Seizures in Shiliguri

I was in India recently to do my elective terms in Indian hospitals. Whilst in Bangalore, i lost notebook in which i had been keeping a journal of sorts, jotting down my experiences and suchlike. So i am going to attempt to recall what was lost and write about some of the patients, who for some particular reason or for no reason at all, i can still remember.....

The first patient who comes to mind is a little boy, or to be exact, his mother. Just as i was beginning to see this child, something else came up that i had to sort out (for a previous patient), so one of the doctors offerred to see this boy. But the mother would have none of it. She insisted that they would wait for me: "aap hee dekh lijiye, hum theherte hein". They had come all the way from Shiliguri, in northern Bengal, to NIMHANS, Bangalore, for specialist treatment (obviously i wasnt the specialist, i was only the preliminary guy who saw the patients first). In the few minutes that i did have with them, i asked a few questions about Shiliguri, it being a place that i wanted to go to (only as a transit to Sikkim, but still...). And for this little bit of curiosity, that lady was willing to wait an unknown amount of time, to have her son seen by me. I felt touched by this episode. I hadnt really done anything for them, but they wanted to wait for me.....I often think about that kid; how's he doing; is he still alive (he was quite sick with very severe epilepsy...).

The next patients that come to mind are these two kids who had a condition called SSPE, which occurs in kids who have had (and recovered) from measles. It is the most devastating diagnosis to have to give to parents. SSPE causes a slow, inexorable mental deterioration that always lead to death within a few years. First, these kids start having random jerks which make them fall over. Eventually, they get more of these uncontrolled movements as well loss of mental function until there is nothing but a shell left. The first of the kids that i saw with SSPE was end stage. He had the barest minimum of brain function; his father and brother had taken him to all kinds of doctors and finally decided to come to NIMHANS after being told the same thing by everyone else. When asked what they wanted, the brother simply said "treatment". The father was in tears....The second kid was an only child in a poor family. He was extremely bright- he'd been awarded various scholarships to top schools in Bengal. But a few months ago, he began to jerk and lose his 'intelligence'. Desperately, the family came to Bangalore, only to be told the diagnosis of SSPE. I have never seen a person as devastated as tha

Day 1 in emergency

Today was my first day in the emergency department (or ed, NOT er). As a student, u wait for this term right from first year, coz its cool and glamourous yet grisly and full of blood. By the time you actually get to do a term in emergency medicine, you're only thoughts are of final exams, but still, its an exciting time....

For those of you whose only exposure to the world of medicine apart from asking your local gp to fill out a sick leave form is from watching er, gideon's crossing, house, grey's anatomy and god forbid, scrubs, you will be interested to know that i DID NOT "bag" or "tube" anyone, crack open a chest, put in an umbilical line or do any of the things that ur average tv doctor does in the course of an average shift. Here's what really happens in an ed:

1. we see the end results of human stupidity- the moron award for the day has to go to one of the following-

- the woman who snorted cocaine and came in with a seizure- very, very lucky not to have a brain haemorrhage, heart attack or other nasty things.
- the woman who managed to stick a fishbone into her thumb, press it in deeper by trying to extract it with a needle, yes a sewing needle, went to the gp after 3 weeks, and then got referred to us coz her thumb was "infected".
- the genleman who grinds metal for a living, feels some irritation in his eye, and waits till the iron filing in his eye had RUSTED before he figured he needed to see a doctor.

2. we see the real impact of the obesity epidemic- no! there's no exclamation marks around obesity to imply that there some doubt about it, nor is it preceded by a "supposed" or "so-called". its real and we see it, or hear it, or not hear it to be exact. stethoscopes were designed in the 19th century before the obesity epidemic- hence they cannot cope with 10-15 cm of fat between the heart/lungs and the sound-conducting membrane.

3. of course, there's plenty of "real" medicine as well- the heart attacks, strokes, pneumonias, gallstones etc.

4. there was also the unfortunate old lady who fell over on the pavement and fractured the orbit ( thats the bony socket in the skull in which the eyeball sits). she forgot her son's phone number and got really worried as to how she was going to get home....these are the people who you really feel sorry for. a small crack in the footpath, most of us think nothing of it- but to old people, especially frail little old ladies, it is a big deal.



so there u go, my first day in emergency!!

Secularism in India

The legislative assembly of the State of Rajasthan recently passed the religious freedom bill, which would enable the judicial system to prosecute, fine and jail people for attempting to convert people to a religion against their will. However, bowing to pressure from Christian missionaries and Muslim interest groups, the state Governor, Pratibha Patil has refused to sign the bill.

The Christian and Muslim groups claim that this legislation would be discriminating against them and impinge on their rights (to forcibly convert people). This protest is understandable, since these groups have enjoyed these rights for centuries. Converting people through brute force, money, extravagant promises and intimidation is nothing new to India. But what this incident highlights as far as I am concerned is the deep-seated negationism that pervades mainstream India. Everyone knows what happens in rural India, yet people choose to ignore it in the name of secularism. This immaturity arising from the desire to be a secular state has led to this particular incident in Rajasthan. The insipid mainstream-Hindu BJP party has attempted to raise the issue of forced conversion (which effects only the Hindu population- no one would dare try to convert a Christian or a Muslim, thats a violation of the rights of minorities) through the legislative assembly, but has once again failed to achieve anything but negative publicity both in India and internationally. In the world media, this incident has been portrayed as a Hindu fundamentalist (drawing comparison to Islamic fundamentalists in the middle east and neo-nazis/christian fundamentalists in europe and america) government abusing the rights of religious minorities (that the bill was designed to discourage forced conversions is soon forgotten).

The official view is that forced conversion does not occur, and has never occurred. Of course, support for this view from influential institutions like the JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University) and the Congress party helps. What helps even more is the ineptitude of those not under the spell of negationism in not being able to properly present the issue on a national or international stage. As such, books like Romila Thapar's Penguin History of India, are what is presented to the international community as "Indian History" with their denial of all unpalatable aspects of the Islamic and Christian invasions of India. Conversion is only one of the things amongst mass slaughter, pillaging, sex slavery and grossly discriminatory laws that is denied in this book and others (Communalism and the Writing of indian History by Thapar, Harbans Mukhia and Bipin Chandra). This latter book actually claims that these accusations were made by "Hindu fundamentalists" in the 20th century to create communal disharmony. For the Congress party's contribution, we need look no further than this statement by the National Council of Educational Research and Training: "Characterization of the medieval period as a time of conflict between Hindus and Muslims is forbidden." This was the committee that had the responsibility to guide the schools of India in setting their curriculums. Negation of history was given its official seal of approval.

Deep ravines, rocky outcrops and mustard fields

The beauty of Madhya Pradesh (MP) took me by surprise; so much so that it never even occurred to me to take photos. Of course, i can only comment on what i saw from the train (i went from chennai to haridwar and back). But indian trains stop often enough to give you ample opportunities for taking in the wonderful sights and sounds of the countryside.....

I had always thought that MP was a nondescript desert, a poor cousin of Rajasthan. The Deccan plateau is already largely dry, semi-arid country with areas of rocky desert. So i thought it would be little different on the northern side of the Vindhya ranges. But i was completely wrong. On the way north, i woke up to find the train crossing the Vindhyas, and what a sight it was!!

The train was speeding through hilly country- the sun had yet risen but the sky was blushing orange in anticipation. The fog swirled down from the hilltops into the deep ravines. The rain gods had been generous during the monsoon, even though the lifegiving deluge was delayed by a month or so, hence the creeks and rivulets were overflowing with water. The forests of the Vindhyas contained only a loose sprinkling of trees with an abundance of grass, wildflowers and low bushes.

The train rattled over countless small bridges- the depth of the gorges is incredible. The railways tracks built through this sort of terrain are quite an achievement I think, architecturally and aesthetically. There are also several tunnels in the Vindhya segment, which always mean lots of fun on Indian trains; the lights often dont work, you might be in the tiolet, the kids are screaming.

As the train screamed north, it slowed down...The terrain also flattened out, but not completely. We entered some sort of a transition zone- there was enough flat land for agriculture, so there small fileds whereever there was space, with little dwellings scattered in the hills.There was the odd train station now- these stations hardly deserved to be called that actually. There is no platform or station building (except for a little shack which i presume is for the stationmaster). Just a signpost nailed into the earth with a name on it. I wondered what purpose the stationmaster served. He simply stood there holding his green flag. There was no one else to seen within kilometres. He would just live in that little shack and hold out flags to all the trains that pass by....

By the time we got to the plateau of MP, it was nearing sunrise. As beautiful as the forests were, there something uniquely charming about the plateau. MP is the mustard growing capital of India- the plateau is full of lush green mustard fields studded with bright yellow flowers. There are also rice, wheat and vegetable fields, but the distinct sparkling green of the mustard really stands out.

The land is relatively flat but still undulating with some small hills and the occasional rocky outcrop. These areas, which are agriculturally useless, are crammed with houses. The miniature peaks all appear to be bursting at the seams with residences, i suppose the farmers dont want to waste precious arable land for housing. It was over one of these villages situated on a massive chunk of rock that sunrise happened. There was just enough fog and winter haze in the air that sunrise was seen clearly- not too bright like on a clear morning and not too dull like on an overcast day.

The sunrise had an enlivening effect on the other passengers; people became extremely chatty and active once the sun began its ascent. I spent the morning reading 'Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance', intermittently gazing out at the idyllic landscape of rural MP. As we went further north, the population became denser and the agriculture more intensive, the villages and townships larger and the train stations looked more like 'normal' stations. The tibetan refugees sitting in my section of the train began chanting their prayers with their japamalas. The kids started to laugh and play. The group of young tamil boys headed for work in a Haridwar factory started their game of cards, taking over where they left off the previous day. In short, the train woke up!!

Ganga Dhyan Part 5- Why the Ganga flows from Shiva's matted locks

After failing to reach the Neelakantha Mahadev temple, i decided to head back into rishikesh to watch the evening Ganga aarathi. Ashok told me go and see it every time we met, so i thought that since i had a few hours of daylight left and i hadnt overly exerted myself, i'd go to the triveni ghat, the main ghat in rishikesh. The Ganga aarathi is a daily event in the foothills at many points in haridwar, rishikesh and other towns along the Ganga. It happens at around 6pm, just after sunset in january. Basically, lots of people congregate and sing aarathi songs etc while the priests do the aarathi. So i headed to triveni ghat with about an hour to go before the aarathi time. From the concreted space, sort of like a picnic area, which has stautes of various gods as well as the standard gitopadesam, one gets a fine view of the Ganga. Here, the terrain is virtually flat. On the opposite bank is a deciduous forest, which has a rather skeletal appearance in the winter. To the north is the Ganga winding down from the mountains. And downstream, the Ganga cascades around a bend as it flows into the plains. As the sun begins its descent in the western sky, the place takes on a magical atmosphere. The local townsfolk begin to file in dressed in their beautiful traditional costumes. I find the men's dress to be particularly qauint- traditionally tied dhoti, kurta and turban with a western style blazer. As the crowd built up, i sat down on a rock, ganga kinare, to observe events as they unfolded. People walked to the Ganga and offered their prayers, splashed themselves with the holy waters (symbolizing a ritual bath) and then offered those little cups made of some sort of leaf filled with flowers, sugar and of course, burning camphor. Offerings to the gods (Ganga is the favourite goddess of the foothills) form a very important part of indian culture- as krishna explains in the gita, the basic offerings are leaves, flowers, fruit and water (patram, pushpam, phalam, toyam). Fire is the symbol of cleansing and purity, hence the camphor. As i sat there basking in the setting sun, an old man came and sat on the rock next to mine. He closed his eyes and began doing pranayama and went into some sort of meditative state. He sat perfectly still (apart from his fingers doing the pranayama) for almost an hour; time during which i took some photos of the gorgeous sunset. During this time, there was a swan hunting fish in the Ganga. It would fly up about 30m, then glide down elegantly and cruise just above the water level looking for fish. As soon as it saw its prey it would dive straight down. It was an amazing sight, which i tried to capture on camera, unsuccessfully!! After about 45-50 minutes, the old man stopped meditating and got up to go. But as he turned around he saw me and gave me a look of surprise which quickly softened out into a smile. I think he wasnt expecting to see me still sitting there after nearly an hour. Anyway, he said to "aap bhi ganga dhyan kar rahe hein?" (were you also meditating on/by the ganga). Now, thats a reasonable question, one that i should have been able to answer quite easily. But i just sat there, unable to say a word. You see, while i can speak reasonable hindi, spontaneous conversation just does not come to me. Its been fourteen years since i've spoken hindi spontaneously..... So i just shook my head and mumbled something. It didnt bother the old man though, he sat down again and began talking to me about how beautiful the Ganga is and how he comes to meditate everyday etc. He actually turned out to be a priest from the temple in Gangotri. Gangotri is a shrine (of Ganga obviously) located at the head of the Ganga glacier, high up in the Himalayas. It is one of the sites in the famous 'char dham' pilgrimage (the others being yamunotri, badrinath and kedarnath at the heads of the yamuna, alakananda and mandakini rivers respectively which all eventually merge with the Ganga). During the winter season, when snowfall blocks access to the high mountain passes, he lives with his son who is a priest in a temple in rishikesh. He asked me if i wanted to hear a story about the Ganga, to which i answered, of course yes. So he proceeded to tell me a beautiful folk tale about how the Ganga came to flow out of the matted locks of Shiva. Ganga and Uma (or Parvati) were sisters who were both infatuated with Mahadeva, the lord of Kailash. But Shiva doesnt know about this, even when he marries Parvati. Ganga continues being devoted to Shiva, despite secretly feeling hurt that her sister was chosen to be Shiva's wife, not her. Eventually, Shiva finds out about all this. He says that he cannot marry Ganga, but rewards her instead by keeping her always near him, in his matted locks. Now i've forgotten all the little details that make the story so cool, i only remember the basic events in the story, which sort of sucks, because the fanciful brushstrokes added by generations of stroytellers is what makes these folk tales so magical....

Ganga Dhyan Part 4- A walk to remember

23/01/06

Once a week the Ashram invites all the local sadhus for bhiksha. Food is cooked in huge vats and brought out into the morning sun. The vast space between the Shiva temple and the main hall is where all the sadhus are seated. It is a very interesting to just sit by the side and watch the great wave of saffron stream in. That morning, there were about 80 sannyasis who came. Walking around Rishikesh you will see the odd ochre-robed man sitting, meditating, chanting, praying etc. But to see so many of them in the one place is a special sight.

After the sadhus have eaten, it is everyone else's turn. So off we went to the dining hall- it seats lots of people but probably not sufficient for the sadhus if there is a large turnout. At breakfast and dinner, i tended to eat really fast for two reasons- firstly the food gets cold and secondly i get cold. So its more difficult to enjoy the meal. Lunch is much more enjoyable because you can sit and eat slowly, the way food is meant to be eaten.

I had about an hour of spare time before the bus left for Haridwar, so i had a quick nap. Afterwards, as i walked out of my room, i noticed that it was really silent, with only the background roar of the Ganga. Whats more, there was a big open space just inside the gate where the bus was standing. Just in case, i went down to the watchman's post and inquired whether the bus had left... Unfortunately, i napped for a little too long and ended up missing the bus. Oh well!!

Believe it or not, it actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I had the whole afternoon and evening free, so i decided to head back to Lakshman Jhula to attempt to walk to the Neelakantha Mahadev Temple. I heard one of the brahmacharis at the Ashram say that it was a 2 hour walk one way from the Jhula. So i figured i had enough time to do a return trip. As it turned out, i didnt even make it a quarter of the way.

Forty-five minutes after setting off on foot, i noted that all the people travelling towards the temple were hiring jeeps and cars. The only people on foot were those returning. I figured people were just lazy, but just in case i thought i'd better enquire whether i was on the right path. So i asked the next person i encountered coming from the opposite direction. As it turned out, it was two local Uttaranchalis, in their dhotis and turbans. I asked whether this was the right road and how far this temple was. Here's how it went:
Local: its about 25 or 30 km
Me: [speechless in disbelief]
Local: are you walking [to the temple]
Me: .......yes
Local: oh, thats a very good thing- you get much more punyam that way. go on, walk
Me: errrrr...thanks.

So once again, my plans once again were quashed. But i continued on the road for another five or so minutes because the scenery was so beautiful. The Ganga in Rishikesh, is beautiful, but here, away from civilization, in the mountains, (foothills actually, but mountains sounds so much more impressive) it takes on another dimension. It is a spectacular sight as it winds down between the mountains, the slow bends followed by shallow straights at rapid speed.

The road to Neelakantha Mahadev is carved into the mountainside alsmost directly above the Ganga. Above the opposite bank is the road to Badrinath (there was minimal traffic as all the high mountain passes are closed in January). As the Ganga meanders down, the road follows at a height of about 100 metres. The spots where the riverbed suddenly becomes shallow are particularly interesting because the water appears to almost stop and swirl in the one place before suddenly picking up speed and rushing through. I also spotted a few wild peacocks (i think thats what they were!!) but they ran away before i could get my camera ready. The other interesting thing to note was all the landslides on the road- there were several places where the displaced soil, rocks etc were swept into a pile on the side of the road. There were also signposts warning people of landslides, all of them in hindi of course.

Ganga Dhyan Part 3- A Himalayan Sunrise

23/01/06

The beauty of the Ganga is something I have already discussed in previous posts. But what I didnt mention is that the Ganga is at its most beautiful in the early morning- just before and after sunset.

On the second morning of my stay, I woke up at 6.30am. Now that may be considered early by some, but at the Ashram, the day begins at 5.15am with morning prayers and pooja at the Shiva temple. So of course, I missed that. But I thought, instead of sleeping the extra half-hour till breakfast, why not go down to the Ganga. It was ridiculously cold, I was numb within a few seconds of exiting my room; a few breaths and my nose was anaesthetized. And it was really stupid to wear sandals.

But as I walked towards the bank, all thought of the cold was forgotten and replaced by the surreal beauty of the Ganga. In the harsh light of dawn, the river was a steely gray colour, just like the sky, courtesy of the wintry Himalayan haze. The flow was rapid, the noise unrelenting, but the greatest spectacle was the swirling fog directly above the river. As the river gushed downstream, fog descended from the slopes of the foothills and formed a thick cloud with its own intriguing flow dynamics and eddy currents. The interaction of the fog with the river was mesmerizing to watch. At points, it would appear that the fog was flowing upstream, occasionally downstream, and at other times it would seem to be stationary....

Suddenly, I realized, being a good tourist, that I was missing a great photo opportunity. So I ran back to my room, picked up my camera and ran back, this time with shoes, to take some photos (I will upload them eventually). By then, it was breakfast time, so off I went to eat. I had a chat with Ashok, who suggested I join with the group from Thailand (there were a bunch of Thai people also staying at the Ashram) for their trip to Haridwar. Good idea, I thought. They were leaving after lunch, so I had some spare time. I went back to watch the sunrise over the Ganga.

Because, the Ganga is still flanked by foothills in Rishikesh, sunrise is a little delayed. But if you look around at the western slopes, you can follow the shortening of the shadows and anticipate sunrise. The sky becomes blue, the air clear (clearer, the haze never dissipates in the winter), the fog thins until it disappears, the temperature rises (a little), and the Ganga, of course, stays the same as ever. As the sun rises from behind the hills, the fog starts swirling faster and faster until it vanishes completely. The sun's rays, as they pass through ice crystals and various other things in atmosphere, give rise to many beautiful optical illusions- splashes of colour and flashes like falling stars. The river sparkles golden as it reflects the splendour of the morning sun in all directions.

As the sun ascends, the temperature follows, albeit reluctantly. Nonetheless, this is enough to draw people out of their cosy rooms and to the banks of the Ganga. Within the Ashram, there are outdoor seats which provide an excellent east-facing view of the Ganga, and it is to these that people head to. Soon, there is a handful of people soaking up the sunlight and watching the Ganga flow by.......

Ganga Dhyan Part 2- Lakshman Jhula

22/01/06

After washing myself in cold water (i couldnt get the geyser to work), i slept for a few hours. The amount of dirt collected during a train journey is incredible. I was feeling so dirty and grimy that i didnt care about the cold water. The lunchtime bell woke me from my morning nap. The ashram serves lunch at noon, dinner and breakfast at seven, pm and am respectively. The food is fantastic- its light but filling, tasty but everything in moderation, salt, spices etc. All the meals begin with a chanting of the purushottama yoga, chapter fifteen, Bhagavad Gita. Beans, lentils and green leafy vegetables are a mainstay of the cooking, with rice and wheat alternating as the staple food.

After a delicious meal, my first in two days, i met Ashok, one of the people involved in running the ashram, who helped and guided me during my stay. So after a short talk with Ashok, i decided to check out Rishikesh and then head to the Lakshman Jhula (Lakshman's swing). It is a steel suspension brigde which stands at the location where Lakshamana crossed the Ganga during his exile in the epic, Ramayana. But before i went there, i took a wrong turn and found myself walking thru the 'town centre' of Rishikesh. It is a fairly typical north Indian town, except that every so often one comes across ashrams, meditation centres, ayurvedic clinics and of course, the little alleyways that lead to the banks of the Ganga. Even after becoming fairly certain that i was heading in the wrong direction, i continued on just to see more of Rishikesh. Eventually i came to the town council building, which has a large map outside where i got my bearings and headed off in correct direction. Along the way, i got on an overcrowded tempo to hasten my journey. Once we came outside the town limits, all the buildings were ashrams of one sort or another. And the main road also gets much closer to the Ganga, and the terrain slopes upward. The change from the plains to the foothills, while not drastic, is something that you will certainly notice as you head north out of Rishikesh.

We passed the Ram Jhula, kind of like the Lakshman Jhula, but for Rama, which for some strange reason is not as popular as the Lakshman Jhula. It is also called the Shivanand Jhula as the Shivananda Ashram is just opposite the bridge. The road winds around for another kilometre or so before finally coming to the Lakshman Jhula. Actually the road is on a ridge-like structure overlooking the site of the bridge. From the setdown point, it is a ten minute walk down to the Jhula. On the way, predictably, there are lots of shops selling all sorts of things- mainly handicrafts, jewellery, woollen clothes and food. There is also the odd internet cafe with a few foreign tourists busily typing up their blogs or whatever else they do.

On the way down, there is a larger-than-life statue of Lakshmana, standing their with his crown of matted locks and bow in hand. I wanted to take a photo of Lakshmana, but i never managed to do it, i dont know why....A little further, there is a shrine dedicated to Lakshmana, which is sort of wierd, its not a temple, its not a samadhi.....so what is it, exactly?? I never understood.

Anyway, after waltzing down some steep steps, I finally came to the Lakshman Jhula. It is a surprisingly solid construction, that appears to my amateur eyes to be made entirely of stainless steel. It is disappointingly narrow- what with idiots riding their motorbikes and scooters on it and the odd cow, there is hardly enough room to walk comfortably across. But the views of the Ganga are breathtaking. The river comes crashing round a large bend and slows down over a deep spot. Then as it heads downhill to the plains it picks up speed again. The foothills can be seen to be increasing in height into the distance until the haze disrupts visibility. The slopes are a fresh green, a welcome sight for sure. The other bank is dotted with little shops, but the focal point is the bizarre Kailashanand Ashram. It is an ordinary three storey building with an extraordinary Buddhist-style pagoda-ish bit stuck on top it. It is better to see it than read a description of it; its simply too bizarre. So of course, i made a beeline for this building to check it out. As it turns out, the 'ashram' is full of deities- mostly krishna, rama, shiva and durga- arranged around the perimeter of the building. You go clockwise round and round each floor, each floor with less shrines than the previous, until you get to the top. The views from here are fantastic- unfortunately photography is not allowed. This is to stop people taking photos of the deities, but anyway, why cause trouble.

There are lots of shops on this bank as well- i picked up a few trinkets and just walked around the narrow alleys to get a glimpse of life at the foot of the Himalayas. Apart from the roar of the relentless Ganga, there is very little noise. Only the tourists seem to create much noise, whatever noise is produced by the locals seems to merge into the surroundings without standing out harshly to the listening ear. This is odd, because on the plains, the noise is deafening. As the sun began its downward descent, i decided to head back to the Dayananda Ashram. Dinner was again delicious, though by the time i finished eating, the boiling glass of milk i picked up had become no more than lukewarm. The temperature plummets after dark- the cold turns the extremities numb in seconds. But there was something soothing about the cold wind as i stood at the bank of the Ganga that night.

Ganga Dhyan Part 1- Arrival in Rishikesh

22/01/06-26/01/06

As the tempo wound through the streets of Haridwar and out onto the highway, two things struck me. First, the bitter cold- apparently, the cold snap that blitzed north india in the winter of 2005/06 had just finished, but coming from chennai, it didnt seem that way. The second thing that caught my attention was a vast, dry riverbed strewn with rocks and pebbles. The opposite bank was lined with deciduous trees whose skeletal outline was visible through the thick fog. This was like a scene from a horror movie or something. What was even more horrifying was that i thought initially this was the river Ganga. Its not unimaginable that in india, even the Ganga could be dammed off completely and used for electricity and irrigation. So u can imagine my disappointment that after enduring a 48 hr train journey from chennai, i arrived in haridwar to find that the Ganga is really not a river anymore. But luckily, this was not the case. A sign up ahead clearly indicated that this was in fact the Chandrabagha river, which was being expoited and reduced to a fragment of its past glory........

So after the relief provided by the signpost, i sat and breathed easy. Not that easy mind you- there were eight people plus luggage (ie my backpack, a stack of blankets this guy was probably going to sell, some suitcases etc) in a tempo meant to seat maybe six smallish people. As we left the town limits, the scenery became even more beautiful. Somewhere in the middle of a forest, we came upon a train track- in fact, i noted that it was the very same Dehra Dun Express that i had travelled on. The Delhi-Dehra Dun line is notorious for its delays- this is in the framework of a train system that is generally behind schedule i.e. it takes a lot to gain notoreity for being late in india. Earlirer, it had taken my train 8 hours (!!) to do the 140 km from Delhi to Haridwar. People told me to take a train to Delhi and then a Shatabdi or a bus to Haridwar- i ignored them and took the chennai-dehra dun express- a ridiculously fatiguing 51 hr journey (i will write a seperate entry on the train trip because some sections were absolutely amazing).

So anyway, i finally reached Rishikesh, which is where i planned to stay. By this time, i had had several glimpses of the immortal Ganga and was reassured that it was in fact, rushing to the floodplains in its full splendour. The tempo refused to take the road down to the banks of the Ganga, which is where i was staying. But the guy gave me decent directions, so i only had to ask one other person for further directions. Its actually easy to get lost in the alleyways of Rishikesh- i did this a few times. I find the best way to explore new areas is to get lost in them. Just walk wherever your fancy takes u. In this way, i think i learn much more about the place than i would by keeping to the well-trodden paths of tourists.

I keep getting sidetracked- in rishikesh, i stayed at the swami dayananda ashram, called "arsha vidya peetam". It is a beautiful construction that melds into rishikesh almost unnoticed- if u see some of the monstrosities that have sprung up on the banks of the Ganga, u will understand what i mean. It is a cosy (metaphorically, not in terms of the actual temperature) set of buildings right on the western bank of the Ganga. There is concrete walkway leading from the eastern end of the shiva temple right down to the edge of the water. The Ganga is shallow in rishikesh, having just come down from the outer Himalayas- so the flow is fast!! With the temperature rising (as spring was approaching), the amount of water cascading down was increasing every second, and the noise is palpable- the very air could be felt to be vibrating. I was absolutely certain that the noise level increased during my four day stay from day one to four. If only i had a decibel metre, or whatever a sound measuring device is called, i could prove it to all u skeptics...........

Paging all doctors: we have an emergency

The brutal assaults on medical students participating in a peceful demonstration by New Delhi Police has triggered off a series of protests and strikes by junior doctors supported by the indian medical association (IMA) in the major cities of India- Delhi, Mumbai and Bangalore.

This scenario once again clearly demonstrates two of India's major social problems. Firstly, there is the passing of ridiculous bills which are purely for vote-buying purposes with scant regard for the damage done to soceity. And the second problem, rather ominously for a country that prides itself on being the world's largest democracy and on having the world's longest running elected communist government (not everyone is proud of this and the word "elected" is used quite loosely here), is the unlawful crackdown on any legitimate protest when it is against the wishes of certain politicians.

The medical students were protesting against a bill which proposed to increase reservations for backward-caste students in government medical schools from 23% to 50%. The reasons for the protest, well simple; its UNFAIR. Reservations ensure that certain students, with the most minimal of effort, can walk in to a seat at a medical school, whilst other students, despite years of hard work and good marks, struggle immensely and end up being forced to opt for lower demand courses they dont really want to do. This has been an enduring problem in India going back to the Nehru era. Nehru and co. initially introduced the reaservation system to enable some of the oppressed peoples of India to educate and uplift themselves. This was supposed to be a temporary initiative lasting for a couple of years at most. But soon it was realized that reservations were an excellent way of buying votes. So, the Congress leadership continued and expanded the reservation system, ensuring a legacy of mediocrity, continuing caste discrimination and the phenomenon of brain-drain.

The problem with the reservation system is that its only function now is to buy votes. The people who benefit from it are low-caste people who are well off (low-caste does NOT equal poor) and people who lie about their caste. The majority of backward-caste people are extremely poor and can barely afford to send their kids to primary school, let alone high school and then college. Most of these kids start working with their parents at a young age, often less than ten. The reservations have no meaning for them- they toil for day-wages like their parents. These are the people that reservations supposedly help. But the reality is otherwise. If any Indian government was serious about upliftment of the downtrodden, they would begin by developing an education system which provided free schooling for poor kids and enable them to compete on an even playing field. That way, everyone is given a chance, and the best students are rewarded duly.

Nearly sixty years of undeserving students getting a free university education has entangled India in a web of mediocrity. What you put in is what you get out. Government departments especially (as these also have reservations) are crippled by ineffeciencies that are a legacy of the reservation system. Meanwhile, the best, most talented graduates go abroad where there abilities are recognized and remunerated appropriately. The best Indian doctors work in the hospitals and clinics of London, New York, Los Angeles, Sydney and Toronto, not Delhi, Chennai and Mumbai. The same goes for engineers, scientists, accountants and just about every other type of professional.

"Forward-caste" doctors often have difficulty in finding specialty training positions at government institutions within India because these positions are unofficially reserved for "backward-caste" doctors. In the private sector, one generally requires inside contacts to get anything accomplished in India. The discrimination faced in Western countries by Indian doctors is miniscule compared to what many can face within India. So its little wonder that we find a disproportionate number of Indian doctors in the USA, UK, Canada and Australia.

So with good reason, the medical students of India rose up in protest against further reservations, and hence further dilution of the talent reservoir in the Indian health system. (while the brain-drain in the IT industry has been reversing somewhat with the emergence of Chennai, Bangalore and Hyderabad as challengers to Silicon Valley, the exodus of doctors from India continues restricted only by stricter immigration laws in the West) This was a peaceful protest aimed at raising awareness and creating debate in the community regarding an issue that effects all Indians. Yet the Police were ordered to violently crush the protest by using tear gas, water cannons and of course, the age old lathi charge. Silencing the voices of protest is nothing new to India- it is a legacy of the British Empire which frequently imprisoned prominent Indian leaders for expressing "dissent" and "sedition". The British tradition has been proudly carried onward into independant India by the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty (it is probably unfair of me to single out Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi because I'm certain that any Indian government would have resorted to similar actions) and found its ultimate expression in Indira Gandhi's Emergency.

Fortunately, the Police brutality sparked the wider medical community to react. Junior doctors joined in to the chorus of protest and supported by the IMA, senior consultants and entire hospitals jumped on the bandwagon. Together, they called for a strike and their voices are now being heard as one across the country. Of course, this does not mean that the Government will change its mind, but I am just happy that the opinions of those medical students who first raised their voices did not go unheard and instead, found support in the form of the IMA-backed strike. I am writing in this to express solidarity with my fellow students and doctors in India, and to echo their protest against the twin evils of discrimination and oppression....

Defection

msn really irritated me so i switched to this site.......

if i can be bothered, i will bring some of the better posts from my msn blog over here