks in sanskrit to his teacher, no big deal, everyone does that, but starts to talk to him in arabic, and in russian, afterward. the culprit, they find is the back issues of misha that they had stashed under the cupboard. parents majorly proud. dad at cocktail parties starts to take his sone along, shows off his prowess at math(so akaash, wat was 37 times 167 again, beta??).kid's an insufferable prick, starts doing partial differentials when he's 11 and all that.
mom is adoring, takes him down to the tap, and shows him off there. and how is ure son, lalita?(bitchy woman). is he writing his inter again this year? don't they have a ceiling on age??? and how is ure husband(the snorer)? does he still have that problem with his hemmorhoids? and wat of those papoaverine shots that he's getting?must be beastly painful, having to take an injection THERE, (giggles).
in short, all happy and khush.
then the sage comes back. its been 14 years, they passed in a blink, where does the time go??he asks for the kid. the parents demur. then they say kid's dead, when that fails, they produce another kid: impersonation. sage is not impressed, he wants the same kid. then they bluster, then cajole, then bribe. all to no avail. u promised, says the sage, and u know wat? he's got a point really. very rumpelstiltskin-esque and all that.anyway, parents are finally forced to give the kid away.lots of heartbreak, and moving violin music, mother is prostrate at the threshold of the house, dad is already hitting the bottle, but we have no time to look at that now.
the child is with the sage, who, strangely enuff is treating him rather well.takes him to an old house, a haveli, and says that he wanted an apprentice to learn from him; so i shall be ure guru, little boy, and u will receive boarding and food here. in return, do ure duties like cleaning the house,and learn from me....pretty good deal, the kid reasons, and so he sets to work with a diligence. soon is very good at his work, and at his lessons. the magician is happy. there seems to have been no instance of homosexual overtures mnade to the kid or of any physical contact with sexual intent. the sage/magician gives him the keys to all the rooms.says u start cleaning everything everyday, that is ure job.except this one room, see? that is out of bounds. and u have run of the whole old house....and its an old house, and HUGE..... rooms after rooms... there's plenty to keep an inquistive young mind occupied.lots of neat stuff the sage had collected on his travels, and loads of other stuff too. not quite green stuff bubbling in glass retorts and a grey monster with two nails in his neck, but close.but the rider's always a point innit? so the kid wants to know wats in the room. THE room, more accurate.the keys are with the magician, he wears it in a key arnd his neck. no way of getting that.
so major plotting. and scheming, and all that. and one day, when he's asleep, the boy goes over and takes the key from the magician's neck. maybe the man was on alprax or smthng, anyway, he manages quite easily.and he greases the lock, so that it won't creak as it turns, and he opens the door.the room is HUGE.... and filled, from floor to ceiling, with young boys' bones.here and there some clavicles form pretty lil culicues on the floor. there's a femur with the definite sign of gnawing arnd the edges.here's some old scapulae with the wings practically paper thin and decaying. some tibiae at the far corner.fresh. but not overdone.the boy pisses in his pants.this is not wat he had expoected. the story is clear in a blinding flash, but he realises that he must leave, at the same time, he is probably in an enchanted house with a spell to prevent him from leaving.so he bides his time. very hansel-like, and continues to be nice to the mendicant. the guy is not suspicious(the key is right back arnd his neck).
so sometime, when the sage goes to the city or smthng, the boy makes good his escape,with the help of some magic tricks of his own. the sage comes back home and sees him gone. then examines the key, and sees the grease.roars in rage. chases. but the boy has made himself a corpse, and is in a cemetery, hanging from a tree. the brahmin sage cannot touch it and lose his caste.or there's some other story to it, some curse like baali and the curse of dhundhubi's corpse in the ashram of the sage.
but anyway, so the sage goes to king vikramaditya and gives him an apple. everyday. and V. politely keeps it aside. one time a monkey stea;ls the fruit, then breaks it open, and the king sees that its got a ruby inside.checks the other ones. all have rubies. calls the mendicant. so he says i have no need for the rubies. was hoping u'de help me.wat's the deal, asks V.
so he's finally in the cemetery on the amaavas night; jackals howling, hounds baying, the works. he gets the corpse, but its possessed by the betaal.then starts the long trek back.so the vetaal decides to tell the king stories to pass away the time.the condition is that the king must hear him out, and then must answer. if he knows the answer and stays mum, then head=million smithereens. if he talks, however, then the betaal returns to the tree.and thus began the vikram betaal series. or vikram - vetaal, if ure alliterative.
i have no idea wat the rest of the stry is, but it sounds pretty trippy. the whole construction, u know, and the moral judgements in the stories. very fascinating. traveller, if u have stopped to read this blog, do u think that u may be able to add something more to the story?there';s a book by penguin, some Ms Sengupta, but i dunno if that is complete. i remember vikram and vetaal from arun govil's performance on DD in the 80's and also from chandamama, every fortnight, but that was loooong time back....seems a pity that soemthing so psychedelic wud be hidden from us, the english speaking prodigals of an ancient land.
in sha allah